Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Hero of Wilds was definitely no stranger to loneliness. In his opinion, being alone and being lonely were different things; something very few people around him seemed to understand. It was different for him—he had spent his entire life by himself, and he had been alive for over a century. Any time he spent with other people he just couldn’t remember.

Being alone was nice. Company was just often too loud, too overwhelming. He much preferred the life of the world, the sleepiness of that period just before dawn when everything was still. The silent company that came with animals that seemed to welcome his presence, never once were afraid of him.

Travelling alone had been difficult to start with. He had begun shakily, like a fawn beginning to walk. And he had earned his antlers and outgrew his spots and faced the world. He hadn’t had a choice.

And as time wore on, he had grown to appreciate everything around him. Came to adore it. Became addicted to the feeling of just wanting to let the wild take over.

Had he been alone? Yes. Had he been particularly lonely? No.

When the Calamity had disappeared, even then, he had felt a sort of sadness deep within him. Even though this was the end of what he had worked his whole one hundred and seventeen years for, a lot of feelings came with it. He had fulfilled his duty, so now what was his purpose?

What came next?

The responsibility that came with co-running a kingdom wasn’t easy. The expectations. Very few people seemed to hit spot-on with the titles they gave him.

Hero of Wilds.

The Champion.

Which one was he? Some had started to assume, match him with something he was not - The Prince of Light. He was no hero. No champion. No prince and no light.

And when it got too loud, then, all he could do was curl up in his too-nice bed and cry his eyes out. It had never gotten like this before. He had never felt just that way, that specific feeling before.

He remembers the days on his journey when it got really bad. When he was alone. He remembers laughing until he cried, praying for it to just be over. But now the Calamity was gone, and so were his days of being alone, and he couldn’t do that because it would worry the people around him.

And eventually, things had calmed down. And the amount of time he could spend away, roaming around the rolling hills and grassy plains became more balanced with the time he spent at the castle. He was equal parts free and caged.

Someday he wouldn’t be chained at all. Someday, he would be completely free. He just needed to wait a little longer.

Sometimes, the urge to destroy himself was so strong it had to be replaced. The itch to rip at his hair and scratch his skin open and just scream and cry until he choked to death was substituted with something less.

That was the thing about being the nature hero. It was incredibly easy for him to slip between the cracks of the hero mold and into his own. Into a force of nature.

From thunderstorms and crashing waves and wind that hurt...From fire and the unforgiveness of nature, the being with no sympathy. No mercy for his dwellers, to calm serenity. To crickets chirping and wind rustling the leaves.

There was something that came with being so in touch with day and night. The sun’s bright, rustling happiness—sometimes too much. The moon and her stars twinkling and quiet and beckoning. ‘Come find me.’

He could channel that. He could make himself.

He never wore the champion’s tunic, really, not after. He swapped his little blue hoop earrings out for the opal ones that reminded him of Mipha, whoever she had really been and however gone she really was.

Some other things were helpful, too.

He was allowed to take part in replacing some of the ruins. Where the destruction was too much and there was nothing left and they had to be completely rebuilt, he was the one to place and detonate the bombs.

But now, he was often left with guilt afterwards. Those had been somebody's homes. He was worried if he displayed any guilt over it, he would be taken off the project. He couldn’t do that. Being useless was worse than being guilty and tired.

The better days were uncommon but incredibly appreciated.

When he could fill book after book of his notes and drawings, spend hours perfecting the wings of a cold darner. Stay in Hebra for days mapping out the stars. When he had enough time to conduct his own projects. And he wasn’t alone then, a shaky proposal making sure of that.

And he was healing. Slowly. Until he had to pause.

Meeting eight other versions of your past reincarnations was definitely under the things Wild defined as weird. Especially when one of them had the markings and form of a certain wolf he knew. Especially when one of them wore a blue tunic he himself had. Especially when they all seemed to be wearing his face.

And then he felt like he was back at square one. Well ‘they’ were, because his new companions seemed very intent on him not being alone anymore. ‘He’ became ‘they’ and ‘I’ became ‘we’.

That was not something Wild particularly enjoyed.

