#trans wild

He has some blue hoop earrings, stored away in his slate. He’d woken up from the shrine wearing the blue hoops and hadn’t given it a second of thought. He hadn’t even noticed he had earrings on at first. 

The first time he’d seen a woman wearing dangling gems from her ears, Wild had known that was what he wanted. He’d stopped the woman in the street, asking her where she had gotten the earrings. The woman had laughed, asking him if he was looking for a gift for a special girl in his life. It had thrown him off balance so badly that he hadn’t even corrected her. 

The woman told him of Isha, a renowned jeweler who lived in Gerudo town but had warned him that as a man, he wouldn’t be allowed into the town. He’d have to do some trade with one of the Gorons that traveled to Gerudo Town to get his jewelry. Apparently Gorons- not having genders like the rest of the Hyrule’s races did- are allowed into the town indiscriminately. 

They traded the uncut gems they mined for the finished jewelry that Isha produced. Then they took the jewelry around the rest of Hyrule for other races to buy. Wild would have to buy from one of the Gorons.

It’s well worth tracking one of them down, the woman had told him. Isha’s products are always high quality. 

He’d been quick to do so when he next had time to spare. The plain uncut gemstones he mined or picked up after fighting a talus were enchanting, with all their raw facets that reflected sunlight. He wanted that beauty captured in a form he could wear.

He’d bought the amber earrings he wore most often from a Goron in Hateno town. Thinking back on it, Wild suspects that the Goron had seen how eager he’d been and overcharged him, but he hadn’t cared at all about the extravagant price. 

The second he got his hands on those pretty earrings, the blue hoops had come out of his ears and had gone straight into his slate. He hasn’t touched them since, and his collection of jewelry made by Isha had expanded significantly.

Wild had gotten his amber earrings blessed by a Great Fairy, enchanted to increase his defense. For practical reasons, but also so if anyone ever asked him why he wears the more feminine jewelry, he’d have that answer for them. 

No one ever asks though, which he’s thankful for. He doesn’t like to lie, and he’s not very good at it.

He doesn’t think the other heroes have even noticed that he wears flashier earrings. If they have, they didn’t find it strange enough to comment on.

~~~

Wild’s still relearning things about the culture he stumbled into when he was released from the shrine. He knows he’s pretty socially inept, and he doesn’t pick up on other people’s cues very well. Whether that was a personal quirk or an effect of his amnesia was up for debate. 

It wasn’t just reading other people’s body language he had trouble with, though. There are norms and traditions that people assume Wild knows, when he just didn’t. 

Thankfully, people in his era were more than used to merchants and other travelers who spend most of their time out in the wild and are a little rusty with social interactions. They’re also more than willing to be more flexible with such things when they learn who Wild is. 

His entire Hyrule seemed to feel a debt to him, for a reason Wild can’t explain. He had only been fixing his own mistakes when he’d walked into Hyrule castle and taken on the Calamity. He doesn’t deserve praise for finally finishing his duty a hundred years too late, even if everyone else seems to think they can never repay him. 

Regardless of why though, people were a lot more willing to overlook his social blunders, and slowly but surely, he’s been learning. 

He doesn’t love everything he’s learned so far. Some things seem just arbitrary and pointless. The pressure to conform to these norms grates under his skin.

For example, he’s pretty sure that red is considered a feminine color. The whole masculine versus feminine colors thing confuses him; he doesn’t understand how it’s decided whether colors are masculine or feminine. 

Red is a feminine color. Wild thinks it might be because Gerudos so often have red hair, and Gerudos are always women, but he doesn’t know. 

Wild likes the color red. 

He likes it more than any of the other colors, he thinks. It’s bold, like the blood that has soaked every aspect of his short life. It’s bright, like the autumn leaves the Akkala region is known for. It’s a cleaner, purified version of the sickly purple-red color of malice. 

People always tell him blue is his color, and failing that, green suited him best. Wild, reluctantly, thinks he agrees. With his pale coloring, any bolder, warmer colors he wore stood out too much. The softer blues and greens fit him better. So when someone asks him his favorite color, he says blue. He doesn't know why. 

It’s not like men aren’t allowed to like red, but admitting he likes red feels like he’s admitting to something else, and he doesn't know what.

~~~

Wild has ruby red earrings that he keeps tucked away in his slate. The jewelry protects him against the cold, warming him when he travels too high in the mountains, or stays in the desert at night. However, when the temperature is decent, they act as regular earrings with no magical properties.

He doesn’t wear them too often. He worries they’re too gaudy, that they’ll attract too much attention to his odd jewelry choices. 

But today, he wakes up and finds himself wanting to hide away from everyone. He hasn’t even opened his eyes, and he already knows it’s going to be one of those days. One of those days he would rather spend hidden away in the woods, far away from any prying eyes. The mumbled speech from around the campfire from the early risers among the heroes makes him want to turn over and hide in his bed roll.

He doesn’t want anyone's eyes on him, on his form, or his clothes. It all makes him feel so wrong. 

He forces himself to sit up anyway. The camp is still quiet. As usual, he’s one of the first up, with only Time, Twilight, and Four sitting around the fire. He has to get up and get breakfast ready. And to do that, he has to get dressed.

He selects his normal outfit- the Champion’s tunic, trousers, and a black cloak- from his slate, and it appears on his body with a quiet fwoosh and a blue glow. None of the other heroes even look at him, more than used to the noise by now. Although he wears the Champion tunic every day and usually never has a problem with it, today it hugs his form in all the wrong places. Wild swallows down a hot, uncomfortable, nameless emotion, and tugs his cloak tighter around himself. 

He needs to get up and make breakfast, but he really doesn’t want to. 

He needs… something, today. Something just for himself, that no one else will comment on.

So he swipes through his slate and pulls out the ruby earrings. The earrings are incredible works of art. Isha did a wonderful job with the gemstones Wild had brought her. She’d managed to shape the stone so they caught the morning light as Wild holds them up in the sun, but still retain their rough and somewhat natural shape. 

Wild puts them on, and smiles as the weight of them tugs on his earlobes. They’re a little heavier than his normal amber earrings, and they pull at his ears a little more than he's used to. The sensation- that little reminder that they’re there- soothes his irritation away.

Throughout the day, none of the other heroes seem to notice his wardrobe change, but Wild notices, constantly. He finds himself fiddling with the jewels throughout the day, running his fingers over the smooth facets of the gemstones. The tap-tap of his fingernails against the stones makes him smile.

Every time he sees himself in something even slightly reflective, his eyes are drawn to the beautiful red stones, hanging like drops of blood from his ears.

He’s washing dishes after supper in a river, and he sees himself. His long hair and red earrings are reflected back at him from the water, and like he has all day, he pauses and looks at himself for a moment. He can see the smile beaming from his face in the reflection. Maybe it’s vain to care so much about how he looked, but he couldn't help it.

And when he turns his head just so, and the ripples in the water are particularly strong, he can imagine that his cheekbones are a little less sharp, that his face is softer.

It’s times like this that he's glad that he doesn't have a larger frame with more muscle mass like Time or Twilight do. He’s always loved his leaner build, meant for flexibility and running instead of the solid muscle meant for overpowering strength. It would be harder to pretend, even for a moment, if he was built like that.

~~~

Wild knows he should’ve gotten rid of the vai clothes after he no longer needed to enter Gerudo town. Or at the very least, he should have tucked them away in a chest in his house, and not put them on again. 

He put the clothes on again.

Of course he did. He can’t leave well enough alone. 

He did so only once. It had been well before he was whisked away on this new journey, before he even knew about the heroes of the ancient past or of the spreading infection of black blood. 

He had wanted to put on the clothes again, but he knew he couldn’t go back to Gerudo Town. 

No matter how careful he was, Riju would eventually hear about his return, and she’d want to know why he’d returned to the town when there was no reason to do so. He didn’t want to be disrespectful of the Gerudos’ culture. If their laws said no men in Gerudo Town, that meant no men in Gerudo Town.

So when he inevitably cracked after weeks of thinking about the clothing, he didn’t go to the town. Instead, he tucked the clothing into the bottom of his bag, and took it out to the middle of the woods near Hateno, far away from any prying eyes.

But he still hasn’t been able to bring himself to put it on. What if someone saw him? He’d known the thought was irrational. There was no one out here who would possibly see him.

He wanted to put it on so badly. 

He wanted to put it on, but someone could see him. No one would be fooled for long, especially if they knew him. The clothing was made for women, but it didn’t conceal his masculine figure. It definitely didn’t conceal his scars. 

(Wild wasn't an idiot. The Gerudo guards, along with everyone else in Gerudo town, knew who he was. They knew he was a man. The only reason they had let him stay was that their Chief had given him permission to enter the town, and they’d needed his aid badly. It also helped that Wild never caused a scene or took advantage of being allowed inside the walls. He was also willing to adhere to their traditions, and wear the vai outfit. If he went back now- when he had no need to and Riju no longer had any reason to let him into the town- it likely wouldn’t turn out so well.)

So he left Hateno, leaving any sign of Hylian life behind. He ended up at the Great Plateau, his birthplace. 

No one would find him there. Most couldn’t scale the walls, and those who could, like the Rito, usually didn’t find any reason to.

It was dark by the time he’d arrived, and by the time he slipped the clothing on, nighttime had fallen completely. But it had been summer, and the night breeze had been balmy, so even with the thin fabric of the Gerudo clothing, he’d felt comfortable. 

He’d felt more than comfortable, actually. 

It had made him happy, somehow, to know that if someone looked at him, they might not have seen a man, even if just for a moment.

He had left the clothes on all night, and had simply existed. He’d hunted, he’d explored the plateau (even though he’d long since memorized it like the back of his hand,) and he’d laughed, a good deal more than he usually did. 

He’d felt light on his feet, and he had almost been dancing when he entered the Temple of Time.

And then he’d turned around to face the front of the temple, and he’d seen the stoney face of Hylia, eyes closed in perfect peaceful prayer, and everything had gone quiet.

Not that there had been music playing before, or any sound at all besides his own heartbeat, but it felt like the whole world stops breathing when he’s faced with the pinnacle of why this was wrong, wrong, so very wrong.

He wondered if Hylia had been laughing at him, or if she’d been watching him at all. He wondered if the goddess even has the ability to laugh. He felt ashamed, when he thought of her looking at him when he was dressed like that. 

Hylia had chosen him to be the hero. 

He’s the hero, and everyone knows the hero was always a man, even if they didn’t start out as one, like Hyrule and Warriors.

And men don’t wear women’s clothing. 

Wild doesn’t understand why, but they don’t. 

Did these feelings mean that Hylia chose the wrong person to wield the sacred blade? Or had she chosen correctly, and it was Wild who was just… wrong? 

He left almost immediately, using his slate to teleport away. And he hadn’t gone back to the Temple of Time for a very long time, in the vai outfit or out of it.

~~~

When Wild was invited to join this group of heroes from the past, he hadn’t hesitated to say yes. The only time he had faltered when getting ready to leave was when it came to packing his clothes. He took his regular outfit, his heat and cold resistant clothes, his climbing gear, his Sheikah stealth outfit, and any other pieces of clothing that may help him on this journey. 

He also took the vai clothing with him. He’d shoved it down to the very bottom of his bag, and when he rejoined the other heroes, he could have sworn that they would be able to tell what he carried somehow. 

