I didn't feel like trying to think up a title and summary so y'all are getting a new chapter here instead. hope that's cool haha.
The spring sunshine feels ridiculously bright as Link steps outside. He squints at it – it's late in the morning, he can tell. So why is the sun so bright? Perhaps because he's only just woken up. No matter.
Despite it being springtime, there was still a chill in the air, and Link made sure that everyone was well covered as he moved around the house, heading round the back towards the apple tree. He takes a moment to admire the apple blossoms as they sway back and forth in the slight breeze – but he doesn't stick around for too long. He's on a mission.
The mission being the large swing built on the sturdiest branches of the tree.
He had the swing built when Zelda was getting further along in her pregnancy, the heft of her belly making it harder to sit in her favorite spot in the grass beneath the apple tree. Link commissioned Bolson for the best swing imaginable – a large, comfortable swing that they keep piled with blankets and pillows when the weather's good. Perfect for sitting in and napping. So many times, Link has found Zelda in this swing, eyes closed as she soaked in the sun and the wind, or curled up beneath a blanket, snoring quietly. And he doesn't blame her – it's a pretty comfortable spot. It was why he had the swing made, after all – so she could be comfortable.
A soft, grizzly noise erupts from his chest, pulling him away from his thoughts, and Link looks down at the very chubby face poking out of the sling, squinting in discontent at the world, at the audacity of being awake so early. Even though it wasn't that early.
Even this small, her scowl is just like her mother's. Link can't stop the smile spreading across his face.
"Hey, little pumpkin." He says, hushed. "I know, I know – you didn't want to get out of bed. But fresh air is good for you. Especially now that it isn't too cold. I mean, It's still a little chilly, but – it's not so bad."
The look he received in return felt extremely skeptical, and she made another noise, streams of babble filling the air. Link's smile only grew.
Six months, now, since she was born, and Link was still in awe of her. Every bit of her, from the tips of her soft, black hair to her itty-bitty toes. He will lose literal hours of the day holding her, watching her expressions as she took the world in, as she twitched and hummed in sleep. It just – it feels like every day there's something new, as she grows just a little bit more. Link still remembers the day she first smiled – a real smile, and not just a face she made when she had gas. He had been making silly faces at her, trying to get something, when she just clapped her hands and smiled, a wide, gummy thing, paired with loud, burbling laughter that echoed to the ceiling. Link was floored, then, by how much he loved her.
His Seren. His little star.
She lets out another bubble of sound, and Link nods seriously. "You make a good point." He agrees. "But we really have no good reason to stay in. I'll have you know that you don't need any diaper changes, because I took care of that already, and you've already eaten. I was there, so you can't fool me."
He and Zelda had been woken up a few hours before dawn by plaintive, kittenish cries – a sound they've gotten well acquainted with at this point. Link was up and moving before he was fully awake, lighting the lamp by their bedside while Zelda sluggishly sat up, running one hand through sleep-mussed hair as she unbuttoned her night shirt with the other. In her little bassinet by their bed, Seren was crying, little hands curled into tight fists, and Link scooped her up and pressed kisses to her wet cheeks, gently rocking back and forth as he returned to the bed and placed her in Zelda's arms. Her cries quickly sputtered away to nothing as she immediately latched on to eat, and Zelda laughed quietly, running a hand over her downy hair.
"I'm very confident in who she got her appetite from." She teased, leaning back against Link, and he rolled his eyes, good natured.
It felt hazy, then – dreamlike. Sitting there, the room bathed in the faint gold light of the lamp, wrapped up in warm blankets, the sound of suckling filling the air as Zelda slips into a light doze against his chest. He stared at Seren's tiny hand, pressed against Zelda's breast, and watched it open and close over and over while she ate. He turned his head slightly, nuzzling into Zelda's hair with a hum, and breathed in the scent of her – a combination of dried flowers and milk and warm, sleepy cotton. Peace dripped into his bones, thick and sticky like honey, and he had thought – yes. This is home.
