Chapter Text
The stars are different across their Hyrules. Wild’s not sure what that means, if his friends are all from different worlds entirely or that he’s just a particularly bad stargazer. Only a few constellations seem familiar, but they’re posed in odd angles, distorted in their likeness.
Sounds of laughter and bickering float up like dreams, wispy and comforting. A waning moon hangs above, a sliver of light smiling past some clouds. The night breeze brings with it something sweet, and he closes his eyes to relish the way it tugs at his hair. It’s going to rain tonight.
Up here, he feels his thoughts settle.
Today was… an experience. If he thinks too hard about it he’s pretty sure he’ll burst into half-hysterical giggles. Finally, finally! He’d said, “I’m a boy, now,”, and all Malon did was thank him for telling her. She’d shooed him off to change whatever he wanted to presentation-wise, sounding interested when he told her about his earrings system.
“Boys,” she’d scolded the whole group when they were bumbling around before dinner, and she had winked at him. At him! At the time, it had taken him everything not to somehow physically glow, pushing down the sudden (surprise? delight? relief?) warmth into only a sly grin. Even when the others referred to him wrongly, all he’d do is catch her sympathetic eyes and feel giddiness bubble back up.
He probably looks silly, smiling up at the moon and smothering giggles. He, he, he. One of the boys. It’s so—Wild cups his mouth and nose with his hands, forcing himself to breathe more slowly even as his cheeks hurt from how wide he’s smiling. He knew how much he missed being referred to as a boy, but… Golden Goddesses, it’s not until it happened did he realize how good it feels.
Deep breath in. Deep breath out.
“Don’t fall down my roof now, young man,” Malon had quietly told him when she caught him half out of a window, a little secretive wink accompanying her words.
The next exhale comes out in a high pitched wheeze, and he rubs his face roughly to calm down. His palms pull away damp.
Just—
He doesn’t know how much time he spends like that, hiccuping laughter and quiet, happy sobs to himself. It’s honestly pretty melodramatic, except it’s justified, okay? He still has telling the others to do, but it’s not as daunting as before. A weight off his shoulders, the reassuring weight of Malon’s hand pressed to his back—it means so much.
I need to bake her something really nice, he decides once he calms down again, wiping away the last of the tears and snot. Not apples, since they had apple pie tonight. Royal fruitcake, maybe. If he gets up early he might even be able to surprise her with wildberry crepes.
He’s too caught up thinking about menu possibilities to hear the sounds of someone climbing the wall under him, nearly slipping off the roof in his surprise when Four’s voice rings out, a touch strained, “Wild, are you up there? A little help, please?”
“Oh!”
With a hand for support, Four hauls himself up. “How do you climb everything so quickly?” he complains. Wild’s teasing jibe (“My arms can actually reach the handholds?”) gets him a half-hearted swat to the shoulder.
They settle into relatively safe positions with only minimal elbowing and nudging. Wild lies down this time, pillowing his head on folded arms and staring straight up to the cloudy sky. The few visible stars wink down at him. Four stays quiet, looking contemplative when Wild throws him a glance. If he’s noticed Wild’s puffy face and red eyes in the weak moonlight, he doesn’t say anything.
“So what—”
“I wanted—”
They both stop at the same time, and Wild laughs at the sudden awkward silence. A beat, and Four laughs too. “You go first,” he offers, and Wild shakes his head.
“I was gonna go for small talk, to be honest. What’s up? You don’t usually come climbing up after me.”
For a second, hesitation flashes over Four’s face before he smiles, a rueful twist to it that Wild doesn’t have the context for. He watches with curiosity as Four shrugs, purposefully loose and relaxed. “Bear with me for a second, okay?” he says. “I wanted to tell you something, but I didn’t really plan ahead of time how I’m going to say it.”
Wild sits up at that, interest piqued at that. “Uh, take your time? I’ll look at the stars or something, no pressure.” He probably looks silly, turning to stare at the stars with more visible concentration than they really call for, but Four’s snicker makes it worthwhile.