No one could, of course. As many talents as the heroes of old possess, none of them had x-ray vision. 

Wild doesn’t know why he had felt compelled to tuck the silky fabrics into his pack. Sometimes he regretted bringing them with him on the journey. It’s not like he could wear them, and it put the clothing in constant danger of being discovered. But he had brought it with him, so there was no use regretting.

So now, several months into the journey, the vai clothes remain at the bottom of his pack for the most part. None of the other heroes have the habit of riffling through other people’s bags, so he doesn’t worry too much that they’ll find the clothes as long as he’s careful. 

Sometimes, late at night when he’s on watch, he puts his bag in his lap. His hand slips into the bag to feel the silken fabric brush against his fingers. Only one hand, primed and ready to casually remove it at the first sign of someone waking up.

It’s comforting for some reason, to remember how the fabric felt against his body. To remember that what he’d felt when he’d worn the clothes- that inexplicable joy, that freeness- had been real, even if he can’t experience it again. 

He doesn’t dare take the clothes out of his pack though, let alone put them on. Not even in the dead of night, not when there’s a chance that someone could wake up and see him. He doesn’t want to think of the questions that might arise from any of them seeing him dressed like that.

His late-night habit backfires on him, and bringing the clothes on the journey comes back to bite him eventually. 

Wild doesn’t see the moment that Warriors finds the veil. He’s not really one to go through someone’s bag, so Wild has to assume that he had forgotten to put the clothes back at the bottom of the bag. That part of them had been poking out of the top of his pack and Warriors eyes had caught on the blue fabric. 

Warriors doesn’t think the clothes belong to Wild, to Wild’s immense relief. Instead, he thinks it’s a gift for some girl Wild likes. It’s still not a good outcome. It’s still embarrassing. 

But at least there doesn’t seem to be any inkling in Warriors' mocking tone that he knows about Wild’s shameful secret.

The others pay dearly for their teasing with their burnt taste buds, but his revenge doesn’t make Wild feel much better. The whole situation should make him angry. Instead, it’s only stressing him out and upsetting him.

He does his best to ignore the hurt bubbling up inside of him while he’s around the other heroes. He pushes it down, replacing it with righteous anger, angry glares, and a sharp thwack on the back of Warriors’ hand when the man tries to sneak food that isn’t spiced to high heavens. 

Once the commotion around dinner has mostly calmed down, he walks off alone into the nearby woods. No one dares follow him, not while his temper is still so obviously sensitive and ready to snap. 

He keeps going until he’s far enough away from their camp. When he’s determined that no one will hear him, not even Twilight with his wolf-like hearing, he stops. Slumping down, he sits at the base of a tree. 

Slowly, WIld lets go of the anger he’s been using all evening to suppress his other emotions. Sadness and confusion and frustration well up to replace it, and tears are quick to start flowing from his eyes.

He doesn’t know… why. 

Why he’s crying, why he’s so upset about this. Warriors and Legend- and Sky and Twilight to an extent- were only teasing. And the others didn’t interfere or stop them because they had only been teasing. Usually Wild is all too happy to engage in that kind of play and banter. But this time… it hurt.

It hurt because even though they hadn’t even known Wild’s most tightly kept secret- even though they hadn’t known that the vai clothes are his, and not a gift for someone else- they still made fun of him. What would they say if they knew the full truth- if they knew he was the one who the clothes were for? 

Because men aren’t supposed to wear these kinds of clothes. And everyone knows that the hero is supposed to be a man and-

And Wild isn’t a man.

Wild growls, posture shrinking defensively against the tree as if that would help stave off the thoughts. They shake their head as they finally let themself think what they’ve known for a while. Their teeth grit in anger, and slam their hands down on the soft earth. Sharp nails dig into the loose, moist soil. It’ll be a pain to clean under their nails later but Wild doesn’t care! 

This isn’t fair! It isn't fair, Goddess damn it!

They’re not crying anymore. The tears still well up in the corners of their eyes, but they blink furiously, not letting them fall. Why did this have to be them? Why couldn’t anything be simple for them? 

This is how Hyrule finds them, an indeterminable amount of time later. Angry and seething at no one except themself for daring to feel like this. Wild doesn’t know if Hyrule had been looking for them, or if he’d just been wandering nearby and happened to hear Wild’s distress.

Hyrule’s concerned, as anyone would be if they found their friend rocking back and forth on the ground, one hand digging into the earth and the other, still muddy, gripping tightly at their hair. 

He sits next to Wild, slowly and carefully, as if trying not to startle a wild animal. There’s a moment of silence where he just looks at Wild with concern gleaming in his eyes. 

After a moment, Hyrule reaches out, giving Wild plenty of time to draw away from him. When they don’t move away, Hyrule eases their hands from their long hair. 

Wild lets themself relax slightly. They can’t bring themselves to clutch at Hyrule’s hands as punishingly as they had been gripping their hair, so they’re forced to let their muscles loosen.

Hyrule looks at them carefully, no doubt trying to find Wild’s cause for distress. When he finds no obvious injuries or ailments, he asks them what’s wrong, but Wild has no answer for him. 

If anyone would understand, Hyrule would. Or Warriors. But Wild can’t help but think of the relief that Hyrule and Warriors must have felt when they figured out they were men, when they knew that was what they were supposed to be. What the hero was supposed to be. 

Wild can’t help but think of how angry Hyrule might be, at Wild for wanting so desperately what Hyrule himself has rejected.

Twilight heard Wild’s cry of pain from across the battlefield. Their yell was loud and clear over the clashing of swords and battle cries of the other heroes, like Twilight’s ear was specifically attuned to it. Against his better judgment, Twilight’s eyes left his own battle to search the field for Wild. 

A weight slammed into his side. Twilight faltered, but quickly regained his balance and planted his feet securely into his battle stance. 

“Focus, pup!” Time yelled. His shield was raised against the lizalfo Twilight had been fighting, and there was a spike from its tail embedded in the splintering wood. Twilight shook his head to clear his racing mind.

Twilight leapt around the monster, dealing a killing blow to the lizalfo while it was distracted. It fell to the ground with a horrid screech, and just as it hit the dirt it exploded into a cloud of black dust. Twilight took a step back, chest heaving, and locked eyes with Time. Time sent a cursory glance around the battlefield and his gaze landed on Wild.

Even from here, Twilight could see the break. Wild’s left arm hung limply by their side, crooked and misshapen. It was steadily dripping blood. Wild had dropped their sword, but still held a shield in a loose grip in their right hand. They were swaying on their feet, being driven back by a moblin.

“Go,” Time instructed. Twilight tore his eyes from Wild to meet Time’s. 

“Battle’s almost over, we’ll take care of the rest,” Time said, then jumped back into the battlefield. 

Twilight ran across the field. His gaze landed on Wild just in time to see their shield shatter into pieces. Wild barely paused, backflipping out of reach of the moblin’s club. They landed next to a discarded tree branch, picked it up, and hurled it at the moblin. The sharp end of the stick embedded itself into the middle of the moblins throat. 

The monster dropped its club and its hands went to its neck. It stood motionless, choking on its own blood, before Twilight reached it and drove his sword through its heart. Twilight pushed it off his blade with his foot as he scanned his immediate surroundings. No other monsters nearby, just the ones across the field the others were finishing off. 

“Nice throw,” Twilight said, sheathing his sword and stepping up to Wild. They were hunched over slightly, right hand cradling their left arm. Wild raised their head and offered Twilight a shaky smirk.

“I was aiming for its chest,” Wild said, huffing a breathy laugh. Twilight reached out his hands toward Wild’s arm, eyebrows raised in question. Wild sucked in a breath and nodded, letting their right hand fall from the injury. 

“What happened?” Twilight asked. He took Wild’s arm as gently as he could, and did his best to hide his flinch as Wild hissed in pain.

“Bad angle, lucky hit,” Wild muttered through clenched teeth. “Heavy club.”

Now that Twilight had a closer look, he couldn’t keep the grimace off his face. Wild’s forearm was bent unnaturally, and already swollen to twice its size. It was hard to see through the bruising and the blood, but it looked like at least one of the bones had pierced the skin. Twilight felt his heart stutter in his chest, and he swallowed hard.

“That bad, huh?” Wild asked, voice small and shaking. Twilight glanced up to meet their eyes, but Wild had screwed them shut. Their face was pale and they were leaning to the side. 

“Why don’t you sit down,” Twilight said gently, bracing Wild’s arm. Wild nodded.

Twilight held Wild’s arm as they lowered themself to the ground shakily. Wild paled further, even as careful as Twilight tried to be with their arm. Twilight knew special care had to be taken when bones pierced the skin, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember what. Twilight looked desperately around him, ready to call out for help to whoever was nearby.

Warriors was the closest, and Twilight let out a breath of relief. He knew field medicine, and would be able to keep a level head. Twilight felt like he was struggling with that one at the moment. 

Just as Warriors finished off his monster, Twilight called out to him. “Wars!” 

Warriors’ head swiveled towards him, and his eyes widened when he saw the pair on the ground. He briefly turned to say something to Four that Twilight couldn’t make out, then ran over. He slid to his knees next to Twilight, hands already hovering over Wild’s arm. 

“I think the bone pierced their skin,” Twilight said. Warriors nodded, already turning to pull his bag off his shoulder. 

“Lean them against you,” Warriors said as he dug through his bag. 

Twilight nodded, giving Wild a gentle nudge. Wild blinked their eyes open, and Twilight gave them what he hoped was a smile. 

“Still with us?” Twilight asked. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” Wild said, but his voice was shaking and he was still alarmingly pale. 

Warriors huffed. “Not quite.”

“I’m gonna shift around, can you manage for a second?” Twilight asked. Wild blinked at him in confusion. 

“I need to reset the bone and clean the wound before I give you a potion,” Warriors explained. 

“Ah,” Wild said, barely audible. After only a moment of hesitation, they nodded. Twilight placed their arm in their lap as gently as he could, but Wild still couldn’t hold back a sharp gasp of pain. Twilight felt the sound piece through his own heart.  As soon as their arm was down, Twilight shifted so that Wild was leaning against his chest. 

“This is going to hurt like hell, Champion, but you have to stay perfectly still,” Warriors said. Wild nodded, staring up at him with wide eyes. 

“Twilight, hold them down,” Warriors instructed. Twilight wrapped his arms tightly around Wild and closed his eyes. He needed to keep Wild still, and he wasn’t completely confident in his ability to do so while watching. He was so grateful Warriors had experience with this, even if he hated the circumstances that gave him the experience.

“Are you ready?” Warriors asked. Wild shifted, shoving their face into Twilight’s shoulder.  

“Do it,” Wild said. 

“On three. One-”

Traveling clothes are much easier. Men and women alike wear simple tunics and pants. Armour, if they can afford it. Skirts and dresses are too fiddly to be worn while traveling. Even Legend wears shorts under his long tunic. Wild never feels out of place in their champion’s tunic when they’re on the road.

But when considering what to wear tonight, at a formal event where the women will all no doubt be wearing gowns with beautiful full skirts and delicate swirling fabrics, it feels wrong for Wild to wear a men’s formal tunic and stiff ironed trousers like most of the other heroes will be.

Here, in a shop so firmly divided down the middle- with women’s clothing on one side and men’s on the other- Wild feels so wrong and out of place.