That pre-dawn wake up call was the reason that Link decided to take the baby outside in the first place; he had wanted to give Zelda a little more time to sleep in.
He sighs a little, as he settles into the swing, sinking into the pile of blankets and pillows. Leaning back a little, Link makes sure that Seren is cozy on his chest before looking up at the sky, admiring the way the sunlight dappled the budding leaves and flowers on the apple tree.
"This is your mom's favorite spot." Link informs her, using his foot to gently rock the swing. "There wasn't a swing before, though. I made it for her – well." He quickly corrects himself because it's best to set a good example and be truthful. "I didn't make it, really – I have a friend, he does construction – he's someone who knows how to build things - and I asked him to make it."
Seren babbles as he talks, hands wriggling out of the sling to clutch at his tunic, fingers curling into tight, chubby fists. Link nods. "Thank you, I think this is a good spot, too – but your mom has good taste, so it's not surprising that this is good. It's very relaxing. Aren't you relaxed?"
It seems like she's relaxed – there's no sign of wriggling or fussy noises. Maybe it would be fine to take her out of the sling, as long as she was wrapped up in one of the blankets. It was still chilly out.
Careful, Link shifts around and pulls the baby out of the sling, quickly plucking a soft wool blanket to wrap around her back and tuck around her legs. "There." He says, adjusting his hold on her, shifting her around until Seren was tucked into the crook of his arm. "Now you get to see all the good stuff."
He didn't get a single noise in response, and peeks down to see her gumming at her fingers, staring at the sunlight streaming through the leaves with wide eyes. The light made her eyes sparkle even more, and her awe at such a simple sight made Link smile. "Exactly." He agrees. "I think it's pretty great, too."
The air around them quiets down after that, and Link lets himself absorb the sounds going on around him. The soft rustling of leaves as the wind blows through them. The lap of water at the edge of the pond. The faint trill of birdsong twining with the sound of children's laughter. Voices calling out specials for the day. It all blurs together into one mass that relaxes him, lets him sink further into the blankets and pillows.
Eventually, his mind begins to wander.
He peeked down at Seren and noticed that her eyes were starting to droop, fingers sliding out of her mouth as she started to nod off. Link continued to push the swing with his foot as he grabbed her spit-covered fingers and laughed a little when she immediately holds onto two fingers. "You can sleep a little, it's fine."
Link pats at her tummy with his free hand, and she coos. Her eyes finally slide shut, lashes fanning over her chubby cheeks, and he's swept under a wave of awe once again.
Ever since she was born, it's been – it's been good. Better than he ever dreamed. Of course there have been some difficult days – there will always be difficult days – but nothing near to what he had feared for so long. Fears that he hasn't even shared with Zelda, which – it's shameful. But…
Don't let me ruin her.
For as long as he lives, Link will never forget those words.
He's no fool, he's not – he knows how scared Zelda was, when she found out they were going to have a child. They talked about it incessantly, over and over for weeks. Airing out every worry that came to Zelda's mind in those early days. Link remembers the days before that, as well – years and years ago, when they had just defeated the Calamity. The way Zelda could barely look at the Goddess statues, the way she avoided them however she could. The open confusion, the pain in her face when she asked him –
Why – what changed? What changed, since them?
No. Link is no fool. But it astounds him, still.
That Zelda could think she would bring nothing but ruin to their child – it stuns him to this day. Seren loves her. Zelda is the one that can make her go to sleep the fastest, the one the baby will shriek like a banshee over whenever she comes home from travel, or spending time with Purah, or just going to the store for a few minutes. She hangs onto every word Zelda says when she talks, looks at her like she hung up the moon – and, well. In that, Seren is probably more like him that he expected. But that's fine. He's glad his baby has good taste, just like him.
Just like him…
In his arms, he can feel Seren stretch, her little legs moving as far out as they could as her mouth opens with a wide yawn.
Ruining her? If anyone should be worried about that, it should be him.
