Chapter Text
It’s traditional for Hylian men to wear blue earrings.
Wild doesn’t know why that is. He’s never asked, so he doesn’t know when or why the tradition started. He just knows that most of the Hylian men he knows who have their ears pierced wear small and simple blue hoops, including Time, Twilight, and Warriors. They’re simple and unassuming things.
There are exceptions, of course. Not everyone likes tradition, or cares to adhere to it. Legend wears gold studs and small silver hoops, and even has multiple sets of piercings in both of his ears, which isn’t common for men or women. But still, his earrings are simple. Masculine, even if they aren’t traditional.
Sky also breaks traditions. His earrings are spiked hoops made out of strange orange metal. But still- they're small and don’t draw any attention. They’re also enchanted to keep the wearer cool in hot environments, and Wild is pretty sure that's the only reason Sky wears them in the first place
And Wild wears earrings too, but- well.
Wild was different.
Wild wears flashy pieces of amber that dangle freely from his ears. If he turns his head quickly enough, they tap against his neck comfortingly, reminding him that they’re there. He does have a pair of blue hoop earrings. He’d woken up from the shrine wearing them, and hadn’t even noticed he had earrings on at first.
The first time he’d given them a second thought had been the day he’d arrived in Hateno. As he’d explored the town, a flash of light had reflected off something glittery. His attention latched onto it, and naturally curious as he was, he’d gone to investigate. He found the source of the glitter to be a woman wearing dangling earrings. They’d been pretty things, silver teardrops inlaid with small chips of sapphire that glinted in the sun.
The second Wild saw them, he’d felt excitement. He knew he wanted those, or at least something similar. He’d stopped the woman in the street, asking her where she’d gotten the jewelry. The woman had laughed at his eager expression, asking him if he was looking for a gift for a special girl in his life. The question had thrown him off balance so badly that he hadn’t even corrected her.
The woman told him the earrings were the work of Isha, a renowned jeweler who lived in Gerudo town. She had warned him that he wouldn’t be allowed into the town since he was a man. If he wanted some of Isha's work, he’d have to trade with one of the Gorons that traveled to Gerudo Town.
Apparently Gorons- not having genders like the rest of the Hyrule’s races did- are allowed into the town indiscriminately. They traded the uncut gems they mined for the finished jewelry that Isha produced, then took the jewelry around the rest of Hyrule to sell. Wild would have to buy from one of them, the woman said.
It’s well worth tracking one of them down if you want to buy a gift for someone, she had told him. Isha’s products are always high quality.
Wild had been quick to follow her advice, seeking out one of the Gorons that had made a pitstop in Hateno town on their way back to Death Mountain. The Goron had seemed a little off-put by how enthusiastic he was. Wild suspected that they’d seen how eager he’d been and overcharged him, but he didn’t care at all about the extravagant price.
The second he got his hands on those pretty amber earrings, the blue hoops had come out of his ears and had gone straight into his slate. He hasn’t touched them since, and his collection of jewelry made by Isha had expanded significantly.
Since then, Wild had gotten his amber earrings blessed by a Great Fairy. They were enchanted to increase his defense and had come in handy more than enough times to justify the price. He got them enchanted for practical reasons, but also so if anyone ever asked him why he wears such feminine jewelry, he’d have an answer for them. They were for his protection. Nothing more.
No one ever asks though, which he’s thankful for. He doesn’t like to lie, and he’s not very good at it.
He doesn’t think the other heroes have even noticed that he wears flashier earrings. If they have, they didn’t find it strange enough to comment on.
Wild knew he wasn’t the most socially adept. Sometimes it felt like there was a whole set of unwritten social rules that everyone knew but refused to tell him. It left him floundering as he made mistake after mistake and failed to pick up on other people’s cues. He often found himself leaving a conversation more confused than when he entered it, with a weird sense of shame weighing on him.
His inability to decode implications behind what people said to him probably wouldn’t matter as much if people just said what they were thinking.