“You don’t have to do that, I don’t think I’m going to make this any more complicated than it has to be,” Four says. He meets Wild’s gaze with steady, trusting eyes, a faint smile curling his lips. Only the barest hint of nerves wavers under his words. “I’m a girl today.”
Wild blinks. “Oh, nice,” he says, bemused, and then freezes. “Today?”
Four’s grin cracks wider. Wild’s not sure what expression he has on his face, but it’s apparently a promising one. “Yeah?”
“No way,” he utters, voice flat in disbelief. “You. You too?”
Four’s nod is responded with a tackling hug that nearly knocks them off the roof. “I can’t believe! You! Like me!” Wild half whispers, half shouts. Four is laughing at him for sure now, and there’s relief embedded in the sound. Relief and joy, and Wild might cry for the second time in the same night, knowing the cause.
“I wasn’t sure,” Four gasps, clutching at Wild’s shoulders, “but you looked the way I felt whenever I got misgendered, so—” Wild laughs, loud and high both in pitch and emotions. “What’re your pronouns?”
Like a secret, Wild breathes out, “He and him today. Right now. I was a girl until before dinner.” He squeezes tighter, and Four squeezes right back. “She and her for you, right?”
A smile presses to his ear like a charm, like a token, and Wild’s heart feels ready to burst. “For now, yeah.”
He rocks back onto his heels, and they just sit like that for a moment grinning at each other, half sprawled on a roof and close to falling off. “Does anyone else here know?” he asks, shifting so they can both scramble back up to a more stable position.
“No, you’re the first. It was kind of an impulse decision,” Four admits. She hasn’t stopped smiling. “You?”
“No one—oh!” Wild swings around so fast he gets hair in his mouth. “Malon knows!”
“She does!” Four repeats in delight. “And she…?”
Wild bobs his head, breathless giggles slipping out again just thinking about it. “She let me practice on her how to tell you all while we were making dinner,” he reveals, pinking as he remembers all the different ways he verbally stumbled or clammed up earlier that evening. “It’s, um. It’s a work in progress.”
Her face smooths into sympathy—no, empathy. “Well, you’ve got one out of eight down,” she offers. She doesn’t hesitate to reach over and squeeze Wild’s hand, and that little act of compassion squeezes Wild’s heart too. “Were you going to tell the group as a whole?”
“Probably a few at a time.” He was thinking Wind, maybe, or Twilight. Legend is another option, since he gave Wild advice before. “A few to get the hang of it, then the group as a whole the next time I feel different? I don’t know, I’m still figuring out how to word the thing in the first place.” He’s told others before, but it didn’t feel as high-risk as telling this group of heroes would be. Logically, he knows they’ll be respectful, understanding even, but nerves still block the words from his brain to his mouth.
Four nods, looking thoughtful. “I could come out with you to the group,” she says, grinning a bit when she notices Wild’s wide-eyed expression. “That way neither of us get too much attention at once. I’ve been wanting to do this for a while too, so it’s a win-win situation.”
“Would you really?” Wild boggles despite himself. “That’d be great, thank…” A drop of water on his nose surprises him into looking up mid-sentence to see that the moon is obscured by heavy clouds. The night around them is so dark it’s a wonder neither of them noticed the impending rain earlier, and a bolt of lightning illuminates the sky for a brief moment. He yelps as thunder startles them into nearly falling off the roof.
Rain comes down quick, cold and unforgiving. It’s a mad scramble to get down and into the house without slipping and breaking their skulls. Thankfully—though Time and Malon might say otherwise—the little window of the attic is still open from when Wild then Four had crawled out earlier. It’s with stifled laughter and wheezing gasps from the chill that they stumble into the attic.
“Time’s going to kill us if we get sick,” Four bemoans, teeth chattering. Water drips down her face, and she wipes it away with an equally wet hand, getting it nowhere. “Do you know where the mop is in this house? We should clean up the mess before they see it.”