“Alright.” Her words drew their attention back to the tailor. “Try this one on.” She hands him a black tunic. It’s simple, and when they take it from her, the fabric feels nice against their skin. The fabric almost shimmers in the light, strands of silver woven into the black fabric.

Wild heads into the changing room with low hopes, and the shirt does not exceed them.

They look at themselves in the mirror and have to admit that they look good. They look very handsome. They look not at all like themselves.

If they were a man, it would be perfectly fine. But they aren’t, so it’s not. It makes them want to claw at their own skin, curl up into a ball on the shop’s floor, and scream. Not necessarily in that order.

They take their gaze away from their image in the mirror and put their own tunic back on. They hesitate before leaving the changing room and brace themself. Taking a chance, they ask the tailor, “Do you have anything that doesn’t have… pants?”

She blink slowly, and Wild thinks maybe they’ve given this woman too much, bared too much of their soul to her. Wild fears she'll take what they’ve given her and use it to break them. But she only nods, and pulls them over to a different section of the store.

She pulls one more outfit off the rack and offers it to them. “I’ll probably have to make a few alterations, but nothing major. It won't take too long.” She hands them a sleeveless rose-colored tunic that’s as long as Legend’s usual fare.

After some consideration, she pulls out a pair of white leggings, and a length of white fabric heavily embroidered with roses in all shades of pink, which Wild realizes is a sash to tie around their waist. The last thing she shoves into their arms is a large piece of gauzy pink see-through fabric. Wild can’t parse what it’s meant to be, and at their raised eyebrow, she explains. “It’s to wrap around your shoulders like a shawl.”

The outfit isn’t overtly feminine even with the pink colors, but to Wild’s utter relief, there aren’t any pants. It’s also not typically masculine enough that if they were to put it on, they would want to curl up and scream.

They take it and slip back into the changing room with more haste than they’ve had all evening.

Wild doesn’t dare look in the mirror until they’ve put on the whole outfit. When they have, they turn to look at themselves in the mirror, hoping desperately that this outfit works for them. They want to get out of this shop. Warriors’ sister is perfectly nice, but Wild is getting tired of this whole ordeal. It’s exhausting, having to shift through all these clothes that aren’t quite right.

Especially now that they’re a little less forgiving about it. They would have tolerated the discomfort before, but they can’t now. Not when they’ve been shown the slightest bit of acceptance from Zel and Riju. They just can’t.

Gritting their teeth, Wild pushes away memories of the mocking laughter from when his vai clothes had been discovered, and Hyrule’s gentle words that had burned like a scalding reprimand.

They won't put up with having to force themself to be something they aren’t. Not for anyone, not even the other heroes. They won’t. They’ve never been one to care about what other people thought of them, and they needed to stop doing it now.

Smoothing down the front of the tunic, Wild turns to look at themself in the mirror. They’re satisfied with what they see. The stress that’s been building since Legend and Hyrule came back from the tailor looking dapper and so very gentleman-like lessens.

In a moment of inspiration, they retrieve their pair of ruby earrings from their slate, swapping them out with their amber ones. They can’t stop grinning stupidly at their reflection.

Wild runs their hands over the short skirt of the tunic- because that’s what it is, it's a skirt- and a thrill shoots through them. It’s not everything they want. They wish it was longer, that it fell past their knees. They wish that if they twirled, they could see the fabric flare out around them in the mirror. It’s not the beautiful yellow skirt they’d seen earlier, it’s not perfect, but it’s something.

And for now, ‘something’ is enough.

~~~

When Twilight sees the outfit Wild has on, he opens his mouth and says “Oh, Wild, that’s a-” and damn it all, Wild is not going to let anyone ruin this for them.

They flash a bright grin at Twilight, quickly striking an over-dramatic pose. “An amazing outfit? Yes, thank you, I know.” Playing dumb almost always worked. Everyone thought they were a bit of an idiot and completely socially oblivious due to their amnesia. Might as well use it to their advantage when they could.

Twilight shrugs, and no one else mentions anything about their clothes.

~~~

Wild doesn’t like banquets. It’s an easy opinion to form, even after only attending one for half an hour.

Athena is hosting the event inside a grandiose hall with marble flooring and a gilded ceiling. Marble columns line the walls, and grand glass doors show a view of the vast castle gardens, which are in full bloom. Wild privately thinks all the decoration is a little ostentatious.

The ceiling above them is painted with scenes of heroes past- some stories Wild recognizes, and some they don't. Wild’s glad they don’t see any scenes depicting themself, though. They suppose that’s one advantage to being the furthest along in the timeline- they never have to worry about stumbling across a reminder of their journey in one of the other eras.

The hall around them is packed with people, mostly nobles and military officers, with a few servants lingering amongst the attendees. Despite the crowd, the noise in the room never rises above a quiet chatter. The atmosphere feels unnaturally still for the number of people in the room.

Even when the dancing starts, it doesn’t shake the stillness in the air. The dances Wild sees being performed are all unfamiliar to them. For the most part, they’re slow waltzes that barely stir the air around the dancers. They hope no one asks them to dance. It looks like a horrible experience.

It’s nothing like the festivals and parties Wild has been to in their own era. Those are rowdy affairs, filled with fast dances and loud cheering. Since the defeat of the Calamity, they seemed to have gotten impossibly more lively as the people celebrated being able to live without threat once more. Wild likes to join in the dancing occasionally. The beat of the music that plays always makes their heart pound in excitement, and they get sucked in.

(And if Wild is desperately jealous of the beautiful skirts the women wear and the way they flare out around the legs of the dancers, they say nothing. And as Wild dances, they try to pretend they’re wearing one.)

Still- Wild’s never been one for crowds. They always feel like they’re being watched and judged when they’re in the middle of a crowd. So even though they like to occasionally join the dances, usually they just watch the festivities from the sidelines, simply observing the lively atmosphere.

Even though they rarely join in, Wild still likes the parties of their era much more than the one they’re attending right now. This event has just as many people as the parties in Wild’s era but lacks even a fraction of the excitement or energy.

Wild takes to circling the dance floor. They try to move casually, as if they’re trying to get somewhere or find someone. So far, it‘s kept anyone from trying to draw them into a conversation or ask them to dance.

As they circle, they seek out the other heroes, keeping track of their placement.

Warriors seems right at home. How much of that is him actually feeling comfortable and how much of it is practiced poise was up for debate. Regardless, he looks like he’s having a good time. He’s standing off to the side, engaged in a conversation with Sky and a group of other military officers. Wild passes near enough to hear them discussing the differences between the duties of knights in Hyrule and the “far-off kingdom” that Sky is from.

Wild, not wanting to be sucked into any conversation pertaining to their previous knighthood, quickly moves away.

Time and Twilight look to be surviving, although barely. They wear matching awkward expressions as a woman dressed in expensive-looking clothing speaks to them. Even as socially unaware as Wild is, they can see the overly flirtatious body language she’s aiming at both of them. Wild suppresses an inelegant snort and sends up a prayer to Hylia for the pair, but leaves them to their fate of fending off the woman’s advances.

Surprisingly, Legend seems to be fitting in as well as Warriors is. He’s entertaining a man who looks to be about the same age as him. Wild remembers Legend mentioning that he spends a lot of time with his Zelda. Perhaps he’s had to attend a few banquets while doing so. It would explain how at ease he looks.

Legend notices Wild’s restless pacing when they pass him for the third time and sends them a raised eyebrow. Wild can only grimace and shrug in return, fading back into the crowd. They see Legend shake his head slightly and turn back to the man he was talking to, offering him a hand and leading him onto the dance floor.

The only members of their group Wild can’t locate are Wind, Four, and Hyrule.

Wind and Four had been allowed to leave half an hour ago after the banquet portion of the evening had concluded. It seems that Wind had finally found one benefit to being young and Four hadn’t had any qualms with letting people assume he was a child this one time. If Wild had to guess, they’d say the pair had found their way to the kitchens and were terrorizing the chefs into giving them extra desserts.

Wild can’t see Hyrule anywhere, and they’re starting to think that the traveler found some way to escape the party without anyone noticing. Wild sighs heavily, which draws some looks from a group of nobles gathered nearby, so they quickly scuttle away.

This is turning out to be a miserable night, and they can’t wait for it to be over. At least the food at dinner had been good.

If only they could figure out how Hyrule had managed to sneak away, Wild would make his own way down to the kitchens and ask the cook for some of their recipes.

Speaking of food…

The only upside to this banquet was the servers floating around, holding platters of little desserts and drinks. In Wild’s era, you had to bring your own food to parties or buy from overpriced vendors. Here, it was free.

One of the servers moves through the crowd ahead of them, offering something to those around her. As Wild draws closer to her, they can see that her tray contains little tubes of pastry filled with some sort of white cream. It looks like it’s dipped in chocolate, and dusted with powdered sugar to finish it off. The treats look far more decadent and rich than anything you’d typically find elsewhere, but that was the benefit of ruling a nation. Royalty always had access to good food.

The server must see them eyeing her platter as they pass, as she holds it out. “Would you like a cannoli, ma’am?”

It takes Wild a second to realize that she is indeed talking to them. When they do, they freeze, barely containing their urge to gape open-mouthed at the tired-looking server. They pause for a moment, waiting with bated breath for her to correct herself.

It happens sometimes, people looking at them and actually seeing a woman. Wild’s sure it’s mostly due to their long hair. It never lasts long- they get a better look at Wild, and then almost fall over themselves in their haste to apologize. Then Wild has to perform a whole song and dance of telling them that it’s fine, that it was just a misunderstanding. They had to act as if the little scrap of acknowledgment hadn’t set their heart racing as fast as a wild horse on the plains.

The server doesn’t correct herself, though. She doesn’t say anything at all and only starts to move away as if Wild had refused her offer. From her perspective, Wild probably has, by not responding. Wild doesn’t doubt that she’s encountered plenty of nobles that deem it beneath them to even speak to the servants.

Wild splutters, just a little. They stop her and snag a cannoli off her tray. “Thank you,” They say a little breathlessly, and they don’t just mean for the dessert.

The server blinks at them, looking a little taken aback. “You’re welcome.” She says politely with a stale and automatic smile, and moves off to offer the platter to a nearby man.

After she moves off, Wild stands frozen, blinking after her in shock. They feel like the entire ballroom is swirling sluggishly around them. Something deep inside them bubbles with joy. The room seems a little brighter now, and this event somehow becomes a little more bearable. Wild feels like they're going to be walking on air for the rest of the evening.

“Hey,” The word- spoken into their good ear- and the hand that lands on their shoulder makes them squeak and spin to quickly face the newcomer. It’s Hyrule, and he gives them an apologetic smile, holding his hands up in surrender.

He jerks a thumb towards one of the balcony doors. “Want to come outside? It’s a bit stuffy in here.” Wild jumps on the opportunity. They hadn't even considered sneaking out to the gardens, and they kick themself for it.

With a furtive glance around, Wild realizes that none of the other heroes are paying a lick of attention to either Hyrule or Wild. Grabbing Hyrule’s hand with the hand they’re not using to hold their cannoli, they drag him through the crowd, startling a laugh out of him. Some of the nearby guests glare at them for the disruption, but Wild pays them no mind.