But no. Layers of subtext that Wild had a hard time shifting though often obscured the true meaning of people’s words. It left him floundering more often than not, and he hated that feeling. It made him feel stupid, and he wasn’t stupid, despite his amnesia.
Whether his social ineptitude was a horrible personal quirk of his or an effect of the amnesia was up for debate. Despite having woken from the shrine over two years ago, Wild’s still relearning things about the culture he stumbled into.
It wasn’t just reading other people’s body language and subtle cues he has trouble with, though. There are norms and traditions that people assume Wild knows, when he just didn’t. And no one ever took the time to explain them to him because they assumed he already knew. Even those who knew he had forgotten everything.
Thankfully, the people in his era were used to merchants and other travelers who spent their time out in the wild and are a little rusty with social interactions. People are also more willing to let him get away with any blunders after they learn who Wild is.
For some reason Wild couldn't explain, his entire Hyrule seemed to feel as if they owed him a debt, for a reason Wild can’t explain. Sure, he defeated the Calamity and solved the problems the blights were causing across the country, but he’d only been fixing his own mistakes when he’d done that. It was his duty, and he was only correcting his past failures by taking on the Calamity and its beasts.
He doesn’t deserve praise for finally finishing his duty a hundred years too late, even if everyone else seems to think they can never repay him.
Regardless of why though, people were a lot more willing to overlook his social mishaps, and slowly but surely, he’s been learning. He doesn’t love everything he’s learned so far. Some things seem just arbitrary and pointless. The pressure to conform to these norms grates under his skin.
For example, he’s pretty sure that red is considered a feminine color. The whole masculine versus feminine colors thing confuses him; he doesn’t understand how it’s decided whether colors are masculine or feminine.
Red is a feminine color. Wild thinks it might be because the Gerudo often have red hair, and they’re almost always women, but he doesn’t know.
Wild likes the color red.
He likes it more than any of the other colors, he thinks. It’s bold, like the blood that has soaked every aspect of his short life. It’s bright, like the autumn leaves the Akkala region is known for. It’s a cleaner, purified version of the sickly purple-red color of malice.
People always tell him blue is his color, and failing that, green suited him best. Wild, reluctantly, thinks he agrees. With his pale coloring, any bolder, warmer colors he wore stood out too much. The softer blues and greens fit him best. So when someone asks him his favorite color, he says blue. He doesn't know why he says it.
It’s not like men aren’t allowed to like red, but admitting he likes red feels like he’s admitting to something else, and he doesn't know what.
Wild has ruby red earrings that he keeps tucked away in his slate. The jewelry protects him against the cold, warming him when he travels too high in the mountains, or stays in the desert at night. However, when the temperature is decent, they act as regular earrings with no magical properties.
He doesn’t wear them too often. He worries they’re too gaudy, that they’ll attract too much attention to his odd jewelry choices.
But today, he wakes up and finds himself wanting to hide away from everyone. He hasn’t even opened his eyes, and he already knows it’s going to be one of those days. One of those days he would rather spend hidden away in the woods, far away from any prying eyes. The mumbled speech from around the campfire from the early risers among the heroes makes him want to turn over and hide in his bed roll.
He doesn’t want anyone's eyes on him, on his form or his clothes. It all makes him feel so wrong.
He forces himself to sit up anyway. The camp is still quiet. As usual, he’s one of the first up, with only Time, Twilight, and Four sitting around the fire. He has to get up and get breakfast ready. And to do that, he has to get dressed.
He selects his normal outfit- the Champion’s tunic, trousers, and a black cloak- from his slate, and it appears on his body with a quiet fwoosh and a blue glow. None of the other heroes even look at him, more than used to the light and noise by now. Although he wears the Champion tunic every day and usually never has a problem with it, today it hugs his form in all the wrong places. Wild swallows down a hot, uncomfortable, nameless emotion, and tugs his cloak tighter around himself.
He needs to get up and make breakfast, but he really doesn’t want to.
He needs… something, today. Something just for himself, that no one else will comment on.
