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When Link was nine years old, she told Grandma she was not really a boy. Or, rather, she had never been a boy at all. “Grandma,” she whispered—because it was late at night and the stars were scattered in the sky. And Aryll was asleep. “I’m not a boy. I’m a girl.”
Grandma blinked, then squinted. “I must need glasses, then,” she said, “but I can now see my lovely granddaughter.”
Link nodded. She was very pleased that Grandma accepted this—because her grandmother was, like, the coolest person ever. Even if she had been scared to tell her, but. Well, it didn’t matter now. “Yes,” she said. “I’m your granddaughter, okay, Grandma?”
“Okay,” Grandma said. Then, “Please go to bed now, Link.”
Link huffed. “Okay, fine,” she said, climbing up to the top bunk and wrapping the blanket around her. She was out before she even hit the pillow.
The next morning, one of Grandma’s old dresses—the very pretty blue one, which Link had been eyeing ever since she’d first had that suspicion—sat at the foot of her bed. “Oh,” Link said, admiring the embroidery of it—little seashells and waves, tiny lobsters swimming down the sides of the hem. “Thank you, Grandma,” she said, and maybe went a little teary eyed.
Her grandmother laughed. “It’s no problem,” she said, “I haven’t worn that dress in a long while, and I’m sure you would like to have it.”
Link nodded, frantically. Yes—the dress was very pretty, and in the sunlight, it rippled like the waves. And when she put it on after she’d brushed her teeth but didn’t comb her hair, she felt like the prettiest girl in the world.
“Thank you, Grandma,” she said once more. Then, “I’m going to go find Aryll.”
“Alright, sweetheart,” Grandma said. “Whatever you want, alright?”
“Okay!” And then she left the house, bolting toward the lookout to tell Aryll of the good news—that she finally had someone to call a big sister.
She hoisted herself up the ladder—“Aryll!” she called, “Aryll, it’s me, Link!”
“Hello, big brother,” she called back, and Link frowned.
“No, big sister,” she insisted, pulling herself over the final rung. Up here, the wind blew stronger; it blew her bangs into her face and the fabric of her dress over her legs. The smell of sea salt stung at her nose and the biting wind stung at her eyes.
Aryll gasped. “Big sister?” she said, sounding delighted. “For real? Oh, Link, your dress is so pretty, wow—“
Link grinned. “Yeah! That’s right. Big sister. And I’ve got this awesome dress, and guess what, one day, maybe I’ll pass it onto you!” She stuck out her tongue, and Aryll scream-giggled with laughter.
“You gotta promise, then,” she said. “Alright, big sister?” She held out her hand. “Pinky promise.”
“Alright,” Link said, taking her pinky. “I will.”
//
When Link was twelve, she woke up with the taste of palm fruit sap on her tongue and the sensation of everything being very, very bright. Awfully bright. Too bright, and Link figured she had probably fallen asleep on Aryll’s Lookout again. When the wind stung at her eyes and the sea salt made her wrinkle her nose, she knew she was right.
And then, “Big sister! Big sister, did you fall asleep again,” Aryll said. Link gave a hmm. Probably, she decided, rolling her shoulders so she could feel something in them. But Aryll had decided that probably yes, and simply rolled her eyes.
“C’mon, big sis,” she said. “Do you remember what day it is?”
Link thought about it. Was it a Monday? No, that didn’t seem right. Was it that the festival of Farore was coming soon? Were they supposed to send Orca to sacrifice Her pestilent children—
“Link,” Aryll sighed, “it’s your birthday.”
Oh.
Link... thought about that. Today meant she was twelve. And that probably meant Grandma wanted to see her, so she dragged herself up and off the floor. “Ughhh,” she said, and Aryll frowned.
“Come on, big sister,” she said, “don’t act like that on your big day. Here—oh! Zill’s dad wanted to see you.”
“Mesa?” Link asked, and frowned. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” Aryll said, and then shrugged. “You’ll have to ask him yourself. But please, have fun today, okay, big sis?”
“Alright,” Link huffed—she was still sleepy and groggy and what not, but Aryll was Aryll. And she deserved a good big sister, so Link put a grin on her face and slid down the ladder of the lookout. Aryll was right—she was twelve, after all, and being twelve only came around once.