The pair makes their way out of the ballroom as quickly as possible, and the crispness of the night air is so refreshing it nearly makes Wild dizzy. They continue to jog, gradually picking up speed as Wild tugs Hyrule to run faster.

Soon, they’re sprinting through the gardens, and the quiet noise of the party fades from their hearing. Wild takes random turns as the hedge-lined paths split off into different paths, and eventually, they have to skid to a stop as the path they’re on leads to a small bench sitting against the boundary wall of the garden.

The adrenaline from the run and the euphoria from being called ma’am mingle together in their veins, and they can’t stop themself from grinning stupidly at Hyrule. He returns it, but there seems to be an undercurrent of hesitation behind it.

“You were in a real hurry to get out of there. Something make you uncomfortable?”

Wild tilts their hand side to side in a so-so gesture. “Warriors’ era sure has a weird way of throwing parties. Very boring.”

Hyrule nods but doesn't meet Wild’s gaze. Eventually, he seems to come to some conclusion and steel himself to say something.

“I heard what that server said.” Wild’s heart sinks, their grin falling. They look away, gaze falling on the flowers that were growing along the wall. Ironically, they realized the flowers were red roses. Without their permission, their unoccupied hand comes up to fiddle with the embroidery on the sash they wear.

Hyrule seems to be choosing their words carefully, and when they next speak, they talk slowly, as if they're trying to pick their way through a field full of bomb flowers. “I know what it feels like, for people to call me something I’m not, and it doesn’t feel good. I just wanted to say that you can wear anything you want. It doesn’t matter if it’s feminine, people should still respect what you are.”

“I’m sure she was just tired. It’s not a big deal,” Wild mumbles to Hyrule. They pat his shoulder absently and take their first bite out of the cannoli so they won’t have to say anything else. It’s delicious, but Wild feels too guilty to savor the sweet taste. They don’t know why. They don’t have anything to be guilty for.

They think they do a poor job of hiding their sudden mood change because Hyrule is looking at them with curious eyes. The traveler looks taken aback, like he’s two seconds away from apologizing to Wild for what he said.

Wild shoves the other half of the cannoli at Hyrule without thinking. Their stomach has turned, and the sweet cream lingering in their mouth suddenly tastes sour. They don’t want to eat the rest. “Here, do you want the rest of this? I don’t care for it.”

Hyrule takes it silently, and Wild’s glad, as that means that Hyrule’s mouth will be full and he won’t say anything else.

Wild can’t be mad at him. What Hyurle said was correct, really. What Wild was wearing didn’t automatically make them a man or a woman. Women could wear pants and still be women, men could wear dresses and still be men.

It wasn’t Hyrule's fault he didn’t know that Wild wasn’t a man.

It’s not like Wild had ever told him.

Wild hadn’t told him.

The thought brings a sudden clarity to their mind. They've been spending so long- ever since that night on the roof- worrying over whether Hyrule knew, wondering if he’d somehow found out, that they hadn’t thought maybe they were reading too deep into what Hyrule said. And for him to be so reassuring about the fact that Wild don't have to worry about their masculinity now…

And like he’d said, Hyrule would know better than most how it feels to be thought of as something other than what they were. He and Warriors would be the ones most likely to support Wild in this, and the ones least likely to be worried over what legends and myths said the hero had to be.

If the first time the group had visited the farm had been any indication, the chores would be done sooner than expected with all the extra help. The other heroes would have plenty of time to relax before dinner was ready. 

With that in mind, Wild sets about preparing something small for them to nibble on while they waited for dinner to be done. Some freshly cut vegetables from the ranch’s garden, a bowl of roasted nuts, and a pitcher of freshly squeezed lemonade took up residence on the dining table, waiting for the hungry heroes who would soon come into the house. After a moment of hesitation, Wild spikes the lemonade with a splash of chilly elixir to help everyone cool down after a day spent out in the sun. Hopefully, that would be enough to stall any grumbling, either from the heroes or their stomachs.

With that settled, Wild heads out of the house and around the back to Time and Malon’s personal garden. After a brief deliberation, they pull up some carrots and parsnips. Soon, the vegetables are scrubbed clean, chopped, and tossed into the roasting pan with the rump roast of a wild boar, which Wild rubbed down thoroughly with their own special blend of spices. The vegetables would soak up all the juices from the meat and spices while they cooked and turn flavorful and tender as the meat cooked. That went into the oven right away to slow roast for as long as possible.

As Wild dealt with the main dish, Malon had brought up a large number of potatoes from the cellar and had started preparing them. A large pot had been set to boil over the fire, ready to receive the potatoes. They would be boiled until soft, then mashed with butter, a splash of fresh milk, some strong Hateno cheese, and roasted garlic. 

Wild toys with the idea of making a light mushroom soup to serve with the main course, but quickly dismisses the idea. Soups and stews are a staple of traveling, and while Wild tries to mix it up with a curry or stir fry every once in a while- anything that could be cooked easily in a single pot– they knew their companions would enjoy a break from soups.

All of the pair’s work is done in relative silence. Both cooks are engrossed in their jobs and feel no need to exchange words besides “pass me that knife over there,” or “where did you put the salt?” 

It’s peaceful to be able to cook in a real kitchen again, and Wild and Malon work well together, neither of them having to be instructed on what to do next. 

Wild pulls out a second cutting board, starting to help Malon with the potatoes as they contemplate what else to serve. The roast wouldn’t be enough for all of them, and some of the heroes, like Sky, Legend, and Hyrule, didn’t care for red meat. 

Wild mentally rifles through all the recipes they know, eventually coming to settle on salmon meuniere. The dish brought good memories to Wild. The first time they'd made the recipe had been for Genli, one of Kass' many daughters. She'd nearly shattered their eardrums with her excited shriek when they’d approached her with the finished dish. It’d made the hours they'd spent gathering the materials and trying to get the recipe just right all worth it. 

That, and the dish was truly delicious.

A swishing movement out of the corner of their eye pulls them from their contemplation. A quick turn of their head shows it’s only Malon’s dress flaring out as she twists to grab something off the counter. 

For a brief moment, Wild’s reminded of the necklace Riju had been wearing the last time they’d seen her. Malon’s dress is a similar shade of soft purple as the gems Riju had worn.

Now thoroughly distracted from their task, Wild’s movements turn robotic. Their mind wanders back to the subject that’d been consuming them lately. It had become a little troublesome, with how much the topic still weighs on their mind.

They wished they could talk to Zel about this. She would understand, and even if she didn’t, it would be nice to just get their thought’s off their chest. Unfortunately, Wild was hundreds of miles and thousands of years away from Zel, and surrounded by people who didn’t know who Wild really was. 

Another swish from Malon’s skirt draws their eyes back to the fabric. It’s a pretty pastel purple, which is a subtle flex of wealth that Wild hadn’t expected from Malon or Time. It’s not a bold enough purple to be overly expensive, or the kind that’s reserved for royalty, but it would’ve been expensive cloth. Malon is still wearing her typical apron and yellow neckerchief overtop of it, which dresses it down even more. As Wild stares, they notice subtle embroidery. Little bunches of lavender line the hems of the dress, with flourishes of green leaves.

“See something interesting?” Wild looked up at Malon’s question, finding her staring right back at them.

They turn away to the flush that creeps up their cheeks at being caught staring. “I really like your dress, that's all. It’s pretty.”

“Oh!” Malon blinks in surprise, apparently not expecting that answer. She looks pleased. ”Link got the fabric for me as an anniversary gift a few years back. He probably would’a commissioned someone to make it into a dress for me too, but I like to make my own. I’m the only one who knows how’ta make ‘em fit just right. Premade dresses always seem to have something wrong with ‘em.” 

Malon holds out the edge of her skirt for them to feel, which they do after a moment of hesitation. The fabric feels as high quality as it looks, and Wild can tell it’s not something Malon would wear if she were working on the farm. It’s a bit too delicate for that. Wild’s mind wanders as they rub the fabric between their fingers, and something of their envy must show on their face as they inspect the fabric, because Malon looks intrigued. A little confused at Wild’s interest, but not hostile. 

“I think I have some of my older dresses in the attic. I’m saving ‘em for if Link and I ever have a- well,” She cuts herself off with a smile, and Wild feels a similar smile tug at the corner of their mouth. The thought of Time and Malon having children makes their heart squeeze. They know it’s something the couple is hoping for, and the two of them deserve to be happy. They deserve to have as many children as they want. 

Malon’s fond, love-struck expression makes Wild relax slightly, which means they’re all the less prepared for her next words. Malon shakes her head to dispel the thought she’d been trapped in.

“I think some of them might fit you, if you’d like to try them. I think you’d look pretty in them.” 

Wild stiffened, their hands which had gone back to steadily chopping potatoes freeze instantly. Their heart is beating swiftly in their chest. Some kind of fluttery, light feeling rises in their stomach, but it brings along a dread that crawls under their skin.

Pretty. 

Pretty pretty pretty pretty prettyprettypretty 

Their brain frantically grabs hold of the word, turning it over and over obsessively in their mind, as if that will reveal some secret hidden message. Wild curses the fact that they hadn’t been looking at Malon when she’d said it. They weren't good at reading facial expressions, but they wish they had something to puzzle over instead of just Malon’s voice. 

Pretty? 

They hadn’t detected any sneer in her voice. She hadn’t sounded like she’d been making fun of them.

Malon had called them pretty. Or… implied it, at least.

“Wild? Are you alright, hon? You don’t have to try on any dresses if you don’t want to.” Malon is trying to reassure them, Wild thinks, and they startle as they realize they’ve been staring at the potatoes on the cutting board in front of them this whole time.

“No one’s ever called me pretty before.” The words slip out without their permission, but they aren’t a lie.

“Oh.” Malon’s expression turns gentle. There’s a small bit of pity in her gaze too, and for once, the emotion doesn't irritate them. Usually, when the topic of his scars come up, people are awkward at best, and downright insulting at worst, whether they intend to be or not. 

No one’s ever offered comfort before. No one except Zel ever felt bad for them or told them they were sorry that it had happened. And Zel didn’t count. She had the same kinds of scar they had- the horrific burns that came with surviving an encounter with a guardian. That type of scar was rare to see, and usually only garnered horror or grotesque curiosity.

“I don’t care what I look like,” Wild remarks, still not looking at Malon. The protest sounds hollow and false even to Wild’s ears. It was… partially true. Wild had never put too much thought into their actual appearance before. They’ve worried about whether they looked masculine or feminine, but they’d never bothered with how good they looked. They knew their lifestyle of traveling and fighting didn’t leave much time for appearances.

That didn’t stop people from judging.

Malon hummed a reassurance. “You don’t need to care, hon, at least not if you don’t want to.” Wild nodded. They knew that, but what if they did care what other people thought? What then? Tears prick at the corner of their eyes. They know that Malon can’t see it, turned away as they were, but it still makes their ears turn downward in shame.

“And I know my opinion doesn’t matter, but I think you're beautiful, Wild.” A fat tear rolls down Wild’s cheek, dripping onto their tunic and turning the blue fabric dark as it soaks in.

Malon’s hand cups their cheek, and guides them to look at her. She doesn’t look surprised to see the tear tracks on their face. She simply says “Oh, honey,” and draws them into a hug. She sounds gentle but there’s an undercurrent of sadness that makes the corner of Wild’s mouth twitch downwards as they try not to cry.