So he swipes through his slate and pulls out the ruby earrings. The earrings are incredible works of art. Once Wild was able to get into Gerudo town himself, he was able to commission exactly what he wanted from the jewelry maker, no longer limited to the premade pieces the Gorons traded. Isha had done a wonderful job with the rubies Wild had brought her. She’d managed to shape the stone so they caught and reflected any light that struck them. The gems sparkled in the early morning sun as Wild holds them, but still retain their rough and somewhat natural shape. Wild thought they suited him well.
Wild puts them on, and smiles as the weight of them tugs on his earlobes. They’re a little heavier than his normal amber earrings, and they pull at his ears a little more than he's used to. The sensation- that little reminder that they’re there- soothes most of his irritation away.
Throughout the day, none of the other heroes seem to notice his wardrobe change, but Wild notices, constantly. He finds himself fiddling with the jewels throughout the day, running his fingers over the smooth facets of the gemstones. The tap-tap of his fingernails against the stones makes him smile.
Every time he sees himself in something even slightly reflective, his eyes are drawn to the beautiful red stones, hanging like drops of blood from his ears.
After the heroes stop for the night, and dinner is made and eaten, Wild volunteers to wash the dishes. The nearby river is smooth and slow flowing, and in the dim light of evening, Wild’s reflection in the water is clear. His long hair and red earrings are reflected back at him from the water. Like it has all day, the sight makes him pause and look at himself for a moment. He can see the smile beaming from his face in the reflection. Maybe it’s vain to care so much about how he looked, but he couldn't help it.
And when he turns his head just so, and the ripples in the water are particularly strong, he can imagine that his cheekbones are a little less sharp, that his face is softer.
It’s times like this that he's glad that he doesn't have a larger frame with more muscle mass like Time or Twilight do. He’s always loved his leaner build, meant for flexibility and running instead of the solid muscle meant for overpowering strength. It would be harder to pretend, even for a moment, if he was built like that.
Wild knows he should’ve gotten rid of the vai clothes after he no longer needed to enter Gerudo town. Or at the very least, he should have tucked them away in a chest in his house, and not put them on again.
He didn’t do that.
He put the clothes on again because of course he did. He can’t leave well enough alone.
He did so only once. It had been long before he was whisked away on this new journey, before he even knew about the heroes of the ancient past or of the spreading infection of black blood.
He had wanted to put on the clothes again, but he knew he couldn’t go back to Gerudo Town.
No matter how careful he was, Riju would eventually hear about his return, and she’d want to know why he’d returned to the town when there was no reason to do so. He didn’t want to be disrespectful of the Gerudos’ culture. If their laws said no men in Gerudo Town, that meant no men in Gerudo Town.
So when he inevitably cracked after weeks of thinking about the vai clothing, he didn’t go to the town. Instead, he tucked the clothing into the bottom of his bag, and took it out to the middle of the woods near Hateno, far away from any prying eyes.
Even then he still couldn’t bring himself to put it on. What if someone saw him? No one would be fooled for long, especially if they knew him. The clothing was made for women, but it didn’t conceal his masculine figure. It definitely didn’t conceal his scars.
(Wild wasn't an idiot. He knew the Gerudo guards, along with everyone else in Gerudo town, knew who he was. They knew he was a man. The only reason they had let him stay was that their Chief had given him permission to enter the town, and they’d needed his assistance badly. It also helped that Wild never caused a scene or took advantage of being allowed inside the walls. He was willing to adhere to their traditions, and wear the vai outfit. If he went back now- when he had no need to and Riju no longer had any reason to let him into the town- it likely wouldn’t turn out so well.)
Even then, he couldn’t bring himself to put on the clothes. He knew it was an irrational thought. There was no one in the woods who could possibly see him, but the thought still filled him with a burning anxiety that felt a bit too close to shame for his liking.
So Wild teleported away from Hateno, leaving any sign of civilization behind. He ended up at the Great Plateau, his birthplace.
