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It’s a conclusion that takes a long time to come to. A trickling sort of awareness, if you will. He’s never been entirely comfortable in his body, but it’s not the sort of soul-crushing Wrong that Legend talks of. It’s just a fleeting sensation prickling over his collarbone when he gets called a boy or a man.
He doesn’t like the coming-of-age clothing his Grandma presents him with on his 12th birthday; the green tunic and white leggings in the image of the clothing the Hero of Time had allegedly worn. They’re itchy and too big, but he chalks it up to the ill fit of the clothing. They’re made to be grown into. It’s probably just the fabrics.
He much prefers his lobster shirt. It’s longer, softer, loose, but it’s not shapeless. He doesn’t mind the orange pants.
He wears the green tunic as a costume. It’s just for a role in a play, he tells himself. He’s just trying to save his sister, but if he just imagines it, he can actually imagine that he’s a hero — that he’s exactly like the Hero of Time, that saved Hyrule before going back into anonymity. He’d like that.
It hurts less when he imagines that he’s just playing a role. When he’s playing a role being called a boy or a man doesn’t hurt quite as much.
He’s got a chronic rash on his collarbone by the time he’s forced the Gods to acknowledge him as a hero. It doesn’t heal by the time he’s stabbed his sword through Ganondorf’s skull and ruined his childhood innocence.
The doctor on Windfall asks him about it and he makes up an excuse about being sprayed with monster dust while saving his sister. The doctor looks at him sadly and tells him that it’ll scar.
“It’s not the only scar I have from my adventure,” he tells her. “I’m not upset.”
He makes it back to Outset Island for Aryll’s eleventh birthday and they celebrate with cake and their Grandma’s soup. It still tastes as good as ever and he almost feels like life is back to normal when he leaves the green tunic at the bottom of a chest and pulls back on the lobster shirt. The white leggings, however, get to stay. They’ve grown on him.
The day after Aryll’s eleventh birthday, after she’s gone to Dragon Roost to hang out with the Rito, Grandma calls him over to her. She asks him to help her out with the preliminary fittings for Aryll’s coming-of-age dress. “You’re about the same size that she’ll be in a year,” Grandma tells him. “I just need some rough measurements. Put on the dress over there.”
At first he asks why Aryll isn’t involved in the first fitting, and Grandma tells him it’s because she only needs a rough idea of what to ask of the tailor. “She’ll grow a lot in the coming year,” she tells him. “You grew a lot between your eleventh and twelfth birthday, too, Link.”
How can he say no to helping out his grandma? She’s always there for him, always there to support him in his endeavours. When he had declared to her that he had to save Aryll, she had simply caught him in a tight hug, given him some bottles of soup to drink on the harsh nights out on the Great Sea and told him to come back home safe.
When he’d come back to Outset with Aryll, she’d hugged him first, thanking him for bringing his sister back home safe. She had looked at him knowingly and told him to stay safe. She hadn’t looked surprised when he told her he had to go hunt down the pieces of the Triforce, or that he had to defeat Ganon.
“I have to make the Gods accept me, Grandma,” he’d whispered the night before he set out again. “I need the Gods’ approval to defeat Ganondorf. I have to defeat him, or he’ll destroy everything. He’ll hurt Aryll, he’ll hurt you .”
“Why wouldn’t the Gods accept you as their hero, my dear boy?” His grandma had said then, pressing a bowl of soup into his hands. “You’re the best one of them all.”
Maybe because I’m not a boy, is the first thought that comes to mind.
It’s quickly dismissed.
It’s just a silly thought, after all.
He comes back to the present when his grandma asks him what designs they should put on the dress. It’s a standard coming-of-age dress, she tells him. A paler reddish pink colour for the main body, with a double triangle pattern along the neckline. The name of the island embroidered on the sleeves, waves embroidered along the hem, the name of the dress’ wearer on the left-hand side by the hipbone, and two or three personality markers on the right-hand side, over the ribcage. A necklace with the appropriate birthstone. Gemstones are rare on the Great Sea. The birth stones are valuable and meaningful.
The coming-of-age dress is one of the few things that was carried down from the Sky Era. It’s been claimed that the first Zelda wore a reddish-pink dress with embroidery on it.