“It’s probably downstairs, I think I saw it earlier,” Wild says, fingers fumbling with the window latch. The rain pounds against the glass, but there’s already a large puddle by their feet. He turns around and jumps right out of his skin to see Sky curled up on a bedroll on the floor opposite to them, eyes nearly glowing in the dark as lighting once again strikes down. “Holy Hylia, Sky, how long have you been there?!”
Sky has a couple of problems.
Problem one: he misses Zelda. He misses Skyloft. He misses his loftwing. He’s homesick, and as horrible as it feels to admit it, being at Lon Lon Ranch only makes that worse. Seeing Time and Malon wrapped up together sends pangs of envy into his heart for his own love a millennia away, and the easy comfort of their home makes him long for his own room with the same cozy clutter.
Solution to problem one: he banished himself to the attic. It’s not as dusty as he feared, and the mess is entirely different to the one at home. The window was already open when he settled his bedroll against a wall. From his spot, laying down, he can see a few stars twinkle their nightly greetings. The clouds were thicker than he’d normally see in Skyloft, but like this, he can almost pretend that he’s just crashing in someone’s attic up in the skies, only endless sky to see out the window.
Unfortunately, the solution led directly to problem two, which is staring him in the face. Literally—Wild and Four stare at him, and he aims a smile right back, hoping beyond belief that it doesn’t look too flustered. He’s pretty sure he fails.
“Came up here to sleep,” he says, wincing when his voice comes out a croak. The thunder woke me up, he wants to lie. Should he? Is it too much information? It’s been a beat too long, too late to say it now.
He could pretend to be sleep-slow, too groggy to talk properly. He says, “You woke me up.” Technically not a lie, but hopefully they’d assume they woke him with their entry and not their talking on the roof.
“Sorry,” Four says, his—her?—face apologetic. Oh sweet Hylia, it’s been barely a minute and already guilt churns in his gut. “Go back to sleep, we’ll clean up a little before going to bed.” Sky just nods, closing his eyes as naturally as he can and praying he doesn’t seem stiff.
He can hear them shuffle around, whispering barely louder than their soft footsteps. Sky holds his breath, desperately willing himself not to blurt out something he isn’t meant to know. He’s not even sure if he really knows what they were saying. The attic door opens with a creak, and he exhales shakily.
It’s not like he meant to eavesdrop. He had only barely begun dozing off when their voices floated in through the window, and by the time it’d occurred to him to close the window, leave the room, anything, they’d already started laughing with unmistakable relief that’d frozen him into just listening.
Do they really feel so relieved? Is their burden truly so isolating? Like me! Wild had cried, and something uncomfortable bunches itself up in his throat at the memory. He couldn’t hear all of it, not really, but he thinks he heard enough to make a guess.
You looked the way I felt whenever I got misgendered, Four had explained, words nearly lost in the breeze, and though he knows he’s not at fault for it, Sky can’t help but feel awful.
He doesn’t know what to do. Clearly it’s something that’s bothering both of them, and it’s something so easy Sky wouldn’t hesitate to correct himself in an instant if it weren’t for the fact they didn’t tell him. They didn’t mean for him to know, not yet at least, so should he just… pretend he didn’t hear?
Until they make the decision to tell him, he probably shouldn’t say anything or do anything that confirms his new knowledge. Right? Maybe?
The door creaks again, and Sky doesn’t have to look to know that they’re back. He opens his eyes anyway despite only darkness greeting him. “We’ll be out of your hair in a minute,” Wild promises, voice hushed. A bolt of light illuminates their outlines, white-purple glinting off the puddle and lighting up hair in a split-second halo. Both their faces shine, that brief moment, like they’re wet; he’d think it only from the rain outside if it weren’t for the tinge of red barely visible around their eyes.
