DISCLAIMER: I don't own the Zelda characters or games, so don't sue me.
Time for chapter two in my first real Zelda epic! Woo! I was surprised at all the reviews I got, actually. ^_^;; Then again, I never expect people to enjoy my writing. ^_^ So, yeah. I'm pretty happy about it. This is actually a story I've been wanting to write for a while now.
Thanks to Alex Foster, Thaliel, k+k fanatic, Jenna aka Kitty, H7, Ruby-sama 4.5, Athene, and Shyla-Omegamire for reviewing. Your support is appreciated!
Warnings: Cussing, painful sounding things, and some slight insanity. (Oh yeah. That makes this chapter sound *so* pleasant. ^_^;; )
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Visions danced through his mind.
Voices, faces...things that might be memories, but must be dreams.
("Let me introduce myself. I am the princess, Zelda.")
("Green clothes...a fairy...you must be from the forest!")
Yeah, they must be dreams.
Sweat dripped down his forehead. His breathing was labored, holding itself to short, quick breathes.
He was ill.
These must be hallucinations.
("Time passes, people move, like a river's flow...")
A melancholy feeling.
("...it never ends...")
A voice, a face.
("...the clear water's surface reflects growth.")
Reality?
He knew this face.
He had dreamed it before.
He remembered (a true memory this time?) seeing the owner of that voice a few hours before.
No.
("I am Sheik, survivor of the Sheikahs.")
He had to have dreamed it.
His feverish mind had created a savior, and in his sickness, he had believed it to be an actual event actually occurring in a real world.
A memory in his mind. A flash of red eyes watching him from behind a mask.
Flash. Clear blue. Someone different?
No. A different side of the same hallucination.
* *
* *
"How is he?"
Zelda knelt by Link's bedside. She took a cloth from a nearby basin of cool water and began to slowly run it across Link's sweaty brow.
"Not well." The castle physician's mouth set into a thin line, "His pulse is weak...he's very sick with pneumonia and the flu. He must have been outside in the cold for weeks."
"The wounds?"
"They were made over the course of about a week, but..."
"But what?"
"Those wounds are at least a month old."
"...But...how...!?"
The middle-aged woman sighed, "He appears to have reopened them himself. Half through...wandering...and half...half were..."
"..."
"I think he did part of this himself. Gods know why."
"No..." A single tear ran down Zelda's cheek. She faltered briefly with the cloth before placing it back in its basin.
She closed her eyes. Why?! Why would Link harm himself? Where had he been for the past years? Why had he turned up so badly injured and ill? Why?
Why?
Zelda turned, her eyes still closed. She opened them, then began to speak in a level voice, "Go fetch a servant. Have them go inform my father them of the hero's condition. Have another go and fetch Impa, my nursemaid. I have a need to speak with her."
"Yes, your highness." The woman inclined her head slightly, then walked quickly from the room.
As soon as she was out of sight, the Princess of Hyrule fell to her knees, not caring if anyone saw. This woman, the seventh sage, the keeper of the Triforce of Wisdom, the true self behind Sheik's mask, wept. She wept over a boy who was her hero, a boy who had left her life four years ago and turned up nearly dead. She wept and wept for the man who lay beside her in a half-mad sleep. She wept for someone she barely knew outside of his heroism.
And she wept for someone she barely knew, but knew better than most others.
* *
* *
The teen sometimes dreamt that he was a boy, and sometimes that he was a man.
His age seemed to switch between years he half remembered, and years of his life he could not have yet lived. He sometimes wondered which was his true age, and which was truly him.
Of course, it was impossible that he was either age. All he could remember were two days of actual living.
The rest was all a dream world to him.
His eyes fluttered open. Sweat and water stung them.
And he looked around the room and he wondered where he was, and why anyone had bothered saving them.
A beautiful woman sat in the middle of the floor crying.
He spoke. He had no memory of having a voice to speak with, yet was surprised at how strained and weak it sounded.
"Why...are you...crying?"
She stopped. She looked around, and eyes the color of water settled on his thin form.
And then, she began babbling quickly, happily, with strong emotion.
"Link?! You're awake! Don't move," She walked over briskly and pushed him back onto the bed when he tried to move, "You are still very weak and sick. What happened to you! Where have you been for the past few years, Link? Thank the Three that you came back!"
He was confused.
He didn't know this woman.
Did she know him?