But first—Mesa. Link absentmindedly combed through her hair and fixed her pajama shirt; she’d grown it longer over the years and Aryll liked to braid it. Where was Mesa anyway, Link thought irritably.
Which, well, was a little big of a stupid question because he was cutting grass like always. “Morning, Mr. Mesa,” she said, and the man grinned.
“Happy birthday, Link,” he said. “The whole island’s been wanting to say that to you.”
Pleased, Link felt herself flush red. ”That’s nice of them,” she said. Mesa beamed.
“But yes—it’s your birthday, isn’t it, Zill was talking my ear off about it last night and so of course I had to get you a present—“
“No, it’s alright,” Link said, “I mean—“
“Nah—ta-dah! I wore this when I was twelve, too. Happy birthday, Link,” he said, and in his hands he held a green tunic which looked entirely too hot to be wearing on Outset. But that wasn’t the issue—no, the very big issue was—
“Mr. Mesa,” Link said hesitantly, “only boys wear that when they turn twelve.”
But Mesa was not listening, he put it into her arms. “Now I knew your grandmother was really busy with other things, so Zill and I said we’d help out today, and there you are—my own Ma made it—and we washed it last night, so don’t you worry your head off, Link.”
She felt very dizzy, all of a sudden—uncomfortable and rushed. “Mr. Mesa,” she tried again, “I don’t want to wear this. I’m not—“
“Nonsense, Link,” Mesa said, “it’ll fit, and I don’t mind. Go on—go on, go put it on, it’s yours. You’ve been wearing your pajamas, you can now wash them!”
“But,” she said, and something welled up in her that tasted like shame. She hung her head low. “Thank you, Mr. Mesa,” she said, miserable, and went to change. It felt itchy on her skin, too hot and too uncomfortable and Link did not know if she could really breathe like this.
When she had changed, Link felt silly. It was the color of grass stains and there was even some silly cap that she had to shove over her hair. And it was hot, and stuffy, and awful, and she felt like she was gonna burst from the shame. Link didn’t want to wear this—sure, she liked wearing pants, but she was a girl. She didn’t want to wear some boy’s costume.
Still, she did this: Link did not end up visiting her grandmother. She didn’t know what she would say, so instead she sat on the port until she thought Aryll would think she had and went back to the Lookout. “I’m back,” she said, and Aryll gave her a beam before she frowned in confusion.
“Why’re you wearing that?” she asked.
And Link didn’t know either, so she shrugged. What could she say? She didn’t know how to say it, too hot and uncomfortable to speak up. But Aryll knew—gave her a smile and her most prized possession.
Then, “Link, are you looking at that mailbox?!”
She turned the telescope to the mailbox and saw the Rito postman Quill fluttering—saw his feathers ruffle up, before Outset was cast into a great shadow. Because there was a bird, and a girl, and—
When Link was twelve, it was her birthday. It was also the day she began her adventure—it was the day her little sister was kidnapped, and Link could not stand for that. After all, Aryll deserved a good big sister, so Link put on her best look of determination and sailed out with pirates. (She still looked back.)
//
When Link was twelve and first came face to face with Ganon—perched in the jaws of a predator—he did not lock her up in a cage, because he did not think her a pointy eared girl. In fact, most no one did—not the King of Red Lions, who called her a hero instead of a heroine. Not Ganondorf, who called her boy instead of girl, even if both were probably said in equally nasty terms. Not the gods or fairies who spoke the ancient languages or the breath of wind.
Perhaps, then, this was why Link liked the spunky pirate captain Tetra so much: she said, stop crying, are you a boy or what? Get up, Princess, it’s hard work for you here. Tetra, who called her pipsqueak and princess and all sorts of mean nicknames, but did not call her boy or hero.
Even if Link began to grow into those terms. The legends had spoken of a hero—the hero, in fact, the hero of time who was just so great. Link knew the expectations others had placed on her, and her heart hammered when she thought of it. She thought about if they would have believed her to be worthy of them if she was not a boy at all.
Link was a girl, but she was also twelve. She was still young, and still had much to learn, even if she was remarkably mature for her age. But she had not learned yet that silence was damning, so she shut her mouth and did not correct them anymore. The weight of Atlas bore upon her when she thought of Aryll, then Tetra, and then the King of Red Lions. There were so many people who had faith in her.
And Link could not fail them.