Wild can see Malon’s face out of the corner of their eye. Her expression is still concerned but still gentle and caring, and for a second, Wild is stuck with the overwhelming urge to tell her everything.

Could they tell her? Malon is very kind, and she’s married to Time. She knows intimately how the title of hero can affect those who bear it, and that being a hero didn’t mean you had to fit a certain mold.

And if she did react badly- well, Wild doesn’t live in the same era as her. They wouldn’t have to live with her opinion of them. 

Could they really tell her? 

Wild is halfway through opening their mouth to try and speak through their tears when the front door opens. They can hear Time’s voice call out a greeting, and heavy footsteps making their way toward the kitchen

They try to twitch away from the hug instinctually, never mind the fact that it’s obvious they’re still crying, their shoulders still heaving with every breath. Malon tightens her arms and doesn’t let them out of her embrace. When the door opens, Wild, who’s facing away from it, can't see Time or his expression. They tense under the weight of the old man’s gaze anyways, burying their face in Malon’s shoulder.

There’s a pause as Time takes in the scene. When he speaks, his voice is a little confused, but mostly concerned. “Champion?” Wild doesn't respond, knowing that their voice would waver and crack if they tried to speak now. 

When Wild doesn’t respond, Time speaks to Malon instead. “Is he alright?”

Wild can feel Malon shake her head, motioning for Time to leave with one hand. “He’ll be fine. Dinner won’t be ready for a bit. Go back outside.” Wild can’t see the silent conversation taking place between the two, but after a few more seconds Wild can hear Time turn and go back outside without another word. 

Wild will have to worry about that later. Hopefully, Time won’t try to ask them or Malon about what just happened. It’s a futile hope- the heroes of Hyrule are all a nosy bunch, Time included. With luck, Malon would head him off, and tell him not to ask Wild about it.

Wild still wasn’t ready to tell any of the other heroes, yet. Their mind goes back to the thought they’d had before Time had opened the door. Could they tell Malon who they really were? 

No. 

Malon is kind, but Wild isn’t ready to tell a friendly acquaintance one of their deepest secrets. Wild’s only met Malon a few times. In truth, they barely know her. A few hours spent cooking together isn’t enough for them to trust her with this. Wild can think of a whole list of people who deserve to know about this first. 

Teba, Yunobo, Sidon, the rest of Wild’s friends in their era, and Malon’s own husband are on that list, along with the rest of the heroes. 

Wild spends a moment to think this all over.

Those who wield the sword that seals the darkness all have an undeniable connection. Some of the heroes had proposed that they all shared the same soul, while others thought that they simply shared experiences that no one else– besides possibly their respective princess– could relate to. 

Whatever it was, there had always been an underlying sense of trust between them, even the more paranoid like Time and Legend. They trusted each other explicitly to guard their back in battle, but not only that. They’re able to trust each other with their deepest secrets. Things they haven't told anyone else. 

Hylia knows that Wild’s admitted some things to the other heroes that they haven’t told anyone before, not even Zel. Things like the fact that they remember how it felt to die, things like how many times they had to use Mipha’s grace on their adventure because they were still so new to the world and had no one to watch their back, things like–

Well. The point was there was a certain vulnerability between the heroes they only shared with each other. Wild brushes away those thoughts before they can overwhelm them.

Wild backs off, wiping at their eyes. This time, Malon lets them go without resistance.

“My offer about those dresses is always open, hon.” Malon’s expression is calm, and Wild can’t tell what she must be thinking. They throw their focus back to their cooking, trying to take their mind off of what just happened. 

Wild wonders what the other heroes would think about Wild dressing in women’s clothing. Would they care? Against their will, Wild’s mind flashes back to Warriors jeering tone when he had found Wild’s vai outfit, and they let the thought drift away.

~~~

Time keeps shooting Wild concerned glances over dinner. No one else has caught on to Time’s worry yet, which is a relief. Wild’s sure the other heroes have noticed that they’d been quieter than usual, but it wasn’t odd for the heroes to be more selective with their words at times, Wild included. 

Instead of meeting Time’s gaze, Wild busies themself with pushing around the mashed potatoes on their plate. After a while, and what Wild could swear was Malon giving Time a swift kick under the table, Time moves his scrutiny to his own plate. 

Wild is finally able to relax minutely, the tension bleeding out of their shoulders. They tune back into the conversations around them.

Closest to them, Hyrule and Warriors are talking, with Legend, Time, and Malon listening in. At the other end of the table, Four, Twilight, and Sky are having a quiet conversion that Wild can’t make out, save for Wind’s occasional loud interjections.

Hyrule speaks, asking a question from Warriors that Wild had missed. “Um, I only named myself Link a few months before I started my first journey. Believe me, the irony wasn’t lost on me.”

Warriors raises an eyebrow at Hyrule as he takes a sip of his drink. “Why did you choose Link, if I may ask?”

Hyrule shrinks into his seat, his eyes darting over to Legend, ears twitching nervously. When he speaks, his voice is even quieter than normal for the soft-spoken traveler. “I had heard stories about the hero who came before me. I was just a kid at the time, but I already knew I wanted to be like him.” 

Hyrule makes a slightly strangled noise after he finishes speaking. Wild doubts he meant to say all that, and feels a little bad for the traveler. He’s always been one of the quieter members of the group, and anyone with eyes could tell that he idolizes Legend. 

“I assume you didn’t believe it would turn out to be so literal.” Warriors commented. He looks delighted, and Wild suspects the only reason he’s not teasing Legend mercilessly right now is to avoid Hyrule exploding from embarrassment at the dinner table. Wild doesn’t doubt that Warriors will be on Legend's case– and on his nerves–the second Hyrule is out of earshot. 

Legend is also steadfastly refusing to look up from his plate, so at least Wild isn’t the only one. He’s pretending not to listen to the conversation, but the bright red ears and emotionally constipated look on his face made it clear that the veteran had indeed been listening.

~~~

Wild finds it hard to fall asleep that night. 

The group is split between the ranch’s two guest rooms, and Wild ends up in the room with Legend, Warriors, and Wind. Legend almost immediately claims the single bed, and the rest of them end up setting up their bedrolls on the floor after a token protest from Warriors. 

Despite having to lay on the floor, they’re still more comfortable than they are in the majority of the places the group has camped before. There are no sticks or rocks to poke their bedroll, no need to worry about movement or sounds in the dark, no light from the fire, or noises from those on watch to keep them awake. 

But despite all this, Wild’s wandering mind keeps them awake until long after everyone else has fallen asleep. The only sounds in the room are the soft, even breathing of the other heroes, and the sun has long since slipped below the horizon, leaving the dim glow of the moon filtering through the open window as the only source of light. 

Wild’s mind continues to wander aimlessly, never quite slipping into the sweet oblivion of sleep. No particular thought is keeping them awake, but their mind refuses to settle. 

They don’t know how late it is when they finally give up on falling asleep, quietly rising from their bedroll. They make their way out of the room without waking anyone, thanking themself for having the foresight to lay their bedroll the closest to the door. 

The house is deathly silent as Wild wanders through it and the stillness of the empty house puts them on edge. The only sound is the consistent tick, tick, tick of the clock in the corner of the entryway. The sound echoes through the rooms on the first floor of the house.

Wild shivers and slips out the front door. 

They slowly make their way out to the barn to say hello to both Time and Twilight’s Eponas and sneak them both an apple, which they seem to appreciate. The company of the horses is nice, but Wild’s restless feet carry them onward after only a few minutes.

They end up deciding to head up to the roof of the house. Maybe the fresh air, the sounds of crickets, and being able to see the stars would put them at ease enough to catch a few hours of sleep before the sun came up. It’s a perfect night for stargazing. There isn’t a single cloud out, and a light breeze making the slight humidity not feel too stuffy.

But when they peek their head over the edge of the roof, they discover they aren’t the first one there. Hyrule is sprawled out on his back, gazing up at the stars. Wild considers backing away and finding someplace else to sit, but Wild thinks that they wouldn’t mind the traveler's quiet company.

Hyrule seems to notice them hovering indecisively at the edge of the roof, and he sits up. An inviting smile is sent in Wild’s direction, so they hoist themself over the edge of the roof, flopping down next to Hyrule. 

Hyrule is the first to speak. “I saw you go into the barn. Sneaking the horses apples again?” Wild nods, and Hyrule grins. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell Time or Twilight.”

Wild laughs, thanking him. Twilight had been getting on them about giving Epona too many treats recently. Wild personally doesn’t think they’d been doing so. Epona is a good horse, she deserves treats.

The two of them fall into a companionable silence after that. It’s nearly a half hour before Hyrule speaks up. “I was thinking about the conversation we had at dinner. About how Warriors and I choose the name Link?” 

Wild wonders why Hyrule includes them in the ”we,” as Wild hadn’t participated in the conversation at all. They also hadn't been paying attention for most of it, so they must’ve missed when Warriors had elaborated on his name. They nod in agreement anyways. 

“When I was younger I had a… friend, named Navi, who would tell me stories about heroes of ages past. I wasn’t sure when I first met him, but now I think Legend was one of those heroes. I think she even knew Time personally, even if she mostly refuses to talk about him.”

Hyrule must see the odd look Wild shoots him because he elaborates. “Navi is a great fairy, so she’s been around for a while. She basically raised me. Taught me everything I know about magic.”

That made sense. Wild had always wondered about some of Hyrule’s spells. His magic had always felt familiar, giving off the same feeling as the magic of the great fairies Wild knew. 

Hyrule continues. “Before that, I was- uh, fairies are all female, and being raised by them doesn’t help with-” Hyrule sighs. “What I mean is, I didn’t really have any role models who were men while I was growing up.” 

Wild wants to bury their face in their hands. They had come up here in hopes it would let them relax, but this was not helping. 

Hyrule is either oblivious to Wild’s growing stress or continues on despite it. “But the stories about heroes of old- the courage they showed in the face of danger, the sacrifices they made for the sake of others- I decided I wanted to be that kind of person. Long before I ever understood the difference between man and woman, I knew that’s who I was.” Hyrule aims a strange smile at Wild that they don’t understand. It doesn't seem malicious, at least.

Wild wonders what Hyrule’s point was. This conversation is getting a little too personal, a little too close to what had been haunting Wild for months. Why can’t they have a break? They just want a break from worrying about what they are and if they should tell anyone. 

“Why didn’t you say that all at dinner? Why tell me now?” They ask.

 “I just thought you might need to hear it, that’s all. Also, Legend would combust if I told him that.”

“You mean you would combust if you did?” Wild teases. They’re deflecting, they know they are, but their heart is pounding too fast to care. 

Thankfully, their distraction works, or at least Hyrule is willing to let the previous conversation go. He laughs, an embarrassed flush crawling over their cheeks, just like it had at dinner. 

‘I just thought you might need to hear it.’ What had Hyrule meant by that? Their mind whirls, and they have to focus on keeping their breathing even. In the quiet of the night, any unsteady breathing would be easily noticed.

After that, the conversation falls back into the usual routine of banter and soft laughter. Wild’s breathing becomes easier, and his heart slows, but they still wonder why Hyrule felt the need to share that with them. 

A heavy kind of sorrow wells in their stomach, and their mind swirls with questions that they can’t answer. 

