Chapter Text
The dumbfounded silence is shattered all at once by a sudden hoot of laughter that dissolves into breathless giggles. It’s terribly catching.
“That timing!” Legend chokes out, flushed and seemingly oblivious to the gobsmacked stares of those around him. Wild gives up stifling their grin now they’ve the reaction they wanted.
“I kinda had to,” they snicker, only a little sheepishly. “There wouldn't have been–”
“It was perfect!”
Hyrule is almost as amused, though they’re eyeing them intently. There’s no chance at all Wild will get chance to rest if they don’t let them investigate. Sighing fondly, they hold a hand out to let them prod at the shimmers (thankfully less prominent on those delicate structures), and quietly try not to visibly react at the first touch they have had from their sibling in years. Hyrule seems fascinated. Wild can understand why, they would’ve been too once, but considering how they got this… peculiarity they can't feel much beyond resentment. The joyful fascination eases the bite though, if only for a moment.
Turning away from the chill fingers and tickling magic, Wild looks back at the man who inadvertently started this. Warriors seems both entirely lost and less than impressed. The humour surrounding them, however, has worn down the tension just enough to let him smile wryly when Wild calls to him again.
“Nicely played.” Sharp eyes flicker over their hair in intrigue. “How long does this… glow last exactly?”
Wild sighs. Now the adrenaline is wearing off, they’re feeling quite shaky. Melting into the sensation of being held by the man they’ve missed so terribly, smiling at the brush of lips against their temple, they smile wryly at the man who’s looking vaguely like he’s on the verge of reconsidering his entire existence.
“It’s constant. S’just obvious in the daytime.”
“… small mercies?” Time offers in the silence. Wild’s nose scrunches.
“I’m frequently targeted by birds.”
Legend cackles anew, sending something small skittering through the bushes. Predictably he’s not the only one to find this news hilarious– case in point, Hyrule’s turned away mid-examination of Wild’s palm as though that will hide how their shoulders are shaking. Any chance Wild has to nudge them for it is interrupted by Warriors’ dismay.
“You’re constantly glowing.”
“Mhm.” Wild keeps an eye on Legend as they answer, more than a little concerned about the shading under his eyes and the edge to his laughter. “Flora’s brighter though.”
“Than this?!” Their brother’s voice turns strangled. “But you’re luminous!”
“Light of my life,” Twilight chuckles suddenly, bringing a rush of heat to Wild’s cheeks and completely derailing their retort to their brother’s squawking disbelief. Wild, stunned, looks up. He’s looking at them like they’re something gorgeous, eyes reflecting the light of the dust-fine scale shards like endless tiny stars in the dark ocean of his gaze, and their mouth goes dry. They don’t know how to respond. Wild’s changed so much. Twilight hasn’t changed at all. He still looks at them the same… but he’s not seen the ruin that’s been made of their body. He’s no idea what Wild’s done.
They abruptly feel like a liar.
The expression on Twilight’s face flickers, awestruck adoration falling into soft sweetness only slightly bereft. Wild’s lungs tighten. Moving them to be sat between his lifted knees, back braced against his chest, Twi buries his face into their neck and sighs tremulously, the breath shuddering through his chest in a way that undoubtedly hurts. It hurts to witness, too. Their skin soon grows a little damp. Wild wonders, mind somewhat distant and miserable, what he’ll do when Malia’s scent fades. Their girl will be furious. Around them the Chain has fallen quiet, shifting uneasily… for the most part, that is. Wind’s scraping the last of his food into his mouth like he’s not eaten well for weeks. Chances are he hasn’t.
Smiling tiredly, Wild reaches for their tea– and is promptly yanked back by the hands still wrapped around their own. Hyrule pouts. Little flickers of insistent magic are skipping across Wild’s skin like snake tongues, tasting the air to make sense of the unknown. They doubt Hyrule will let go until they do.
Wild sighs. “Pass me my tea and you can ask one question.”