She could not fail them when she sailed to Dragon Roost Island to beg for Din’s Pearl. Instead, she traversed through a cave blowing too-hot air in her face, only a bird girl’s words by her side. Instead, she fought her way to the cavern beneath Valoo and fought the monster there, proving herself worthy of the title of hero.
But somehow, not the title of girl to everyone who seemed to meet her. Except for Quill, who seemed very much concerned she was going on this quest alone. But still, he let her go.
She could not fail them when she sailed to the Forest Haven to beg for Farore’s pearl, only to be put through a trial of courage instead. Float to the Forbidden Woods and rescue Makar. Instead, she did that, proving herself worthy of the title of courageous one.
But still, not girl, or heroine, nothing ever like that to everyone who seemed to conflate her with the Hero of Time. She did not bother correcting them anymore. Not when they wouldn’t listen, and not when they saw her and only saw a boy from thousands of years ago.
So Link became the hero. When she sailed to Outset under night’s starry blanket, watched Chuchus pop up from the ground, she did not falter. She did not falter when she blew up the cavern entrance to Jabun’s cave with her stolen pirate bombs. She did not falter, even when Grandma brushed her hair back and called her my little girl, oh, how have you grown.
But she didn’t falter, even if it stung all the same.
Under the cover of night, she sailed to three statues and placed their respective pears. Then a tower shot up from under the sea, rumbling and changing until it was so suddenly there that Link wondered why she had ever doubted its existence in the first place. “This,” the King of Red Lions told her, “is the Tower of Gods.”
It seemed like it. It for sure had to be a tower for gods, and Link couldn’t stop her mouth from dropping open. “Oh, wow.”
The King chuckled, and then they went to climb up to heaven.
//
Which, in the end, was not what happened. Link had swung on the bell and then something had happened. She didn’t know what, but the King of Red Lions did. Apparently, that reason was why he sent them both down into the water.
But it wasn’t to their watery grave. No, it was to a brilliant castle, colors painted in sepia that made Link gasp but the King frown. “This,” he told her, “is Hyrule.”
“Hyrule? Like... the old legends Hyrule?”
“Yes.”
It did not feel like air here, too thick and heavy with time past and memories lost. But it was breathable all the same, so Link pulled patterns across the floor and set a statue sliding away.
And then she drew the Master Sword.
Strength filled her bones when she did so, and Link felt like she could take on the world. She slew the darknuts and moblins in the castle instead, but the strength in her bones did not diminish. Holding a sword felt right in her hands, and it scared her.
She looked behind her, to the Hero of Time’s statue. The sword in his hand, the Master Sword, she realized, gleamed with holy light still. And he was wearing the same clothes as she was, chiseled out of stone and block and—
Is this who I will become? Link thought. When people remember me, will they think of a hero and not a heroine?
She couldn’t stay here any longer. She didn’t want to stay here any longer, so Link slid away the Master Sword in its sheath and scurried away. So they began their ascent to the surface, until once they broke, the King of Red Lions urged her to the Forbidden Fortress.
And okay. Yeah. She could do that. Hold on Aryll, Link thought. I’m coming.
The seagulls flew behind her as the boat cut through the water. It was nightfall by the time they reached the fortress. But this time, Link was ready. This time, she had to be. Because Aryll deserved a good big sister, and by the goddesses would Link save her.
And what a hero wanted, a hero did. Link beat down the bird with a giant hammer and Aryll walked away free, finally able to stretch her wings. But Link was a hero, and a hero couldn’t only save their family.
A hero saved everyone, and the weight of the sword grew heavier in her hand when she thought of that. She ran up the pathway all the way to Ganon’s room. I can do it, she told herself, I can do it—!
But she was tossed aside, and Link was reminded that she was not a hero, she was a twelve year old girl playing at one. “Foolish child,” Ganon sneered. Foolish, something in her agreed, to think that you could play pretend.
But there was a sneaky pirate captain who intervened, and there was a golden glow. Then Valoo himself torched the castle and they dropped Link and Tetra off at the Tower of Gods and—
It was all so, so much. Link didn’t know what to think, and so she followed the King of the Red Lions’ guidance. Take Tetra to the basement, to the sanctum, he instructed. So Link did.
But in there, there was a man who was cloaked in regal red. They stood in that empty Sanctum and he spoke. “Who are you?” Tetra demanded—for she was a girl used to getting things, taking them with her own hands because no one had ever bothered to give it to her.