He liked being alone. He adored his independence, something he had fought for for one hundred years. And the new heroes definitely weren’t terrible; not at all. But he definitely wanted more alone time than they were willing to give. He wasn’t allowed to leave. Wasn’t allowed to go by himself, even once in a while. He wasn’t unwelcoming of their company. But sometimes they got too loud, too overwhelming.

Either way, he grew to accept them as his family. Grew to love each of them in a way he hadn’t loved anyone that he could remember. He learned about each of them and fit into his own place. He had never fit into any place; that’s what the remaining Hyrule citizens thought of him. He was a wild child. Untamed and free and he had no place.

The wild was everywhere. It was inescapable. Wild fit everywhere without having or needing a place.

And so Wild wasn’t really back at square one. Not completely. He found himself growing further the longer he stayed. He shed his velvet and grew it back again and again.

The thing that had really brought him back to square one was when it was gone.

When he was woken up by the scuttling, pounding feet of the guardians. When he was awake with a speed and fear that was a painful combination, and he was alone again. And he had thrown his head back and laughed until tears ran down his face, until he really thought he was going to choke to death.

The loneliness he had once welcomed was suddenly deadly. Everything he had ever been familiar with was gone. He could only barely bring himself to roll out of the way of the laser.

He searched everywhere before determining they hadn’t transferred worlds with him. Went to every major city, travelled the main roads until he thought he would collapse. Then he went to the castle and fell into Zelda’s waiting arms and managed to tell her everything.

She told him everything, too. How there was a new evil in the world. And that was their only lead and only solution. This was another adventure. The only way he would be able to get back to them was by completing it with Zelda.

And he had.

And when he got back to them, it wasn’t the same. And it probably wouldn’t be for a long time.

Zelda had left him alone, taking the slate and heading off to check Rito, Hateno, Kakariko, and Zora’s Domain. As the Hylian Ambassador, that was typically his job, but Zelda insisted on going in his place because he was still healing. He knew she would do a better job than he could, anyway.

So he had been left to quietly tinker with parts, hoping one of them would be the right set to get some of the little guardians up and running again. He didn’t necessarily mind; it still hurt to walk, after all.

It was nice to just relax, though, too. Well, this was considered relaxing compared to the past three years. But he got a chance to switch out the heavy climbing gear for a too-nice haori and work on something smaller that he was more familiar with.

Until the address had come. When someone had walked into the makeshift infirmary, he hadn’t even looked up, expecting Purah and some of the new Sheikah guards. He wasn’t in their way, nestled on a nice armchair facing the high castle window.

“Your highness,” comes a slightly familiar voice, and it takes him a moment to remember someone is talking to him. His eyes flick up, and he does a double take.

Twilight. Time. Wind. Sky, Hyrule, Legend, Wars, Four - they’re okay. They’re real. They’re here.

“The heroes of courage,” one of the attendants, Moru, introduces. Wild’s eyes meet his. They know one another, they see each other a lot, but they aren’t exactly familiar. It’s too busy. But in Moru’s eyes, he sees that fleeting glint of protectiveness. The look that lets Wild know he only has to raise a finger or say a word.

Wild’s eyes move away and then further, back to the two Sheikah guards that silently slip into the room and stand on either side of the door. He straightens himself up.

“Leave us, thank you,” Moru nods and turns away. “All of you,” he adds, when the two guards stay. He wills his voice to be colder than usual, more demanding, because he needs this.

Wild stares at the closed door even for seconds after it has closed. When he forces his eyes back to them, each one has a very unique expression on their face. Confusion. Relief. Hopefulness. Their eyes are full of inquiries but nobody’s mouth moves.

Twilight takes the first step forwards. Wild would run to him, but if he stands up right now he’s either going to rip a stitch or pass out. He doesn’t think that either of those things would be good ideas.

Instead, he opens his arms, and Twilight rushes to him. The elder’s arms are strong and firm but also impossibly gentle, like Twilight is afraid of breaking him. There’s another set a second later, and Wild recognizes Time. The feel of them both is enough to break him. Twilight presses their foreheads together, Time engulfing and shielding their bodies.

“I thought it was over, I thought you weren’t coming-” Wild breathes.

“It’s okay, I’m not going anywhere.”

“It’s been so long,”

“Three weeks?”

Wild’s head shakes.

“Three years.”

“I’m so sorry, you-you were just gone, and...”

“For what? None of this is your fault.”

