surprise bitch! from the shadows I leap! presenting a nice little drabble. 4k is about a drabble for me, at this point in my life. if it's under 10k it's a drabble. and also a miracle.

title is once again from holy by jamila woods because I'm simple.


It was a cool autumn morning as Zelda quietly steps out of her home. She takes a moment to breathe it in, closing her eyes. It was crisp, that chill in the air – sharp. Winter would soon be on its way.

Zelda takes in another deep lungful of air before adjusting the basket hanging on her arm, making sure that she had grabbed everything she needed. Once reassured, she adjusts the shawl around her shoulders and takes a few steps away from home, heading towards the bridge – before immediately getting distracted.

There were wildflowers blooming in the yard. Spots of blue and purple poked out from the tall grass, grabbing her attention, and Zelda found herself dallying. She bites at her lip, bringing a thoughtful finger to her chin. "Perhaps," she considers slowly, "some flowers would also be good to bring. She…always liked them. Do you think?"

She doesn't get an answer in response, the only reply being the sound of birdsong as the world slowly woke up. But she took that as a yes anyways, nodding her head. "I think so, too. Right then – just a few."

Zelda carefully crouches down in the grass and grabs a few flowers to make a small bouquet, tucking them carefully into her basket. Maybe she'll go by one of the shops, if they're open, ask for a bit of twine – but that doesn't matter right now. Right now, she needs to get moving. Link was still sleeping, when she quietly closed the door to their home behind her – she didn't want to disturb him, knowing he needed the rest - but she knew he would wake soon.

It's fine. He would find her, in the end.

Rising to her feet, Zelda adjusts the weight she carries and heads out into the village. Her boots crunch against the dirt road and her braided hair taps lightly at the middle of her shoulders as she takes in the village around her. Hateno was only beginning to wake up, as she made her way up the dirt path; the shops were starting to open, boards being placed outside to lure in travelers, announcing the specials for the day. She passes the communal cookpots, and Uma is sitting in her usual spot, nursing a cup of tea.

"Morning, Zelda!" The old woman calls out. "Should you be out and about? It's only been three days!"

"Good morning, Miss Uma." Zelda calls back pleasantly. "And yes, it's fine – I'm only going out for a short errand."

"Well, the shops are all behind you, you know!"

Her smile grows at Uma's cheeky tone. "I do know, yes!"

She doesn't explain any further, and Uma doesn't press, adjusting in her seat. "Well, alright then, strange girl. I'll let Link know where you've gone if he asks."

Zelda dips her head in thanks. "I won't be far – good seeing you, Miss Uma."

She wasn't lying, when she said she wasn't going far; as soon as Zelda comes up to the inn, she goes left, heading up a slight hill towards a large house. She's a little out of breath, but it's fine – it's fine. She'll make it. A little exercise is probably good for her, anyways, with all the time she's spent lying around.

A fire is lit near the apple tree, telling Zelda that someone was here before her – and she can see it. Further proof in the apples and dried flowers, sitting on the altar.

Zelda lowers her basket to the ground with a soft grunt, digging around and grabbing the blanket she folded and shaking it out, laying it on the ground and carefully kneeling.

At the foot of the Goddess, Zelda isn't sure what she wants to say. She decides to use the time searching for her words to prepare.

She turns back to her basket, slowly pulling out items, one by one. The first thing she does is light incense – something she asked Link to grab, when he went on a quick trip to Gerudo. Sweet, fragrant smoke rises up to meet her, and Zelda holds it away as she carefully places it in the holder, setting the small glass container at the altar. With that taken care of, she grabs the next thing – a small handful of honey candies, carefully wrapped. Once those were on the altar, she grabs the flowers, silently cursing herself for forgetting to ask for twine – but it's alright. It's alright. She places them on the altar, and then grabs one last thing – a small chunk of amber.

Zelda remembers the stories, the history lessons – of how amber was formed from the Goddess' tears. She thought it would be a fitting offering.

Once everything was placed, she sits back and – stares. At what she gave.

Honey candies for her father; she remembered that he liked to snack on them, sometimes, and would give one to her when she visited his study – perhaps she got her sweet tooth from him. Next to that, flowers, for her mother. Incense, for Urbosa. Amber, out of respect for the Goddess. Not love – Zelda has not gotten near love, not yet. Perhaps one day she will be. But it's not this one.