Sky rolls over, shutting his own eyes shut. The shine of their smiles remains bright behind his eyelids.
Not his secret. Not yet a burden he can help relieve. Soon, he tells himself. Sky’s not blind, he’s noticed the tension they both carried today, and no one’s missed Wild’s recent behavior. He’s pretty sure they said something about coming out soon just as the rain started coming down too. It’ll happen sooner or later, and the best he can do is make sure they feel comfortable enough to do so until then.
Sleep doesn’t come easily even after Four and Wild leave.
Hyrule pauses at the sight of him the next morning, concern wiping some lingering grogginess off his features. “You could ask Legend for a pain reliever or a sleeping potion? I think he still has some left over,” he offers after Sky endures his insistent impromptu physical. It’s not the injuries keeping him up, nor the usual nightmares that plague their group, but Sky doubts that “guilt fueled by accidentally eavesdropping over a sensitive secret” is a reason he can give Hyrule.
“Maybe,” he says, noncommittal, and flees to wash up and maybe look more like a person who slept longer than two hours.
It doesn’t really help. Over breakfast, his hands have the slightest tremble to them as he sips from the coffee Malon so generously provided, and the caffeine only makes it worse. “Didn’t sleep well last night,” he says, repeating the same excuse he gave Hyrule when Warriors asks. It’s not a lie. He’s not a good liar at all, so half-truths are the lifelines he now clings to.
“Oh, Grandma’s the same,” Wind pipes up. Sky feels a brief pang of guilt for the faint worry furrowing the kid’s brow before it blends in with the rest of the turmoil he’s been choking on since last night. “Take a nap after this! That’s always nice, especially when the sun isn’t too hot and the wind comes in the window just right…!”
Legend snorts. “Sounds like you want a nap yourself, kid,” he teases. “Still the age for it, aren’t you?”
With the ease of long practice, Sky tunes out their bickering to pay attention to Time. “A nap will do you some good,” he says, but a stern frown pulls at his mouth. “We’ll have someone wake you up before long, though, or else your sleeping patterns might get messed up.” He sends a pointed look at Wild, who sticks out his(?)—their tongue out in childish denial.
“Not my fault you can’t sneak past sleeping monsters with your clanky armor,” they say, unrepentant.
When the conversation turns to the merits of different armor and nocturnal travel, Four turns to give him a small, embarrassed smile. Hushed, she says, “I know I said it last night, but sorry if we kept you up last night.” Wild, as if knowing the conversation topic, turns from explaining to Twilight why stals are preferable to moblins and sends him a sheepish smile of their own.
Well. They didn’t keep him up, exactly. It’s more his tendency to fixate on an issue and overthink it than them specifically. “It’s fine,” he reassures, “I had a lot on my mind anyway.” And really, it is. The guilt will fade sooner or later, he knows; it’s not like he meant to eavesdrop on their secrets. It’s not even his problem, he’s just awful with handling things like this. His brain turns over the situation like a worry stone, thinking and thinking and thinking until it’s either resolved or he can finally settle upon a course of action.
Thankfully, the solution is pretty obvious, even if it took him a few hours to fully warm up to it. Respecting their privacy is the only option. It’s not his place to do anything else, even if he hates knowing that he could be the cause of a subdued smile, a faltered reply. He’s been avoiding using pronouns for either of them—is Four even a girl right now? She said today, implying that it’s only sometimes—resulting in some very awkwardly arranged sentences. It’s gotten him a few odd looks, but nothing too bad.
He gets sent to bed not long after that, Time and Malon gently coercing him to the guest bed instead of letting him use his bedroll. He takes it without much protest, sighing as he sinks into an actual mattress. Before he knows it, someone is shaking him by the shoulder.
“5 more minutes…” he groans. The afternoon sun shines right into his eyes when he cracks them open, and Twilight’s laughter greets him into the realm of awakening.
