Had he been holding anything besides her, he might have dropped it. The surprise showed on his face. "What?" he said, though of course he'd heard her. It wasn't so much a question as a vocalization of his facial expression.

"August!" he exclaimed next, with a smile growing across his face. August might as well have been tomorrow — it was right around the corner. How long had she known about this? Alfred didn't mind at all that she'd waited to tell him in person, but the last conversation they'd had on the subject, she'd been worrying that maybe something was the matter with her for not being pregnant yet. Going from that to August was dizzying, but in all the best ways.

"A baby," he repeated. By now his smile was so wide it stretched his cheeks. He squeezed Zelda into a hug and he might have continued by lifting her up and swinging her around the room in delight, until he remembered that oh, people who were pregnant were usually supposed to take things easy, and maybe he should be gentler with her? The energy was there, though, seeking some romantic yet over the top outlet. He had the desire to do something, and now he didn't know what to do.

He pressed his face to her neck and kissed her collarbone, still hugging her tightly. "You're amazing."

---

His energy was contagious. And now that Alfred knew, the baby felt real — it was no longer a secret she kept to herself, but something that another person knew about. A baby. Their baby. They were going to have a baby, in the late summer, and Zelda was excited and nervous all at the same time. She wrapped her arms around Alfred and beamed at him.

"I wanted to tell you when you got back," she said, "You're going to be such a good Papa."

She just wasn't sure she'd be a good Mama — but she could get there, right? She'd get there.

---

Alfred still couldn't stop smiling. "You know, you're probably the only person in the world who thinks so," he pointed out. Probably reformed cannibal wouldn't have made the top of most people's lists as an ideal parent, and even those who didn't believe (or at least partially believe) any tall tales about him still probably didn't consider him prime father material. He wasn't traditional by any definition, so his approach to raising a child would most likely be equally unconventional. But just the word Papa had sent him into a fit of nervous delight, so he knew he'd be doing at least one thing right.

"But I think you're right," he said with a grin. "I hope so, anyway. I love you."

---

Zelda beamed up at him. "I love you too," she said. She might not be sure she had things in hand, with a baby — but she knew she loved him, and that would be enough.

---