Twilight’s hands press on either side of Wild’s face.

“I am never leaving you alone again, cub.”

Wild nods, thankful. Grateful.

Twilight finally pulls back, and then it’s just Time. Time’s large torso and burly arms and Wild feels impossibly small. Is this what his father was like?

He knows their faces but he will never know how they felt.

Wild gives a tiny, watery smile when he pulls back, seeing nothing but concern and relief in his eyes. Time holds him at arm’s length, looking him over. He is not satisfied, Wild can tell, but he lets it go when Wind barrels into Wild’s side.

“Your hair!” The youngest hero crows, grabbing at either side of his bangs, before his ears. “You cut it!” His hands pat all over Wild’s head and face, his eyes shining with happiness. Wild presses his nose into the side of Wind’s neck, breathing him in.

That familiar seed of happiness plants itself in his stomach, just like it always did when he was surrounded by his family. It grows when Hyrule gives him a shy smile. It grows when Warriors pats him on the back. Grows when Sky welcomes him back. Grows when Legend grips his elbow and gives him a meaningful glance until his lungs feel like they’re filled with flowers.

They’re sparing him - holding off on their questions, even Wind. He is grateful for the healing time even though he is well aware of how fleeting it will be. He’s too happy right now to be upset about anything else.

He dismisses the odd look in his mentor’s eyes as concern. It looks like it, but Wild has always been good at reading people. He waves away the way Time’s left hand settles on the small of his back, how his eyes are determined and firey. He offers his arm, face softening just a little, just for him.

Wild takes it and shakily brings himself to his feet, and tunes into Wind’s excited rambling.

Chapter Text

“Remember when Epona nearly kicked your head off your body?” Warriors cackles, pointing at Legend with his beer bottle. Legend was not good with animals, and that was that. He had tried, he really, really tried, and it didn’t work out. He scrunches down in his seat and scowls at nothing in particular, hands curling around his bottle of milk.

“Remember when Twilight sided with a horse over me?” He shoots back, bringing the glass to his lips.

“Oh, Lege,” Warriors laughs, leaning heavily on the younger boy. He’s slightly tipsy, despite the early hour. “Most people would side with a horse over you.” Legend smacks at him and Warriors dodges, still laughing his head off. Hyrule is snickering from the other end of the couch, and Legend rounds on him, glaring.

Time watches the boys with a warm feeling in his chest. The feeling doesn’t dissipate, even as Four hops off the end of the couch to escape Legend’s grasp. Even as Legend follows, shrieking about how Four won’t feel so smug in a minute. It’s a new sense of companionship. Of family.

Hyrule vaults himself away from Legend’s touch as well, chuckling. Warriors grins devilishly, catching Legend’s arm and pinning him to the side of the couch.

“Release me!” Legend calls, voice cracking. He shoots frantic eyes in Sky’s direction, who smiles a little and scoots away from him. Legend’s jaw drops open.

Wind joins Hyrule and Four to take the opportunity to move in and jab repeatedly at Legend’s sides. Legend kicks at them, even as an involuntary laugh bubbles up in his throat. Soon enough, he’s uncontrollably laughing. Warriors pushes himself up further on the couch to better hold Legend’s arms.

“Beg for mercy!” Four cries, landing three good hits on Legend’s stomach. Legend’s laughter increases in volume, cresting and echoing off the high ceilings.

“Never!” Legend retaliates, and Time is happy he gets to see this side of him. “You… TRAITORS! Why are none of you helping me?!”

Sky, surprisingly, turns his head away and sips his drink, raising his eyes to the ceiling. It’s some new thing—water with bubbles and flavor. He seems to enjoy it enough. Twilight shifts his head into Wild’s golden locks, smiling and wrapping him up in his arms. Wild himself responds in turn, giggling and turning into Twilight’s neck, both of them pointedly ignoring Legend’s plight.

Time does not have the same sympathy, and holds direct eye contact with Legend as he does nothing.

Somehow, this gives Legend the determination he needs to wriggle himself free, slipping out of Warriors grasp and kicking Four in the stomach. Not hard enough to hurt him, but Four is sturdier than he looks anyway. He’s slippery, using this tiny opening to get away.

Wind and Hyrule give chase first, and Warriors tugs Four up and stumbles off after them. The large door slams and echoes.