“Nope, it’s time to get up.” Sky grumbles, incomprehensible even to himself as the mattress sinks to accommodate the weight dropping down next to him. Twilight pulls down his blanket and pats his back firmly. “You’re going to regret it tonight if you sleep more now.”
“You doubt how good I am at sleeping when not plagued by stupid thoughts,” he complains into his pillow.
The warm hand resting against him stills before Twilight shifts to drop his arm onto Sky, his weight following. Ignoring Sky’s tired groan, he asks, “So something’s been bothering you, then?”
Sky freezes. When he doesn’t reply, Twilight just hums and makes himself comfortable. “You kept stuttering whenever you talked about Wild and Four this morning,” he says, casual and offhand. “I wasn’t paying much attention until later on, but I don’t think you looked them in the eye even once unless one of them was standing right next to you in direct conversation.”
His weight shifts further and further. Sky cracks open an eye and tries not to flinch when he’s met with Twilight’s expression. Oh Hylia. He’s accidentally turned on the Big Brother Mode. “You’re the same age as me, don’t look at me like that,” he says, heaving a sigh of relief as Twilight pulls back with a surprised laugh.
“Sorry, sorry. I’ve been worried about Wild lately, so I guess I’ve just been in that kind of mindset.” He doesn’t get off Sky though, comfortable in a way that speaks to experience with lying over even the squirmiest of children. “Anyway, don’t distract me from the point. Is it going to be a problem?”
Sky shakes his head, relieved to know his denial is genuine. “No, it’s nothing bad.”
Twilight eyes him, judging his sincerity for a second before nodding back. He offers, “Just because I can’t ‘big brother’ you doesn’t mean I can’t listen, if that’s what you need.”
Endearment tugs his lips into a smile, and Sky slumps deeper into the bed. “Not anymore I don’t, but thank you,” he says. It’s sincere; it would’ve been nice to bounce his thoughts off someone last night, though probably equally hard to do it without giving away the secret.
Twilight hums, letting his weight—something comforting, something grounding, Sky realizes—press against him for another moment before he levers himself back to sitting normally. Sky turns over to watch the other stand and stretch.
“I’ll trust your judgement on that, then,” he says, affable. “Just know the offer’s always open.”
It’s sweet, the kind of care and comfort Twilight extends to everyone with nary a moment’s hesitation. Even though he went to sleep already feeling better than the night before, Sky’s aches are lighter for the check-in.
When Twilight extends a helping hand up, he takes it. “Yes, big brother,” Sky teases and is rewarded by an eyeroll. He laughs as they leave the room, any lingering turmoil pushed aside in favor of a heart that feels full and warm.
In front of the cooking fire, Wild hums as they scale a fish. It’s something half-familiar, and Twilight hums an echo as he tries to place it.
They’re stopping early for the day, the sun still hanging high in the sky. Not very far from them lies a monster camp now decimated, and it was to cheering that Time proposed making camp. The battle wasn’t the worst they’ve had, but enough of them had new aches and a few injuries to all be glad to take a break.
Now they’re all engrossed in their own tasks and relaxation, from Warriors and Four doing inventory to Wind and Twilight dozing under the sun. Next to them, Time and Legend quietly discuss tomorrow’s travel plans. Sky and Hyrule are today’s rotation for helping-the-cook, and they chatter lightly as they help with preparation.
With the sun on his face, the familiar murmurs of the others overlapping with Wild’s song, Twilight feels the beckoning of a doze like a physical pull.
“Done!” Hyrule says, showing Wild his platter of chopped vegetables for inspection. From his spot nearby, Twilight can make out neat slices of color, the red and yellow and green of peppers.
Wild takes it with a grin. “Perfect! You remembered to take out the stems this time too, thanks,” they praise.
Watching Wild like this, it’s easy to miss the mood they’ve been in recently. A few months before, they were subdued, their usual brightness muffled, but Twilight had almost thought it cured when they were at Lon Lon Ranch a few months back. Their cheer came back after the first day, bouncy and recklessly happy as they scuffled with the pigs and chased the cuccos. It was probably a blessing they didn’t get in trouble with one of the ornery horses and get their face kicked in.