Why couldn't Wild have had a crisis over their identity and realized that they were just being silly? That those feelings they were having were due to something else, and they really were a man? Why couldn’t they have become more assured in their own identity, instead of feeling like their soul had been ripped open and rearranged? 

Humiliation burns at them. They were supposed to be the hero. They were meant to be the kind of man that children were told bedtime stories about. They were meant to be that famous figure that looms in the public consciousness. They were supposed to be the fabled hero that was always unquestionably and recognizably a man.

And sure, Wild had defeated great evil, even if it took them a while to finish the job, and they’ve fought monsters, and sacrificed everything they were for the good of the people. This was all true. 

But it was also true that every time they looked at their body, their brain told them it was wrong, wrong, wrong.

If Wild truly had to feel like this, why couldn’t they have been more like Hyrule? If they’d truly been meant to feel so wrong in their own body- if this was what the goddess wished for them- why couldn’t it have been the other way around? Why couldn’t they have been born a girl, and later realize they were a man?

Wild knows that none of these questions are something they’ll ever find an answer to, most likely. They try to push down the feeling of desperation that rises in their throat and nearly chokes, and tries to stop thinking about it. The feelings might not ever go away, but Wild couldn’t spend their entire life wishing their circumstances were different.

After they manage to get their mind to stop spiraling, they’re still left with a dread pooling in their chest and one question running through their mind that keeps them from falling asleep the rest of the night. 

Riju must have had a serious growth spurt since Wild last saw her. She used to come up to their shoulders, but now the top of her head is level with their nose. Thankfully, she isn't wearing her large ceremonial hairpiece. If she had been, it would’ve smacked them in the face. She’s still wearing a decent amount of jewelry, though, as Wild had come to expect from the young chief. Her necklace digs into their chest with how hard she’s hugging them.

Riju soon pulls away with a stern look on her face, and exclaims, “Link, where have you been? You just disappeared! Zel knew where you went but she wouldn’t tell anyone.” Wild mutters a sheepish acknowledgement and an apology, but their brain is focused on the fact that Riju is actually calling Zel ‘Zel,’ instead of Zelda. The last Wild knew, they were the only one who knew to call her that. 

Wild doesn’t have time to ponder this development, as the other heroes- who’ve been standing at a distance and allowing the pair to have their reunion- seem to take Riju’s questions as an invitation to move forwards for introductions.

Wild clears their throat to draw everyone’s attention to them. They’re pretty sure they’ve mentioned the other Champions to the group before. They all probably knew who Riju is, but regardless. Riju is the Chief of the Gerudo. Formal introductions are necessary. As one of the Hylian Champions, Wild is the highest-ranking person here besides Riju herself, so the duty falls to them.

“This is Chief Riju of the Gerudo, the Lady of Lightning and Champion of the desert sands, the high plateaus, and their peoples.” The introduction rolls off Wild’s tongue, easy and rehearsed. They’ve heard it often enough to know all of Riju’s names by heart. The titles are too heavy for the thirteen year old, but the Calamity and its monsters forced too much responsibility on young shoulders, not caring if they were ready for it. 

Wild’s mind wanders while they introduce her, focused on other things. 

Wild knows it’s not the time, but they desperately want to pull Riju aside and ask her how she knows what to call Zel. Had Zel told her? Had Riju simply picked up the nickname from Wild, not knowing that Zel had changed her name?

(They also want to pull her aside and tell her that “Link” isn’t their name anymore. They want to ask her if they would be allowed into Gerudo Town again, and not out of necessity. It’s not the permission to enter the town that Wild really cares about, although seeing the friends they had made there again would be nice. What entry to the town represents- well, they care about that a lot.)

They push those thoughts to the side. They’ll have time to ask Riju about Zel’s name later. They’ll have time to tell Riju about their own name later as well.

For now, they focus back on the situation at hand. While Wild had been distracting themself with their thoughts, Time had stepped up to perform formal introductions of the rest of the group. Being the group’s leader, and presumably at least a little familiar with more formal settings, it made most sense for him to do so when Wild hadn’t. 

Time uses the group’s assumed names, as always, and leaves out all their heroic titles. Wild’s grateful for that. They might end up telling Riju who their traveling companions are, but her guards and the citizens listening in from around the bazaar definitely did not need to know those details. 

Time introduces Twilight first, who bows to the young chief awkwardly. He looks uncomfortable with the movements, but he manages it. Wild blinks, mildly shocked. They hadn’t expected Twilight, of all the heroes, to know such social graces. Perhaps the farmer was invited up to his era’s castle more often than he had mentioned. (Not that Wild has any place to talk. They know people expect very little from them in that department, and they’re happy to keep it that way.)

The rest of the heroes copy Twilight's movements as they are introduced one by one, some more awkwardly than others. When Warriors is introduced, he performs the bow with the most ease of all of them, as Wild had expected. 

Despite the heroes’ politeness, Riju and her guards didn’t seem to be taking the introductions well. They’re all staring with narrowed eyes, apprehensive by the time Time introduces Warriors. Wild almost smiles at their mistrust. 

From an outside perspective it’s obvious the group’s names are fake, but usually people don’t care enough to call them out on it. However, to the people in Wild’s era, fake names raise suspicions of Yiga. 

The Yiga clan has mostly disbanded by now. Their leader was dead by Wild’s own hand, and their goal of the Calamity ruling the land had been thwarted by Wild and Zel sealing it away. 

Many of the ex-members had dispersed throughout the country again. Mostly it was those that had only joined recently, under the threat of Calamity's imminent release.

Most people know what their loved ones had been doing whilst they’d been gone, or at least have an idea. But from what Wild’s seen and heard, it looks like the majority of people have decided to turn the other cheek and welcome the defectors back into the fold of regular society. 

The general consensus seems to be that the ex-cult members are to be accepted, but not trusted yet. The population’s too low to drive off all those that returned, regardless of personal feelings towards them. As long as they behave, they’re allowed to stay. 

However, there’s still a small dedicated sect of the cult that’s stubbornly holding out in their old base in Karusa Valley. Wild doubts that the cult would ever truly vanish. Not in their lifetime, at any rate. The Gerudo especially are still harried by them, and still on the constant look out for imposters. 

A large group of warriors, heavily armed and with obviously fake names, probably raises several red flags with the Gerudo chief and her warriors. 

When Time finally gets to Hyrule, the traveler looks like he’s two seconds off from running away from this whole situation. He bows sloppily. When he rises from his bow, Hyrule freezes, stiffening at the sight of both Riju’s and her guard’s hands drifting towards their sword hilts. 

Wild supposes that Hyrule’s name had been pushing it a little bit. They reach out and pat Riju’s shoulder reassuringly, humming comfortingly at the sharp look she shoots at them. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll explain later.” 

Riju scrutinizes Wild for a moment more, before nodding and pulling her hand away from her weapon. Her guards follow her example, falling back to a more relaxed stance. 

Time is looking at the pair of them with a narrowed eye, and Wild can only shrug. They told Riju they would explain later, and it was only fair they would explain the situation to the other heroes as well. Riju had looked two seconds away from chopping Hyrule’s head off. The traveler, at least, deserves an explanation and reassurance that he hadn’t done anything wrong. 

The heroes know about the Yiga clan. Wild had felt obligated to tell them the first time the group had been portaled to their era. The clan may be in decline, but they still target Wild often enough that it could become a problem at some point on their travels. So the others would probably be understanding regarding the Gerudos’ wariness.

Time nods in acceptance at Wild’s unspoken message, and moves on to the last person to be introduced. “This is Wind.” Time gestures to the sailor, and Riju finally seems to notice the youngest hero where he stands near the back of the group. 

Wind waves shyly at her, and - wait, shyly? That wasn’t like the sailor at all. Wild doesn't think they had ever seen Wind act abashed like this. 

Wild squints. Wind looks awfully red despite only being out in the sun for a little while this morning and not being prone to sunburn. Warriors, who’s standing next to the sailor, elbows him in the ribs. Wind startles, and quickly bows. When he rises again, he looks even more embarrassed. Riju stares at Wind with open curiosity, which makes the sailor reach up and fiddle with his necklace nervously. 

Warriors nudges Wind again playfully, which startles both of them out of their staring contest. Riju and Wind look away from each other in embarrassment, and Wind shoves Warriors in retaliation.

Ah, the beauty of young crushes. Adorable.

Wild shakes the thought off. They themselves aren’t that old. They aren’t even twenty yet. They have no right to be acting like they’re Time’s age when they’re hardly four years older than Wind himself.

Time clears his throat with amusement dancing in his eye, drawing attention away from the embarrassed pair. “Now that introductions are over, I believe we have some delicate information to discuss?” He trails off, leaving an opening for someone else to take over the conversation. 

From behind them, the Bazaar's innkeeper, Romah, speaks up. Wild jolts a little at her voice, having forgotten the group’s audience. “I have a private room in the back of the inn you can use if you need to discuss something with no listening ears, my chief,” The innkeeper offers. 

Riju accepts her offer, and Romah starts to herd the heroes into the inn. Riju moves towards the door as well, her guards following after her. 

“Wait a moment,” Wild stops her, seeing a perfect opportunity for them to speak to Riju. “I’d like to speak to you alone first. I have some news.” Riju tilts her head at them, conceding, but obviously wondering what news Wild brought that they couldn't share with their companions. 

She gestures for two of her guards to follow the heroes into the inn. Her last guard stays close by her side, and follows the pair around to the side of the building. Most of the citizens clear off, understanding that private means private. An older woman seems keen to listen into their conversation, but scurries off when Wild stares her down. 

Riju waves off her guard, and she moves further away. Not far- they’re still close enough that they can quickly intervene if need be. The Gerudo guards trust and respect Wild, but not enough to leave them completely alone with their young chief. But they’re far enough they’re out of earshot.

Once the guard was out of earshot, WIld turned towards Riju, not wasting any time in questioning her. “You called her Zel.” It’s not a question, and Riju doesn't deny it, although she looks slightly bemused at Wild’s swift change of topic.

“Yes,” Riju says slowly, looking at them cautiously, confusion in her eyes. “Didn’t you already know? She hasn’t told everyone yet, but I believe she’s told all other Champions, and I would have thought you would be the first she told.”

Wild shakes their head. “No, she already told me. I just hadn’t known she’d been planning on telling anyone else yet.” 

They hadn’t even had an inkling Zel had been planning to tell other people. She hadn’t even mentioned it. Wild hadn’t expected Zel to keep it a secret, of course. But they hadn’t thought that she would start telling everyone. 

Or, well, she wasn’t telling everyone. Riju had said Zel had only told the Champions so far, and she wasn’t telling everyone yet. 

Yet being the keyword here.

Yet, as in, Zel was going to tell everyone at some point.

Wild can't help but feel betrayed. They don’t have any reason to feel vaguely hurt by Zel’s decision. In fact, they’re quite happy that Zel’s feeling more comfortable with telling people. But for some reason, they also feel like Zel’s leaving them behind.

Normally Wild’s the courageous one, while Zel is more cautious, more willing to wait to see how things unfold. But in this, it seems that Zel’s the one who’s more sure of herself.

Not that Wild isn’t sure of who they are. They’re very sure; they know they aren’t a man. It’s just… the thought of telling everyone, of having people question them… it’s terrifying. Yet, Zel didn’t seem to care about any of that.

