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.