And he was. He had been.
Zelda at least has memory of her parents, of what a family was. She has a foundation to base herself on, memories where she can look back at what went wrong and think – no. No, I won't be like that.
What does he have? Nothing. Not a single memory to go on. Vague hints hovering at the edges of his mind and sense memories – things he can't even be sure have any merit. And that thought plagued him for months, a pit in his stomach as he constantly considered the chance that he might be a terrible father. He wanted to tell Zelda about it, but she had enough of her own worries – why add onto it with his own? He had tried to comfort her as best as he could, that day at the altar, but – what did he know? What if he wasn't enough? What if he hurt their daughter, instead, because of what he lacked? So it continued haunting him until the day Seren was born, and the many days after.
Until they went to Zora's Domain.
They decided to travel two months after the birth – enough time for Zelda to heal and for them to unsuccessfully attempt to beat the cold weather. They decided to go by horse; they couldn't go by slate, obviously, and neither of them wanted to go to the domain without the other- and Zelda had resolutely put her foot down at the idea of not naming the baby until spring. So they went, horses packed with everything they needed, the baby swaddled to Zelda's chest as they made their way north.
"Why didn't we do this months ago?" Zelda moaned as they traveled up the winding mountain paths to the domain – dealing with sun and blue skies as far as he could see, not a hint of rain to be found. Thank the gods. "What were we thinking?"
"We hadn't decided on a name, then." Link pointed out. "By the time there was any idea, you were too big to travel. And then you had the baby."
Zelda pouted at him in response. Her cheeks, still so soft and round, were flushed from the cold wind. She looked adorable. Link wanted to eat her up.
If he had to be honest with himself - Link hadn't been expecting much. He knows that Dorephan's memory stretches far, certainly, but there's no way he remembers his parents. Why would he? Two small people in a sea of much grander entities that the Zora king interacts with on a regular basis – he probably doesn't remember. And that's fine. Link doesn't mind. And besides – Zelda is determined. They'll find his mother's name some other way.
It was fine, Link had told himself as they entered the domain, as they paid for a place to sleep. It was fine. He won't be disappointed. He won't. They'll find another way.
But Dorephan surprised him.
"Ah." He sighs heavily with recall, leaning back in his throne. Link fights to keep his knees from growing weak at the light of recall in the Zora's eyes. He can feel Zelda reach over, grab his hand. "Yes…yes, of course. I remember your mother."
His eyes slide closed. "I had plenty of conversations with your mother and father, in the past. I wanted to know more about the people whose child fascinated my Mipha so much."
An ache. There's always an ache, at the mention of Mipha. Link breathed through it. Focused on Dorephan.
"Yes, we spoke plenty, when they visited – your mother, she was from the Faron region. Lurelin, I believe. She was in the water as much as a Zora and told stories in such a way that she had the children wrapped around her finger, begging for more tales. She was always laughing, always smiling, and she was sharp tongued – very quick witted. You are like her in many ways, Link." His eyes were soft. "You look so much like her, as well."
Link felt unmoored. It was – this was more than he expected. It was so small, but it felt like rain after a long drought. He soaked in these small facts greedily. Wanted to fall to the ground and beg for more – anything else, anything at all. Instead, he clutched at Zelda's hand like it was the only thing keeping him from floating away. Licked his dry lips.
"And –" Link coughed, as though that would remove the catch in his voice. "And…her name? What was it?"
Dorephan's face creased with this smile. "Ah. The lady Seren. Though she was always quick to tell me that she was no lady." His chest rumbled with laughter, reminiscent.
Link had felt like he'd been struck by lightning.
A name. His mother had a name, and a face that was just like his. She was from Lurelin, and told stories, and was always laughing. So much. Not enough.
In his peripheral, Zelda mouthed his mother's name – Seren – and he remembered what they came here for. He clears his throat and forces out the words.