So he told them. He was King Daphnes Nohansen Hyrule, and he was the King of the Red Lions. Link startled at that and he softened. Then, “Tetra, come here.”
She stumbled forward awkwardly, and the King smiled gently at her. But there was something wrong, some awful feeling in Link’s stomach. “What?” Tetra demanded.
And the king acquiesced, telling her of her necklace. Of a Triforce of Wisdom, and something wasn’t right, something was wrong here—
Click!
The room was bathed in a holy light.
//
When Link opened her eyes, there was a girl. She was dressed in fine satins and silk gloves, and there was a brilliant gold tiara perched on her head. She was looking at the back of her hand—and there, the proof of her power glowed.
Her pretty pink mouth opened in surprise. “My...fate...”
“You are the true heir to the royal family of Hyrule.... the last link in the bloodline,” the King said. “You are Princess Zelda.”
“... Zelda?” said the girl. “I... I’m a princess?” And she looked like one, pale skin that probably would look silver in the moon. There was mascara on her eyelashes and eyeshadow rubbed on her eyelids, and she looked like she hadn’t a day of work in her life.
But something in Link’s stomach told her that this wasn’t right. “No,” she said, stepping forward. “No, you’re not.”
“Link—!” Zelda said, turning around in surprise. “Oh, Link... I’m sorry. This is my fault, that you’re in this mess—“
“No,” Link said. “No, you’re not a princess. Where’s Tetra?” She turned to the king. “Where is she?!”
“Tetra is Zelda,” he said. His voice was gentle, like he was speaking to a daughter like a father might. “Link, I know it may be... difficult to connect the two, but—”
“That isn’t Tetra. That can’t be Tetra. Tetra isn’t a princess, she’s a pirate captain, and she doesn’t have white skin—"
“You’re wrong!” the princess shouted. “This is me! I am Princess Zelda!”
“I-I don’t understand—“ Link stuttered, and Zelda stepped forward. Even though there was desperation in her eyes, there was a poise to her, written in her shoulders and how she took dainty steps. Like unless if she didn’t, the world would crumble underneath the weight of her anger.
“I am a princess, Link,” she said. “That’s it. I have a duty and I have a responsibility to Hyrule, and I’m sorry I dragged you into this. But I get it now. I’m not a silly pirate girl any longer. I don’t need my crew to help me. I can do this. I can handle this.”
But her hands were shaking, and Link took them into her grip. “No,” she said. “No, you can’t, because you’re not a princess.”
“And you’re not a hero?” Zelda demanded. “I am. I am a princess, I am Princess Zelda—”
“You’re right! I’m not a hero!”
In the wake of Link’s declaration, there was silence. The king and the princess stared at her, mortified. “What...?”
“I’m not the hero,” Link said. And there was an awful feeling in her throat; she was breathing in something that wasn’t quite air, made up of time past and memories forgotten. “I’m not the hero. I am not the hero.”
This time, it was Zelda’s turn to be confused. “I don’t understand,” she said softly, and Link held her hands tighter.
“I am not the hero,” she said again, and it tasted like grief. “I am Link. I am a girl and I am—I don’t want to be the hero! I don’t want to be a legend like him, and I don’t want to be a him but that’s all anyone calls me anymore! Because people keep on shoving me into a box, but I’m not. I’m not a hero and you’re not a princess.
“You like... sailing on the sea, hair tied up so it doesn’t get too gross at the end of the day. You like laughing at your crew mates. You like wearing cotton because it doesn’t get ruined by the salt water and air. You don’t—you don’t like this,” Link said, ugly feelings in her chest rising until they burst forth. Tears spilled from her eyes. “Stop pretending to be something you’re not.”
“I,” Zelda said. She stood frozen, just like the statues surrounding them. And her hands began to tremble.
Link reached up and rubbed at Tetra’s face until the blush was on her hands. Until there was mascara under her fingernails and white makeup smeared on her palm. Due rubbed until Tetra’s cheek was red and raw, but her freckles and her moles and her suntan hard earned were there. “This,” she said, gesturing to her palm, “this isn’t you.”
Zelda trembled. “I have a duty,” she says, lifting her chin up. Something in Link’s chest broke at that. Duty, she thought, the weight of the world on her back encased in a pretty golden sheathe.
