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cooking-with-hailstones · 5 months

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HOLY CRAP I wrote something! For a prompt that was posted in August! But @zeldaelmo did say there was no deadline so, yanno, I made it eventually. Thank you for the prompt, Zelmo! This was super fun to do.

Anyways, please enjoy some domestic Zelink post BOTW fluff.

Memories After Midnight

Read it here or on ao3! (Gen, domestic fluff in Hateno, established relationship)

A storm was raging fiercely overhead, thunder and lightning echoing through the hills. Link had repeatedly assured Zelda that Hateno was used to such storms, that the warm summers on the coast often brought whipping winds and lashing rain. But even now, months after the Calamity’s defeat, the roar of thunder still gave her shivers.

Link had built up a small fire, and was busying himself making a pot of warm safflina tea while Zelda curled up on the floor cushions by the fireplace. He hummed to himself as he sprinkled a pinch of a Gerudo spice mix into the tea. Zelda smiled. He never used to sing, in the before times. Link had such a lovely voice; it was such a precious gift to be able to hear it every day.

She sat up as he walked over to her, two steaming mugs in hand. “Thank you, my love.” She smiled as he handed her a hand-made mug glazed with a deep blue lacquer. He had acquired a stunning variety of new skills in the time since waking up in the Shrine of Resurrection two years ago - throwing pottery, woodworking, sewing, among others. Every month it seemed she discovered something else that he’d made for the house they shared.

He sat down next to her, crossing his legs and draping an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into this familiar gesture of comfort. One of the many luxuries she was now content to freely indulge in.

“I never used to be scared of thunderstorms. But every clap of thunder just sounds too much like the roar of the Calamity...” A shiver ran down her spine, and Link pulled her in closer, tucking her more deeply into her blanket cocoon.

“You know, I often wonder if this is how Lion must have felt,” she mused.

“Lion?” Link’s brow furrowed. “Do you mean a lynel?”

“No, Lion. He was... your dog. Your family’s dog. Before...”

Link froze. “Oh.”

Zelda silently cursed herself. This was not the first time she had done this, accidentally stumbled over a painful reminder that everything from Link’s life before had been ripped away—the only exceptions being the scant few memories she had been able to leave with the Sheikah slate. They had both lost everything, but at least she still had memories of life before. Every time she’d done this before, they had both immediately dropped the line of conversation. But tonight, something shifted.

His voice was small, and so soft she could barely hear it over the lashing rain. “Can you tell me more about him?”

Her heart ached, but she blinked back her tears and swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. “Of course. You told me about him on a night like this one, while we were camping out during a sudden downburst. He was golden brown and very friendly and absolutely terrified of thunderstorms. When you were a little boy, he would come running to you and curl up under your bed every time a storm rolled through.”

“Okay,” he said, his voice somehow even smaller than before. “Was there... Do you know anything else?”

“Link, we don’t have to talk about this if you don’t–”

He cut her off. “I want to.” Her mouth snapped shut.

“...Okay.” She took a deep breath. “I... I don’t know a lot about Lion. You only mentioned him a few times, but you would often come back from a visit home absolutely covered in dog hair. I remember Captain Rusl reprimanding you about it once. That was before we were friends.” She remembered laughing about it with her maids, mocking one of his few moments of carelessness. She regretted that, now.

“Hmm,.” he muttered, his eyes closed, safflina tea long forgotten on the table beside him.

“You told me he was big and friendly, and he would play with the children in your village.”

“Where was my village?” he whispered.

Zelda froze, steeling herself for what must come. “Deya.”

He nodded. “I... I had a feeling that might be it. There was something about it that hurt more than the other ruins.”

“Link, I’m so sorry...”

He slumped down to the floor, head falling into her lap as he stared into the fire. “Tell me about my family?”

She paused, stroking his hair and trying to dig up those little details that slipped out on long days in the saddle.

“Well... Your mother was named Gineve. She was a wonderful cook, used to make a freshwater fish fillet that you complained you could never get quite right when you tried to make it yourself. I think she learned it from the Zora, but put her own twist on it. You fed me several of your attempts at recreating it while we were on the road. I never got a chance to see your house, but you told me it was small. The other guards told me that when you got your own quarters after becoming my knight attendant, you were uncomfortable with the amount of space you had all to yourself. You shared a room with your parents and your little sister, Malia. She had just turned 10, before...”

She paused. Before the Calamity. Link had been frustrated that he wasn’t granted leave to go home for her birthday, but given its proximity to Zelda’s 17th birthday and the looming threat of the Calamity, the generals had determined that it would be “an inappropriate breach of responsibilities” for him to take leave at that time.

She couldn’t tell him that. Already she could hear him softly weeping.

“Do you want me to keep going?” she murmured, resting her hand on his shoulder.

A slight nod.

“Okay.” She took another deep breath, dredging up every possible detail she could. “Your father, Tonu, was a knight in my father’s service. Competent, but not high ranking. He was so proud when you drew the sword. I think he didn’t realize how much pressure he put you under, but he loved you so much and wanted only the best for you. I do know that he was particularly impressed with the pay raise you got when you entered my personal service.”