"I...I am sorry. Do I...do I know you?"
Time for chapter two in my first real Zelda epic! Woo! I was surprised at all the reviews I got, actually. ^_^;; Then again, I never expect people to enjoy my writing. ^_^ So, yeah. I'm pretty happy about it. This is actually a story I've been wanting to write for a while now.
Thanks to Alex Foster, Thaliel, k+k fanatic, Jenna aka Kitty, H7, Ruby-sama 4.5, Athene, and Shyla-Omegamire for reviewing. Your support is appreciated!
Warnings: Cussing, painful sounding things, and some slight insanity. (Oh yeah. That makes this chapter sound *so* pleasant. ^_^;; )
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Visions danced through his mind.
Voices, faces...things that might be memories, but must be dreams.
("Let me introduce myself. I am the princess, Zelda.")
("Green clothes...a fairy...you must be from the forest!")
Yeah, they must be dreams.
Sweat dripped down his forehead. His breathing was labored, holding itself to short, quick breathes.
He was ill.
These must be hallucinations.
("Time passes, people move, like a river's flow...")
A melancholy feeling.
("...it never ends...")
A voice, a face.
("...the clear water's surface reflects growth.")
Reality?
He knew this face.
He had dreamed it before.
He remembered (a true memory this time?) seeing the owner of that voice a few hours before.
No.
("I am Sheik, survivor of the Sheikahs.")
He had to have dreamed it.
His feverish mind had created a savior, and in his sickness, he had believed it to be an actual event actually occurring in a real world.
A memory in his mind. A flash of red eyes watching him from behind a mask.
Flash. Clear blue. Someone different?
No. A different side of the same hallucination.
* *
* *
"How is he?"
Zelda knelt by Link's bedside. She took a cloth from a nearby basin of cool water and began to slowly run it across Link's sweaty brow.
"Not well." The castle physician's mouth set into a thin line, "His pulse is weak...he's very sick with pneumonia and the flu. He must have been outside in the cold for weeks."
"The wounds?"
"They were made over the course of about a week, but..."
"But what?"
"Those wounds are at least a month old."
"...But...how...!?"
The middle-aged woman sighed, "He appears to have reopened them himself. Half through...wandering...and half...half were..."
"..."
"I think he did part of this himself. Gods know why."
"No..." A single tear ran down Zelda's cheek. She faltered briefly with the cloth before placing it back in its basin.
She closed her eyes. Why?! Why would Link harm himself? Where had he been for the past years? Why had he turned up so badly injured and ill? Why?
Why?
Zelda turned, her eyes still closed. She opened them, then began to speak in a level voice, "Go fetch a servant. Have them go inform my father them of the hero's condition. Have another go and fetch Impa, my nursemaid. I have a need to speak with her."
"Yes, your highness." The woman inclined her head slightly, then walked quickly from the room.
As soon as she was out of sight, the Princess of Hyrule fell to her knees, not caring if anyone saw. This woman, the seventh sage, the keeper of the Triforce of Wisdom, the true self behind Sheik's mask, wept. She wept over a boy who was her hero, a boy who had left her life four years ago and turned up nearly dead. She wept and wept for the man who lay beside her in a half-mad sleep. She wept for someone she barely knew outside of his heroism.
And she wept for someone she barely knew, but knew better than most others.
* *
* *
The teen sometimes dreamt that he was a boy, and sometimes that he was a man.
His age seemed to switch between years he half remembered, and years of his life he could not have yet lived. He sometimes wondered which was his true age, and which was truly him.
Of course, it was impossible that he was either age. All he could remember were two days of actual living.
The rest was all a dream world to him.
His eyes fluttered open. Sweat and water stung them.
And he looked around the room and he wondered where he was, and why anyone had bothered saving them.
A beautiful woman sat in the middle of the floor crying.
He spoke. He had no memory of having a voice to speak with, yet was surprised at how strained and weak it sounded.
"Why...are you...crying?"
She stopped. She looked around, and eyes the color of water settled on his thin form.
And then, she began babbling quickly, happily, with strong emotion.
"Link?! You're awake! Don't move," She walked over briskly and pushed him back onto the bed when he tried to move, "You are still very weak and sick. What happened to you! Where have you been for the past few years, Link? Thank the Three that you came back!"
He was confused.
He didn't know this woman.
Did she know him?
"I...I am sorry. Do I...do I know you?"