“No, it’s not,” Link said. Her bottom lip trembled, and there was something ugly and vicious twisting within her, demanding to be let out. Link had not learned yet that silence is damning, but every inch of her was screaming. “I will not let you be painted into something you are not. I don’t want a princess, I don’t—I don’t need a princess! Outset, Windfall, the ocean, it doesn’t need a ruler!”
“The sea takes what it wants,” the princess said, and for a moment she looked like a pirate captain. “But—“
“We don’t need a princess! I don’t need a princess! I need you!”
There was silence left in the wake of her declaration. And then, very carefully, Zelda casted her tiara aside. “Okay,” she said, voice wavering. “Okay. I liked the wings, though.”
Link stooped down and picked up the tiara, tearing off the wing ornaments. She placed them behind Tetra’s ears, a brilliant, stark contrast against the dark tan of her skin. “Then you’ll have your wings,” Link said. “You can have them. I don’t... want to take them away from you.”
There were no words left for Link to grasp at, so she stood awkwardly in the silence. Then the King of Red Lions cleared his throat, brushing aside something in his eye. “Zel—Tetra,” he corrected himself. “Tetra, it is okay, child. But I have to ask for you to stay here. It’s safest in this sanctum.”
“What? No,” Tetra said. “This place is creepy, I don’t want to be here.” She tugged off her gloves and they fell to the ground, next to her tiara. “Don’t let me stay here.”
“I know it is creepy,” the king said, “but please, it is better than the alternative—“
“Why can’t she come?” Link asked. Something was curling up in her stomach, again, and she forced it down. “Just because she’s important doesn’t mean she can’t help!”
“Because I do not want either of you to do this!” the king shouted. His voice echoed in the empty hall, and Link was reminded of who he was: a king. He was regal in red, chest up and shoulders drawn back, the weight of the world crowned on his brow.
He was tired.
“I do not want either of you to do this,” he said again, this time softer. “It is bad enough I must ask a child for help. I do not—I cannot witness and do not want to witness more of this than I have to. Please. Please stay safe here, while Link and I go fetch the Triforce.” It was a selfish request, born of a man who wished so desperately for his daughter that the goddesses committed him to immortality so he might live to see the shadow of her.
But Link did not know that. She only knew this: that there was a tired man before her, and he looked too much like her grandmother did when Aryll was taken away. She gulped, clenching her fists and looking away. She wasn’t happy about leaving Tetra behind. She didn’t want to leave a girl confined into something she was scared of, something the opposite of her.
But she did not know that silence was damning, so Link nodded and Tetra said okay. And so they left the princess waiting in the wings.
//
So Link went questing and powering up the Master Sword with the aid of the sages. She went to collect the Triforce, and her thoughts still strayed to Tetra. She went to become a hero, but no one called her, well, her.
But when she came back, the statue of the hero was toppled and Tetra was nowhere to be found. So Link fought through Ganon’s Tower and reached the top. And there was Tetra and Ganon, but—
It was the wrong thing to call him. Ganon was the name of a beast, of a legend or old Hyrule. Ganondorf was the name of a man who mourned for his sisters, who wished desperately to be anything but a villain. It was why he sought the Triforce, to bring Hyrule back for his sisters.
It was funny, how in a trio of people who did not want to be who their destiny commanded them to be, it was an outsider who possessed the most power and wisdom and courage of them all. The King touched the Triforce and doomed his world to fall. The waves came crashing in.
And Link did not want to be a hero; but she drew her sword and slayed Ganondorf. Because it was the least she could do for him, to put his soul and his legend to rest, and she knew that no one else would do it but her. So she did it.
Aryll, Link thought, am I a good sister?
Then Hyrule drowned.
//
After everything, she packed her lobster dress away. She was the Hero of Wind, and she had to focus on finding New Hyrule. She had to—if not for the world, then for the King of Red Lions, for Daphnes Nohansen Hyrule.
He gave everything so she and Tetra could live. She could not afford to be Link of Outset. She was the Hero, cast in a green tunic and white trousers that are the color of grass stains. She felt stupid and awful and silly in her hat. But those were Link’s feelings.
The Hero of Wind was proud of the attire, proud of this destiny that will go down in history as a legend to guide future heroes. When they sailed away from Outset and from Grandma and Aryll, Link did not wave goodbye, but smiled instead. (She did not look back.) The wind blew, catching her sail. Her boat moved forward, repainted red wood cutting through the waves.
