A Kindling, of Sorts (Revali x reader)

i'm gonna win

CONTENT WARNING:

There is a brief mention of blood in this chapter. Nothing too horribly gory, but it still could be kinda jarring to some viewers. There will be an asterisk before and after the thick of it.

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"Look, below," my voice rang in your ears, coming from everywhere and nowhere. You were drenched, body sore, barely standing. Where the hell are you? "Look."

Your tired eyes looked around the strange spring and down at your battered feet. By the toe of your boot, was a sliver of some kind of gem.

The shard faintly shimmered in the water, faintly glowing green. Your reflection rippled above it in the water, and my likeness stood still above you, carved face still.

"Go on, child," I offer. Your head was spinning, confused and fatigued. "Take it."

. . . . .

You were getting better.

It was strange, after days of insisting you wear your uniform, your superiors seemingly let it slide. You assumed the princess pulled some strings to allow this, which you were thankful for. Since then, your performance had greatly improved, the curse of that stupid armor no longer plaguing you.

Of course, without proper protection, you were bound to get hurt. Kind of. Its not like it was a huge deal for you, but it definitely was for your peers. They looked on with disbelief and horror as you were cut up during training, blood splattered on their blades, but no marks were truly left behind on your skin. You were almost unfazed by the pain and just kept fighting. This didn't really earn you any kind of respect, you were just seen as unsettling. Which is fair, you supposed.

You slung your sword over your shoulder as your opponent picked himself up from the dusty ground, a haunted look in his eye. This was his third go at you, and this time he took a more... stabby approach.

Usually when sparring, your opponents mainly slash and hit, as its only a practice fight. Any more deadly attacks were reserved for dummies, which were incapable of bleeding out in a horrid, grisly death. But this guy looked desperate to get at least one win in. He had mild scarring and a pretty toned build, it wouldn't be much of a surprise if he had been here for a while.

Losing to someone three times in a row after they've only been around for about a week and hadn't won a single fight before this must've been embarrassing. Sure, its really not that serious, but it also is. You didn't even know how to fight properly, you just swung the sword around like an idiot until the fight was over. You were painfully mediocre and you were cheating. Not on purpose, but how is anyone supposed to beat someone who barely flinches at getting cut and stabbed?

His desperation was evident in the way he fought you, taking a particularly offensive role. You could barely parry his blows in time as he pushed you back. In his exhilaration he knocked you back a few steps, steadied his sword and...

*

He completely impaled you, cutting all the way through your shirt. The sharpened blade slipped out your back, angled to the left. You lurched at the unfamiliar feeling, looking down at your wound, where red bloomed through the fabric of your linen tunic.

"What are you doing?!" shouted someone from the side. You looked back to see your corporal standing shocked at the edge of the ring. "Medic!" Your opponent's face went blank as he realized what he did, eyes wide.

You gingerly took the blade in your hands, careful not to slice your hands, and tried to force it out. "No, you idiot!" he shouted. "If you take it out, you'll just make it—" You sucked in a breath and pushed it out quickly, easily slipping it out of his nervous hands. It clattered to the dirt floor, leaving his hands empty and shaking.