[Of course, as soon as Ozymandias announces his presence, Zelda jolts upright in a move that quite disturbs the now-drowsy cub, her own muscles tense like a rabbit ready to bolt. Excuses and justifications sit upon her tongue, ready to defend herself and explain away this apparent moment of weakness--
--but she never gives them voice. Instead, she consciously and visibly pushes the tension from her shoulders with a sigh, forcing that defensive instinct to quiet and still. It's... hard to break old habits, but recent events have convinced her there is some merit in trying, at least.]
It is certainly difficult to deny him-- [Though a bit of stiffness lingers in her voice as she shifts gears into banter mode, it gradually ebbs away with each passing moment, and she pulls the cub over to settle itself at her hip.] --but... I do not imagine he has much counsel to give regarding matters of legacies and descendants and so on.
[A comment which, she imagines, gives away much of what she wanted to discuss this afternoon. Her luck isn't nearly good enough to bet on her acquaintances not at least hearing word of the second Zelda running around by this point.]
[The kitten at Zelda's side is understandably confused when she jolts. To it, there's very little reason to change much of anything simply because Ozymandias has entered the room, and it paws at her blindly to resume her scritching even after she's settled and pulled it close once more. Sleep, it would seem, is a little far too close for the kitten to put much effort into much of anything right now. He draws a deep breath and then is just as settled as ever.]
[Ozymandias raises a slight eyebrow, but it's likely clear that her assumption is correct. There is no particular surprise here that some...questions or concerns would eventually be raised with the other Zelda now walking about the city.]
No, on that matter, I offer you far greater counsel. [Ozymandias leans back some, resting an arm on the back of the couch.] I would ask what it is that weighs on your mind so suddenly, but you find yourself in an unusual circumstance now, do you not?
[She laments, allowing her head to fall back on the back of the couch and her eyes to close, a sign of just how much this issue is weighing on her. She's circled in on herself Goddesses know how many times trying to pluck an epiphany out of the air, some magical solution that will solve all of her problems and put her worries to rest, and yet here she is, right where she started with nothing to show for it.
... Well. She supposes she's not right where she started. She's asking for help. That's... different, at least.]
At least ten thousand years have passed between her time and mine. I consider myself fortunate that I am not being made to look my daughter or granddaughter in the face without recognizing her, but... still. I find myself at a loss. I... I do not know what I should be for her. What she needs me to be.
[She's failed her descendant in so many ways already, ways she won't give voice lest she fall apart again as she did with Scathach. She has to do right by her somehow.]
[The specifics of Zelda's circumstances differ far too much for it to be exact, but the underlying insecurity, the fears of not being enough... It's not something that Ozymandias hasn't heard before. This time though, he doesn't have the assistance of other pharaohs to embolden the one feeling the least secure of her status and worth. He only has himself and his words, which he is certainly confident in, but there is also something to be said about the power of doing rather than being told.]
[It's why he's skeptical that if one were to really examine what she's asking, just how much of it would be about the other Zelda and how much would it be about the Zelda that's currently sitting on his couch, petting his cat. There will, of course, always be a degree to which it is about the other Zelda. She clearly already knows and understands the importance of those that come after learning what they need to from those who came before them to at the very least maintain the strength of the dynasty. But the appearance of someone from her world, one in the position that she is in, clearly touches upon all of Zelda's insecurities, her concerns that she has somehow irrevocably failed her people. All of her concerns that she might not be able to set those things right, that she might not ever truly live up to the potential that Ozymandias (and no doubt others) repeatedly says he sees in her are now brought into sharp relief.]
[Ozymandias moves from his perch on the arm of the couch to sit on it properly, opposite the cub curled up beside her.]
She may not be your daughter, but you certainly sound like a mother right now, [he says with a small huff of laughter.] I don't think such questions ever crossed my mind until the birth of my first child. I was far more focused on my present moment to concern myself with what came after.
[So while unsurprising that Zelda would concern herself with such things, it's still a very mature perspective for her to take on this matter. Ozymandias rests an elbow on the back of the couch, turning towards her and resting his head on his fist.]
Regardless, I think you are asking the wrong questions. It's obvious what it is she needs you to be. [Any pharaoh who came after Ozymandias compared themselves to him. Some even adopted his name in hopes to emulate him and bring about the same glory to Egypt as he once did. It stands to reason that any king or queen would do the same following Zelda, especially one who bears her name as well.] I think you need to focus on what you want to be.
[Despite how lost and confused she feels in this moment, she still finds enough spirit to muster a tiny pout at his teasing, good-natured and ultimately complimentary as it is. She's not a mother! Not yet! And that's a fair percentage of why this is so difficult for her to deal with. Her descendant didn't give any hints that she would be remembered with love or revulsion, but either way, surely her older self would possess greater wisdom, would be more self assured than her current, anxious self is.
How is she supposed to be the Queen she will be remembered as, if she hasn't lived that life yet?]
What I want to be...
[She parrots, clearly frustrated in her contemplation. She tries to think on this question for several quiet moments, but it ends with her shaking her head.]
... I do not know. That... has not been a priority in a very long time.
[First, she had to become a survivor to escape those that would do her harm for her birthright. Then, she had to be a sage to bring those that hounded her to justice and atone for her mistakes. Now, she is a princess in a world where that title means nothing, the twin weights of destiny and duty so far removed from their place upon her shoulders that she feels like she's floating, without any sense for which way is up.
How is she supposed to want anything for herself, after all of that?]