No one would find him there. Most couldn’t scale the walls and those who could, like the Rito, usually didn’t find any reason to.
It was dark by the time he’d arrived, and by the time he’d worked up the courage to slip the clothing on, nighttime had fallen completely. But it had been summer, and the night breeze had been balmy, so even with the thin fabric of the Gerudo clothing, he’d felt comfortable.
He’d felt more than comfortable, actually.
It had made him happy, somehow, to know that if someone looked at him, they might not have thought he was something other than a man, even if just for a moment.
He had left the clothes on all night, and had simply existed. He’d hunted, he’d explored the plateau even though he’d long since memorized it like the back of his hand, and he’d laughed a good deal more than he usually did.
He’d felt light on his feet, and he had almost been dancing when he entered the Temple of Time.
And then he’d turned around to face the altar at the far side of the temple, and he’d seen the stoney face of Hylia with eyes closed in perfect peaceful prayer, and it felt like the world went silent and cold all at once.
Not that there had been music playing before, or any sound at all besides his own heartbeat, but it felt like the whole world stopped breathing when he was faced with the pinnacle of why his behavior was wrong, wrong, so very wrong.
He’d wondered if Hylia was laughing at him, if she’d been watching him at all. He wondered if the goddess even has the ability to laugh. He’d felt ashamed, when he thought of her looking at him while he was dressed like that.
Hylia had chosen him to be the hero.
He was the hero, and everyone knew the hero was always a man, even if they didn’t start out as one.
And men don’t wear women’s clothing.
Wild doesn’t understand why it was a rule, but it was.
Did these feelings mean that Hylia had chosen the wrong person to wield the sacred blade? Or had she chosen correctly, and it was Wild who was just… wrong?
He’d left the temple almost immediately, using his slate to teleport away. And he hadn’t gone back to the Temple of Time for a very long time, in the vai outfit or out of it.
When Wild was invited to join the heroes of the ancient past on a quest, he hadn’t hesitated to say yes. The only time he had faltered when he prepared to leave was when it came to packing his clothes. He took his regular clothes, heat and cold resistant clothes, climbing gear, Sheikah stealth outfit, and any other pieces of clothing that may help him on this journey.
But he also took the vai clothing. He’d shoved it down to the very bottom of his bag. WHen he was finished packing and rejoined the other heroes, he felt like they somehow knew what he had at the bottom of his bag
None of them knew, of course. As many talents as the heroes of old possessed, none of them had x-ray vision.
Wild didn’t know why he’d felt compelled to tuck the silky fabrics into his pack. Sometimes he regretted bringing them with him on the journey. It’s not like he could wear them, and it put the clothing in constant danger of being discovered. But he had brought it with him, so there was no use regretting it now.
Several months into the journey, the vai clothes remain at the bottom of his pack for the most part. None of the other heroes have the habit of riffling through other people’s bags, so he doesn’t worry too much that they’ll find the clothes as long as he’s careful.
Sometimes, late at night when he’s on watch, he draws his bag onto his lap, slipping his hand into the bag to feel the silken fabric brush against his fingers. Only one hand, primed and ready to casually remove it at the first sign of someone waking up.
The feel of the fabric is comforting for some reason. It makes him remember the feel of the silk against his body. It reminds him that those emotions he’d felt when he’d worn the clothes- that inexplicable joy, that freeness- had been real, even if he can’t experience it again.
He doesn’t dare take the clothes out of his pack, let alone put them on. Not even in the dead of night. He can’t do it. not when there’s a chance that someone could wake up and see him. He doesn’t want to think of the questions that might arise from any of the others seeing him dressed like that.
Inevitably, his decision to bring the clothing backfires on him.
Wild doesn’t see the moment that Warriors finds the veil. The captain isn’t one to go through someone’s bag, so Wild doesn’t know how he found it but he doesn’t dare ask.