Afterwards, though, their mood worsened again. It wasn’t anything noticeable at first, just a few tired sighs when they thought themselves alone, some dissatisfaction on their face at some private thoughts when they went out foraging with Twilight. Now it’s grown from something quiet to a cloud that seems to hang over their head.
Not like before, he decides, thinking about it. Before was… indecisiveness, guilt, chafing under bonds none of them could perceive. Now it’s something else. The indecisiveness is still there, but now there’s more anger, something that’s directed inward instead of outward hesitance.
Four seems to know something about it; they’ve been closer than ever before, exchanging secretive smiles and whispers between themselves in the early morning, sometimes just in moments on the fringes of the group as they travel. The little morning ritual seems to be good for both of them. Even if it’s only for a short while, they walk with the reassurance of something afterwards. A spring in their steps, the warm curve of lips—Four is definitely into whatever it is that’s plaguing Wild and helping them out on it.
Twilight thinks he knows something about it as well.
Twilight’s always been a good secret keeper. Not the best liar, no—lying has always come a bit difficult to him, knowing Rusl or Uli would wash his mouth out with soap if they ever caught him—but he’s good with keeping his gob shut or deflecting if pressed. Don’t tell the kids about the concern the adults whisper to each other; don’t tell the adults about the mischief the children giggle about amongst themselves. He’s in the perfect position to be privy to both sides, and just the right age to know what not to say.
So when he overheard Wild muttering to no one, sardonically joking even as he (and it was he at the time) struggled with finding the right words, Twilight pretended to not hear.
Hey, I know you’ve been under the impression I’m a woman this whole time, but surprise, I’m actually a man! Except it’s not all the time, but today I am and have been for the past week.
There’s… not many ways to interpret that.
Twilight has been doing his best about it. He offered to lend an ear, he keeps an eye out for any sign of overt discomfort as a cue to change the subject, and he keeps his mouth shut. Not his place to say anything, and it feels too late to say anything now that he’s let the moment pass.
A sigh breaks him out of his dozing. Twilight blinks his eyes awake to see Wild stand up with a contemplative expression. “I’m going to go see if I can scrounge up some mushrooms, I’m nearly out,” they say to Hyrule and Sky. For a second, their eyes study the two before easing back to neutrality with a barely noticeable shake of the head. “Shouldn’t take too long, so don’t start without me, we still have plenty of time before dinner.”
Hyrule blinks at that. “Want me to do it instead or go with you?” he offers, frowning at where bandages hide underneath Wild’s pants. When they start to protest, he insists, “You’re still injured, if not me then at least bring someone else.”
Wild scrunches their nose up. Twilight is about to offer when they turn around, that contemplative look returning to their face. “Hey Wind,” they call out. “Wanna come foraging with me?”
Glee dancing in his eyes, Wind perks up like a plant finally watered after a drought. No one’s been letting him do anything after he got a concussion earlier, though he insisted the potion already cured all of it. “Sure, let’s go!” he agrees, and before anyone can stop them they’re already past the treeline.
“Hey, aren’t you…?” Sky starts, a beat too late. They’re gone, and Twilight sighs.
“An injured person bringing the only other injured person along for protection,” he bemoans. “We should’ve given him something to do so he’d be too worn out to go with Wild.” He grumbles more as he hauls himself up, clasping a hand to Time’s shoulder as he walks past. “I’m going to go make sure they don’t accidentally fall into another monster camp,” he says, dry.
Legend, the prick, smirks at him. “Go fetch.” He doesn’t deign to give back a response other than rolling his eyes.
Everyone turns back to their tasks without further fanfare, already used to Twilight rounding up whichever hero decided to unwisely stray away from the group. Only Four’s gaze lingers, a small frown on his face. Twilight raises an eyebrow at him. “Something the matter?”