That got a laugh, though one that was admittedly quite damp.

“Every time you travelled, you would bring back something for Malia. I only met her once, at the ceremony for the champions we had at the palace. She was a squirmy little one, hair just like yours, but a little bit curlier. I had thought that she was going to try and run up to you in the middle of the ceremony. She wouldn’t stop fidgeting in her seat, I think it drove your mother to near distraction.”

Zelda smiled to herself as she recalled the story. She remembered Malia quite well, having been fixated on this fidgety blonde girl, half hoping she would disrupt the entire melancholy affair. She herself had done her best to disappear as soon as the ceremony was over, only rejoining the champions in the courtyard much later.

She shook herself out of that reverie. This was for Link, not her own musings.

“Whether it was Goron City or Gerudo Town, you always had something for her. A pressed flower, an interesting rock, a little toy from Rito Village. You always made sure to send something home, wherever we were.”

“I think...” Link started, pausing to take a few shuddering breaths. “I think I remember that. Being at the Rito general store, seeing a colourful little pinwheel, and thinking ‘this would be perfect for her.’ I couldn’t remember who ‘she’ was.”

“That must have been it.” Zelda said. “I remember you trying to figure out how to package it so it wouldn’t get squished in the post.”

Link was still gazing into the fire, but even from this angle, Zelda could tell his eyes had the glassy stare of a memory washing over him.

“My father died,” he said simply. “Before... before it all happened.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“...Yiga?” he asked, waiting for her confirmation.

“Yes,” she said, shivering. “It was the closest attempt they made on us after the desert. It happened while we were on our way to the Spring of Courage. Your father was in the scouting party that discovered their ambush...” she trailed off. Link looked glassy again.

“Funeral,” he murmured. “You held my hand, covered it with your sleeve so people wouldn’t see.”

Zelda almost laughed. She had been so afraid that someone might see them, but Link had looked so wretched. He needed some comfort, even if back then he couldn’t possibly have admitted it.

That was only three months before the Calamity struck. How small any other fears seemed in retrospect.

She reached down, lacing her fingers in between his own. “I’ll keep holding on to you.”

He brought their clasped hands up to his lips, pressing the softest kiss onto her knuckles. “Thanks, Zel.”

She didn’t sleep that night. Link was always exhausted after any memory overtook him, and he had nodded off in her lap not long after their conversation. She had gently lifted him out of her lap, shrugging off the blanket that had been around her shoulders and draping it over him.

She carefully started rummaging around in her desk, looking for... there it was! The sketch paper she had bought for making field notes and drawings. She knew she couldn’t rest until she finished this. He lost his memories in service to her. It was the least she could do to hold on to everything she could, to give back everything she still had.

Her hands trembled as she sketched under the weak candle light of the dining room table and occasional flashes of lightning. She was far more used to drawing interesting insects, curious mushrooms, and technical diagrams. This was a true test of her skills, and she cursed under her breath every time her charcoal went awry. She sketched and sketched, until her eyes blurred and the candle burned all the way down.

...........................

Link woke early the next morning, the sun just starting to peek through the shuttered windows. He stretched, turning to see Zelda slumped over, asleep on the dining room table. He smiled to himself. It was hardly the first time she had fallen asleep while going over field notes, or working on some project or other. He walked over to the kitchen to start boiling the kettle. She always appreciated some electric safflina tea to get her going after a long night of work.

He came back over to the dining room table, wondering what work she could possibly have been doing last night during the thunderstorm. She had a small pile of crumpled papers around her, evidence of what was undoubtedly a frustrating project. He leaned over to see what she had been working on.

He froze. There, outlined in rough charcoal, slightly smudged from where her face was resting on the page, was a sketch. A man in the uniform of the royal guard, sporting a mustache that couldn’t conceal a mischievous smile and a twinkle in his eye. A serious looking woman, strong from years of farm work, holding a little girl on her hip. The girl had curly hair valiantly held back by a couple of ribbons. She was holding a pinwheel in one hand, the other wrapped around her mother’s shoulders. And at their feet, a big dog with shaggy, mottled fur.

Link sniffled and wiped his eyes, suddenly aware that he was crying. Zelda, always a light sleeper since the Calamity’s defeat, startled awake at the sound.

“Link!” she yelped. “What time is it? Are you okay? What..?” She blinked the sleep from her eyes, focusing on what was in front of her. “Oh Link, I... I’m sorry, it’s not very good, I just -”

He cut her off with a kiss, and she melted into him.

“Zelda,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

She looked at him, green eyes full of grief and love that he knew all too well.

“The least I can do is try to give them back to you.”

Thank you @ladyhoneydee and @alucanid for betaing. Genuinely the fact that y'all jumped into this story for me after not having written anything for MONTHS means so much :') Also, if you love one shots, Dee is currently doing a month-long daily fic challenge and it's DELIGHTFUL.