They’ll be fine. Probably. Wild’s Hyrule castle was by far the largest out of them, but their basic layouts were all the same. Faint banging and laughter can be heard on the other side of the door, fading away into nothingness.

Sky turns back so he’s facing the inside of their little circle. He raises the glass and watches the tiny bubbles rise, coughs into his elbow. He seems to have a new glimmer of wonder in his eyes as the little pockets of oxygen dance around in the glass.

“What is this stuff, anyway?” He leans over the couch edge to pour himself more, despite the fact that he still has a good amount left in his cup.

“Seltzer water.”

“How… why are there bubbles in it?”

“It’s carbonated,” Wild says, and at Sky’s questioning eyes, continues. “It's water that’s been mixed with fruit juice and a little sugar, and artificially injected with dissolved carbon dioxide gas.”

Sky acts like he understands, nodding along.

“All I know is that I’m taking all of it with me,” he smiles, and Wild’s tired eyes glisten with a small grin of his own. “...Do you have any more?” He takes another heavy sip.

“Yeah, I only just figured out how to make it, so a lot of it is in storage—” Sky immediately sits up straight, almost choking.

“You invented this stuff?!” Wild makes a tilting motion with his hand, but gives a little nod anyway.

“Well, I had some help making the carbonator, but yeah—”

Sky shakes his head slowly, dumbfounded. “You’re… amazing.”

Wild flushes, a little laugh forcing itself out of him.

“Is that what you were working on before we got here?” Wild cocks his head at the question. Sky points to the little pile of machinery Wild had been working with. Wild’s shoulders relax a little.

“No… that’s just some random guardian remains. I’m working on a project involving them.” His eyes dart in a way that isn’t unusual. He has always been skittish like this, but now even more so.

“Well you’re quite the technician, aren’t you, cub?” Time laughs, settling back on the arm of the chair and taking a swallow of his beer. It’s a session ale, nothing too strong, but it’s cold and it’s good. Relieving.

Wild’s eyes flicker up to him for a second and he gives a tiny laugh. Time reads right through it. The Wild that Time knew would have absolutely corrected him. The Wild that Time knew would have gone on and on about the carbonator. The Wild that Time knew would have joined the chaos with Wind, Hyrule and Four.

Something deeper was wrong with him.

As many times as Time had tried to brush it off as being tired, it just didn’t quite fit. Twilight’s eyes glint in a knowing way and Time knows he isn’t the only one who feels it.

Time remembers all the time spent after his own adventure in shock, and he hopes Wild’s latest adventure was nothing like his own. He remembers how much mental stress he went under. And everything he had encountered just seemed to build it up more, until he was begging for release. A lot of their teammates have undergone something similar during their adventures, intensity depending on their personalities and events of their journey.

He knows it’s probably false hope.

“Where… can I get more of this?” Sky asks, obviously trying not to seem like an addict. Wild gives another soft laugh, eyes crinkling. At least that was the same.

“I would take you… but—but you know where the kitchens are?” Sky nods determinedly. “Okay. I’m sure you’ll find it. In the back area, there’s a large metal case-like thing,” another nod. “Good. If someone asks, just tell them I sent you, okay?”

Sky trips standing up, quickly making his way out of the tall doors and letting them shutter closed behind him.

“Is that stuff… alcoholic?” Wild laughs, shakes his head.

“I think Sky’s just a klutz.”

“Understandable.”

“When have I ever not been understandable?” Twilight snorts, tugging Wild closer into his side, so he’s practically sitting in his lap. He places his hand on the top of his head as if to ruffle it, but just sets it there.

The way Wild is talking is odd, but Time can see where it wouldn’t seem weird to anyone other than Twilight and himself, and maybe a few select others. He’s too happy, but the look in his eyes is so sad and old. It’s like he’s trying too hard to let them know he’s fine.

“So what happened to your hair?” Immediately, Wild’s expression changes to something far more sheepish.

“Um. It sort of… caught on fire.”

Twilight blinks.

“What?” It isn’t really a question, more a demand for Wild to explain.

“It was a welding accident! And it didn’t actually happen until… this was all over.” He rubs at his arms, at the hairless, too-perfect skin there. “I was working with some old sheikah tech and I had tied it up, but…” there’s a sudden hitch in his breath.