"Thank you." His voice sounded so hoarse to his ears. "I – we wanted to name the baby after – after my mother. And I – thank you. Could you –"
He fidgeted in place a little. "Your Majesty, if – if it's alright. Could you tell me more? About her? And my – my father?"
"My young man, it would be my honor. I only regret that I didn't tell you about them sooner."
They stayed in the domain longer than they planned to. It was selfish of him, he knew – but some good came out of it, in the end. He could proudly show off his baby to Sidon, for one. And he learned more about his parents – his family.
It had settled something in him, when they returned to Hateno, Seren freshly named and wrapped up in a new blanket, given as a gift from the Zora. Enough that he found the courage to share his fears with Zelda, in the end.
The loud rustle overhead pulled Link back to the present, and he looked up in time to see the wind shake loose some of the apple blossoms, white flowers drifting down into the swing. One lucky blossom landed on Seren's head, striking against her black hair, and her little nose wrinkled in sleep, melting his heart into a puddle.
His eyes were starting to get heavy, and Link stifled a yawn into the back of his free hand. He had to keep the swing moving. Who knows what would happen if he didn't? Seren would probably wake up and fuss. But…
Back and forth. Back and forth. The rocking motion was hypnotic. Link's eyes were closing despite his wishes.
Maybe…maybe a little nap wouldn't hurt. It was such a nice day outside, anyway.
The gentle rocking of the swing crawled to a stop as Link gave in and drifted off to sleep.
-o-
There were fingers in his hair.
Link wrinkled his nose at the feeling. Tried to remember where he was.
He had taken the baby out to the swing to get a little fresh air. He got lost reminiscing. And then…and then…
Fingers combed through his hair again.
Was he – did he sleep too long? Did Zelda come to wake him up?
But no – that couldn't be right. He had only just fallen asleep, hadn't he? Link frowns a little. Tries to focus.
The hand in his hair – it feels different. It's not Zelda's; Zelda's hand is soft in some places, but mostly calloused – from holding a pen, from digging into the earth. From holding a sword. His hair wasn't catching in the familiar way he knew. These hands were – they're softer. Just a little.
A sound drifts to his ears, then – a song. It sounds – it feels familiar. He knows this song. Doesn't he? He feels like he does. Making a low noise in his throat, Link forces himself to open his eyes.
A woman is standing over him.
He was still in the swing by his house. His baby was still in his arms. But it – everything was – bright. Too bright, blurring his surroundings, almost blinding.
But not the woman, though. She was the clearest thing around.
And she was looking right at him.
Link could only stare back, confused, taking her in. She had warm brown skin and long black hair, loose bangs hovering in her face. Her eyes were blue – as blue as his – and crinkled at the corners as she smiled at him. She looked –
She looked just like him.
The realization felt like getting dunked in ice water. Like jumping into a stream in the Hebra tundra.
This wasn't real. It couldn't be, but – but she felt real. She looked real. But there's no way. It has to be a dream – all because of his reminiscing before falling asleep. This wasn't real. It wasn't. It –
"Are you real?" Link croaks out, helpless, and his mother smiles at him.
"Who can say?" She responds, cheeky. "I feel real. What do you think?"
"I –"
Link shakes his head. He feels like he's falling to pieces. "There's – this is a dream, right? I – I just thought you up, because I was thinking about you, and –"
"And I thought you were smarter than that." She reaches down to tweak his nose, and that – that felt real. "Use that sharp mind of yours. It got you into so much trouble when you were small, you know."
Her eyes soften a little – just like his, he has her eyes, he has her eyes – and she combs her fingers through his bangs, brushing the hair away from his eyes. "You've grown so much." She says softly. Wonderingly. "Haven't you?"
Link's vision blurs faster than he can think. His breath catches in his chest, and he tries to blink the blurriness away, because he wants to see her. He wants –
Tears slip down his temples, and he gasps out, "mom? Mom? Is it – is it really -"
His mother nods at him, pressing her lips together. "It's me." She swears, looking as choked up as he feels. "My Link. My baby, I'm here. I swear, it's me. Oh, you've grown so much."
