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skyward-floored · 7 months

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Febuwhump collab day 27 - left for dead

...and partially day 23 and day 29 as well.

This one was suggested by @silvrash-797, though several other people also asked for Sky angst. I didn’t exactly follow your idea because I’ve got a few fics already in the works about what you specifically asked for, but I hope you like this :)

(And just to remind y’all where we’re at here, in the regular Incredibles movie, Syndrome (Dark Link) tricks supers to his island to test the robot he’s developing. In this au, Sky ends up being one of these people (and I’m writing a longer fic about how this happens, and it’s coming I promise XD))

Warnings: blood and injury, nearly drowning, an explosion, general peril... just some heavy stuff here. Hopeful ending though.

Today’s lovely art (coming soon :)

Ao3 link

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“Well well well. Face to face again. It’s been quite a while, Loftwing.”

Sky glared, his chest still heaving with how hard he’d been running up until moments ago. Dark hovered above him, his boots emitting a soft light that somehow kept him suspended in midair, and the two machines at his sides blocked Sky’s escape route. A satisfied glint shone in Dark’s eyes as he stared down at him, one that made Sky feel more and more like a cornered animal.

He’d been trapped on this island more then a year, but he hadn’t been cornered this badly since the very first day.

Sky panted as he looked around for an way out, adrenaline pounding through his veins. Somehow he’d let himself be chased to the edge of a cliff, a steep drop into a gorge behind him with a river flowing far below. His wing was still too injured from a recent altercation to properly fly, and the drop was too tall for him to have any chance of survival if he fell.

He was trapped.

Dark smirked down at him, almost like he knew the thoughts running through Sky’s head, and Sky’s hands grew clammy as he continued to flick his eyes around, looking for a way out.

“It’s been, oh let’s see now... about three months since we last saw each other face-to-face?” Dark continued, humming thoughtfully as he watched Sky. “Something like that.”

“I’d prefer to go longer,” Sky croaked, his voice raspy from disuse. “Your face isn’t much to look at.”

Dark’s eye twitched, and Sky felt a flicker of satisfaction.

“Well it’s fortunate that this will be the last time we’ll ever meet, then,” Dark growled, and Sky let out a raspy chuckle.

“Oh I hope so. I’ve been praying for that for over a year now,” Sky said with a smile, but instead of making him madder like he expected, Dark’s face abruptly slipped into a malicious grin.

“Lucky for you, I have just the thing to make sure we truly never see each other again,” he sneered, setting a finger on his wrist. “And I’m afraid I have to prepare for a returning guest, so I don’t really have time to chat.”

Sky’s blood ran cold, his mind flashing back to Dark’s other ‘guests’. A handful of supers had been tricked here after Sky, but he himself was the only one who had survived, and he couldn’t watch anyone else die on this cursed island. Though Dark had said returning... that hadn’t happened at all since Sky had ended up here, as far as he knew.

“A pity, too,” Dark continued breezily. “As I recall, you and the Fierce Deity worked together fairly often.”

Sky’s blood turned to ice, but he didn’t have time to even properly think through Dark’s words before he pressed a button on his wrist.

Sky’s entire world froze, muscles seizing with energy he couldn’t escape. He felt himself being moved slowly up and far past the edge of the cliff, and his heart beat like a drum in his ears as he stared at Dark, seeing no pity in his eyes.

“Goodbye, Crimson Loftwing,” Dark said with a smile. “I’d say it’s been a pleasure, but I’m beyond glad to finally be rid of you.”

Dark released the energy.

Sky plummeted like a rock, a cry escaping him without his permission as Dark’s laughter flew past his ears. His wings tried to unfold on instinct, but his one was still injured, and both were weak from malnourishment and not nearly enough maintenance.

But Sky flung them out anyway, knowing it was his only chance. His eyes watered at the pain the action brought, but the tiny bit of steering his wings afforded managed to slow him down and get him to fall in the water instead of being dashed to pieces on the rocks nearby.

Not that it hurt any less when he plunged into the river.

Hitting the water was like slamming into a wall, and Sky blacked out for a moment as agony overwhelmed him. The pain and shock of being underwater jolted him back awake moments later, and Sky forced himself to focus through the panic screaming in his head.

