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“Finnie? Baby are you ok?” Finn heard their mother ask. The small family was lounging on the bed in Adora and Catra’s room at Brightmoon. It was certainly large enough for the family of three and after so many years the bed no longer seemed too squishy or plush for the former Horde soldiers. Adora, their mommy, was laying on her side looking at them with a soft smile, eyebrows upturned in concern at their quiet demeanor. Her head was propped up on one hand while the other held on to the hand mama had wrapped gently around her waist. Their mama, Catra, was behind mommy with one hand spread out over her wife’s ribs, the other outstretched under her head. They had been spending most of their time in their home in the Whispering Woods to escape the hustle and bustle of the palace and surrounding town, but occasionally spent a few days in the room that would always be reserved for them in the castle. Bow and Glimmer’s anniversary celebration, an ongoing party lasting several days, was in full force down in the ballroom, though they had retreated to their room and were prepared to continue the party tomorrow morning at breakfast and throughout the day.
It was late evening, long golden fingers, the last remnants of sunlight from the day, streaming through the trees and into the room, casting a peaceful evening glow over the family as they settled from dinner, the sky outside painted with pastel violet, peach, and amber. The summer breeze fluttered in through the open window, ruffling the linens on the bed and gently blowing Finn’s hair causing it to brush over their ears. The moment should have been peaceful. Finn should have felt comfortable in this perfect moment with their parents. The magic floating in the air, almost tangible as it filled their lungs with each breath, should have been enough to make them happy, as any other child would have been.
But there was something bothering them. Something that they had barely learned the words for in their seven years of life. It caused dread to coat the insides of their chest and stomach and even, as a child, they could tell that something was wrong with the way they felt, the way they were. The feeling of "other", the feeling of being different, clung to them without leaving any explanation why. Why did they feel this way?
And they felt so guilty for feeling like something was wrong. They had a loving family, two parents who wanted to give them the world and who cherished them so much. The love they felt in their house every day, from the warm baked muffins they smelled when they woke up on Sunday mornings to the tickle fights they got into before bed. They knew how loved they were. When they thought of their parents and their childhood, what was at the forefront of their memory was whispers of “I love you Finnie,” and the ghost of a kiss on their forehead or cheek. There shouldn’t have been anything wrong, anything at all. There were no outside factors that should make them feel this way. They had everything they needed and they had love, two things that so many people didn’t get, would never have the chance to have. Their life, on paper, was perfect.
Except it wasn’t, or at least it didn’t feel like it was. Their parents had no way of knowing that the simple declaration of “Our daughter did this today,” when the other got home caused them so much discomfort. They had no way of knowing that before bed when they said “Goodnight princess,” it made their heart seize and their stomach twist. Taking hours to calm their heart and fall asleep, if they did at all.
They were loved, so loved. And the pit in their stomach that told them when their parents said something that they weren’t comfortable with twisted in a nauseating manner and felt like it might ignite and burn them alive, they felt such guilt and such terror at the way they were reacting.
“Finn?” Mama was the one who spoke this time. Her eyes, one cerulean and the other gold betraying her worry, though she tried to smile. Her child had been quiet recently. Finn had always been outgoing but now there was a disconnect between the baby she had known for all of these years and the child laying in front of her. Adora and Catra had seen the way Finn was acting during the day’s festivities, seen their tense shoulders and the shiver that went down their spine when they interacted with the rest of their family, the rest of their Aunts and Uncles and cousins. Maybe it was nothing to worry about, but the two had decided in a quiet moment to themselves that instead of continuing with the festivities they would take dinner in their room and have some time for just the three of them. It seemed more and more in each passing moment to have been the right decision. They had known for a while that something was bothering their child, but were waiting for Finn to be the one to bring it up. Maybe a gentle nudge was what they needed now.
Finn took a deep breath. They had been feeling this for so long and struggling for so long. They may not have realized exactly what it was until recently, but looking back the feeling had been present for as long as they could remember. They had thought long and hard about this, longer and harder than any child should have to. While this world was full of magic, peace, and love it also had tradition and expectation. How could things possibly work out the way they wanted, the way they needed them to?
They were in a bubble right now. They had accepted them self, or at least partially. They knew deep down, no matter how much they wanted to deny it, what exactly had been bothering them all this time. The time between their own self discovery and the outside world knowing was a time to be cherished, when they could both be them self and also fly under the radar of the others. They knew who they were, or at least were fairly certain, but other people might not understand. There was a peacefulness to be found in the calm before the storm, before they were met with questions and the expectation of explaining them self.
But they also knew that their parents loved them. They would always love them. They might be worried or afraid when they found out, but that wouldn’t be toward them, no, the worry would be toward how others would treat them. They would be worried the way any parent would worry when they found out something about their child was different. Being different wasn’t bad, and they would never think that way about someone for their identity. Being different just meant that the world might not understand, and might not be fair. They would be worried because they knew that their baby would experience the opinions of others in ways that they can’t protect them from, ways that they weren’t ready to deal with yet.
Finn may not know how the world would treat them but they realized in this moment, laying in bed with their loving parents casting soft, encouraging gazes at them from across the bed where they held each other, that if they shared this secret, this feeling with them, it would be okay. They would still be loved, and that's all they needed. Their parents would protect them the best they could, like they always had. They would understand and they would treat this secret the way they treated every new detail of their growing child, with acceptance and love. Because they knew that Finn, no matter what, deserved to be loved.
