Dreams Cut Short

A Hero's Passing

"Attention!"

"Forward advance!"

"Halt!"

After arriving to a complete stop, the beautifully adorned casket was vigilantly poised upon the stand, heeding great caution in respect towards the delicate, yet somber procedure.

Upon hearing the indicated thud, the guards, all whom were embroidered in a highly adorned set of crystal white armor, gently let go of the handles and stepped aside honorably before taking a bow. No trumpet sonnet blew, no banner was lowered; this was a disparate ceremony unlike any other before it.

It was a quiet day as a cool breeze gradually enveloped the wavy plains. Rubble still remained dispersed all over the valleys, making easy work to remind anyone of the hellish event.

Amongst the scene, lay a wooden platform encircled by several elongated flags bearing the royal family seal etched across their black seams. Wooden casket. Black flags. Flowers. It was a funeral commemoration of highest honor, a special one for a special person. The current site was situated not too far from Hyrule Castle, which loomed eerily in the distance, dark columns of smoke still escaping from within its agape openings.

As sickened as she was, Zelda bore all the emotions whilst waiting behind the platform, clinging to a weather-beaten sheath. The tight leather stitching... fine bits of decorative metal... all helping encompass the greatest weapon in Hyrule... she could almost picture the very hands that wielded it... the torn blood-stained hands.

She hated everything including herself. Especially her continual existence. The memory was still etched in her mind, a recurring, never-ending nightmare that tormented her without cease. Link's dying breath... his fading smile, they haunted her inner thoughts. Guilt overshadowed any sense of judgement and train of thought. She was a dead princess.

All the Champion's faces floated around her head, their shocked expressions... the confusion... if looks could kill, Mipha's would've had her dead long ago.

"Zelda? What on earth are you doing hidden back here?" A benign voice called out from around the corner, revealing to be her old father. She couldn't have asked for a better figure to approach her in a moment like this. At least he would understand the accumulating frustration.

"Zelda, your face appears rather pale my dear. When the time comes, do you want me to accompany you?"

No. No way in hell.

"I... I can't go up there... to bear the stares of all those people... I... I can't. I'm ashamed of myself, father."

Rhoam exhaled a slow, compassionate sigh and steadily approached his downtrodden daughter. Should Hylia permit, he would have rather spent a one-on-one session with her, yet... everybody that was gathering would be anxious to see that Hyrule's successor was alive and strong, ready to lead the kingdom into the next chapter. Poor child....

"There is no reason for you to be ashamed sweetheart. No one is to blame here, and there was nothing anyone could've done to save him... as much as I hate to say it. Fate is not always what we conceive it to be. It can sometimes leaves gaping scars in our lives."

She turned her head and stared right into his face, eyes swelling with tears. If her previous self was pitiful, it was nothing compared to her demeanor now.

"Zelda..." He murmured spontaneously between breaths, the numb-induced pain in his ribs re-surging once again. "I know it must be a difficult weight to bear... and I do not wish to place any extra burdens on top of that... but you must recognize the calling to rise up. You must remain steadfast and vigilant, ready to represent Hyrule in this very moment. Be the leader they desperately need."