Twilight hisses at the hot liquid that spills over his knee. Before Wild can even take hold of it properly–
“Why do you glow,” Hyrule spits so readily its more a demand than the question it’s meant to be. Fumbling the cup with stinging hand, Wild scrambles for an explanation that won’t cause too much panic. It’s a bit difficult.
“Turns out skydiving through the shattered remains of a dragon in order to catch the person said dragon used to be is more than a little uncomfortable… and has unforeseen side effects. The shards stuck in us faded, but the magic didn’t.” Not entirely accurate, but good enough. “Now we glow.”
Hyrule’s not the only one to gape. Through the dumbfounded silence comes a hum and two clicks. Wild’s already fond of it.
“Is that when you lost your arm?” Spirit asks bluntly. “Everyone’s, uhh, response?, makes me think you had ‘em both when you left, but I– I really hope it didn’t happen recently?” His voice lifts uneasily on that last word, wincing when the others jolt, but Wild’s got their priority.
“No, no kiddo, it’s alright. My arm happened right at the beginning of the new quest, and that was almost four years ago now. Not recent at all.” Wild ignores the staring eyes around them, ignores the way Twilight begins whine anew, and instead takes a long drink of tea. Their attention is focused on the boy rubbing the fabric of his tunic between fingers and thumb, toes tapping rapidly as he stares at the dirt. “I promise, Spirit, I’m completely healed up and used to it. Doesn’t bother me anymore.”
A lie, but a white one. They’ve adjusted. The prosthetic is honestly far easier to use than the ghost arm. At least it’s the right length.
“Huh, that’s good.” Spirit nods a few times, though he’s physically drawn into himself. He looks in their direction only long enough to ask: “Can I ask how, or do you wanna focus on the whole glowing thing?”
Wild adores this kid. “Glowing thing, if you don't mind. I want my tea.”
They’re not granted the chance to drink it.
“Flora was a dragon.” Wild nods. Wind looks deeply disturbed. “Why was Flora a dragon?!”
“She picked up a rock and decided to be an overachiever. No,” Wild adds when Wind’s mouth opens again. “I’m not explaining. Rulie passed me my tea and got the question. Spirit asked about my arm because he was concerned. You, however, only got a freebie because you’re cute. Don't push it.”
Wind jerks back, expression so deeply offended Wild breaks into helpless laughter despite themself. How they’d missed him. Tilting their head against the side of Twilight’s, feeling the shaking of his chest that matches the open snickers surrounding them, they wonder absently how they can feel such happiness whilst being so very, very hollow. Blinking harshly, Wild takes a hasty gulp of too hot tea and pretends their heart isn’t breaking. Twilight’s still clinging. Arms a tight band around their waist, hands tangled in their shirt and knees bent either side of them, Twilight’s embrace is a cage they’ve no real desire to ever escape.
Lips press near to the base of their throat. They shatter all over again when it surprises them.
Ignoring the pain that twisting shoots across their torso, Wild nestles closer against his front and continues to drink their tea. Soon. Soon things will be better. They cling to that wishful promise with everything they have.
They can only hope this quest won’t be another two and a half years of their life eaten up by a fight for survival.
“Wild…” Time’s voice breaks though the sleepy daze Wild has fallen into. Twilight catches the mug and places it before it can fall, hand rubbing at their side whilst they wait for their heart to calm. Laughing breathlessly, Wild turns. They’re struck rather painfully by just how fond– just how achingly relieved– Time appears when their eyes meet. They’d forgotten how intensely the man’s eye shows his emotions. He can’t hide them, no matter how he tries.
(It’s so unfair, Wild’s fatigue-plagued mind weeps, how the years have dulled the cherished details of someone they love. How much have they lost? How long do they have left until…?)
Wild tries, fails, to breathe. Time’s expression doesn’t change much, it never does, but his empathy is clear.
“Wild,” he repeats softly. “Why don’t you turn in for the night? There’s no need to take watch tonight, I don’t doubt it’s been a long day for you.”