[This question seems to arise nearly every time. Who does Zelda wish to be? Ozymandias has seen Zelda not so much grapple with it before as run from it. There is something easier about not addressing it, certainly. That comes with its own hardships, of course. In avoiding it endlessly, Zelda is setting herself up for that lifetime of emptiness as she fulfills the role of what she is meant to be by the standards of others and there is never that opportunity to shed the guilt she carries from her past. But it is easier in the end to become what others want you to be. There is no thought. The path is laid out before you regardless of how difficult it is to walk.]
[It is a much more difficult thing to grab hold onto one’s destiny and to shape it with your own hands. To forge your own path without hesitation and to hold your ground even when things may threaten to crumble. His suggestion is a gentle one.]
Then perhaps it is time that it becomes one again.
[Zelda doesn’t see her own strength that much is clear. But Ozymandias believes her capable of this.]
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no subject
[Of course, as soon as Ozymandias announces his presence, Zelda jolts upright in a move that quite disturbs the now-drowsy cub, her own muscles tense like a rabbit ready to bolt. Excuses and justifications sit upon her tongue, ready to defend herself and explain away this apparent moment of weakness--
--but she never gives them voice. Instead, she consciously and visibly pushes the tension from her shoulders with a sigh, forcing that defensive instinct to quiet and still. It's... hard to break old habits, but recent events have convinced her there is some merit in trying, at least.]
It is certainly difficult to deny him-- [Though a bit of stiffness lingers in her voice as she shifts gears into banter mode, it gradually ebbs away with each passing moment, and she pulls the cub over to settle itself at her hip.] --but... I do not imagine he has much counsel to give regarding matters of legacies and descendants and so on.
[A comment which, she imagines, gives away much of what she wanted to discuss this afternoon. Her luck isn't nearly good enough to bet on her acquaintances not at least hearing word of the second Zelda running around by this point.]
no subject
[Ozymandias raises a slight eyebrow, but it's likely clear that her assumption is correct. There is no particular surprise here that some...questions or concerns would eventually be raised with the other Zelda now walking about the city.]
No, on that matter, I offer you far greater counsel. [Ozymandias leans back some, resting an arm on the back of the couch.] I would ask what it is that weighs on your mind so suddenly, but you find yourself in an unusual circumstance now, do you not?
no subject
[She laments, allowing her head to fall back on the back of the couch and her eyes to close, a sign of just how much this issue is weighing on her. She's circled in on herself Goddesses know how many times trying to pluck an epiphany out of the air, some magical solution that will solve all of her problems and put her worries to rest, and yet here she is, right where she started with nothing to show for it.
... Well. She supposes she's not right where she started. She's asking for help. That's... different, at least.]
At least ten thousand years have passed between her time and mine. I consider myself fortunate that I am not being made to look my daughter or granddaughter in the face without recognizing her, but... still. I find myself at a loss. I... I do not know what I should be for her. What she needs me to be.
[She's failed her descendant in so many ways already, ways she won't give voice lest she fall apart again as she did with Scathach. She has to do right by her somehow.]
no subject
[It's why he's skeptical that if one were to really examine what she's asking, just how much of it would be about the other Zelda and how much would it be about the Zelda that's currently sitting on his couch, petting his cat. There will, of course, always be a degree to which it is about the other Zelda. She clearly already knows and understands the importance of those that come after learning what they need to from those who came before them to at the very least maintain the strength of the dynasty. But the appearance of someone from her world, one in the position that she is in, clearly touches upon all of Zelda's insecurities, her concerns that she has somehow irrevocably failed her people. All of her concerns that she might not be able to set those things right, that she might not ever truly live up to the potential that Ozymandias (and no doubt others) repeatedly says he sees in her are now brought into sharp relief.]
[Ozymandias moves from his perch on the arm of the couch to sit on it properly, opposite the cub curled up beside her.]
She may not be your daughter, but you certainly sound like a mother right now, [he says with a small huff of laughter.] I don't think such questions ever crossed my mind until the birth of my first child. I was far more focused on my present moment to concern myself with what came after.
[So while unsurprising that Zelda would concern herself with such things, it's still a very mature perspective for her to take on this matter. Ozymandias rests an elbow on the back of the couch, turning towards her and resting his head on his fist.]
Regardless, I think you are asking the wrong questions. It's obvious what it is she needs you to be. [Any pharaoh who came after Ozymandias compared themselves to him. Some even adopted his name in hopes to emulate him and bring about the same glory to Egypt as he once did. It stands to reason that any king or queen would do the same following Zelda, especially one who bears her name as well.] I think you need to focus on what you want to be.
no subject
How is she supposed to be the Queen she will be remembered as, if she hasn't lived that life yet?]
What I want to be...
[She parrots, clearly frustrated in her contemplation. She tries to think on this question for several quiet moments, but it ends with her shaking her head.]
... I do not know. That... has not been a priority in a very long time.
[First, she had to become a survivor to escape those that would do her harm for her birthright. Then, she had to be a sage to bring those that hounded her to justice and atone for her mistakes. Now, she is a princess in a world where that title means nothing, the twin weights of destiny and duty so far removed from their place upon her shoulders that she feels like she's floating, without any sense for which way is up.
How is she supposed to want anything for herself, after all of that?]
no subject
[It is a much more difficult thing to grab hold onto one’s destiny and to shape it with your own hands. To forge your own path without hesitation and to hold your ground even when things may threaten to crumble. His suggestion is a gentle one.]
Then perhaps it is time that it becomes one again.
[Zelda doesn’t see her own strength that much is clear. But Ozymandias believes her capable of this.]