Oh.

“It travelled quickly and I don’t even remember a lot of what was happening…” he breathes, and when he turns his face to the side there are tears dripping down his cheeks and off his jaw. Twilight is quick to gently grab him up, pressing his face into the golden locks once more as Time stands. He moves to sit on Wild’s other side, to lay a gentle hand on his back. “I didn’t think I was so attached to it…” he whimpers, muffled by Twilight’s chest.

Twilight’s eyes are wide over Wild’s head. This problem definitely runs deeper than his hair.

“It’s okay to be sad about your hair, it’s important… but it’ll grow back…” He gets a wet sob in response. Twilight squeezes him, covers him with his own body, knowing that Wild takes comfort in being protected like that.

Wild has only cried in front of them a handful of times, and most of them were after a memory. But this is so different.

This is the third time. Twilight presses his lips to Wild’s head, tucking him into his chest. Time wraps them both up himself.

He wishes he could say that it took Wild longer than a couple of hours to break down. He wishes he could say that he didn’t break down at all, that his courage didn’t flicker once. But that didn’t happen.

It was only the beginning of a new chapter.

Wild cries himself to sleep on Twilight’s chest, face hidden by his bangs. They’re still long, the same length they’ve always been. They still curl around his ears in the same way they always have, still as soft and silky as before.

Some things will always stay the same, it seems.

Twilight still looks worried, just as Time knows he himself does, and he definitely has the right to. They both do. But there’s also the painful awareness of the fact that Wild isn’t okay. And they have no idea as to how long it will take him to be okay again.

‘If he will never be,’ says a little voice at the back of Time’s skull. He squashes it down. Twilight doesn’t make a sound for a while, though he is the first one to speak.

“Come on,” he mumbles, standing. He makes a pointed face, grabbing a few things up from around them but leaving Time’s beer and Wild’s cocoa and his own milk. “I know where his private rooms are.”

Time takes the task of hefting Wild into his arms. He is painfully aware of the muted jut of bones beneath his clothes. The past softness of his hips and thighs was gone now, his arms much too thin but hidden by the wide sleeves. His collarbones stick out from the gap in the collar of the haori. Nevertheless, Wild’s arms wrap loosely around his neck and he hums in his sleep.

Twilight makes sure everything is at least semi-packed up and neat, and leads him out of the room. Down a hall, up a flight of stairs, another turn… Time tries to keep his steps light so as to not wake Wild, still a little shocked at how little he weighs. He’s fast asleep, and Time wonders how long he has been awake for.

The others have disappeared, it seems. Did Legend ever catch Hyrule or Four or Wind? Did Warriors ever sober up? Did Sky ever find the seltzer water vault? Time couldn’t really bring himself to care.

Finally, Twilight gently kicks a door open. Time’s never really gotten a chance to explore Hyrule castle in this era before, having only visited it once prior. He’s certainly never been to this wing. Twilight doesn’t bother with the lights, swiftly making his way over to the large four poster in the middle of the room.

Wild is laid down and covered up, Twilight kicks his shoes off and flops down, and then looks up at his own mentor. Time hesitantly sits himself on the edge of the mattress, running a hand over the plush blankets.

Being here feels... wrong. Invasive.

It’s hard to explain.

Time knew the things about Twilight that you know about anyone you love—his favorite colour, favorite food, favorite animal, etc; Then, that second layer down. He was painfully aware of the love he felt for Ordonian goats, and how much he hated hunting or killing animals despite growing up on a farm. Of course he knew these things. It was his job. As his mentor and as his family member.

The layers don’t stop there, obviously. And as you continue down to that very last one, you get to the core of the person. Their deepest, darkest secrets.

One of the many things Time knows about his protege is of his… abandonment issues.

He knew about Midna. He knew about what she had done, and how terrible Twilight felt after the whole thing was over. How much he had suffered afterwards. How much he missed her and how much he didn’t even really know what to think—

He knew of the time he had spent with Wild, in another set of time before their adventure. How he had been given a taste of loving someone like that again, and it had been ripped away from him for a long time.

He knew that even now, after years, Twilight was still coping with these things.