That’s one way to put it. Wild had spent last night sleepless with a little girl terrified they’d not come back, that they’d be gone forever like her daddy has been. (They’re endlessly furious at how unkind life has been to her.) This morning was no better. How can they even–
Scrubbing at their face, Wild nods. They've neither the energy nor desire to attempt a cheerful facade with the exhaustion dragging on their bones and heart both anymore. Fumbling for the Purah Pad, they cast their bedroll behind Twilight’s bulk and climb in fully dressed bar their boots and belt. Chances are they’ll regret it. They can’t bring themself to care, not when Twilight twists to pet their their hair as conversation stirs quietly in the background, and especially not when they've an excessive amount of telling body changes to somehow hide. The words they whisper are lonely without a little voice echoing them, but they still say them.
Twilight is here. Their daughter is not.
Dreams are preferable to tears.
Sleep comes swiftly, but it is far from restful. Come the early hours of the morning Wild extracts themself from Twilight’s arms, replaces their body with a pillow and cards their fingers through his hair until he settles again, then climbs up the nearest tree to escape just how suffocated they feel surrounded by nine others. They’d once moved past that, felt safe in their family’s companionship. They’d once known the familiar eight by heart, trusted them with everything, but now…
Sky watches them go without a word. When he goes to wake Legend for the last shift Wild intervenes. They’ll not be sleeping again, they tell him. Better to let the others rest whilst they can; the following days shan’t be easy, and Wild is not the only one to lose sleep to upset. Sky, bless him, readily agrees. They try to pretend they’re just fine alone.
Chatting away to the delightfully pink fairy sat atop their cloak they’d negotiated for their life with, Wild finally opens their inventory and feels their heart sink. It’s less than ideal. Without chance to restock (how could they? Letting Zelda distract Malia with promises of fun things while they quickly gutted their pantry was difficult enough, to leave her with mere hours to spare…), they’d known things would be tight for a while. And now with Spirit…
Wild swallows, running the numbers. At least their finances are healthy, though between the rebuilding efforts and Malia–
Shit.
Dropping the Pad to the side with a bitter laugh, they stoke the fire with trembling hands. How the fuck are they meant to do this? Everything is different, everything is wrong, and they didn’t even remember to pack–
The fairy chimes in concern, flitting to bunt against their head.
“I’m alright little one,” Wild says thickly. They’ve nearly two weeks to work it out. Maybe Malon will have supplies, if they can reach her? The next chime is somehow doubtful. They need a distraction, and their eyes turn to Hyrule. “Don’t suppose you like raspberries?”
The tiny collisions pause, six tiny limbs clinging to their hair, before the buzzing of excited wings send her swaying in the corner of Wild’s eye.
“Who knows why I bothered asking,” they laugh quietly. Unhooking her from their hair simply has those fuzzy feet cling to their thumb instead. “Anyone with an opinion worth hearing…”
Pointedly ignoring the jars of jam and the ache in their chest both, they continue rambling as they lower the fairy to their cloak and hand her the fruit. The happy chimes are incomprehensible before they’ve so much as let go.
“Just let me know if you want another,” Wild laughs. A gentle stroke between the bopping antenna later, they return to their task with shaking hands. “Now to feed my lot…”
Legend wakes first. He blinks at the sky, a frown between his brows (Wild is endlessly tickled at how he’s woken instinctively displeased at the world; was he always like that?), before bleary purple eyes turn to them with a curse.
“M’watch?”
“You’re fine,” Wild assures, blindly passing the fairy a slice of their apple. “Told Sky to leave you be, no point both of us being exhausted.”
Legend grumbles silently. Watching discreetly as the– younger now, and their heart seizes at the realisation– man pushes himself upright with a familiar wince, Wild tap at the pots beside the milk and hot kettle.
“Blue painted lid is tea, yellow is coffee, red is vaguely tolerable and hopefully helpful. I have the ingredient list if you want to check it.”
Wild's brother stares at the pots for a moment before his eyes, sorrow-tinged creases splintering like ice at the edges, turn to them. “Will you have enough?”