Link reaches up to her with his free hand, wanting to feel – and his mother catches his hand, bringing it to her face. Soft hands, warm skin. Real. She felt so real.
More tears slipped out.
His mind raced. He feels like he's on borrowed time. What does he say? What can he say?
"I'm sorry." He chokes out. "I'm so sorry, for – for everything. For before. I failed. And I forgot you. I forgot you, and – I'm sorry."
She stars shaking her head halfway though. "No, no…Link. No."
His mother looks down at him, and her eyes are so bright, shining with unshed tears. They looked like stars.
"My baby boy." She murmurs. "Don't apologize to me. Don't. I'm so – I'm so proud of you. I am! I knew you would do it. I knew you would. I always believed – even on that dark day. And look at you."
She lets go of him to cup his face in her hand, and Link leans into the touch, drinking it in. "You're here. Living, no Calamity to haunt you. With the Princess, no less!"
There's a teasing spark in her eye, and Link feels his face heat with embarrassment. "Well –" He starts, suddenly shy, but his mother is quick to cut him off.
"I remember so well – you were made her knight attendant, and had been just a few months in, and you told me it would never happen. That it was improper, that she hated you – look at you now!"
His mother laughs, and the sound spreads through hm, a drop of paint in water, quickly expanding. He feels warm all over.
"And here –"
Her eyes soften even more, warmer than ever as she looks at Seren, curled up against his chest. Her namesake. "A grandbaby." She says, awed. "My first! She's precious, she looks just like the Princess – but with your nose! And my hair, oh goodness - how could I stay away?"
Link's heart slams into his throat, choking him. "I…I named her." He forces past the lump in his throat. "After you. I – I couldn't remember. I had to ask. But – Zelda wanted to."
The unshed tears in his mother's eyes spill over. She lets out a shaky breath, brushing her thumb across his cheek. Even upside down, she looks wonderful. Link drinks her in, afraid to move – as though one twitch would break the spell. It appeared his mother felt the same way.
"I have so many questions I want to ask."
"I know."
Link smiles helplessly. "I don't even know where to start."
She laughs again, and Link never wants to forget that sound again. Wants to burn it in his memory forever. "I'd tell you everything. Everything you wanted to know. But –"
Her smile dims a little, then. "But I'm afraid we're on borrowed time."
The light around them grows. It gets brighter and brighter – blinding. Link's heart sinks into the pit of his gut.
"What? But –" He grabs onto her hand, presses it to his cheek. "But you just got here. I have so much – I want to tell you so much."
"I know. I know you do. Oh, Link."
For a moment they just – they look at each other. Take each other in.
"I am so proud of you." His mother says slowly, putting her heart into every word. "And I will praise the Goddess forevermore for giving me this one chance – this one moment to see you again. You've grown so much. I hate that I've missed it. But I'm proud of you. My Link. My baby boy. I always knew. I knew from the day you were born, you would be magnificent."
"Mom." Link says feebly, fresh tears swimming in his eyes. He furiously blinks them away, because – he wants to see her. If this is all he gets, he wants to see her. "I'm so sorry. I wish – I wish you were here. You and father. I want you here all the time."
"I know. But I swear, I – we're watching over you. The both of us. I'm so proud, we're so proud – and you don't need to worry anymore. Just –"
The light grows. His mother shakes her head. He can barely see her. "Just live for me. Have lots of cute little babies. Have a happy life – the happiest. And then – when we meet again you – you can tell me all about it. Everything. We can talk as long as you want."
Link's throat closes up. That's so long. That's so far away. But he nods because what else can he do? "Okay." He croaks. "Okay. I will. I promise. I – I have a lot to tell you already. But I'll make sure to have more to share."
"Good boy. You always listen when it counts, huh?"
He lets out a weak laugh. "When it's important." He sobers quickly. "Mom."
"Link."
"Can you – that song. Could you…sing it again?"