“A spyglass,” he says immediately. “Hibiscus flowers. Like the ones on her favourite dress.”
He wants a coming-of-age dress too, he realises. But he’s a boy and boys get their second traditional coming-of-age garment at the age of sixteen; an embroidered shirt made after what the Hero of the Skies traditionally wore under his tunic.
Link wants the dress.
He’s not entirely sure why.
After he’s helped his grandma figure out some basic dress measurements, he leaves her to write the letter to the Windfall Island tailor and runs up to the highest point on Outset Island. As he settles down underneath a tree, the first tears make themselves known.
He’s upset, but he doesn’t really understand. He ought to be happy for his sister, that she’s turning twelve soon— really, he should be absolutely overjoyed that she’s alive at all.
But the feeling in his chest is ugly — almost corrosive. He can’t identify it properly. He’s happy, but also sad, longing…
…is he jealous?
He doesn’t think about that day that often anymore. It feels like a lifetime ago. Since then, he’s been on another quest that turned out to be a dream. For a few weeks he’s not sure what’s real or not. He walks around in a haze, and his typical comforts— sand under his feet, water in front of him, and screech of the seagulls Aryll likes so much —aren’t enough to convince him that he’s alive and breathing and not in a dream because his dream featured all of those elements equally as vividly as he perceives them now.
He gets drafted into a time-defying war and meets so many people, including a few versions of himself. That doesn’t feel real either.
When he gets back from the war, he’s got a few more scars. He counts them as part of the collection. He’s thirteen years old, and has survived two perilous quests and a war he’s not sure he was meant to be in. His collarbone itch again, and the permanently altered texture of his skin there has strangely become a comfort.
His grandma is worried about him, he can tell.
She tells him he has wanderlust, that now that he’s had a taste of the world, he’ll want to keep going and going. She won’t stop him if he wants to leave, she tells him. But it would be nice if he would come and visit every now and again.
Tetra picks him up the next day and he leaves, much like on his first quest, with multiple bottles of his grandma’s soup. His lobster shirt still fits, and as they go out on the waters of the Great Sea, he almost feels alive again.
At night, the two of them talk a lot. He reveals to her the scars on his collarbone, tells her about the itch, about his hero’s garb, and about wanting a coming-of-age dress like Aryll. He tells her how he doesn’t want to be called boy or man, but that he doesn’t know what it means.
He tells her that he actually likes his name a lot, but very few call him it, everyone just calls him the Hero. He tells her about how weird it felt to be called the Hero of Time reborn.
She tells him that she doesn’t quite understand it either, so at least they’re united in their confusion. She doesn’t call him a boy or a man anymore. She doesn’t call him the Hero. She calls him by his name and nothing else.
He doesn’t call her the princess or Zelda. He calls her Tetra and Captain, even if the Captain is also another person he now knows. For a moment, he misses the war.
Life on the water is much more comforting than being the Hero. On the waters he’s just one of Tetra’s pirates, and if he happens to carry the Triforce of Courage forever branded into the skin on the back of his left hand, well, it’s just another scar.
It’s when he hears Blue and Legend talk about it, that it clicks for him. They’re talking about gender, about the difficulty of being born in the wrong body. Of feeling wrong.
Blue mentions the difficulty of not only being a woman but also of being part of Four. Of being a woman in a body that doesn’t match her identity. How difficult it is on some days. How for the longest time, only the Colours, Grandpa and Dot knew about it. How despite her wanting to transition, it’s not safe in her Hyrule. How she has longer hair, but it’s been hidden with Minish magic for so long she’s not entirely certain how to untangle it from her Hylian form. How it only shows when she’s Minish sized.
Legend talks about how he lived so many of his years as a man, thinking that they had settled into a gender identity before their sixth quest had made them start all over again. Legend talks about distinctly not being a woman but not quite being a man, either. That if they had to choose, being called a man isn’t too bad, but it’s a bit like wearing shoes half a size wrong. Like a pair of pants that are just big enough to slide the hips more than is comfortable or a shirt that is just too tight in the neck to be entirely comfortable. They talk about existing outside the binary, about the dysphoria, about how they’re only now starting to feel okay, again.
Something clicks inside of Wind and he stares at the campfire in front of him. Thinking.
The experiences they describe embrace him like a warm blanket. Like it’s always been there, but he’s noticing its existence for the first time.