He quickly pulled his wings close to himself, and tried to swim for the surface despite being battered by the current. Several rocks hit Sky as he tumbled down the river, desperately trying to hold his breath.

Air briefly met him as he surfaced with a gasp and a cough, but then he was plunged back under again, deeper than before.

Sky struggled furiously to free himself from the water, getting tossed by the current so much he could barely tell what was up from down. All of him ached, but he kept trying to swim anyway, fighting the current and the rocks he kept hitting.

He wasn’t going to die here, not now, not after more then a year of surviving by the skin of his teeth, fighting for survival and coming out alive after countless close calls before this.

Sky refused.

Then he saw something drift by in the water, something small, with a red light pulsing on it.

His panic tripled, and Sky struggled even harder, heart pounding in his ears as a burning feeling rippled up his wing and side. He knew exactly what it was he had seen, and he needed to get away now.

The river had widened though, and Sky was still far from shore. The current has lessened a little, bit he couldn’t really tell which way was up, and he struggled along, trying desperately to reach land.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he wouldn’t be able to reach the shore though, and when a large rock caught his eye, he kicked towards it instead, praying the shelter would be enough.

He’d barely gotten behind it when he heard a piercing beep.

The explosion that came seconds later threw Sky backwards, and his world became nothing but a giant rush of water and heat and brightness.

Something slammed into him and he blacked out again, tasting blood in his mouth.

(...)

Consciousness came back slowly, accompanied by enough pain that Sky almost passed out again.

He choked out a shaking breath, thick and watery as some liquid spilled from his lips and dribbled down his chin. All Sky could do aside from that was lie there for a long time, trying to focus through the pain, water dripping off his face and pooling beneath him.

He finally managed to drag his eyes open, but almost immediately closed them again with a hiss, bright afternoon sunlight sending pain shooting through his skull.

The explosion had thrown him halfway out of the river, wings dragging behind him in the current. Sky thought he might’ve recognized where he was, but the brief glimpse he’d gotten wasn’t enough to be sure.

Though he wasn’t sure if he could even move yet, so it wasn’t like it mattered.

Sky drifted for a while, too exhausted to do much other than occasionally cough a bit of water up. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he couldn’t stay here forever, but the mere thought of moving made the pain seem to double.

So he stayed where he was. Lying on the riverbank, faintly shivering, wishing he was back home for the thousandth time since he’d gotten here.

A quiet beeping suddenly hit his ears, and Sky forced his eyes open again, blurry gaze landing on a flying machine that was scanning its way along the river. Fear jolted through him, and Sky sucked in a pained breath as he tried to get his battered body to listen to him.

Dark had obviously sent the robot to make sure the job was finished.

Get up, get up, you’ve survived this long you can do it longer get up—

Sky coughed, and despite every part of his body shrieking in protest, somehow dragged himself out of the water and behind a large tree by the riverbank, praying it would be enough to conceal him.

The beeping from the robot grew louder, the skywatcher buzzing right up by his tree. Sky could barely breathe, and felt his heart plunge into his stomach when he saw the feathers he’d left behind him, scattered along the ground.

If the skywatcher wasn’t already going to find him, it definitely would now, and Sky didn’t have any energy left to run.

This was it.

Sky wheezed softly, closing his eyes and thinking back to his wife and daughter as the skywatcher turned towards his hiding spot, red light scanning.

I’m sorry Zelda, I’m so—

An angry squawk pulled him out of his head, and Sky watched in surprise as one of the bright red parrots that lived on the island flew around the skywatcher, screeching in annoyance. Feathers fell from the bird, and Sky heard more cries as the drone buzzed around the tree.

A nest? he thought dizzily, then held his breath as the skywatcher scanned its light right towards the trunk where he was hiding.

The parrot swooped down in front of it again, joined by another as it cried out. Both birds began to peck angrily at the skywatcher’s underparts, avoiding its attempts to shoo them away. A beak hit a light, and something sparked as a parrot screeched. The machine jerked at the abuse, and the red light shook and glitched as it scanned right over Sky.

Then it paused, and made the negative chime that indicated it hasn’t found anything worth its time.

Sky would have collapsed with relief if he hadn’t already been on the ground, and the skywatcher finally moved on further downriver, the parrots letting out a few more angry squawks before returning to their nest.

Sky let out a hysterical croak.

I’m still alive.