But now, everyone she cares for is here.

"…I still don't know what to say." She finally says. Zelda has learned after a few years of re-learning how to pray that flowery words don't work for her. It was better to just speak candidly – from her heart. "You would think that the words would come easily to me – me! But…I don't know. I knew I had to do this. It was important."

Zelda falls silent. Overhead, the golden leaves on the apple tree rustle in the wind. The fire at her back crackles. Nervous, she wets her lips.

"Mother…Urbosa…Father. I hope – I hope that you are doing well, after all this time. That you are resting. I don't – I don't have graves to visit, so – so this is as close as I can get. Something – something very important has happened, recently. I've kept you updated, of course, but – but now, I –"

She was interrupted by a tiny squeak, and Zelda looks down at the bundle carefully wrapped to her chest. She had double checked the wrap before leaving the house – triple checked. She didn't want to expose a hint of that delicate skin, expose any part of her to the cold, no matter how faint it was. Zelda brushes her fingers over soft skin. Nuzzles her face against fine black hair, inhales the scent of milk and soap. Link had cried so much, when he saw that head of black hair – the exact shade of his mother's. It brought back memories, this hair, and Zelda couldn't be more grateful.

"…I wanted to make introductions." She murmurs. "It's important."

Zelda knew it could have waited; like Uma had said, it had only been three days since she was born. But before she went to bed the night before, she had – an itch. A feeling. And she knew deep in her gut that it had to happen. That it was time.

"We haven't decided on a name yet." She continues. "We've dawdled on it, honestly – I thought we'd have something by now! But nothing feels right. It's alright, though, she's only a few days old. She won't notice."

Her hips and thighs ached. Zelda shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable. She thinks over her words, staring at her baby's little nose, at her rosebud lips, pursed in sleep. Already, Zelda is certain that she has Link's nose – she knows in her heart.

"I," she starts, and then stops. She purses her lips. "I'm so happy. Indescribably so. I never thought I'd be this happy. When I, when I – I knew I had to have children, someday. It was an inevitability. The blood of the Goddess cannot not die out. And I knew my duty, but I –"

She fiddles with soft, downy hair, brushes her fingers over it lightly. "I had hoped, that – that maybe I would find something that you had, mother, father. I hoped, but – I was certain that my – that it would have been done out of duty in the end, instead of love."

It was true – when she was a little girl, she saw the love her parents had through starry eyes and she – she had hoped.

That hope quickly dwindled to nothing when her mother died. When her father grew colder, distant. When Calamity began to hover over their heads.

When Zelda walked into the ruins of Hyrule Castle, she had been certain that hope was long dead – that she would not live to see the children she dreamed of at all.

And yet. Here she was, in this impossible world.

Zelda looks over her offerings. Trails her eyes over the smoke of the incense as it twists and curls into itself, rising into the sky. Her thumb rubs over the weight she carries, gentle and absent – a weight she doesn't mind, for once. The easiest thing in the world to carry.

"I wish you had lived to see her." She murmurs absently. "I wish – there have been so many times where I needed your comfort. Your guidance. How much better off would we be, then?"

Zelda wondered about it now more than ever in the coming months. But she knew better than to get dragged down in the constant 'what-if's – that path only leads to ruin.

"I just hope," she continues, "that – that wherever you are, you can see her anyway. That you can watch over her. And…and I…"

She falters. Closes her eyes and takes a second to compose herself. At her chest, her baby grunts and nuzzles against her before falling still.

It has been years. Years.

That still does not make this any easier.

And that feeling is precisely why she is here.

Letting out a slow breath, Zelda turns and grabs her last few items from her basket. She places the small silver dish before the altar, in front of the offering of amber, and then grabs a skin filled with water.

When Zelda realized she would have to do this, months ago, the revelation made her physically ill. She didn't know if she could do it.

She has not gone to any of the sacred springs, after her impromptu pilgrimage when they defeated the Calamity. The Goddess statues, the smaller altars – that had been enough, for her. That, she could handle well enough.

Link had told her that they never have to do anything she doesn't want. Whispered it between them like it was a secret, curling into her and placing a hand over her stomach.

