A/N: Hello friends! I had a random thought this afternoon which evolved into a ficlet, and I decided that it was quite fun to write so I'm starting a new series-"The Zelda Ficlet Collection". It will be all the little random ideas like this one I have from time to time, finally actually written and published. I've got a couple other ideas jotted down I want to try, but for now I thought I'd just get the collection started. Enjoy, and let me know what you think!
A WONDER AND A MARVEL
Summary: Link has a few minutes alone after the birth of his and Zelda's first child to reflect on fatherhood.
The bundle in his arms weighed no more than the bundle of wheat he had picked up from Pruce at the East Wind Market earlier that week; and yet the tiny, squashed figure wrapped in soft linens and cottons represented something so much more essential to him, now, than anything as banal as food or water. She was still in his embrace, the skin of her face chubby and wrinkled and still pink from the gentle but thorough cleansing Purah had performed after removing her umbilical cord and taking measurements.
"Twenty one inches long and eight pounds! Healthy as can be!" Purah had gleefully pronounced from the scale she'd set atop the bedroom desk, its usual contents hurriedly dumped into the laundry basket in his frenzied rush to make way for Purah's arrival late the night prior. Despite all of their preparation, all of his reading and their consultations with the Sheikah scientist, he hadn't been prepared for the pained scream and dampened sheets which awoke him from a deep slumber at one thirty in the morning. He had paced fretfully during the almost ten minutes it had taken Purah to gather her supplies and warp down the hill, only finally giving up on the rut he was creating in the floor when Zelda snapped at him in irritation to "Sit DOWN, for the Goddess' sake!" before moaning and clutching the sheets in a white-knuckled grip.
He sat beside her on their bed through all ten hours of labor, allowing her to freely squeeze the blood from his hand as she trembled with the effort of bringing their child into this world, offering soothing words and gentle encouragement between pushes. With her every scream he felt his heart shudder and skip, but he held firm—as firm as he had before Ganon (though this, admittedly, scared him much more than facing Ganon ever had). But if she could do it, he would too.
And then, finally, after so many hours of pained effort, with a final grunting shout she pushed—and a high-pitched cry filled the room, Purah grinning ear to ear as she gently pulled the infant—their child—from Zelda's body and carefully lifted her into the air.
"It's a girl!" she whispered with reverent glee.
And now, an hour later, here she was—asleep in his arms, just like her mother who lay exhausted on their bed beneath fresh sheets.
He couldn't stop the smile which pulled at his lips as he looked down at her. Caliope, they had decided to name her; to hell with royal tradition. It was a wonder and a marvel to him that something so small—so nubile and vulnerable and wrinkly—could, in the span of hours, become the whole of his world. He hadn't even noticed the sudden and marked change in himself until Zelda had prompted him, with no small amount of teasing amusement in her voice, to "Please give our daughter back to me—she needs to eat, you know." Handing her to his wife sheepishly, he had felt as though a part of himself left with her—as if Caliope's tiny, pudgy fingers had somehow managed to grab hold of a small sliver of his soul in the brief few minutes he had held her; and that piece of his soul had been permanently parted from him—hers, now, forevermore.
And yet it was by no means a painful parting; quite the contrary, he felt as if his heart and soul were so full of joy and wonder that he would burst with it.
The sun was just ascending to the peak of the heavens, bright summer sunlight streaming in through the bedroom window. Smiling softly down at his daughter, he rose with the utmost care from the bed, now bathed in light, making for the armchair in the far, shadowy corner of the room.
"Let's let mommy rest in peace, huh, Caliope?"
As he lowered himself to the seat of the chair, Caliope stirred, and he watched in wonder as she struggled to creak open her eyelids, managing only the tiniest of gaps through which her pupils could gaze out into the world. Vibrant green eyes—turquoise, almost—gazed up at him, and he felt his breath catch. Just like her mother's…
"Little one…" he whispered, feeling his throat tighten with emotion as he met her feeble gaze, one hand raising to gently stroke her cheek with the tip of his finger. "Welcome to the world. Your mommy worked really hard to bring you to us."
Caliope held his gaze only a moment longer before the effort of keeping her eyelids open became too much. He chuckled softly.
"I suppose you worked really hard to reach us, too," he added quietly, feeling his smile broaden. "And lots of people are working really hard right now to reach you. I can't wait for you to meet them all! Auntie Riju and Auntie Buliara are traveling through the Faron woods on there way here, right now. Even though Auntie Riju has spent her whole life in the Gerudo desert, she's making the trip across the Kingdom just to see you! And Uncle Sidon is swimming down the coast as we speak—maybe even grandpa Dorephan if he can make it. Uncle Yunobo is coming too—all the way from Death Mountain! And Uncle Teba is probably flying high above Hyrule castle right about now. He's coming from the furthest reaches of the Kingdom—all the way from Rito Village! It's a long way to travel, but he's a fast flier."
Link paused in his enthusiastic diatribe as Caliope shuddered briefly, then yawned widely—or as widely as her newborn body could manage. Link felt his chest constrict and his smile broaden.
"I guess you're pretty tired, huh?" he murmured, cradling her just a little bit closer. "I suppose I should let you rest too. You'll need to be fresh if you're going to handle all your aunts and uncles at once!" He laughed softly, rising carefully from his chair and crossing the room to the polished, hand-carved walnut bassinet Bolson had made for them after the announcement of Zelda's pregnancy. A soft, tiny mattress stuffed with Hebra cotton and Rito down—a gift from Teba and Saki—lined the bottom. Link placed her atop it with the utmost care—as though she were something invaluable and delicate and precious; and she was.
Though Caliope had only been of this world for but a handful of hours, Link understood now what Teba and Dorephan had meant when they'd told him that fatherhood would change him—that he would come to see the world in an entirely different way. But it was a good thing, he thought, as he stepped back and watched his daughter settle and still upon her downy bed, eyes shut peacefully. He was ready to grow and to change—for his life to become about something more than himself or his marriage or his impending Kingship; for it to mean more than his experiences and his legacy alone.
He gazed down at Caliope—at a beautiful little girl—and smiled, feeling that same tightening in the back of his throat and a tell-tale prickle behind his eyes. For all of the hardships they had endured, for all of the difficulties they had overcome—they had made something so magnificent and beautiful and special. Though it had taken all of themselves, they survived—had defeated the Calamity, began a new life in a new Hyrule, and started putting the crumbled pieces of a ruined Kingdom back together. They had found in each other a partner with which to navigate this most strange of preoccupations called existence; and together, through their deep and abiding love, had forged new life; this life—this infinitely fragile and beautiful thing delicately wrapped in cottons and linens, lying in a bassinet lovingly carved, atop a mattress gifted in friendship and good will.
He could think of little else that better represented how far they had come—and the transformational healing which had blessed their lives and the land. On this day, the fifth of June, Princess Caliope was born—and with her, a new and glorious era of peace and prosperity for the Kingdom and its people; but, perhaps most of all, for the two people whose lives had spanned lifetimes and encompassed impossible struggles—Link and Zelda, together and whole at long last.