Wild squishes down their jealousy. Zel being more open with people and freer with who she is is no reason for Wild to feel sour. Their struggles and hesitations are not Zel’s, and they shouldn’t project their feelings onto her.

“That’s good,” They eventually add. “I’m glad.” The words sound a little hollow, but they’re truthful. 

Riju is looking at them critically now, a hint of incredulous hostility in her eyes. Wild can see her puffing up in anger. For a moment, they’re hilariously reminded of a baby bird of prey that fluffs up its downy feathers when it wants to appear threatening. “You have a problem with that?” Riju asks. Wild can tell she’s not just talking about Zel changing her name, but everything that goes along with that. 

Wild shook their head firmly in denial. “No. I don’t, I’m just-” They stop themselves. “I just feel like she’s leaving me behind.”

This makes Riju stop, her frown turning from anger to confusion. “I don’t get it. Why would she be leaving you behind?”

Wild freezes. They hadn’t meant to say as much as they did. But if they really were this upset about Zel coming out to other people, then they had to consider that maybe telling other people they weren’t a man like people thought was a good step to take.

Wild didn’t have to tell everyone, but… they could tell the Champions, couldn’t they? Wild has proven themself to the other Champions time and time again and had forged unbreakable bonds with them while they’d worked together to stop the rampaging Divine Beasts. The Champions know Wild is capable, know they’re confident in themself. The other Champions wouldn’t doubt them.

Wild could take one small step, and that one small step would bring them comfort. Riju would be a great place to start. She’s become like a little sister to Wild, and they know she sees them in a somewhat similar light. She’d even defended Zel against a hint of perceived hostility from Wild. She’ll support them. They have to believe that.

Wild sighs shakily. Their hands are shaking with nerves, but they forge onwards anyways. They refuse to meet her gaze, instead keeping his eyes on the purple gems in her necklace. They were such an enchanting shade of lavender.

“Riju-” They pause for a moment, and Riju, though she still looks a little lost, seems to understand that they're about to say something important. She waits, letting Wild take time to gather themself before continuing.

‘Am I really about to do this?’ They think. Their heart is beating out of their chest, and it feels like their lungs have stopped working. Somehow, they’re more and less nervous about this than when they had told Zel. ‘Yeah, I am.’ 

“Riju, I also changed my name.”

Riju still looks a little confused, and stares at them incredulously. Wild internally curses the fact that they aren't able to communicate with other people with as much ease as they could with Zel. They hadn’t even had to say anything when they had told Zel. She had simply known. 

Riju, on the other hand, needs a bit of an explanation. She shakes her head, looking a little off balance. “Why would you-- Okay. What’s your new name?” she asks.

“It’s Wild.” Riju nods approvingly, although a little distracted. Wild’s reminded how Zel had told them that Wild was very suitable for them. 

“Alright, thank you for telling me. But I don't really see what that has to do with…” Riju trails off. Wild can practically see the puzzle pieces coming together in her head.

Wild knows they have to confirm it for her though. “I’m not a man.” They admit. It's much easier to say this time, to their surprise.

There’s a pregnant pause. Then -

“Oh.” Wild waits calmly for her to say something. They're nervous but not as nervous as they’d been when they’d told Zel. Perhaps It's because they know it's less of a risk. For one thing, they hadn’t had any idea what Zel’s views were on things like this at the time. Riju, on the other hand, has already demonstrated a willingness to stand up for Zel. And in case Riju did react poorly, Wild already has Zel in their corner in case anything goes wrong. They had support to fall back on this time.

(Wild ignores the little voice in the back of their head that whispers that Zel changing her name and Wild telling Riju they aren’t a man are very different things. Even people who are perfectly content with the skin they’re born in can change their names. Declaring they aren’t a man is a lot less ambiguous.) 

All Wild can do now is hope they won’t get a bad reaction.

Their statement seems to take a moment to register with Riju, but when it does, she gasps. “Oh! Really? Why didn’t you say so? If we had known, you wouldn’t have had to wear the vai clothes to get into the town, you know.” 

Riju’s acceptance is a balm on Wild’s nerves, and they can feel themself relaxing. Even if Riju isn't quite right in her assumption- which they’re quick to correct her on. “I’m not a girl either,” Wild says, and then hesitates because they don’t know that. The only thing they know is they aren’t a man. “I think, anyway.”

“Only men are barred entry from Gerudo Town,” Riju stresses, “You don’t necessarily have to be a woman to enter. And you haven't come to visit us since the defeat of the Calamity! I know for a fact that some of my people miss seeing you around.”

Wild’s heart flutters happily at the acknowledgement Riju offers to them. That Wild is being invited back into Gerudo Town makes happiness blossom inside their chest, pushing away the last vestiges of anxiety they had been feeling.

Instead of showing their excitement, they tease. “And are you one of the ones who miss me?”

Riju flushes red, crossing her arms. “No!”

“Not even a little bit?” 

“No! I just- I know you visit the other Champions, but you never come visit me!” Riju protests. When she sees their teasing grin grow, she hurries to clarify. “To talk about Yiga sightings and stuff like that!”

“And stuff,” Wild parrots, which Riju punches them lightly in the arm for.

They relent, stopping the teasing for now. “I only figured it out pretty recently, I didn't think I would be welcome before that, and after I realized, I had only hoped, but I didn't want to get my hopes up.” 

‘Figured it out’ is probably a kind way to put the breakdowns Wild has had, but Riju didn’t need to know all those details. 

“You’re terrible! What I mean to say is I don’t know why you haven’t visited.” Wild opens their mouth, but Riju cuts them off. “Even before you left on this mysterious mission you’re on now, I mean. Even before I knew you weren’t a man, I never revoked my permission for you to enter.”

Oh.

Wild hadn’t dreamed that they would be given blanket permission, though. They had thought they had been allowed in only out of necessity.

“I can tell the guards to start letting you in now, without you needing to put on the vai clothes.”

Wild considered this. “They will ask why.”

“Probably.” Riju shrugged. “But I don't have to tell them. My people like you, for the most part, and even those who think you cause too much trouble acknowledge that you’ve been a great help to us.”

“Can you do that? Tell the guards to let in someone who they still think is a man? That feels like it would definitely be against the law.“

Riju stares at them, unimpressed. “Wild,” And, oh, if hearing their name come from the mouth of someone other than Zel doesn’t make their heart flutter, “Wild, I am the Chief. I make the law.”

Right. Sometimes Wild forgets the power that their friend wields. The reminder that Riju has an entire settlement under her command always makes them do a double take.

Wild eventually shrugs. “You can do that if you want, as long as you feel it won't cause a stir with your people. Or with the men who are always lobbying to be let in. If they hear about an ‘exception’ to the law. they might be upset.” 

They hate those kinds of men. Wild doesn’t know why they try so hard. The Gerudo had been successfully keeping men out of their town for many years. Did they honestly expect to be able to sneak or fight their way in? It was honestly insulting to the Gerudos. And those who were so obsessed over violating the laws of the Gerudo were exactly the type of people who would not take no for an answer. 

They’re also the type to be upset about someone else getting special treatment.

Riju smiles wickedly, and Wild notices that she's fingering the handle of her blade. “If those men hear tell of it, they will just have to deal with the disappointment.” She shakes her head. “As for my people, they will understand.”

Wild hums. “But I don’t want you to tell them why. I’m not ready to tell everyone yet.”

“Alright. Who knows so far, then?”

“Only you and Zel so far,” Wild admits. Riju’s eyes start glimmering at that, and Wild hopes she doesn’t cry. That would be a good way to get themself beheaded by the chief’s sometimes overzealous guards. 

Riju frowned, eyebrows furrowing. “What about these mysterious companions with fake names? Do they now?”

“Well, they call me Wild, but they think it’s a nickname. They don’t know it’s actually my name.”

“Oh,” Riju tilts her head curiously. “For some reason, I thought they would have known. You all seem very close. You’re very relaxed around them in a way you’re not around most people. Is there a reason you haven't told them?”

Wild waves off her concerns. “No, everything’s fine. I’m… I’m not ready yet.” Riju acknowledges this, and there’s another pause. 

Then- “I’m sorry I said I had news, by the way. I only wanted to talk about Zel, and didn’t think I’d have another chance to. I didn’t actually have any specific news.”

Riju nods, her mind turning away from personal matters, and toward the strangers waiting for them in the inn. “So tell me, why are your companions using such strange names?”

“They aren’t Yiga, don’t worry about that. I can’t really tell you who they are yet. I need to speak to Zel again first. Just trust me?” They ask.

“Of course,” Riju agrees almost instantly. Her instant acceptance makes Wild heart feel warm at the trust she’s showing them. “If you’re able, the Champions are planning a meeting in Zoras’ Domain in a month. If you’re in the area for this little quest of yours, you can speak to her then.”

Wild perks up. It’s been a while since they had the chance to hang out with all the Champions at once. They’re all busy running their towns or the effort to rebuild some of what has been lost. This meeting will be for business, but there will undoubtedly be time after they adjourn the meeting every day to catch up and spend time together. 

They deflate slightly when they think about the chances that they’ll be able to make it. In three weeks they’ll likely be in a different Hyrule, and even if they were in Wild’s era, there is no guarantee that they'll be close enough. “I doubt I’ll be able to. I’ll try, though. If I’m not there, tell Zel to let you and the other Champions know about this new quest I'm on.”

Riju shrugged. “No one expects you to be there, to be honest. We all know you’re out traveling again, even if you and Zel are being tight-lipped about what exactly you’re doing. Zel can serve as the Hylian Champion in your stead well enough while you’re gone.”

Wild waves that off. It was true enough. “We share the Hylians Champion’s duties anyways. She even does more than her fair share of her duties, to be honest. At least, she knows what kind of things need to be done. I’m a bit clueless in that regard,” Wild admits, laughing.

Riju nods, already knowing that. “It’s not your fault. You’ll learn. And I’d say Zel’s earned the right to share the title of Champion with you.”

There’s a solemn moment at those words as they remember the near insurmountable struggle Zel had faced for a hundred years. Riju sighs, breaking the silence by grabbing Wild’s hand and pulling them back towards the inn. “We should go back over to your companions. I think we have a lot to discuss. It would be a shame if they left without experiencing true Gerudo hospitality.” 

Wild follows her without protest. They’ve said everything they needed to say to Riju privately, and the other heroes were no doubt getting antsy. 

None of the heroes, including Wild, are very patient people, and Wild doesn’t want to leave them alone for long enough that they might break something. They still needed to sleep in the inn tonight, and they couldn't do that if Romah threw them out for destruction of property.

Wild laughs as she drags them along eagerly, and lets their suppressed amusement about Riju and Wind from earlier finally bubble back up. The sour feeling and stress melt away at the simple joy Wild lets themself feel.

“And you want to go back so you can ogle at Wind some more?”

Riju yelps and halts in the doorway of the inn. “I was not ogling at him!”

“But you don’t deny you were looking?”

Riju deflates, no longer looking angry. Instead, she sends Wild a sheepish smile. “I just thought his necklace was interesting. That’s all.”