One of his hands comes up to absently scratch at the scars on his collarbone. The scars that will never get to leave him behind because of the discomfort he experienced during his quest.
His mind goes back to the dress.
He’d thought back then, as he stood there trying not to get stabbed by the needles grandma used to get the measurements, that he would quite like a dress to run around in and to feel the fabric brushing his legs.
He thinks back to the night before leaving to go collect the pieces of the Triforce. How he had asked his grandma if the Gods would accept him.
He’d entertained the thought, back then, that he might not be a boy.
Is he not?
…What is he?
“Wind? Hey, Wind, stop that, you’re hurting yourself!”
A hand grabs his and Wind looks up at Legend. Legend looks back at him with no shortage of worry in their eyes. “You’re hurting yourself, Wind,” Legend says. “Why?”
A lump forms in his throat, and suddenly Wind has the urge to cry. He feels his lip wobble. “I … I heard what you guys were talking about.”
Legend’s face drops. “And it upset you?”
Wind sees the panic on Legend’s face and scrambles. “No! Yes! I mean … not in the way you think. I’m not opposed to your identities! The opposite! I … it hit too close to home!”
Within a second of saying it, he regrets it and bats Legend’s hand away before curling up in a ball. He shouldn’t have said anything. Because now Legend and Blue are going to ask questions that he doesn’t have the answers for and it’ll be awkward.What if he’s accused of stealing their problems from them?
“It … hit too close to home?” Legend asks, and he’s crouched in front of Wind now. “What do you mean by that?”
“I don’t know!” Wind exclaims. He unfurls a bit and looks at Legend. Blue’s behind Legend, looking equally worried. “I don’t know what I’m feeling, okay! All I know is that being called a boy or a man makes me feel awful and wearing the Hero’s Clothes was only bearable because I managed to convince myself that it was a costume and that I was playing a role! All I know is that being called a boy made my collarbone itch and I kept scratching it and now I’ve got permanent scarring because of it!”
The tears start falling from his face and he sobs out, “And I’m so confused because I want to wear a dress and be pretty and it feels horrible because I couldn’t be happy about helping out my Grandma with the fitting for Aryll’s coming-of-age dress because I was so preoccupied with wanting my own that I couldn’t think properly. I don’t know what’s going on. ”
“Can I hug you?” Legend asks. Wind stares at him, confused. Legend doesn’t offer hugs. It’s not a thing they do . Sure, Red’s gotten a hug here or there, but you can’t say no to Red!
“…Why?” Wind asks suspiciously.
“Because you look like you need a hug,” Legend says matter-of-factly, “and because I want to give you one.”
Wind slowly uncurls his body and allows Legend to wrap their arms around him. A moment later Blue settles down behind him, her grip on him steadying.
“You’re confused, right?” Blue says, and there’s only a hint of a question in her tone. “Do you also not feel at home in your body?”
“I never have,” Wind slowly says. “ …It only really got bad when I went out on my first adventure. I was suddenly around so many more people and what used to be a small discomfort grew and grew and—” he laughs without humour. “—I fucked the skin on my collarbone up. Itched too much.”
“So you don’t feel like a boy?” Legend asks, but his tone is non-judgemental.
“It feels wrong when someone calls me it,” Wind mumbles into Legend’s shoulder. “It feels like someone’s trying to dress me in clothes that are the wrong size. Sometimes the clothes are made of glass shards.”
“Do you feel like a girl, then?” Blue asks, not unkindly. She’s just not good at expressing her emotions openly, not like Red. Of the colours, she has the most tenuous grasp on her emotions. she’s the least outwardly emotional, if her occasional bouts of anger don’t count.
Wind sniffles. “I don’t … know?”
“Tell me,” Legend says gently, inching back to plop their butt on the ground. Blue keeps her hold on Wind, allowing him to lean on her. “Tell me, if you should discard the body you have now and start over, what would it look like? What would be nice to you? Even if it was only a dream?”
“I want a dress,” Wind says immediately, “Aryll’s getting her coming-of-age dress in a few months. All girls get a dress when they turn thirteen. It’s allegedly modelled after the dress the first Zelda wore and it’s unique for everyone. It’s really special. And really pretty.”
“How did you feel wearing it?” Blue asks.
