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No Regrets
Fandom: The Legend of Zelda: A Link Between Worlds
Characters: Hilda, Ravio
Word count: ~500
Warnings: BAD END.
Notes: I was actually about 3k words into a completely DIFFERENT story full of Sad Lorule Thoughts when this flashed into my brain fully formed. I hope to have the other thing done at some time in the next week, too, because let's be real, Ravio falls into an alarming number of my character bias sweet spotsugh go away you flaily disaster of a person
For the prompt "Watching Helplessly."
Princess Hilda stood on the battlements of Lorule Castle watching the world fall apart. Ravio was at her side as if he had never left, although they both knew that he had, and they'd both had to consciously decide not to think about it. There were other priorities at the end of days.
The earthquakes grew more frequent and more violent; the rifts in the land were widening. Darkness bubbled up through the gaps, a sickly shining froth from the earth's poisoned heart. Rocks hissed where it touched. Any plant it reached crumbled to ash instantly. It had yet to reach an animal, or a person, but that was a matter of time, and it wasn't going to be pretty. Ravio had tried to convince the princess she didn't need to watch this personally. She'd said it was her responsibility, but it wasn't his, and she'd understand if he chose to be elsewhere. And here they both were.
She had been weeping all night, and she still was, tears slipping silently and unheeded down an otherwise perfectly composed face. When she spoke, her voice was as even as ever, though soft: “I couldn't save us. This kingdom that was entrusted to me – I couldn't protect it.”
“You did everything you could,” said Ravio. “No one could ask for more.”
“No one?” she said. “In this whole country? None of those people about to wake up and see their death bearing down on -”
“Princess Hilda,” he interrupted, loud enough to startle her, and when she turned to face him he shrank back a little in apology. “I – I mean –” He paused to steady himself and tried again. “There's no question how much you love Lorule. And it's not your fault it wasn't enough this time.” She looked away again, her expression turning bitter. Ravio kept trying, and Sheerow fluttered at his side in agitation, copying his gestures, the increasing desperation in his voice. “You were a good ruler. In another age you would've been the best we ever had. I swear on my life, Your Grace, you have nothing to regret.”
She didn't answer. He caught his breath and looked out over the parapets. Then he sighed and waved a hand out over the vista of their impending doom and said, “Then again, there's not much of my life left to swear on, so that's pretty easy to say, huh? Not like anyone's gonna be around to hold me accountable -”
That, finally, made an impression. Hilda chuckled weakly and dabbed at her still-streaming eyes. “True enough. But thank you, Ravio.”
He hadn't seen that smile in years. This was the first time he had ever made her laugh. It would be the only time. And it was in that precise instant that Ravio's heart broke beyond all recovery.
Hilda's right hand found his left. Her fingers laced through his. “Come. We should give this world of ours a proper sendoff.” And she pulled him forward, to the edge of the wall.
As day broke, as the land of Lorule saw its very last sunrise, a failed princess and her failed hero stood watch, singing it a lullaby.
Characters: Hilda, Ravio
Word count: ~500
Warnings: BAD END.
Notes: I was actually about 3k words into a completely DIFFERENT story full of Sad Lorule Thoughts when this flashed into my brain fully formed. I hope to have the other thing done at some time in the next week, too, because let's be real, Ravio falls into an alarming number of my character bias sweet spots
For the prompt "Watching Helplessly."
Princess Hilda stood on the battlements of Lorule Castle watching the world fall apart. Ravio was at her side as if he had never left, although they both knew that he had, and they'd both had to consciously decide not to think about it. There were other priorities at the end of days.
The earthquakes grew more frequent and more violent; the rifts in the land were widening. Darkness bubbled up through the gaps, a sickly shining froth from the earth's poisoned heart. Rocks hissed where it touched. Any plant it reached crumbled to ash instantly. It had yet to reach an animal, or a person, but that was a matter of time, and it wasn't going to be pretty. Ravio had tried to convince the princess she didn't need to watch this personally. She'd said it was her responsibility, but it wasn't his, and she'd understand if he chose to be elsewhere. And here they both were.
She had been weeping all night, and she still was, tears slipping silently and unheeded down an otherwise perfectly composed face. When she spoke, her voice was as even as ever, though soft: “I couldn't save us. This kingdom that was entrusted to me – I couldn't protect it.”
“You did everything you could,” said Ravio. “No one could ask for more.”
“No one?” she said. “In this whole country? None of those people about to wake up and see their death bearing down on -”
“Princess Hilda,” he interrupted, loud enough to startle her, and when she turned to face him he shrank back a little in apology. “I – I mean –” He paused to steady himself and tried again. “There's no question how much you love Lorule. And it's not your fault it wasn't enough this time.” She looked away again, her expression turning bitter. Ravio kept trying, and Sheerow fluttered at his side in agitation, copying his gestures, the increasing desperation in his voice. “You were a good ruler. In another age you would've been the best we ever had. I swear on my life, Your Grace, you have nothing to regret.”
She didn't answer. He caught his breath and looked out over the parapets. Then he sighed and waved a hand out over the vista of their impending doom and said, “Then again, there's not much of my life left to swear on, so that's pretty easy to say, huh? Not like anyone's gonna be around to hold me accountable -”
That, finally, made an impression. Hilda chuckled weakly and dabbed at her still-streaming eyes. “True enough. But thank you, Ravio.”
He hadn't seen that smile in years. This was the first time he had ever made her laugh. It would be the only time. And it was in that precise instant that Ravio's heart broke beyond all recovery.
Hilda's right hand found his left. Her fingers laced through his. “Come. We should give this world of ours a proper sendoff.” And she pulled him forward, to the edge of the wall.
As day broke, as the land of Lorule saw its very last sunrise, a failed princess and her failed hero stood watch, singing it a lullaby.