Actions

Work Header

Rating:
Archive Warning:
Fandom:
Character:
Additional Tags:
Language:
English
Series:
Part 1 of wild is a Disney princess but not really
Stats:
Published:
2020-05-20
Completed:
2020-05-25
Words:
8,784
Chapters:
4/4
Comments:
69
Kudos:
502
Bookmarks:
61
Hits:
4,325

The End Meets the Beginning

Summary:

So yes, theoretically Link knew what he was supposed to be doing.

Theoretically, he was working toward an insurmountable goal with the impossible guideline to remember something he hadn’t even realized he had forgotten and he was working on the time table of hurry, before it’s too late!

Theoretically, he didn't mean to think about his task so bitterly, but also theoretically, the voice would never know if he complained about his mission the entire way, now would she?

So again, yes. Link theoretically knew what he was supposed to be doing.

In practice? Link was not doing that.

Notes:

AHHHH! I am not dead!... kinda.

I'm currently absolutely swamped with exams and papers, so I decided to post something that is already written and that I don't really have to worry about. This was written completely for fun as a LW in the discord and is basically the introduction to a mini series that I've been thinking about for a while now. Should mostly be fun shenanigans and fluff with only a twinge of angst (cuz it is still me I guess...)

This is also an experiment with a different type of narrative voice,,, which isn't supper apparent in this chapter but I think you'll get the idea when we get to later ones. (Basically I tried to inject as much personality into Wild's tone as possible. We'll see if it actually works. And if not, hey, at least it was fun to write!)

Thanks so much and I hope you enjoy

Chapter 1: A nice voice

Chapter Text

It is dark.

It is dark and he cannot open his eyes. 

It is dark and he cannot open his eyes and he feels nothing.

No… that's not quite right.

He can feel… things.

Things like the hand on his face, brushing locks of sweaty, blood matted hair from his forehead. Can feel arms around his back, holding him in the lap of a slight body. Can feel drops of warm water drip onto his face, one after the another, a rhythm.

It was not raining when he fell. Tears then. But who is crying? 

He can’t remember and he can't open his eyes to check.

He can also feel pain, but it is distant, a figure on the horizon of his consciousness. He can feel it like how one feels an ache: present and slightly throbbing, but not noteworthy until one moves, until one focuses on the hurt.

And he does not want to focus on the hurt.

Does not want to focus on the fact that his entire body feels like it's been put through a meat grinder and then roughly shoved back into the shape of a person. Does not want to focus on the way he feels like he's drowning every time he breathes in, something bubbling, crackling with each breath out. Does not want to focus on the way his skin feels too hot and too cold, raw and sluffy, burnt and crinkling as it falls away. 

So he does not focus on that. 

Instead he focuses on the arms around him, the hands gently carding through his hair, the tears slowly dripping onto his cheeks.

He focuses on the soft voice above him, familiar, soothing despite its panic but unplaceable. A voice that begs him to open his eyes. 

Please, wake up, Link! Open your eyes, Please!  

It is a nice voice, he thinks as the darkness becomes heavier, a blanket on his body and mind. As the pain recedes further, a shadow in the night. As slowly, the other sensations, not just the ache but the warm lap and the shaking arms and the comforting hands and the tears become nothing but phantom sensations on his rapidly numbing skin

As slowly, the voice grows more distant, blurry with the cotton now stuffed in his ears.

A nice voice, he thinks. 

If this was the last thing he would ever hear, he is glad it is this nice voice.

 

…





...open your eyes…

 

Open your eyes.

 

Wake up, Link!





…