Another wheezing giggle escaped him, and Sky closed his eyes, panting as the shock and pain started to catch up to him again. He knew he couldn’t stay where he was despite how exhausted he felt, even if all he wanted to do was pass out right now.

He’d gotten lucky, but he needed a spot to rest where he wouldn’t immediately be found by the next project Dark would inevitably send out.

Sky let himself rest for a few minutes more, then sighed thickly, bracing himself. Then slowly, agonizingly, he got to his feet, and began to stumble for his closest hiding spot. It was another stroke of luck that he’d been dumped relatively close to one of his most secure ones too, the entrance stealthy, and nearly impossible to find.

He usually only resorted to using it in emergencies, but this certainly counted as one.

Sky’s injured wing dragged behind him as he plodded along, feathers gathering more dirt and debris. Every step sent more pain jerking through him, and with every move he made, Sky wanted nothing more then to collapse back on the ground and stay there. But he knew if he stopped now he wouldn’t be able to get back up, and so he kept going.

Stumbling through the jungle. Nearly tripping on every root he walked past. Blood dripping behind him.

Still moving.

Sky almost didn’t realize it when he finally reached the entrance to the small caves he’d discovered a few months ago, his vision wobbling, and senses dulled. But then ferns brushed against his hips, and he stared, nearly crying when he realized he’d made it.

Blood stained the thin leaves as Sky pushed aside the ferns hiding the entrance, and he forced himself to crawl inside, his shaking growing more severe the longer he went. He didn’t remember it being such a long tunnel the last time he’d been in here, and it hadn’t been that long.

Right when Sky was starting to think he wouldn’t ever make it, the tunnel finally opened up into the larger spot he’d hidden in a few times now, a cozy alcove with a few precious supplies tucked inside. A small opening in the ceiling let in a thin shaft of light, and the spot in the corner that functioned reasonably well as a bed still had everything he’d put there to make it more comfortable.

Just seeing it made the last of Sky’s energy desert him, and he collapsed in the alcove, shivering with pain and cold, water and blood still dripping from his prone form. All he could do for a moment was breathe, thick and unsteady, and he coughed, liquid dripping from his lips he could only hope was just water.

Sky had had plenty of close calls while he’d been trapped here, brushes with the guardian robot Dark was developing, close encounters with his henchmen he’d barely managed to escape from, and the jungle itself lending its own dangers he’d had to avoid.

But he’d never come quite this close to death before.

Sky shivered, pulling his good wing around him as he closed his eyes.

His lungs ached from inhaling water, his body bruised and burning from the river and the explosion. His wings were barely functional, his mouth tasted like blood, and something had torn a gash right through his suit, more blood trickling from his chest.

And he was sure there were more injuries he wasn’t even registering at the moment, probably serious ones, but... he was alive.

And staying that way was all he had to do right now. Stay alive, heal, get his strength back. Then...

Try to stop Dark. Try to escape.

Do it all again.

Sky’s head ached, the pain in his middle increasing a bit, and he let out a shuddering breath as tears pricked at his eyes.

Endure, he thought weakly as he drifted off, pain the last thing he was aware of as something wet trailed down his cheek. Same as you have been. Endure.

Just hold on.

(...)

“...”

“Ledge, there’s... there’s someone over there.”

“What?”

“...”

“Ohh, I told you this was a bad idea... Following blood never leads to good things. I bet he’s one of those guys who were chasing us.”

“...”

“...No, he doesn’t look the same. I... I think he’s hurt, Legend.”

“How can you even tell, Roolie? He’s just lying... there...”

...

“SKY?!”

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needfantasticstories · 7 months

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Hospital Hopes

Master Sooga shoved Hyrule into a dim room deep within the new Yiga Hideout. An ache, one from his own era flapping in behind them.

A cackle greeted them, and a flash of violet. Two glowing eyes appeared much too close to Hyrule’s face, and he swung out on instinct. The owner of the eyes darted back, floating and inhumanly bright.

“What is that?” Hyrule asked, trying to back out of the room. The Blademaster hemmed him in.

“Just a Wizzrobe. To help us… get along more smoothly. Stand here.”

Hyrule was not about to stand anywhere and let some servant of Ganon curse him. He was no match for the large man, not with his magic drained.