"You don't have to." He said, so quietly. "You're not obligated – not anymore. We've got time so just think about it. Use the time to decide. This isn't a duty anymore. And in the end if you want to…we will."

She took his words to heart. Gave herself the time she needed to think – to decide. In the end, she made up her mind and decided to move forward with it. For her child, and for herself.

Breathing out slowly, Zelda tries to keep her hands from shaking as she pours water from the Spring of Courage into the dish.

It feels fitting for the baby to be born in the season of Farore; perhaps with the Goddess of Courage watching over her, her child can grow with a bravery Zelda feels she rarely had.

"Goddess Hylia, I beseech you," Zelda starts, holding her child close. She won't be held aloft to the masses, like she was as an infant. A sacrifice to the gods. "Watch over her. Don't – don't bring to her what was brought upon me. Let her grow up brave, and strong, and able to come to you freely. Let her be herself, fully and proudly. Let her be able to love you easier than I ever could. Don't leave her in silence. Don't let –"

Her voice catches. Zelda grinds her teeth, blinking back the prickling in her eyes. She bows her head, looking over that precious little face.

"Don't let me ruin her." She whispers. "Don't. I – I'm sure I'll stumble. I'll make mistakes. But don't let me make her what my father turned me into."

Zelda dips a finger into the cool water, and she can feel the power in it – like static across her skin, lightning seconds away from striking. She takes her finger and drags the water across her baby's small forehead – drawing the symbol of Farore. She squirms a little against her chest, making a little squawk at the cool water, and Zelda calms her with a hushed coo, brushing the tips of her fingers over her cheeks.

"Don't let me ruin her." She begs again.

It is a fear that has haunted her ever since she found out she was going to have a child – that no matter what she does, no matter how hard Zelda tries, she would find a way to hurt her, and she would be looking at a mirror of herself. Scared, angry, broken down.

She would rather die than make that happen. She swore to herself and the gods in the Spring of Wisdom all those years ago that her children will never endure what she did. But she was still so, so afraid.

At her back, footsteps approached.

Zelda didn't jump at the warmth that pressed against her spine, arms winding around her waist and a face pressed into the curve of her neck. She allows herself a smile and reaches back, running her fingers through sleep mussed hair.

"I'm sorry for making you wake up alone." She murmurs, and Link lets out a gentle hum in response.

"It's okay." He finally answers. "When I woke up, I had a feeling you would be here. Miss Uma showed me the way."

"Mm. That's good."

The silence they fell into was comfortable, Zelda watching the incense continue to burn. She knew they would have to return home, soon; it certainly wasn't winter, but that doesn't mean she wants to expose the baby to the chill for long. For now, though, she enjoys the wind rustling through the leaves of the apple tree, the pale blue skies.

"You're not going to ruin her."

Zelda stiffens slightly. Link nuzzles against her neck, rubbing his cheek against her skin in an attempt to soothe.

"You're not." He says again, certain. "I know you won't. You never would."

"Link –" She starts, "you don't know that – I don't. I don't want to do anything my father did."

"You won't." Link sounds so confident. He has so much faith in her – more than she ever had in herself. "Zelda, you love her so much. You would never hurt her like that."

"My father loved me, too." Zelda argues. "And yet – he still hurt me. I'm just scared. What if I fall into that same place?"

She had made that promise, that she would be better than the ones before her – but nothing can ever be perfect. It's a fear that has nipped at her heels for ages. One that she just can't shake off.

Link was silent at her back, but Zelda wasn't worried. She knew him long enough to know when the silences were thoughtful, using the time to carefully pick over his words.

"…I don't remember a lot about my family." He says slowly. "Just – bits and pieces. Not the whole picture. But I know they loved me. I know that – with everything at the time…they did the best they could. But the best one can do is never perfect. But –"

He hums a little, rocking them back and forth. "But it was enough that I can remember the sense of their love. The shape of it. Zelda – even our best won't be good enough, some days. There are going to be days that no matter how hard we try, we stumble and screw up and we – we upset her."

Link's voice skips a little at that, and Zelda can hear the dread she feels at that certain future sinking in her gut.

"But – you love her. Right?"

"I do." She answers, certain. She's never been so sure of anything. "More than anything in the world. I love her as much as I love you."