“Try not to sneak up on them,” comes the bland response. “Given our luck, they’d trip over something in surprise and sprain their ankles.”
It’s with an uneasy feeling that Twilight leaves the camp, making sure no one is in sight before transforming. He shakes himself once, twice, claws flexing against dirt before he sets off in a trot to find the two intrepid adventurers. At least it’s not Wild and Hyrule this time, he thinks with a resigned sort of gratefulness. They have the attention span of a toddler between the two of them.
Thankfully, it’s much easier to find them than expected. They’re not very far away; Wild sits at the base of a tree, Wind right next to them. For a second, Twilight fears they’ve managed to get injured in the scant ten minutes they were out of sight, but a burst of laughter washes the worry away.
“...and we nearly fell off the roof,” Wild is saying, hands clawing at an imaginary slippery wall. They’re smiling, which Twilight takes to mean they’re telling a story that either ends well or so outrageously badly that he’d grow gray hairs just listening to it.
Wind guffaws. “That’s what you get for telling secrets up there,” he says, way too delighted for someone told their storyteller could’ve broken their neck. “And, and?”
“And we woke up Sky when we climbed through the window,” they admit, sounding a little sheepish now. “Had to mop up the mess too.” Wind makes a little curious sound.
“You two were loud enough to wake him up?” he asks, scrunching up his face as he imagines it. Twilight can relate; it usually takes a lot to wake up Sky after he’s dropped off, and Wild tends to be graceful no matter the situation. What sort of racket did they make? Or was it the other person with them? He paws a little bit closer, not wanting to interrupt.
Wild hums in thought. They say, after a moment, “We were, that’s what he said at least. Four and I were laughing about the rain when we were coming down, so that was probably what woke him up.” Here, they stop, looking a bit pensive. “Or maybe he… no, nevermind.”
Wind, for all that he’s younger than the rest of them, can’t be called slow on the uptake. “Did he overhear your secret?” he exclaims, hushed with suspense.
What secret? What kind of story is Wild even telling? Twilight hesitates. He didn’t want to burst in on their conversation earlier, but now he’s thinking it might be a good idea to make his presence known if they might be talking about something… private? All he’s heard so far is vague enough that he’s not even sure if it is.
While he’s considering backing away, Wild says, “I guess it would explain how he was afterwards. I thought he was acting weird, but figured it was just because we woke him up.” They shake their head. “It doesn’t matter, though, I’m planning on telling him and everyone else sooner than later.”
At this, Wind straightens, a simple joy alighting in his eyes. “But you’re telling me first!” he says, smug and impish in the way all kids get when they’re told things ahead of everyone else. Then he deflates, just a little. “Or, well, second, since Four already knows. Or third, if Sky heard.”
“Four doesn’t count—he guessed it and he was right. Sky might have just woken up when we climbed into the attic,” Wild corrects. They bump shoulders with him, smiling when he perks right back up. “You’re the first I’m telling.”
Oh no. Twilight is definitely not meant to be here. He starts to take a step back, then another, then—
Crack!
A twig snaps under a paw, and he freezes as two pairs of eyes lock onto him instantly.
“Woflie!” Wind calls over, and Twilight slinks into the clearing, trying not to let his tail droop so much. So much for that idea. He tries to make eye contact with Wild as Wind pulls him into a fur-scrubbing embrace—I can leave, you can talk to Wind in peace, he tries to send telepathically—but they only make a surprised, appraising noise.
“Guess you can share first dibs with Wolfie,” Wild says, and the smile that dropped off their face earlier returns in a slow, warm spread. They scratch Twilight behind the ears and murmurs, “I trust both of you, after all.”
Twilight blinks at them, and they nod in self-affirming determination. Wind for his part, vibrates right around him, clearly excited. “C’mon, tell me already!” he demands to Wild’s amusement.