The wizzrobe laughed, and cast soaring spells at him. Hyrule rolled under them and jumped up under the wizzrobe. In the small room, he could grab its feet.

But it proved too quick. With an ear-piercing laugh, it danced away, glowing eyes bouncing. More spells flew, and Hyrule dodged. Over and over they danced around the room.

A heavy hand landed on his shoulder just as he tried to roll, and he jerked back on unsteady feet. The soaring purple spell hit him full in the face.

Furious, he threw a fist up, and felt his right hand smack on his assailant’s mouth.

“What did you do?” Hyruel yelled. He didn't feel hot, or cold, or any other common effect of their magic, but he’d never seen one of this color either.

In answer, the blademaster grabbed Hyrule’s right arm and, before he could pull free, the man had sliced it across his arm, then pulled him from the room into the bright hall and slammed the door behind them.

“Heal it!” he commanded. A trail of blood slid down his chin, spreading over thick white stubble.

Hyrule glared. He didn’t need to be told to do what he’d already planned on doing. Hyrule could not believe he once compared this monster to the Hero of Time. Hyrule drew up his magic, circled it around his arm, and pressed it in. Nothing happened.

He tried again, wrapping the magic around himself, but it made no contact. It was as if he wasn’t there, as if it had no ability to move in his direction at all. He tried pushing it closer at a steep angle, tried sending it in a stream and moving his arm into its path, but the blood still dripped and the wound still burned.

“Here.” The blademaster tossed him a rag.

“It’s a curse. Your magic can flow out, but not in. No more tricks to hide, or run, or heal.”

“I can still fight,” he said, though the sight of his own blood, unstoppable, flowing free, made him dizzy.

“You can, but you won’t.”

“Of course I will—” Damn the footsoldiers. He would take them. He couldn’t stay here.

“Do you want to waste time fighting a losing battle, again, or do you want us to fix your arm?”

Hyrule scowled, uncertain. He’d tried twice now to escape, and had nothing to show for it. He felt sick. The smell of his own blood wasn’t what made him feel ill, but the anxiety of bleeding anywhere at all made him clasp his hand viciously over it. “Where?” Hyrule demanded, pressing the linen harder over his wound.

“Come along.”

Furious but anxious to explore more of the hideout anyways, he followed the old Blademaster down the wide hall in a new direction. The cave branched several times, rising and falling as the mountain had folded and buckled. They always took the widest path. It faintly echoed every sound, even their quiet, shuffling steps.

The cavernous hall led at last to a wide entryway with curtains instead of doors. Sooga opened the light fabric and gestured inside. Irritated but curious, Hyrule entered.

Bed after bed lined the walls, and in tight rows in between, all packed together. Soldiers slept or groaned or lay languid on the sheets, many stained rust-red. A long brick oven warmed the room from the back. Shelves on one side of the long oven were sparse pungent potion ingredients and the other side held nearly-empty trays of finished potions. Between the beds scurried pink-robed healers with carts laden with diluted potions, liniments, bandage cloths and surgeon’s tools.

The blademaster led him to one, who took a look at him and, not questioning his strange clothes or brown hair like so many others had, they immediately got to work by swatting his hand away and dousing the wound in a potion.

“Magic won’t work on this one.”

“What do you mean magic won’t…. Fine. Here.” The grumbling man dug a jar from the bottom of the cart and smeared a stinking cream over the wound, though the bleeding washed most of it away. The Yiga hurried to wrap it in bandages, and Hyrule let him work. The healer’s hands moved swiftly and confidently. It stung, but not as bad as at first. Hyrule flexed his arm to test it, and the attendant snatched his hand back with a tut.

“Give your skin a break, boy. Let that rest if you want any useful healing.”

The blademaster chuckled quietly and pointed to an empty cot. Hyrule eyed the surgical tools but the attendant was already off to a patient much further down the row. Instead he leaned on the wall, unwilling to sit, and met the blademaster glare for glare.

“You really think you’re one of them?” the man asked, arms crossed and squinting in thought.

“Why?”

“You seem different. Not like them.”

Hyrule resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He’d had such thoughts himself, once, in the earliest days of meeting the other heroes. They’d freed him of such anxieties quickly with only a few questions about his travels. And they’d been the most incredible people he’d ever met, people who understood him. He’d known many amazing people in his time, priests and princesses and brave monsters who gave him aid. But his brothers…they were just like meeting versions of himself. He’d never question again if he belonged.