Wild decides to cut the young Champion some slack. No need for them to keep going. Wild knows from personal experience that it’s easy for teasing to go too far and turn into hurt feelings. “Alright. Let’s go inside and we can talk. You can ask him about his necklace afterwards.” 

~~~

Riju calls them Wild- and only Wild- for the remainder of the time the group of heroes spend in the young chief’s company. 

Wild thinks they’re getting weird looks from the other heroes, but they can only feel ecstatic at someone calling them Wild. And it’s not someone who calls them Wild because that’s the name they introduced themselves as, but someone who calls them Wild because they asked her to. Someone who really knows why they want to be Wild and not Link.

For a good while at the beginning, all the heroes had been hesitant and averse to any personal touch. They’re mostly over that by now- pats on the shoulder, hair ruffles, and hugs are plentiful. However, at night, everyone still sleeps in their separate bedrolls, no one daring to curl up next to each other. 

(Sky sometimes rolls over and smothers the person laying next to him in his sleep, but that isn’t exactly the kind of cuddling Wild likes. It’s too restrictive.) 

Warriors and Legend had leered at Wild when they said they’d be sleeping in the same bed as Zelda, so Wild was starting to think that it may be a cultural difference. Perhaps for the other heroes, sleeping together meant something more than friendship? 

Wild had only rolled their eyes at that idea. They love Zelda so much, and they don't know what they’d do without her, but their relationship isn't romantic, and never has been. 

Everyone else can make their own assumptions about their relationship with Zelda. Their opinions aren't relevant. 

The two of them would figure things out at their own pace. It‘a possible that they’ll end up being as lovey-dovey as Time and Malon or Sky and his Zelda are. However, Wild thinks it’s much more likely that they’ll forever stay in the weird gray area they’ve fallen comfortably into. 

They’re much more than friends, yet still aren’t lovers. It confuses people, but those people can stay confused. It isn't any of their business anyways.

It won’t matter in the end which way the two of them would end up falling.  Whether or not Wild and Zelda sleep in the same bed tonight has no bearing on if they’re lovers or not, even if the other heroes think it does. 

Zelda seems content to hold their hand and enjoy the quiet of the falling night, watching as the stars slowly appear in the sky and the fireflies dart around.

Wild on the other hand- although they appreciate the reprieve from the chaos inside the house- isn’t quite as content as Zelda seems to be. Their mind is elsewhere. Specifically, they feel the pressure to tell Zelda the thing that had been weighing on their mind for a while.

When Wild had first realized they weren’t a man, they’d told themself that they would tell Zelda the truth the next time they saw her. 

Now the time was upon them to actually tell her. 

Wild’s never been good at keeping secrets or having a good poker face, so they speak, almost without meaning to. 

“Zel?”

She hums in response. The sound is quiet and tired, and Wild’s sure that if they let her, she would fall asleep out here under the stars. It’s the beginning of summer, so they're almost tempted to let her. It’s warm enough for it.

Wild doesn’t say anything for a long moment. Some terrified thing in the pit of their stomach makes it impossible to speak. They don’t have anything to fear; Zelda would never turn her back on them, no matter what they did. They have nothing to fear, but still, they are afraid. 

Wild thinks that might make them a coward. But they suppose it would only make them a coward if they were afraid and refused to act because of that fear.

Wild won’t refuse to act because they are afraid. They must tell Zelda. They must tell someone.

They try again, from the beginning. “Zel?”

She shifts slightly, and they think she turns to look at them, but they don't look back, keeping their gaze firmly on the glowing stars above. Dusk is creeping in further now, the light retreating from the sky. “Yeah?” She sounds more curious now, and slightly more awake. She doesn’t say anything else, letting them speak when they're ready.

Another pause, and they open their mouth. What comes out isn’t what they intended to say. 

“Zel. I don’t like my name.” Once they start speaking, they have to keep pushing the words out from between their gritted teeth. The words they end up saying aren’t wrong, but they aren’t the whole truth either. It isn't what they meant to say. 

Their hands are trembling, body tense and riddles with adrenaline. With Zelda holding their hand, they’re sure she can feel their shaking. 

Zelda’s smart though. Wild thinks she understands anyways. 

“The nickname the other heroes gave you?” She asks cautiously. 

“No. I like Wild,” They admit. “It’s more… me. It’s more me.” 

“It certainly suits you,” Zelda agrees, teasingly. “Wild child,” She says affectionately. She reaches over with her other hand- the one that isn’t still holding Wild’s- to tug gently at a stray lock of Wild’s hair that has fallen out of their messy ponytail. Wild finally turns to look at her, giving her a hesitant smile. She looks back at them with such fondness it makes Wild soften, just a little bit.

“So you don’t like the name Link, then?” Zelda guesses. 

“No,“ They agree. “I guess I don’t like Link.”

“Okay, then I’ll call you Wild if that’s what you want.” The easy acceptance is stunning, even though they’d partly expected it. It’s something they love about Zelda; she’s almost never phased by anything. She casually accepts anything that comes her way. Being friends with Wild, that’s a good quality to have, and she puts it to use now.

“No one has to call you Link if you don’t want them to.” She adds on. She sounds like she’s trying to reassure them. It only reminds him that even though Zelda is accepting, that doesn't mean everyone would be. 

Wild sighs, their relief suddenly disappearing in an instant and being replaced with utter misery. A tear slowly drips down their cheek. Their body had been tense since they realized now would be a perfect time to bring up this topic with Zelda, and it remains that way now. This conversation is way too stressful. “The heroes have always been named Link, though. And I’m the hero. So I’ve gotta be Link.” 

Zelda shrugs next to them. “So what if the heroes before you were all named Link? You’ve always been good at breaking people's expectations into little tiny pieces.”

She makes it sound so simple, it makes Wild feel a little silly. “You aren’t bound by law to be exactly like the rest of them. And anyways, not a single person who lives in Hyrule actually cares about the myth of the princess and the hero. tHey don’t care who we are. We could be moblins and they’d still be endlessly grateful that we got rid of the Calamity. No one will care if you change your name.” 

Wild acknowledges what she said as true. No one cares about their eccentric behavior anymore, not once they realize who Wild is. The people of Hyrule would probably call them anything they wanted short of naming themself monarch of the country. 

Zelda considers what she said and adds an amendment. “And if anyone does have a problem with it, turn them into a pin cushion with your arrows.”

They giggle wetly at Zelda advocating for violence. They’ve been slowly crying the whole conversation, and now the tears spill freely. Their giggle turns into a weak strangled sob of relief.

Zelda rolls over and hugs them. Neither one of them sits up, content to lay together. Zelda lets them cry it out, their face tucked into her shoulder. 

When Wild gets their breath back under control, they tell Zelda, “I don’t want to be called a he anymore. I’m not a man.” It comes easier, now that they’ve already broached the topic. 

It feels strange, to say it aloud. Wild’s only said it to themselves before, and never out loud, not with the threat of someone overhearing them. Their sniffles stop completely after they get the last confession off their chest, and they hold their breath, waiting for Zelda’s response. 

She replies with another simple, “Okay,” and then, “Do you want to be called a she?” Wild falters. They’re again relieved by the easy acceptance, but the question makes them pause.

Because they don’t know. Wild’s spent the whole time since they admitted to themself that they weren’t a man thinking about how much they wished people didn’t view them as one. But they hadn’t really put any thought into what they wanted to be instead. 

They eventually shake their head slowly in response to Zelda. They weren't a he, but she wasn’t quite right either. They were just Wild. They admit as much to Zelda.

“Then how about I call you a they, then?”

Wild hums a pathetic agreement. Zelda’s kindness is making tears well up in their eyes, and oh, they’re crying again. Wild’s getting a little sick of crying. They’re probably loud enough that those inside the house can hear them this time, but they don’t care. 

It takes a while for them to calm down completely, but eventually they’re laying with their head on Zelda's chest, looking up at the stars once again. Their breathing is steady, besides a few lingering hiccups. Now that they’ve told Zelda everything, they feel… better, a little. Zelda’s calm acceptance is refreshing in the face of their own vitriolic thoughts about themself.

When they’ve calmed, Zelda speaks again. This time she’s the one that sounds hesitant and almost nervous.

“Wild?” They answered her with a questioning hum.

“Can I tell you something too?” Wild nods into her shoulder, curiosity filling them.

Zelda sighs, carding her fingers through Wild’s long hair. “I don’t like my name either. I like it better when you call me Zel.” Wild knows that there’s more to that statement than it seems, just like she had known that there had been more to it when Wild admitted they don’t like the name ‘Link.’ But he doesn’t pry. If Zel wants to elaborate, she would. If not, Wild won’t press. She’ll tell them at her pace.

Knowing that not only had Zel accepted them, but that Wild isn’t alone in their feelings nearly makes Wild start crying a third time, but Wild’s pretty sure they’ve run out of tears. 

Zel is supposed to be the princess, but if she’s like them… It makes Wild a little relieved to know that even if there’s something wrong with them, they’re wrong together with Zel.

“What a pair we make, hmm?” Zel says. “Neither one of us are exactly what we’re supposed to be, I guess.”

~~~

“Zel, wait-” Wild catches Zel by the hand before she can turn back to the house, “I’m sorry. I didn't even have enough time to send a letter before I had to leave. I would have if I could. I didn’t mean to disappear on you.” 

Wild’s sorry for disappearing on their other friends too, but they don’t apologize for that. Leaving Zel hanging without any word from them seems more significant than disappearing on their other friends. Wild can excuse not letting other people know what they’ve been doing. They can’t excuse not letting Zel know.

Wild doesn’t know why they’re only telling her this when they’re about to leave. Wild’s never been good at emotional confrontation.

They let go of Zel’s hand when she turns back to face them. She looks stressed, and she’s biting at her lower lip. “I know. It’s just… the waiting and not knowing if you were okay… It was rough.”

Wild’s lips curl into a grimace. Their eyes are dark as they look at Zel. “I understand,” They say, and they do understand, intimately. The times they had spent running around Hyrule before they had rescued Zel, not knowing if she would be okay had been torture. They never wanted to make Zel feel that way too.

Zel nods. She doesn’t return their gaze. Instead, her eyes are locked on some distant point over their shoulder. “I know you do. Just try to write occasionally so I know you’re not dead.”

“I will,” They said firmly, trying to convey their conviction to keep that promise. They had missed Zel while they’d been away, and now that the group had access to a mailman who was willing to run through time travel portals to deliver mail…

The system wasn’t perfect. The mailman still had a bit of trouble finding the heroes with how often they were on the move. But it was something. Wild would need to get their hands on some letter-writing materials as soon as they could.

Zel speaks again. “I’m not mad that you were gone, I was just worried that you were dead. I actually think that… Well, it was good for us to spend some time apart, I think. It gave us time to figure ourselves out,” Wild didn’t really have anything to say to that. They couldn’t deny that Zel was probably right. She usually was. 

Zel sighs heavily,  “For the goddess’ sake, just be careful Wild, won’t you?” She sounds fond. Seemingly spontaneously, she draws them into a hug. Wild squeezes back as tightly as they can, not wanting to let go..

But eventually, she draws back. “I’ll be careful,” they assure her, and Zel makes her way back into the house, waving over her shoulder with a tired smile. The door shuts behind her.

Well, no one ever said that Zel was any better at emotional conflict than Wild was.

Wild turns towards where the rest of the heroes are gathered by the bridge, giving the pair some privacy to finish their goodbyes. It’s time for the group to head off. Zel had given them information on black-blooded monsters harassing the northern ice house in the desert.