Twilight always watched the sky during dusk, every day he was able to. The Twili crystal was one of his most prized possessions, just because of everything it represented. He had trouble sleeping unless there was someone next to him.

That was where Wild came into play.

Having his own sleeping issues, he was more than happy to relieve Twilight of his nightmares. That wasn’t really where their relationship started, but Twilight was incredibly protective of the cub, and Wild was always worrying about Twilight, so it was a good sort of middle ground.

The point was that Twilight loved Wild more than anybody else in the entire world. Across every single timeline, it was always him. And that went both ways.

And being here, where he knows Twilight has been before and he has not, feels out of place. Either way, he is painfully aware of how Twilight will react if he makes to leave, so he settles at the furthest edge of the bed from them and faces the far wall.

It goes quiet, and from the double sets of deep, even breathing behind him he can tell nobody besides him is awake. They’re both exhausted and deserve it.

His mind wanders, though not necessarily towards sleep.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Every time I look at him, I just think, ‘that one’s mine.’”

“That doesn’t prove anyth-”

“Yes it does. That’s what you said to me anyway, wasn’t it?” A deep breath, an exhale. “I’ve been thinking about it for a long time, and I’m sure. He’s mine, and he is wonderful.”

Chapter Text

Twilight’s eyes flutter open to bright sunlight and warmth. On the farm, he was always up before the sun. It was the same when they travelled, having to be up and travelling early. Getting morning sun was something he only experiences in the best places, and this was one of them.

Wild’s studio-bedroom-laboratory space is peaceful and tranquil now, where it is usually bustling with life. It’s… unusually tidy, actually. Any time Twilight has been here in the past, it’s been bustling with music and the sounds of the cub working, the tables cluttered with paint and guardian parts and food and gadgets and whatever he was working on.

Time is gone. Twilight isn’t sure when he left, but he can’t imagine it was too long after they went to bed. It isn’t unexpected—things like that were too lovey-dovey for him, apparently. Malon was the only exception, as his wife.

What is strange is the fact that Wild isn’t in his arms. Twilight turns his head. Wild was always one for cuddling, but now he’s at the furthest edge of the bed, facing away from him.

Well, that simply wouldn’t do.

Twilight is quick to scooch himself over and envelope Wild from behind. Tossing an arm over his waist and pressing into his back. Curled up into himself, immediately, Twilight notices how tense he is. How thin.

Twilight could probably wrap his hands around Wild’s waist. Admittedly, Wild had always been noticeably smaller than him—built for agility, fast and light, but never like this. Never this skeletal.

Even in sleep, something is different. Whenever he was with Twilight while sleeping, he was the most relaxed he ever was. It was something Twilight took pride in. But he is rigid even now.

Something is wrong.

The realization comes so quickly Twilight is afraid he’ll wake the cub with how fast he sits up. He hovers over his small body, unsure. He trusts his instincts, they were hardly ever wrong, especially when it came to Wild.

He forces a breath out.

Lightly and ever so gently, he pries Wild’s body open. He uncurls without much resistance beneath Twilight’s hands. One part of his body stays the same, though; his left arm. It’s curled close to Wild’s chest in a protective manner. Twilight pushes the sleeve up to investigate, grateful for the wide berth the fabric gives him, and stops.

For most of the limb, the skin is normal. The same soft, peachy flesh that’s always been there. However, just past his elbow, there’s a clean line where the smoothness stops, and angry irritation begins. Black and red lines, like lightning feathers pulse down from his shoulder. Where Wild’s haori falls, the marks continue over his collarbones and chest. It’s so… bizarre to see that Twilight just stops and stares.

After several moments of watching him, his behavior begins to make sense. His face is scrunched up, his breathing is shallow… his body is tense because he’s in pain. Twilight startles belatedly.

“Wild, wake up,” he murmurs, gently shaking him even as much as he doesn’t want to. Wild doesn’t stir, immediately, which is concerning, because he’s always been a light sleeper. “Come on, cub.”

Wild’s eyes flutter a moment later, and relief floods through Twilight at seeing those cerulean eyes open. They’re… duller than usual, and they stare almost past him. Giving him another harried shake, Twilight tries to portray the concern he feels without hurting him. And almost immediately, Wild sits straight up so fast they almost knock heads. Twilight throws himself back to avoid Wild’s forehead smacking into his chin, and watches the younger of the two scramble over his arm.