Wind hiccups. Goddesses above, he hates crying. “Confused, but I loved it. It made me really jealous, I think. I couldn’t get one for myself.”
Legend hums. “What else would you want?”
It’s a difficult question, and the miasma of emotions in his chest makes it difficult to think for a moment. Eventually, he manages to form words. “I think,” he starts slowly. “I’d want my hair long. It’s not practical to have long hair, though.”
“Pssh,” Blue says. “Have you seen Wild? They do perfectly alright with their long hair. Just tie it up into a braid or something.”
Wind sniffles again, but the tears seem to have stopped for now. He takes a deep breath.
“I don’t want to say it out loud,” Wind says slowly. “I think I …”
Legend nods understandingly. “That’s fine. Can I try something?”
“Sure?” Wind says. “Just don’t … I dunno, stab me or something.”
Legend snorts. “If I wanted to do that, I wouldn’t have waited all the way until now. No, I just wanted to try something. If it makes you uncomfortable, just stop me alright?”
Wind nods and Legend and Blue hold a silent conversation over his head.
Then Legend grabs one of Wind’s hands and thumbs gently over the knuckles. “I know a person,” he starts. “This person’s name is Wind. Wind is my younger sister.” Wind’s heart stutters. “She’s almost fourteen years old and has been through so much already. She loves being out on the water and likes spending time with her friend Tetra. I really want Wind to be comfortable with herself.”
The tears are back, but they’re not sad. Instead, Wind gasps and laughs and cries and his heart— her heart? —jumps and beats erratically, trying to keep up with the influx of emotions.
“How did that feel?” Legend asks. “If you want me to, I can do it again with different pronouns if it didn’t feel right to you.”
“No!” Wind exclaims. “No, it felt good. Felt right . I just— I just can’t breathe very well.”
It’s true. His— her —heart is beating overly fast and their breathing is laboured. Too wound up. He— she —needs to calm down or he’s— she’s —going to have a panic attack.
“Breathe with us,” Blue orders. “In on four, hold for four, out for four.”
Wind snorts breathlessly. “ Four .”
“Yes, yes, very funny,” Legend says. “Come on, breathe with Blue. She’s there, just follow her breathing.”
It takes a few minutes before Wind manages to calm down again enough to breathe properly on his— her —own.
“Are you feeling any better?” Legend asks. They’re sitting there, in front of Wind, face more open and honest than normal.
Oh , how glad Wind is that no one else has witnessed his— her —mental breakdown. They all have them, of course. But this one … felt extra vulnerable.
“Yeah,” Wind says. “Thank you. I … I’m sorry for freaking out. It’s been weighing quite heavily on me. But … I like those pronouns. I liked being called your sister. I liked being called a … a …”
The word doesn’t want to appear. It’s stuck in her throat, fluttering around her brain.
“…a girl?” Legend finishes.
Wind blushes and nods shyly. She probably looks a mess, her scars red and irritated from scratching too much, tear tracks run down her face, her nose and throat whistling every time she breathes in.
“Welcome to the club,” Blue whispers. “Little sister.”
She almost starts crying again then. The emotions in her chest are so good and so overwhelming.
“Would you want to tell the others?” Legend asks. “You don’t have to, yet, if you’re not comfortable.”
“Not yet,” Wind decides. “I’ve kept it more or less a secret for so long. Tetra knows some, but I don’t think she really got it the first time I tried to explain it to her. I didn’t really get it either, at the time. I’ve kept it secret for years. It would feel very strange to suddenly reveal it to everyone.”
“We hid it for a long time,” Blue says from behind her. “Years. You folks were the first people we told outside Grandpa and Dottie. It was absolutely terrifying. We knew from the moment we first split that something was up, and it only took a few days for us to realise that I wasn’t a boy or that Vio didn’t really care.”
“I want to tell them at some point,” Wind says. “I just need to think about it some more.”
“It’s up to you,” Legend says earnestly. “Really. It is. Your gender is yours, Wind. Don’t let anyone take that away from you.”
She’s curled up in her bedroll, the validating words from Legend and Blue clutched tightly to her chest when she realises a compilation.
She’s one of the people closest to Warriors.
She fought with him in a war.