Tetra shouted orders at her pirates, and then they were into the horizon, sailing for a new future. But the future was not an easy one. Link met Linebeck and the Hero of a Wind saved Oshus.
It was fine. It was fine. Link got a new sword and she did not get a new outfit, one that the wind twisted around her legs that makes her feel like the prettiest girl in the world. She didn’t need it. All she needed was the clothes on her back.
But when she went tumbling into a portal, Link’s desperate, last grab was not for Tetra’s hand. It was for the bag with her lobster dress in it, until she was falling and falling until—
She knew nothing, and she was not sure if it was because of the darkness that consumed her or because everyone had told her so.
//
When Link came to, she was surrounded by eight other heroes. And then she was no longer Link, but she was Wind instead, because they couldn’t exactly call her Link when everyone was named Link, too. But the most startling part of it all was this: that they were all heroes throughout time.
And every single one of them was a boy.
Wind knew this: she was not a hero, or, well, a hero like them. She didn’t have this “hero’s spirit” that the rest of them talked about. But she was Link, and she was a hero still, and every hero was a boy. And oh, didn’t that hurt. Was she wrong? Was she confused?
Was everyone else right when they said he, when they said hero? Because—everyone here was so cool, and the Hero of Time himself was here. They said that you should never meet your heroes, but Wind thought that everyone was pretty cool and nice and heroic anyway. But where did that leave her?
So when Warriors said he’s doing pretty good, she didn’t correct him. When Time said son on accident, she didn’t tell him, please call me girl instead. When Sky said he’s a hero too, stop underestimating him just because he’s young, Wind did not tell Sky that it was a heroine instead of a hero .
There were a lot of things she didn’t say, because she still hadn’t learned that silence was damning. But what she hadn’t noticed was this: that someone noticed she wasn’t speaking. Noticed she held her bag a little too close to her chest at night sometimes, afraid someone might look into it like they had with Wild’s ever since the Cloth Incident of Saturday.
And maybe it was because he, too, hadn’t learned that silence was damning—not until it was a little too late.
//
One moon and two days since they had first met, the night had settled her starry blanket on Legend’s Hyrule. So the heroes set up camp, and Legend volunteered for first watch—after all, it was his Hyrule. The others settled into their rolls, readily falling asleep after the long day.
And it was quiet—it was silent in the camp. Wind looked up to the sky and thought of the long nights spent on the seas, searching for land with Tetra. But she hadn’t said any of this, and did not break the silence in fear of waking someone up.
And then, “Wind?”
She startled. “Huh?” she said, looking around, and found Twilight looking at her. “Oh. Uh, hi Twilight.”
“Hey.”
There was an awkward quiet, before Wind said, “So... what do you want?”
“...is there a reason why you hold onto your bag like that?”
“No,” Wind said. But it was a little too quick, a little too sharp, and she winced. “Er, haha, it’s just—like, a comfort thing.”
“Huh,” Twilight said. “Is it... the bag? Or something inside it?” He turned his head so he looked straight into her eyes. It felt like he was looking straight into her soul, and knew what she was: a liar, a fraud.
Someone who was not a hero and not a boy.
“It’s late,” Wind said. “Uh—“
“Wind. Please.”
“It’s none of your business,” she huffed, looking away. “Just—don’t bug me, okay?” She held the bag closer to her chest, staring resolutely at the sky. Across the camp, she heard Legend say something like keep it down you two, but she couldn’t quite make it out. It felt too fuzzy, too staticy in her ears.
But Twilight frowned. “Wind,” he said gently, “I don’t want to make you embarrassed or to hurt you—I just... you remind me of myself, kinda,” he laughed. “I... used to be scared. Quiet.”
“I’m not scared or quiet,” she said, but she turned again so she was facing him. “You? Really?”
“Yeah,” he snorted. “Doesn’t seem like it now, what with how much I yell at the others, huh. But—yeah. I... didn’t speak much as a kid,” he admitted, “mostly because... well.”
He looked to the sky. “Wind? Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” Wind said. “I mean... I don’t see why not.”
Twilight had a small smile at that—and for all his moniker, he looked most at home in the moonlight, gazing at the stars. “Are... are you like me?”
“Huh?”