A groan stole his attention. On the cot beside this assigned one laid a man with no left arm, his shoulder bundled in wraps and poultices at the shoulder. His eyes fluttered open, and he groaned.

Hyrule winced. What a thing to wake up to.

“Lord Soogha…” the patient mumbled, seeing the Blademaster. “My Lord, did we…”

The blademaster unanswered the unspoken question with a shake of his head, and the man’s eyes slid shut as a frown settled over him.

Hyrule and Sooga resumed their glaring, albeit with less fire than before.

“You should sit.”

Hyrule ignored him. He wanted to run, to shove this man away, even knowing the footsoldiers would swarm again. Sooga might be right that there were no exits. Why bother with them when everyone inside could teleport? But the old man was so patronizing.

“You even look different.”

Hyrule did roll his eyes this time. “Well, you don’t look like the rest of the Yiga either. Your hair is white. So what?”

“Hm. I have the distinction of age. You do not.”

“Are we done here?” Hyrule could not stop his leg from bouncing, anxious to get away from the groaning all around that he could no longer ignore. Small whimpers, cries of pain, and wails from otherwise strong men and women, gripping sheets or hugging themselves in agony and loneliness. Hands reached between beds for comfort. Gasps as bandages were changed. It was like seeing Twilight again, curled up on a bed in the inn, his chest cracked open like an egg and unable to heal. Dying. And nothing he could do for so long.

But these are killers , he reminded himself. Hyrule closed his eyes and sighed, trying to tune them out. But his mind would not. Their pain was everywhere. Potions could only do so much for recovery, for illness, and for persistent wounds like burns. He felt the warmth of magic in his fingertips, aching to reach out and heal. He let it dissipate.

Sooga huffed. Hyrule opened his eyes. The magic had still not fully dissipated, teal swirls shimmering above his hand as they slowly faded. So much magic thrummed inside him now, so much power, and not a wisp of it for himself.

“If you are what you claim to be, a hero, then do it. Help them. Or are you really just a boy playing with swords for your own glory after all?”

“I’m not going to heal them just so they can turn around and attack my brothers.” Hyrule waved a hand, teal magic streaming in his frustration. He could use thunder and slaughter half the patients where they lay. He could send a wave of heat over Sooga and burn that smug face. But with no doors in or out of this cave, it made no difference. Until he learned the way out or their trick of teleportation, he was stuck tailing Sooga.

“Very well. Healer!” Sooga shouted. The attendant assured their patient and hurried over to listen. “This young man is to stay in this ward until I fetch him. He may prove useful here.”

Hyrule glared at the floor. He didn’t trust himself to speak from the anger boiling in him at Sooga for trying to manipulate him. The ache, which had landed on the bedpost, watched Hyrule keenly as Sooga left.

The man beside him gasped, agony in his wide eyes.

Bastard. Hyrule wanted to scream. His whole purpose, his reason for leaving his cave and going from place to place, was to do some good. To help out. And here was a man clearly in need, right in front of him, and he was hesitating.

Hesitating to keep his brothers alive. Hyrule noticed the broken bow on the floor. He’d never fire another arrow anyway. They didn’t need protection from this man. The heroes could handle themselves, when clearly this man could not.

He had a purpose.

Hyrule slammed his fists into the wall, wincing as the pain in his wound. The ache screeched and fluttered. Damn Sooga for being right . The Traveler reached out to the man, who looked at him with glossy confusion, and let the tendrils of teal magic flow into the ruined shoulder.

Sooga came back and crossed his arms in a poor attempt at passive disinterest. A pair of heelers joined him, watching, brows furrowed.

“Is he part Zora?”

“How is this–”

He tried to tune them out. He already regretted this. This was a mistake.

The man sighed in relief, and his now-clear eyes searched, and found him. He stared, like he was seeing a three-headed horse.

“I’m not taken?”

Hyrule balked in confusion. “What?”

Others had noticed the commotion. Whispers circled around the room.

Sooga took his good arm and led him, far more carefully than last time, away from this assigned bed. “Healers, are any of those here too far gone for potions?”