Link lets out a soft laugh, turning his head to press a kiss to her cheek. "So it'll be alright, in the end. There will be bad days, but we'll work through it. We'll apologize, and pick her up, and give her whatever support she asks of us – that's all we can do. You're nothing like your father, Zelda – you're not going to ruin her at all. She's going to grow up amazingly, in a peaceful world. She won't doubt at all about her parents' love for her – or the Goddess'."

He always knew how to get to the heart of the issue. Zelda sighs quietly and leans back into his arms, knowing that he would hold them up.

"I know." She agrees, reluctant. "But…I still worry, that's all."

"And that's fine." He says easily. "Here – let's think about it. Okay – how would you make things different for her, when it comes to this?"

He gestures to the altar, to the Goddess statue before them, and Zelda thinks on it, brow wrinkling as she stares at that placid smile.

"I would…try and make it more fun." She says slowly. "I guess. She won't – she doesn't have to bring fine gems or anything – nothing like that. I want her to be able to – to give something that's more like her. Something she likes that she would be happy to give in offering. If she wants to do a pilgrimage when she's older, I want to make it into a family trip. I want it to be something she can look back on with a smile. And when she –"

Her voice cracks a little. "When she gets her powers, I want to throw her a party. Or – or if she doesn't get them at all. I still want to throw her a party, so she knows no matter what happens, we're still proud of her. That we'll love her just the same either way."

"See?"

Link nuzzles his temple against hers, turns his head to press another kiss to her cheek. "It's going to be fine." He promises. "Just from you saying that, I know. You don't have to worry, it'll be okay. Plus – I'm with you. We can do this."

"I know we can." Zelda sniffles, blinking away the prickling in her eyes. "I know. I just get scared sometimes."

"That's okay. I get scared too. But we've got each other, so we'll be alright."

The baby decided that it was the perfect time to wake, and she does so with a squeaky yawn, squinting at them with cloudy green eyes. Zelda can feel Link's smile against her skin, when he sees them.

"Hey there." He says softly, quietly thrilled as he reaches out to brush a fingertip over a rosy cheek. "Finally decided to wake up, huh?"

"She's probably hungry." Zelda guesses wryly. "We've probably got a few minutes until she starts crying."

"Well, we can't keep a lady waiting. Let's go home – you probably didn't have breakfast either, did you?"

"I had an apple." Zelda argues, and she can feel the flat look Link gives her.

"Didn't we have an argument about this when we were younger?" He asks wryly. "About what's real food? You gave me grief for days when I told you I only had apples for breakfast."

"Because it wasn't filling! Besides, I was going to say that the apple was a morning snack to hold me over until I got home." She sticks her nose in the air, haughty.

"You sure were." Link says, tone drier than the Gerudo Desert. "I definitely believe you."

Zelda elbows him and he grunts, falling back and sprawling across the blanket as though he'd taken a mortal blow. "Dramatic." She says with faux scorn, packing her items back into her basket. "You've taken worse hits than that!"

"I'm wounded!" Link groans. "My own wife, turning on me like that! How do I recover?"

"Get up!" She laughs, giving him a light shove. "Or else I'll go make breakfast without you!"

"No!" Link hops up at that. "I want to make you breakfast! Come on, I'll fold the blanket –"

The baby was starting to make more noises, grunts and coos that told Zelda that they were on a schedule before she dissolved into fussing. She puts away the water skin, scoots forward so Link can shake off the blanket and fold it up, tucking it back into the basket. She saves the dish full of spring water for last, pouring it across the alter and bowing her head one last time.

Please. She prays silently. Let her grow strong and healthy and happy. Let her powers come easier to her than mine ever did. Watch over her.

"We should probably decide on a name." Zelda says as they walk down the hill back to their home, arm in arm, the basket hanging over Link's elbow.

He purses his lips, looking at their tiny daughter bundled against Zelda's chest. "…Maybe in a few more days." He decides, and she sighs loudly.

"A few more days!" She despairs. "Link, I don't want to keep calling her baby."

"We don't have to! We can use all the nicknames we thought up while she was growing! Pumpkin, chu-chu, beanie –"

"Those are all your nicknames for her!" Zelda tilts her head back and laughs. "You're ridiculous!"

He grins at her, and she can't resist leaning in to give him a kiss, right there on the dirt road, not caring about any of the gossips watching and tittering.