Warriors never talked about what happened during those six hours when the rest of them were trying to break into Cia’s final fortress. Not a word of information has left his lips about what happened while he was trapped in there. Alone. With her .
But Wind knows. Wind knows what trauma looks like, and he knows unconscious behaviours don’t come from nowhere.
The War of Ages was started because of Cia’s desire to have Warriors — to posses him. Like an object.
The Captain will carry this abuse with him for the rest of his life. Will always be affected to some degree.
And Wind—
And Wind suddenly feels so fucking awful and selfish and guilty.
Because she has decided to become the very thing that triggers Warriors the most.
A woman.
It wears her down over the next few weeks, constantly on her mind.
She notices more. She’s more aware of how she’s behaving in relation to the others.
She notices how, when Blue is in charge, or when Four is split into the Colours, Warriors subconsciously avoids her. Keeps more of a distance, speaks just a bit more measured and formally, doesn’t look as calm and safe. Avoids all kinds of physical affection.
But Wind’s already told Legend and Blue about her identity. Now that she’s told someone, the itch to be open and free and alive itches much worse than any of the itching of discomfort did on her collarbone.
But if she has to hide it for Warriors’ sake, then she will.
He’s been her biggest supporter. Kept her morale up during the war and ensured that she was safe after battle. Stayed with her in the medic’s tent overnight as she recovered from a stab wound because the groans and moans of dozens of injured soldiers made her panicked and anxious.
He’s done so much for her.
Does she want to risk hurting him in return?
So she avoids him. Just a little. She still talks to him and hangs out and wakes him up for shifts.. But on nights when they do double shifts, Wind will do everything in her power to not be stuck on the same shift as Warriors.
Wind knows that Warriors is noticing her behaviour. She knows that he’s confused.
She’s heard him talk to Time about it, only for Time to tell Warriors to give her time. That Wind probably just has something on her mind.
Warriors doesn’t look convinced.
The next time they manage to get rooms at an inn, Wind gets physically dragged by the sleeve into one of the three rooms they’ve booked by Warriors.
“Out with it,” Warriors demands. “You’ve been off for weeks and it’s worrying me. The last time you were like this you were convinced that everything going on was a dream. You almost died that time. Out with it, Wind.”
Wind sits down on one of the beds and plays with the hem of her lobster shirt. “I’m sorry,” she starts. “I didn’t mean to avoid you. I’ve just been … figuring some stuff out.”
Warriors settles down on the bed opposite. “And the solution to figuring said stuff out was to avoid me and generally act awkward. You haven’t acted like yourself around anyone but Legend and Four and while I’m not going to force you to reveal your secrets to everyone, I’m worried about you, Sailor.”
“I had a talk with Blue and the Vet a couple of weeks ago,” Wind says hesitantly. “I’ve been trying to figure out some stuff about myself. I guess I’ve been scared of your reaction. I’m just feeling so guilty all of the time and I don’t know what to do with myself.”
The sound of sliding fabric reaches her ears and a second later Warriors blue scarf hits her in the chest. “Take it for now,” Warriors says. “It helped during the war, it’ll help now.”
She buries her face in the scarf, and yes, it does actually help to have it near. She’s been missing Warriors’ hugs so much the past few weeks but she didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. Even if he didn’t know about her, she did and the amount of guilt that curdles in her stomach at the thought of upsetting one of her brothers almost has tears coming to her eyes.
“I know what happened to you during the last battle,” Wind blurts out. “When you were kidnapped. I know what happened to you.”
Warriors exhales. It’s a harsh sound, raspy. Uncomfortable.
“You have no proof,” Warriors says quietly. “I haven’t told anyone what happened.”
“I know what happened,” Wind says again, conviction in her voice. “I can see it in your eyes. I can see it in your behaviour. No matter how much you hide it, it still shows. I’m not sure if the old man has noticed yet, but it’s only been a couple of months for me. I can see the personality changes. You used to be so outgoing and loud and happy and so full of life. And you still are, but you no longer go out to drink with anyone. You don’t drink at all unless you’re alone in a safe space where no one can get you. I see how you avoid our Zeldas. I see how you avoid Blue.”