“There’s Pulla and Greason on the edge, but worse, I’m afraid Karigann won’t make it, and his sister Ashara is likely to pass soon after. Best fighter in a century, that lad. Are you here for last rites before Astor’s harvest?” A scarred, limping man replied as he approached, also drawn by the gathering crowd.

Hyrule felt a chill at what that question could mean. What could be “harvested” from a sick ward? Hyrule had plenty of ideas, and he didn’t like any of them.

Sooga didn’t answer. He only followed the attendants with Hyrule in his wake. The whispers followed them.

“That’s the hero?” Voices of patients seemed so close to his ear.

“He’s Link?”

“I told you!”

“No you didn’t! You said he’s his brother!”

“He’s got brown hair!”

“So short!”

“No, from another time!”

“He’s the Hero of Time?”

“Nah, there’s no way that’s him!”

They quieted whenever he looked at them. Some put on their masks.

The attendants stopped between two beds, the sheets stained red.

“Can you heal them, hero ?” Sooga demanded as much as he asked.

He balked at familiar sights amid the gore: Wild’s fletching on the end of an arrow lodged in the man’s arm, and arm burnt to a crisp with what must have been Din’s fire. He didn’t want to help Wild’s enemies, Gannon’s servants, but looking at the mangled pair, burnt and missing limbs, like the other man, he doubted these siblings would ever see another battle. He hated to deny them. But there were more—many more—similarly disfigured wretches in the beds nearby.

“All of them? I…I don’t have enough! I might be able to help the worst injuries on these two, but—”

“You can do plenty. We have more stamina potions than heart draughts.” He handed one to Hyrule. Reluctantly, he smelled it. Yes, it smelled just the same. He drank the bitter slime and sighed. He looked at the sparse shelf as the elixir took effect: they had no red or blue potions like his own. That was almost a relief. He’d be able to help these two, but no more. He told Sooga this, and the man nodded in a grudging acceptance. The ache flapped over, watching with its great eye. Hyrule resisted the urge to bat it away.

Hyrule knelt between their beds and took their hands, so close but not touching where they sloped off the beds. He let his magic reach into them, feeling the damage.

The brother had nothing left. Hyrule joined their hands as the brother breathed his last. Hyrule sent a small wave of comfort to ease the pain.

He tried not to look at the bolt from Twilight’s crossbow in his burnt arm.

But he did retrieve Four’s headband from his death grip. As soon as he felt it, he almost regretted giving any comfort to the assassin. Was Four alive? What had they done to the blacksmith?

The sister had enough left in her to survive. Hyrule let the tendrils of magic close the broken paths of blood, reworking them into the living flesh and looping them together once more.

He let it restore the burnt skin and reshape muscles to cover the stumps of her missing right leg and arm, but he left most of the bruising and swelling to heal on their own.

“She’ll live,” he grunted when he finished all he dared, and he struggled to his feet.

“Is that all you can do? She still looks dead.” Sooga studied him, eyes narrowed again.

Hyrule nodded, fighting off dizziness. He’d used more than he meant to.

Sooga tapped the nearest healer. “Check her again,” Sooga demanded.

The pink-robed man examined her and nodded in satisfaction.

“She’s healed remarkably fast.”

The ache that had been haunting them with its enormous eye turned human and rounded on Hyrule, “The scouts are back. Come.”

He shepherded the group to a circle of glued-down red and white strips of paper. As if on cue, an injured soldier appeared in the circle with a massive bite torn from his thigh.

Wolfie!

“Heal it!” The ache ordered.

Hyrule pulled back. “Even with an elixir, I can’t—”

The ache interrupted him with an electric arrow pressed against his chest. Hyrule saw white. He jolted, trembled, and collapsed.

“Enough!” Sooga shouted at the monster.

“You will do it!” The ache hissed.

Hyrule tried to get up, but couldn’t move at all.

“He can’t do anything if you drain him!” Sooga guided the bitten soldier to the healers who helped him limp away, stepping around Hyrule. The Traveler watched him go with satisfaction. He hoped it got infected. Laughing at his own hypocrisy, he watched Sooga and the ache argue until the ache threw something at him, and another jolt of electricity turned everything to a senseless cloud of white.

#febuwhump 2024 #febuwhumpday27 #febuwhump day 27 #linked universe #linked universe fanfic #skipwrites #LU Hyrule #Yiga clan #Sooga #tw: injury

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