“What’s going on? Are you alright? Wild?” Twilight is practically forcing himself to remain calm at this point. Even so, his voice is beginning to border on frantic.

It’s close to sad, really. And in the hectic storm of his feelings, Twilight feels a flash of red bitterness. It’s been three years for Wild since he’s seen Twilight last, and three weeks for Twilight himself. One had been enough. And after all this, who even knows what Wild has been through? And they can’t even get one second of peace?

Twilight snaps himself back to the present at the choked sobbing sound that Wild makes. It’s sudden and very… upsetting to listen to. Wild’s head raises.

There is something in Wild’s eyes. Tired and knowing and questioning, and Twilight has no idea how to respond to it. At that, he feels shame; he has always known what to say to Wild, even in that foreign timeline when he was only suddenly a person again, even when they had met after. Always.

And so he nods. He doesn’t know what he’s nodding to, not quite, but it seems to be what Wild is looking for. And he watches as Wild pushes on, fiddling with his left forearm, which is clicking, and Twilight suddenly realizes he might not be as prepared for this as he thinks he is—

Wild’s left arm detaches just above the elbow. He tosses the prosthetic on the bed like he’s afraid of it, and through the slightly rubbery material that could very well pass for flesh, there are blinking lights and wires; the signature blue and orange of Sheikah metal. The skin of his arm calms down, the color returning to normal, save a black line just where the limb now ends.

Twilight stares.

That must be the wrong thing to do, not saying anything, staring, because Wild presses his forehead to his knees and starts to cry in earnest. That is enough to pull Twilight out of his surprise, and he rushes to reassure him.

“Woah, woah—” He gently grabs Wild’s chin, and forces him to meet his eyes. It’s then that he realizes how much deeper this goes.

Wild’s eyes, which have always been incredibly bright, are dull and dead and sad and dripping with tears. There is a faint pleading look in them, a desperate, fickle thing. His past rosy cheeks and nose are now plagued by pallor… he just looks completely broken.

“Oh, Wild,” is all he can say, before enfolding him in another hug. This is the second time Wild has cried in, like, eleven hours. It’s the same, disturbing crying—but maybe Twilight just thinks that because he thinks the world of Wild. Especially with his… recent developments.

It had been a matching sort of thing, but on a whole other scale. When he had been with Midna, the parallels between himself and her, their worlds, were so obvious. Everything about her that had been shadowy dusk, he had been bright and clean and new on. And after, and even after after, it had been like a switch in positions. Suddenly Twilight knew what it was like to have that light in his life, because everywhere he had been shadows and dusk, Wild had been bright and clean and new.

Right now, he barely recognizes that light. His light. The only thing he can really cement himself on because suddenly everything is contradictory is how much he wants the crying to stop because he just wants there to be no more pain…

He just wants the crying to stop.

He wants Wild, his boy with the starry, bright eyes and the big dreams. His boy who could tell you anything about the stars, who cast flowers into bloom with a touch and plants into ripeness with a graze. His boy who loved baking and painting and writing more than he did fighting—

Not this ghost of him. This shell. This sad, broken spirit wearing his skin. Wild’s desperate call for help echoes throughout the room. The world itself seems to react as the sunlight fades, the warmth dissipates with every sob.

Twilight feels infinitesimal. For once, with Wild, he is helpless. He doesn’t know what’s going on, and he doesn’t know if it’s better to ask or leave it alone.

The door creaks open. Two servants stand in the archway, their gazes filled with pity. Twilight feels a flash of rage at them just walking in, even as Wild whips around in his arms. He furiously swipes at his cheeks, ridding them of tears.

“We apologize for coming in, your highness,” and that's another thing—’your highness?’ “We knocked and didn’t receive an answer, and wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Wild nods, blonde locks bouncing. “Of course,” he waves them off, and Twilight is shocked at how quickly he can make himself seem put together. Of course, bar the tear tracks down his face. “What can I help you with?”

“Your guests are being sent into the north dining room for breakfast as they wake,” the first tells him, her voice gentle and eyes kind. She purses her lips as she finishes. The other holds up another nice kimono, made of dark blue satin, and sets it on the table near the door. They also produce Twilight’s bags from somewhere behind them, leaving them close to the archway.