As they continue walking, Zelda chews at her lip, considering her words. She's been toying with the idea, bouncing it back and forth in the weeks before the baby was born. As they walk across the bridge to their home, Zelda decides to finally take the leap.

"So, what do you want for breakfast? I can make some pancakes, or –"

"Link?"

He goes quiet instantly, giving her his full attention as he turns to her. Zelda can't look at him – she's too nervous, all of a sudden, so she looks down at their baby instead.

"I've been thinking." She starts nervously. "About. Um. I've thought about this for a while now, and – if you don't want to, that's perfectly fine with me, but I just wanted to. I. Um."

"Zelda."

"I'd like to name her after – your mother. If that's –"

She gathers enough bravery to sneak a peek at his reaction, and finds Link staring at her with wide eyes, lips parted in shock.

"After…my mother?" He asks, haltingly. "Are you – sure?"

"I am." She nods. "I think – I'd be very happy, with that."

His lip trembles, his face crumpling a little. "But – I don't remember it. Her name, I – don't remember."

"I know." She reaches out to cup his face, soothing. "But we – we can go to Zora's Domain. Talk to Dorephan. You went there a lot as a child, right? So he has to know your mother's name."

Link stares at her, blinking rapidly. "…You've thought about this a lot."

Zelda nods, shy. "I have, yes. It's important! I – I want her to have a good name."

"You don't want to name her after your mother?" Link tries, and Zelda is already shaking her head before the question is finished.

"No, no…it's too much. That name. I don't – no. No, it's fine."

The baby lets out another noise, letting them know that the precious amount of time they had was running out. The silence wouldn't last forever.

Slowly, Link smiles, and it feels like the sun coming out. He steps close, cupping her cheek in his hand, and leans in to press kisses to her lips, over and over. "Yes." He presses into her mouth. "Yes, I – okay. We'll go to the domain together. When you're feeling a little better."

Zelda sighs, knowing Link wouldn't budge on this, and nods in agreement. "Fine, fine."

It's fair, though – it has only been three days since the birth. He's allowed to fuss.

"I love you." He gives her one more kiss before leading her to the house. "Do you feel better?"

"I…" She pauses, considering. Then, she nods slowly. "Yes. Yes, I – I feel…good."

She feels lighter than she did, coming up that hill this morning, making her way to the altar. She left her worries where she needed to. She said her piece.

She hopes that her prayers will be answered – she has to believe they will be.

"I feel good." Zelda repeats with more confidence. "And I would like some pancakes. With berries. I'll need the energy."

Link's laughter lights her up more than her powers ever could, and he presses a hand to her back, opening the door to their home. "As my lady wishes – one stack of fluffy berry pancakes, coming up."

The house is warm, as they step inside, the fire already crackling in the hearth. The air has the faint scent of dried herbs and clean linens. Of that sweet, milky scent that only a baby can provide. Zelda breaths it in, staring down at her baby as she starts to fuss, every second she hasn't been fed a travesty. Once again that feeling crashes over her – of awe, of responsibility. The feeling that she's holding the whole world in her arms.

Zelda would never ruin this – she can't.

"I'll do right by you." She promises – has promised this over and over, since the night she was born. "I'll do my very best, I swear it. On the Goddess, I swear it."

She means it. More than anything, she means it.

In response to her promise, the baby opens her mouth and lets out a loud cry, demanding to be fed. Zelda can only laugh in response.

"Alright, alright!" She starts to undo the wrap. "How dare I take so long, I know. Ah, such a glutton – just like your father."

"Hey!" Link says, affronted. But his eyes are shining with fondness, so she knows he isn't truly offended.

Zelda needn't worry about the bigger things – not now. She's done what she could. She knows that all that's left to do is – is going on, one day after the next, and doing the best she can.


the reason for this? baby fever. that's the reason. this was the outlet. I got the idea halfway through my work shift on friday and now here we are. four thousand words later. god fucking bless.

anyway I hope y'all like this! I have no idea what I'm going to post next. I'm just going with the flow and following my silly little whims and writing my silly little stories.

comments and kudos are loved and always brighten a hoe's day. I hope y'all are having a good weekend! it's chilly where I am, so if it's cold for you too, stay warm!

until next time!