She takes a break to breathe. “And I feel like I’ve been deceiving you and I feel so guilty. I didn’t know for so long, not until the Vet and Blue helped me figure it out, but it still feels like something I should have known about earlier and yet I didn’t. It feels like I’ve not only overstepped any boundaries you may have, I’ve absolutely shattered them. I’m scared of triggering your trauma with every breath I take and I’m so so sorry .”
Warriors jumps up from the bed and sits down next to her and Wind wants to push him away, to tell him that he doesn’t actually want to be close to her because he’s going to be upset when he finds out about everything.
“I’m not a boy,” she finally gets out. “I think I’ve known for a long time. Subconsciously. I’m … I’m a girl.”
Warriors stops for a moment.. Wind starts to pull away, certain that this is it— that Warriors will start treating her like he treats Blue and the Zeldas and every other woman they come across.
And if that’s what Warriors wants and if that’s what Warriors needs, well then who is Wind to complain? It’ll break her heart a bit, sure, but not as much as the guilt will choke her.
“I’m sorry for misgendering you up to now,” Warriors says earnestly. “What would you prefer that I refer to you as?”
Wait, what?
“Shouldn’t you be worried about me hurting you?” Wind asks, genuinely confused.
Warriors sighs and looks thoughtful. “I’m not sure. You’re right, Wind, something did happen to me … and it messed me up. Big time. But I’m not avoiding Blue. I’m equally close with Blue as I am with the rest of the Colours. I would trust Blue with my life at any time. I won’t be avoiding you just because you’re a girl, Wind.”
“But you avoid your Zelda. You avoid Artemis,” Wind mutters. “Aren’t you meant to be close to your Zelda?”
“We were never really close. I didn’t grow up with her or anything. I just joined the army because I was messing around with some of the recruits one day when I was around fifteen. My dad had brought me along because he was doing a delivery of arrows— he’s a fletcher —and I was at the time apprenticing to become one myself. Then I accidentally defeated a dozen recruits in sword fights and the Triforce claimed me as the Hero. That’s how I was introduced to Artemis. We’ve never known each other beyond a professional level. … I suppose I’m struggling to know that she’s safe. But you are. Blue is. My sister is.”
“So you won’t hate me if I choose to live my life as a girl?” Wind asks quietly and the question hangs in the dusty air of the room. “I’m not really worried about the others. But you — your opinion matters a lot to me.”
“I can’t see a singular reason why I would hate you,” Warriors says kindly, one hand snaking around Wind. “I want you to live your life happily. And if you’re a girl, then you’re a girl.”
“I am,” Wind whispers. “And I want a dress, even if it would be horrifically impractical to fight in. I want longer hair, even if it would blind me during battle.”
“And you should get to have that,” Warriors says earnestly. “Because we can get you a dress that is practical for battle and we can do up your hair so it won’t make you feel unsafe.”
The two of them sit there in the quiet for a few minutes, Warriors carding a hand through Wind’s hair and Wind processing the anxiety that’s been possessing her body for weeks on end now.
It feels good, she realises, to have come clean about this. Feels good, to be able to slowly take the tendrils of anxiety that have been choking her, inhibiting her thought processes, forcing her heart to beat faster. To be able to take them and slowly remove them from her body. They’ll be going straight in the bin. Her body will be purified, will no longer feel corrupted and cracked open by an ocean of doubt vaster than the Great Sea.
“Are you planning on telling the others?” Warriors asks eventually.
Wind hums. “Yeah. I just wanted to tell you first. Legend and Blue already know, which means that Four probably knows. I don’t know how much of their knowledge is shared when they’re fused. I think they all know. Based on how Four’s been treating me, that is. I might ask Legend to tell the group for me. I don’t want the words to get stuck.”
“That’s a good idea,” Warriors says. “You know what’s gonna happen now, right?”
Wind looks at him with a panicked look. “What?”
Warriors grins. “You’re gonna get a pair of Legend’s infamous gender-affirming socks. With how often they gripe about your inability to dress for the weather you might even get two.”
“So long as I don’t get stabbed with the needles like Vio did, I’m alright with it,” Wind says. Then, in a stage whisper: “Don’t you know, it’s the only reason why I’m transitioning. I want the socks.”
Warriors snorts. “Sure, kid. And Vio was barely poked, what are you on about? Now, are you ready to go join the others or do you want some time alone to process?”