“I mean... how do I—ugh,” he huffed, “Legend told me the word—I—are you like me? Were you born... not right? No. What’s the word—“
“You mean transgender?” Legend called. “Twilight, I know your memory is ass but not as much as your tact—jeez, what kind of segway is that?”
But his voice was muffled to Wind, and a sudden coldness seized her, gripping at her heart and at her throat. “I—I,” she stuttered, and found that she couldn’t reach for words.
“Hey,” someone said, “kid, you gotta breathe—”
“I,” she stuttered, and tried to grasp for words or for air. She couldn’t tell which she wanted, or if she just wanted her bag. “I—”
“Kid. Breathe. Like this, okay? In, one-two-three-four. Out, five-six-seven-eight. You got that?”
She nodded frantically, and she opened her mouth, gasping for air—for something like freedom, not time past and memories forgotten. In and out and in and out, until the world wasn’t static and Legend was in front of her. “You good, kid?” he asked, and she could see Twilight nod his head behind him.
“Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, I just couldn’t breathe. I—sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” Twilight said. “I didn’t mean to make you panic. I just... wanted to know, because you—ugh. You remind me of myself, y’know...?” He gave a laugh. “I... well, people called me a girl when I was younger. Obviously, I’m not, but... well.” He looked away, up at the stars. “It took me a little... a little too long to correct them.”
Legend snorted. “Same here, kind of,” he said, “but a little... different. Changes more for me. Some days, I’m a guy, and some days, ‘m not. That’s what this is for,” he said, tapping on one of his rings—the gemstone in there was blue.
“Oh,” Wind said softly. “Oh, I... oh.” She reached up and wiped her tears away. “I... I’m not a boy. But—I, well, everyone expected me to be one on my adventure ‘cos that’s what the legends said, and—“
“Fuck legends,” the Hero of Legend said. “They’re overrated. Listen, Wind—just... I know it’s hard to convince everyone. But this is you. You’re the Heroine of Wind and no one else can tell you otherwise.”
Wind sniffled. “I know,” she said, “but it’s just—some days it’s so frustrating when no one believes me! And—and I hate wearing this, it’s the color of grass and that’s so stupid!”
“Then... what do you like?” Twilight said. “What do you want to wear?”
“I... I want to wear a dress. My dress. ‘S blue and—I have it, but I don’t think I fit it anymore. It’s meant for girls and I am one but—“
“It doesn’t fit you right,” Twilight concluded, and he pressed his lips together. “It’s alright. Can I see it?”
“I guess,” and she turned to her bag to pull it out. And there it was—blue, the color of freedom, lobsters and seashells swimming down the hems of the dress. Twilight gave a small smile.
“It’s perfect for you,” he said, taking it out of her arms. And then he reached into his own bag, pulling out thread and scissors. “We just... have to make sure it doesn’t get caught on anything. That would be embarrassing.”
“Speaking from experience, hm?” Legend teased. His lips quirked up into a smirk, and Twilight laughed awkwardly.
“My companion—Midna—uh, we were picking out a good tunic for me and... ah. Yeah. Kind of embarrassing, but she said we could fix it. Well, I ended up fixing it... anyways.”
He turned to the dress. “Do you want me and Legend to mend—?”
“Yes.” Wind said. It was loud left in the silence of her declaration. “Yes,” she said again, louder this time. “Yes.”
//
When the morning rose, Wind had discarded her stupid cap. She braided her hair clumsily, but she didn’t comb it, because she didn’t exactly feel like it. She wore her lobster dress that had seashells swimming down the hems, tied her new belt around her waist, and pulled her old sandals on.
It was a windy day that morning. And the wind made the dress twist around her legs; her eyes stung from the cold air. There was something in her throat, something that needed to be said.
So when Wild was cooking breakfast, when Warriors and Time were checking supplies and Hyrule and Four were talking cool weapons—Wind stepped into camp, having changed her outfit. The world seemed to stop still and silent, and the entire camp looked at her.
She did not look at Legend, who she knew had exchanged her ring for a pink one when sunrise had come. She didn’t look at Twilight, who she knew as giving her a thumbs up. Wind smiled and she felt like the prettiest girl in the world. The world was watching her and it was still and silent.
And she knew silence was damning, so she opened her mouth. “My name is Link, but you guys can call me Wind,” she said, “and I am the Heroine of Wind.”
She said, “I am a girl,” and she broke the silence.