Warriors doesn’t think the clothes belong to Wild, to Wild’s immense relief. Instead, he thinks it’s a gift for some girl Wild likes. It’s still not a good outcome. It’s still embarrassing. But at least there doesn’t seem to be any inkling in Warriors' mocking tone that he knows about Wild’s shameful secret.
It doesn't take long for the other heroes to give it back to him, but those moments feel like the longest of his life.
They pay dearly for their teasing with their burnt taste buds, but his revenge doesn’t make Wild feel much better. The whole situation should make him angry. Instead, it’s only filling him with shame.
He does his best to ignore the hurt bubbling up inside of him that night. He pushes it down, replacing it with righteous anger, angry glares, and a sharp thwack on the back of Warriors’ hand when the man tries to sneak food that isn’t spiced to high heavens.
Once the commotion around dinner has mostly calmed down, he walks off alone into the nearby woods. No one dares follow him, not while his temper is still so obviously sensitive and ready to snap.
He keeps going until he’s far enough away from their camp. When he’s determined that no one will hear him, not even Twilight with his wolf-like hearing, he stops. Slumping down, he sits at the base of a tree.
Slowly, Wild lets go of the anger he’s been using all evening to suppress his other emotions. Sadness and confusion and frustration well up to replace it, and tears are quick to start flowing from his eyes.
He doesn’t know… why.
He doesn’t know why he’s crying or why he’s so upset about this. Warriors and Legend- and Sky and Twilight to an extent- were only teasing. The rest of the group hadn’t interfered or stopped them because they’d only been teasing. Usually Wild is all too happy to engage in that kind of play and banter, but this time… it hurt.
It hurt because even though they hadn’t even known Wild’s most tightly kept secret- even though they hadn’t known that the vai clothes are his, and not a gift for someone else- they still made fun of him. What would they say if they knew the full truth- if they knew he was the one who the clothes were for?
Because men aren’t supposed to wear these kinds of clothes. And everyone knows that the hero is supposed to be a man and-
And Wild isn’t a man.
Wild growls, posture shrinking defensively against the tree as if that would help stave off the thoughts. They shake their head as they finally let themself think what they’ve known for a while. Their teeth grit in anger, and slam their hands down on the soft earth. Sharp nails dig into the loose, moist soil. It’ll be a pain to clean under their nails later but Wild doesn’t care!
This isn’t fair! It isn't fair, Goddess damn it!
They’re not crying anymore. The tears still well up in the corners of their eyes, but they blink furiously, refusing to let them fall. Why did this have to be them? Why couldn’t anything be simple for them?
This is how Hyrule finds them, an indeterminable amount of time later. Angry and seething at no one except themself for daring to feel like this. Wild doesn’t know if Hyrule had been looking for them, or if he’d just been wandering nearby and happened to hear Wild’s distress.
Hyrule’s concerned, as anyone would be if they found their friend rocking back and forth on the ground, one hand digging into the earth and the other, still muddy, gripping tightly at their hair.
He sits next to Wild, slowly and carefully, as if trying not to startle a wild animal. There’s a moment of silence where he just looks at Wild with concern gleaming in his eyes.
After a moment, Hyrule reaches out, giving Wild plenty of time to draw away from him. When they don’t move away, Hyrule eases their hand from their long hair.
Wild lets themself relax slightly. They can’t bring themselves to clutch at Hyrule’s hands as punishingly as they’d been gripping their hair, so they’re forced to let their muscles loosen.
Hyrule looks at them carefully, no doubt trying to find Wild’s cause for distress. When he finds no obvious injuries or ailments, he asks them what’s wrong, but Wild doesn’t have an answer for him.
If anyone would understand, Hyrule would. Or Warriors. But Wild can’t help but think of the relief that Hyrule and Warriors must have felt when they figured out they were men, when they knew that was what they were supposed to be. What the hero was supposed to be.
Wild can’t help but think of how angry Hyrule might be, at Wild for wanting so desperately what Hyrule himself has rejected.
Any thought of telling Hyrule dies before Wild even opens their mouth. They can’t tell anyone about this. Not now. Not yet.