His mother smiles. "I can."
The light was so bright, the faint ringing of a bell echoing in his ears – Link could barely see her anymore. Only an outline of her figure. Her voice, though – that reached him, clear as a bell. She doesn't let him go, and Link feels his mother's thumb continue to brush across his cheek as she sings a song so new – but also so familiar. His eyes were starting to close, but Link didn't want to sleep, he didn't want to let this time end, let this small miracle slip from his hands –
But his eyes closed anyway.
The last thing he felt was lips pressed against his forehead.
-o-
The hands in his hair are familiar this time, when Link wakes up, tears drying tacky on his face. He pries open his eyes, groggy, and Zelda looks back at him, concerned. The dappled sunlight streams through the leaves and hits her hair, making it glow. She looks like a Goddess come to earth.
"Hello." She says in a quiet whisper. "I woke up without you, and I wondered where you'd gone."
Link blinks slowly, trying to gather his words. His tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth, heavy. "I…" He starts, slurred, "I…wanted to let you sleep some more. Since the baby woke us up early."
Zelda smiles. "That was kind of you. But I think I prefer waking up with you than without you."
Her smile dims a little, then, and she reaches out to his cheek, touching the drying tear tracks with the tips of her fingers. "…Are you alright?"
Link remembers his tears, then. The new weight on his heart. He exhales slowly. "I…had a dream."
"A good one, or a bad one?"
"Good." He responds immediately. "It was good. But – but it made me sad, too."
Zelda hums, understanding. "Do you want to talk about it? Only if you'd like, though."
Link stares up at her, considering. She brushes her fingers over his cheeks and waits, patient. Suddenly, it hits him – that he wants to tell her this. He wants to tell her more than anything.
"Yeah." He croaks out. "I want to talk about it. Come here –"
He reaches up, wraps a hand around her wrist and tugs lightly. Zelda looks at the swing, dubious. "Here? Are you sure it'll hold us?"
"Yes." He answers, stubborn. "Bolson built it."
"I don't want to squish the baby."
"We won't. Here –"
It took a little rearranging. Seren woke up in the middle of it, and when she saw Zelda, she let out a shriek so excited that Link heard birds take off in the distance, panicked. They got there in the end, though, curled around each other, the baby tucked between them nice and cozy. Zelda rests against him with a sigh. Link turns his head and nuzzles into her, breathing her in – dried flowers. Milk. Home.
"Alright." Zelda starts, grabbing his hand and lacing their fingers over Seren's tummy. "Tell me all about it."
Link closes his eyes. Gathers his words.
"I had a dream," he starts. "About – about my mom. She was there, Zelda. Really, really there."
The way that Zelda's eyes widen and glow with delight will stay with him for the rest of the day.
He takes a deep breath and starts to talk.
Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same as it ever was.
There is absolute and unbroken continuity.
What is this death but a negligible accident?
Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?
I am but waiting for you, for an interval,
somewhere very near,
just round the corner.
All is well.
Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost.
One brief moment and all will be as it was before.
How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!
I thought this idea up on a whim. frankly I wasn't sure if I was going to write anything for the rest of the year. if you follow my tumblr, you'll know that october kind of fucking sucked when it came to ao3 and my place in fandom as a whole. my contributions to it I guess. some stuff came up - some conversations- and the unpleasant way people reacted made me...hm. it stung, I guess. like how many people read my things but felt that way? how many people like the stuff I write but don't like me? It's been bothering me for weeks. It's bothering me still. I took time off from writing during november. I needed the space for a little while. I got the idea for this a few days ago and only just finished it now. it feels janky to me. kind of rusty. but idk maybe someone will like it. so here it is! link's mom name is seren, which means star. I thought it was sweet haha.
the poem is an excerpt death is nothing at all by henry scott-holland. I read it at my father's funeral.
comments and kudos are great, you already know. I hope everyone is having an okay time of things. having a nice hanukkah, a nice christmas when it comes.
until next time - whenever that may be.