Finn took a deep breath and let out a sigh, which caught their mothers’ attention. Turning to their side to face their mothers, they allowed the tears that had welled up in their eyes to spill over, clinging to the soft whiskers at the edge of their jaw before dropping one by one to dot the comforter below. This breath felt different. They could feel it filling their lungs entirely, instead of the suffocating grip their anxiety usually had on their entire chest. They started, at last, to feel free. They opened their eyes and saw their mommy and mama looking at them, remaining silent but gazes encouraging, and finally said the words they had been holding in for as long as they could remember.
“Mommy, mama. I’m… different. I have been for a while. I don’t want you to call me “she” anymore,” The child spoke, feeling younger and more vulnerable than they could ever remember.
“Ok baby. What do you want us to call you? What are your pronouns?” Mommy said, mama nodding at them encouragingly from over her shoulder.
“They…..I want you to call me they?” It most certainly wasn’t a question, but they couldn’t shake the feeling that they somehow needed their parents approval for this.
“Ok. They/them are your pronouns. Is Finn still ok? Or do you have another name you want us to call you?” Mama spoke this time, as gentle and loving as she had spoken to them the day they were born and then every moment after that.
“No. I like Finn. It's me. It still feels like me. It’s just that, ‘she’ didn’t feel like me anymore and I’m not sure if it ever has.” Finn smiled, a real, genuine smile for the first time since departing their cabin to head to Brightmoon and perhaps even before that. The ghost of anxiety and fear behind their eyes was gone, for now, as they absorbed the support their parents had given them.
Mommy sat up slowly, shifting closer to Finn and laying so her arms could wrap around them. Mama did the same, moving to the opposite side of the bed so that she could lay on Finn’s other side, sandwiching their child in their loving embrace. It felt so good to be held like this, to feel the love radiating from their parents. Mommy kissed their forehead while she trailed a gentle hand up and down Finn’s back. Mama rested her head on top of Finn’s, a soothing purr emitting from her chest as she scratched gently at the back of one of their ears, causing Finn to purr as well.
“You do not have to answer if you aren’t comfortable. You never have to answer questions about your identity if you aren’t comfortable. But how long have you felt like this? Like what we were calling you wasn’t right, or didn’t fit?” Mommy said, wondering how long she hadn’t seen this, how long she hadn't noticed.
“I don’t know. For a long time I guess. It was hard to understand, so I don’t know when I started feeling like this, like I do now. I know I have been feeling weird and different since as long as I can remember,” Finn answered truthfully, their young mind not really being able to wrap around the exact time that they started feeling different.
It was mama’s turn to speak up, nudging the top of their head with her nose, “But did we make you feel like…like you couldn’t tell us? Is that why you have been holding it in?”
“I don’t know. I felt bad for thinking something was wrong. ‘Cuz I didn’t have any reason to feel like that. But I don’t know how long I have known what it was.” Finn was nervous again, worried if their parents would think less of them for taking so long to figure it out.
“Baby, Finnie, we love you so, so much. You can tell us anything. We want you to tell us when you feel bad, when you’re not sure of yourself or when you’re having doubts about how you feel. We want to know whatever you are comfortable telling us. You don’t have to share right away what makes you uncomfortable if you want to figure it out first because it’s ok to not know. It’s ok to not be sure. And we might be able to help you work through it if you aren’t. But you don’t ever have to hide things from us because you are worried about how we will react. We will always love you. We will always support your identity. So please, don’t ever feel like you need to worry about how we will react because we want what is best for you and what makes you happy. That’s our job, it’s what we are here for.” Tears were running down all three of their faces as Mama finished speaking.
A sob wracked Finn’s small frame as their moms held them tighter, letting them cry out all of the fear and frustration that had plagued their days and the anxiety and terror that had cloaked their nights. The three lay like that for a while, allowing Finn to finally let out all of the tears they had been holding in for so long. The family held each other long after sepia and amber faded into fuchsia and indigo, the room illuminated only by the glimmer of the moonstone.
Adora felt Finn’s small hands grip the front of her shirt and looked down into their sky blue eyes. They just looked at each other, Finn seeing the pride and love shining in their mother’s eyes and Adora seeing the relief wash over her child’s face.
“Do you want to stay here for the rest of the festival? Or do you want to go home?” Mommy asked.
Finn looked up at her, a tiny frown marring their face, and said, “Won’t Aunt Glimmer and Uncle Bow be upset if we leave?”
“No baby, they would never be upset at us for taking care of you. They’ll understand, even if we don’t tell them why, that we just need to go home. We can get a good night's sleep here and go home in the morning. We can even skip breakfast here and eat at home if you don’t want to see anyone. We could tell something had been bothering you for a while, and we could see at the party tonight how you shied away from people. If you can’t be here right now we understand and we want to do what you need. Baby, do you want them to know? And if you do want that, do you want to tell them yourself or do you want us to take care of it? You don't have to decide right now if you aren't ready,” Mommy spoke tenderly in an attempt to soothe some of Finn’s worry.
Finn considered this for a moment. Now that their parents knew, they couldn’t imagine leaving this room and having it still be a secret, having everyone they had known their entire life still thinking of them as "she" when that wasn’t them.
“I want them to know. I don’t want them to keep thinking of me as someone I’m not, and I don’t want to leave when everyone else is celebrating. But….. I don’t think I can tell people either. I already had to deal with it alone and I don’t want to do that anymore,” Finn’s voice cracked at the end, the whimper leaving their lips at the thought of telling more people making their parents hold them tighter.
“You won’t ever have to deal with this alone. We can tell people as they come, and there won’t be anyone by the end of the festival calling you the wrong pronouns. Ok?” Mama spoke, still scratching lightly at Finn’s ears.
“Ok mama,” Finn whispered, letting their mama’s purring lull them to sleep for the night.