A moment of quiet.

“Thank you.”

“Our pleasure.”

The door shuts, incredibly loud in the sudden quiet. They sit still for a moment, until Wild crawls across the bed to the nightstand to check the little clock there. He falls back and faces away, heaving a breath. Twilight can see his shoulder blades shift as the fabric rides up a little.

“Come on,” he says, turning back to give a small, sad smile. Twilight looks right through it. Wild pushes himself off the mattress anyway. “We should get ready for breakfast.”

Before Wild can get too far, Twilight grabs his right arm, avoiding the other limb with his eyes. Wild turns, surprised.

“You don’t have to talk to me, but you can.”

Something in Wild’s face hardens for a split second, before softening. He nods. I know, his eyes say.

Twilight lets him go.

They get ready in silence. Wild steps behind a screen to change, the new kimono untouched. Twilight isn’t sure whether he likes Wild in them or not—he looks pretty, yes, but they don’t suit him. He’s dressed in regular, casual clothes when he steps back out.

That’s better.

Twilight grins as he finds one of his sweaters in his bag. It’s blue (not his colour) and Wild gets more wear of it than he does, anyway. His own attire will match, too.

As he packs his things back up, Wild sets to fixing his hair to the best of his ability, trying to make it look like he wasn’t crying, and tying the sleeve of his shirt off. It seems difficult to do with only one available hand.

Twilight sneaks up behind him, and Wild jumps. It’s uncharacteristic of him, always being on the lookout. He stares up with those big blue eyes and Twilight can’t help the wanting, waiting thing that settles in his chest.

“Hush, wildflower,” and Wild snorts at the nickname. It’s incredibly stupid and cheesy and that’s why it’s used. Twilight sets to trying to tie up the sleeve, having only a little difficulty. Combined with gentle instruction, he fumbles through it.

Then, he shoves the blue sweater over Wild’s head, grinning as he cries out indignantly. He ties that sleeve up, too, easier this time. Smoothing back Wild’s hair, he kisses his forehead and rubs his side, and pulls him out of the room. This part comes naturally, when he just knows what will make him feel better, and right now, that’s breakfast with their friends.

As they approach the dining room, Wild squeezes his hand. Looking down at him, Twilight sees the distress in the way he holds himself unsurely. In the way he bites his lip, the way his eyes are hard and focused. When they meet what will they think? Is clear in his face.

“It will be fine.”

Wild doesn’t seem to believe him, but doesn’t say anything else. Twilight shifts their hands so their fingers are intertwined.

Turn, down a flight of stairs, up a hall… the doors seem almost threatening. Twilight knows everything will be fine, but he can’t say the same for the cub.

Twilight gives him a hug and a meaningful glance. Wild looks close to panicking, so Twilight squeezes his shoulders.

“It will be fine,” he repeats. Wild nods. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

They push the door open together, and are immediately greeted with the chatter of their friends. Heads perk up.

“Hey sleepyheads,” Warriors drawls, turning in his seat to face them. “Did you see those two-” He pauses, goes white.

Wild’s hand grips firmer in his own.

“What?” Warriors chokes, breathy and barely there, before schooling his expression. The other faces in the room follow the same path. Confusion, and then alarm, and then stoic nothingness.

There’s a moment of quiet. Wild looks close to tears again, and the seven at the table seem to come to a collective conclusion.

“Did you see those maids, man?” Warriors questions. He whistles, long and smooth, and immediately chatter starts back up again. Wind is shouting across the table, Legend is going on about something completely unrelated while Four pretends to care. Time’s face is fond.

None of them ask questions. And for that Twilight is grateful. Considering Wild’s current fragile mental state, he isn’t sure it would be a good idea to overwhelm him. When Twilight meets his eyes next, they are glistening with tears. He’s like, ninety percent sure they’re of happiness. Of relief.

“C’mon. No more tears,” he murmurs, wiping his cheeks. Wild gives him a watery smile that confirms his earlier theory, and settles in the chair Twilight pulls out. He scoots his own right up close to him.

“Do you know their names?” Warriors shouts from the end of the table. Wild jumps and cocks his head. Oh. They’re still going on about ladies.

“No, you flirt.”

“I don’t see that as a bad thing!”