“…plenty,” Wild says. It’s mostly the truth, and they can make more. They likely will anyway in truth, pain is an old companion for more than just themselves and if they can help…
Legend scrutinises them for a moment more before he reaches for the red pot with trembling hands. Wild’s new friend pauses, head tilted in concern. Placing the berry remnants down she flits over to circle the crooked digits until the lid opens. She does it again when it's tightened once more. Making a note to switch the style of containers– they won’t always have a fairy about to help, and Deities know more than one will go without rather than ask– Wild places a little spoon of honey beside the half eaten-treat and continues with breakfast. It's peaceful. Hyrule kicks off the blankets, turning onto their belly as though to suffocate themself in the pillow. Won’t be long until they’re up. Adding a little cinnamon to the pot, Wild abruptly remembers the new dairy issue and sighs. They can grab a moment with Spirit to sort something out properly later, but for now…
Legend tucks a leg under him, hands cradling the cup close, and quietly observes a tower of bread build as the eggs fry.
“How's the not-arm?”
Wild’s lips twitch. “Sore, but manageable. It’s just raw.”
It’s an honest answer, though they’re looked at dubiously. Thankfully Legend doesn’t question them, too distracted by Time dragging the blanket over his head in protest of consciousness when Warriors kicks him on his way over. Unusual for him, they think. That they can’t remember for certain stings.
“You really are still glowing.”
“Good morning to you too,” Wild grins wryly, going to hand Warriors a plate before pausing in concern. “… Have you slept?”
The knight stills, then nods sharply. Wild doesn’t buy it, especially since the haggard-looking man’s gaze is somewhere to the left of their ear. They won’t press, but if he doesn’t tonight…
Letting go of the dish, Wild smiles. “Let me know if I can help.”
Warriors blinks. His lips tug upward, though it seems less gratitude than surprise, and sets about being as awkward as possible for Time and Wind on his return to his spot. Wild’s stomach sinks. They couldn’t begin to explain why.
Eyeing Sky’s pallor with concern (has he always turned white like that?) when he rises, Wild repeats the run down of the coloured jars for the third time, taps out a memo in the Pad about Spirit’s (very audible) delight at the fried egg sandwiches, and finally collects their lukewarm bowl of porridge. Pealing laughter, loud in the subdued early-morning air, stirs them from their thoughts. The startled chime from Wild’s dozing friend sounds more than a little impolite. The grumble vibrating against their belly, barely audible beneath the ruckus around them, is equally as rude.
“Good morning love,” Wild snickers fondly, half an eye on the teenager-filled chaos brewing around the thoroughly bedraggled looking Time. Twilight disagrees. Arms tightening around their waist with another petulant noise, he nuzzles in closer…
sighs
… and goes back to sleep. Wild blinks. Certainly Twilight had looked utterly exhausted yesterday, but he’s normally up with the sun regardless of the day before. Much to their dismay, Malia is the same. They adore how like her dad she is, they truly do, but it would be a lie to say they’ve never prayed for the similarities to be a little less prominent. They’ve yet to get that longed for extra hour of sleep.
Setting their bowl aside, they turn to grab their cup. Instead they find Hyrule. They’re clutching a bowl that’s visibly more honey than anything else, and they look deadly serious. Wild remembers this. Whatever comes next will be either a matter of life or death, or utterly absurd. Sometimes, it was both. A long second passes.
“Do you taste like sunlight now?”
Wild blinks harder this time. “I… don’t think so?”
“Can I try?”
“Definitely not.”
Their sibling leaves without another word. Four stares after them, then looks to Wild as though they ought to have the answers. They do, they think, but there’s none they can give. Shrugging helplessly at the deeply concerned blacksmith, Wild locates another cup and avoids eye contact with the shaking form of Legend. How they’d missed them.
How they wish they could just feel normal.
It’s only when Twilight is upright and scowling at his breakfast, pressed so closely against their side he might as well be in their lap, that Wild looks at the pots of jam and wonders, with an aching sort of humour, whether they should’ve reminded Flora that locks do nothing to keep the Koroks at bay.