“Okay, okay, it’s not that exciting,” they laugh, a little nervous edge neatly hidden under faux-casualness. A scarred hand comes up to smooth down the fur leading down to Twilight’s front. “Well, it’s like this. You know how hylian society traditionally has two genders?”
Oh! Despite himself, his tail thwumps into a beat. Is this…?
Above him, Wind nods, his chin digging into the base of Twilight’s head. His breath tickles across the back. “Yeah, boys and girls?”
The hand in Twilight’s fur starts combing it instead. “Yeah, that’s pretty constant among all our Hyrules. Yours has gorons, right?” Another nod, and Wild continues, “I don’t know about your gorons, but mine don’t have a concept of gender. They use male pronouns, yeah, but that’s just because of imperialisation and Hyrule forcing its arbitrary social constructs upon them when it’s a whole different phenomenon altogether that can’t be translated into the same system—hylians pretty much just assumed the gorons were male and… and I got off topic. Uh.”
With an entirely serious and enraptured tone, Wind asks, “Did you steal the goron’s non-gender?”
Twilight expects Wild to say laugh off the question, but they give it actual thought before nodding solemnly. “I stole the gorons’ non-gender.”
Wind’s gasp to this is just as delighted as it is worrisome. “That is so cool!”
If he could, Twilight would say, “Please don’t go stealing genders, I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works.” As it is, he currently can’t talk, so all he does is heave the most exasperated sigh he’s capable of.
That brings Wild’s eyes upon him. “You got a problem with that, dog breath?” they tease, gently pulling at his whiskers. Their shoulders have tensed up upon him sighing, he realizes, and under the playful tone is something hurt and scared.
Twilight does the only thing he can think to do at the moment. He leans forward and plants a big slobbery lick right over Wild’s face from jaw to brow.
“Hey!” they shriek, and the sadness has been wiped completely for a delight that completely transforms their countenance. The three of them lose a few minutes tussling as Wild scrubs at his sides and Wind cheers them both on. Finally Wild flops to the forest floor, Twilight smugly settling down on top of them, avoiding the wounded thigh. Wind adds insult to injury by leaning over Twilight and consequently Wild as well.
“I should’ve shooed you away,” they groan, but Wild is smiling so wide it looks like it hurts. “Should’ve just had Wind had first dibs on his own.”
“But you didn’t!” Wind says, sing-song. He peers down at Wild from atop his furry throne with a little cat-got-the-canary grin. Twilight can only look peripherally, but he thinks there’s something relieved about it. The sailor isn’t slow on the uptake, not one bit. Just lying on the ground like this, happy and loose and more unwound that they’ve seen in months, Wild looks like an entirely new person from the one before, even if their burden wasn’t obvious before. “So, was that the secret?”
“Hm?”
“You stealing the non-gender.”
That gets a giggle from Wild. “Sort of. I stole some other genders too.”
“Awesome! Can I do that?”
“You can steal or throw out genders as you please, they’re like pretty rocks? If you don’t like one you can just pick up another or skip ‘em all down a lake. You wanna try it out?”
Wind makes a thoughtful noise, his brow scrunching as he thinks. Wild waits patiently under them, smile unfading. “Nah, maybe later. I’m gonna steal Tetra’s gender when we get to my world,” he decides, much to Twilight’s exasperation.
You did this, he says with his eyes, and Wild beams right back, unrepentant.
They look so happy. You did this, he thinks again, different this time, and he feels so warm. They took the leap of faith, and he and Wind were able to catch them. Something weighs lighter on him, knowing that he can stop being a secret-keeper and finally be an open supporter. He tilts his head to lick a small stripe at the edge of their jaw, and Wild laughs quietly as they allow it.
Something seems to click in Wind’s head, and he leans more over Twilight to look at Wild with bright, curious eyes. “So what gender are you right now? Or none?”
Wild hums, letting their head fall back to the ground and closing their eyes in thought. “Right now? I don’t know, man, I feel like a…”