“I’d like to … I think I’d like to talk to Legend,” Wind eventually decides. “Gotta ask him for the socks and all.”
Warriors stands, but doesn’t ask for his scarf back. Wind cuddles into it, relishing in the comfort. It’s something she’s been missing, she realises. During the war she had often curled up on Warrriors’ lap, rubbed the scarf against her face to try to cope with the horrors seen during the day’s battles. Having the scarf again is an amazing feeling.
“I’ll send them to you,” Warriors says. “I’ll see you in a bit, sister dear.”
Wind squeals in joy at that and immediately hides her face in Warriors’ scarf.
Warriors laughs and leaves, the door clicking shut behind him.
Dinner that evening is a bit of a tense affair for Wind. They’re eating in one of the rooms they’ve booked, each of the Links having been provided with a bowl of thick, meaty stew and bread.
“Guys,” Legend eventually says towards the end of the meal. Wind’s curled up on one of the beds, too anxious to properly eat. “I’ve got something to say.”
The chain quiets down immediately and Wind tries to hide, still wrapped in Warriors’ scarf and clutching her bowl of stew.
“Wind would like to be referred to as a girl from now on and with she/her pronouns,” Legend says plainly. “If anyone’s got an issue with it, don’t. Wind’s gender is valid and you best accept it.”
Wind just barely has the time to stash away her bowl on the bedside table before she’s absolutely hugged to death by like half the chain, the other half respectfully waiting for their turn. A cacophony of “I’m so proud of you!” and “My little sister!” and “Can I braid your hair??”.
“Guys,” she exclaims. “A bit of space, please?”
They thankfully listen and she wraps herself back in Warriors’ scarf, not quite ready to let go of it. It’s just so soft .
“It’s not that big of a deal,” she says. “Please, don’t make it into a big deal.”
I just want to have it be a normal thing.
“You heard the kid,” Time says, firm but not unkind. “Leave Wind alone. I’m sure she’s had a long day. In fact, I think we should all go to bed soon enough. We’re off early tomorrow. There have been reports of black-blooded monsters a four-hour walk away from here.”
“Room arrangements,” Warriors adds. “We’ve got three rooms.”
“Me and Legend can room with Wind,” Four says. “If that’s okay with you, Wind.”
Wind nods.
“I’ll share with Wild and Twilight,” Time offers. “That leaves Hyrule, Sky and Warriors to share the third room.”
They quickly split up, leaving Four, Legend and Wind in the room.
“We’re really proud of you, you know,” Four says, seated on the bed next to Wind. “It’s never easy to figure out stuff like this, especially if you haven’t met anyone else quite like you before.”
“There’s not a lot of people on the Great Sea to begin with,” Wind says. “The closest I could probably get is Tetra— my Zelda —and her absolute hatred of anything princess-like. During my first quest she was forced into royal garb and I thought she’d die of discomfort on the spot. She’s a pirate and happy with that.”
Legend’s rummaging through their bag but eventually comes out victorious with a set of sock needles, a skein of sock yarn and a letter-writing set.
“What’re you doing?” Wind asks curiously. “You can’t both knit and write at once, you know.”
“Oh, nothing,” Legend says absently, settling down at the small table in the room. “Just remembered I have a letter I need to finish. Then , I’m going to start on a pair of socks for you. You’d like them in the same colour as Blue, yes?”
Four pulls said pair of socks out of their bag and hand them over to Wind. “It’s the colours that represent people transitioning from one binary gender to the other,” Four says. “The pink represents the traditional feminine colour, the blue the traditional masculine colour and the white for the transition or undefined gender.”
“I like them,” Wind says earnestly. “If you’ve got the colours, I would like that combination, please.”
“Sure thing, kid,” Legend says, finishing up the letter and letting it dry before carefully folding it up and placing it inside a thick envelope. “Do you think one of us finishing up a letter for home automatically summons the mailman?”
Four snorts, having pulled out sword polish and a cloth to work on the Four Sword. “Probably. Whenever he comes around, at least one of us has a letter to send.”
Wind cuddles up under the blankets on the bed she’s claimed for herself and gradually dozes off. Time was right, it has been a long day for her. In fact, it’s been a long few weeks. A long few years.
By the time she falls asleep listening to the quiet bickering of Four and Legend, she feels more relaxed than she has in years.