Actions

Work Header

The Ghosts That We Knew

Chapter Text

Ghirahim laughed as his Master summoned the sword from within him. It was painful, but he didn’t mind; he reveled in the pain, especially since he would be properly wielded to finally be rid of his pest problem. The whelp in green had gotten in his way one too many times, and the humiliation he caused the great Demon Lord was unforgivable. Ghirahim had faced detestable defeat, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth and an unfathomable rage in his heart. Yes, despite the searing pain, he was beyond willing to aid Demise in destroying the insufferable little twit of a “hero” once and for all. All of his efforts to revive his Master would not be in vain; in the capable hands of the Demon King, Ghirahim’s blade would pierce the sky child’s—Link’s—heart. The victory would be most glorious.

A cry of pain burst from the Demon Lord’s lips as the blade fully tore from his chest. Unconsciousness tugged at the corners of his mind as he slumped forward with fatigue. Strange… Had all this time without being used as a proper sword weakened him? He had never felt this exhausted when his true form was summoned. Pathetic. He would be sure to remedy this later with some apparently much-needed strength training.

As he felt himself slipping deeper into the depths of oblivion, Ghirahim couldn’t resist the urge to steal a glance at his enemy. Link stood proud and determined, the newly-formed Master Sword clutched tightly in his left hand. The demon sword could sense that the youth was scared (Good.), but the young man’s determination to protect those important to him and fulfill his duty outweighed the fear. Truly, Link was a man of great courage—that Ghirahim could not deny. It almost impressed him.

Almost.

Yet despite the courage Link exhibited, Ghirahim noticed something else in the hero’s bright blue eyes: pity. His eyes were focused on the sword spirit, the corners of them crinkled slightly in sympathy. The sight enraged Ghirahim. He—the great Demon Lord and ultimate weapon of the all-powerful Demon King Demise—did not need some filthy human’s pity! This was his duty; it was the only purpose he had, and he was proud of it. What right did this infuriating scamp—Goddess-chosen be damned!—have to look upon him with such mockery? The great Lord Ghirahim was not some pathetic, disgusting charity case! This was an outrage! Had he not been a worthy adversary to the boy? Did he not gain the upper hand by returning to the past and freeing his Master, just when the fool and that sniveling Spirit Maiden thought they had won in the present? Regardless of his humiliating defeats at the hand of the hero, he was still a powerful force to be feared and admired! What reason did this pest have to look upon him like that?!

Link’s hand tightened slightly around the hilt of his sword, just for a brief moment. It was a gesture of reassurance, although Ghirahim could not fathom for what. Then it occurred to him: Link was drawing upon and simultaneously showing support to the spirit within the Master Sword. The spirit—Fi, was it?—was not just his weapon, but also his greatest companion. She was his guide and confidant, and the love and respect Link held for her was apparent. Ever with him, Fi would ensure the hero would never be alone; her, as well as Link’s human friends and Skyloftian community. He was loved and supported, which empowered him to keep fighting no matter the odds.

Link was loved and loved just as deeply himself. The sight of Ghirahim reduced to such a state—broken, deranged, used only as a tool—all for the affection of a Master with no affection to spare was the cause of Link’s sympathy. Link (and Fi) were cherished and empowered by their friends; Ghirahim was treated with apathy (on good days) and ultimately alone. As if that mattered! All that Ghirahim valued were power, prestige, and beauty—all of which he possessed. Anything else was a waste of time and made one weak. Despite the green-clad brat’s conviction otherwise, Ghirahim knew such trivial things like friends would only lead to one’s destruction in the end. Link had already lost that wench Zelda, hadn’t he? No matter how emboldened he appeared, Ghirahim could tell Link was demoralized. Yes, he was going to contribute to Link’s destruction with great pleasure.

His vision fading fast and the haze of unconsciousness shrouding his mind, Ghirahim locked eyes with Link. With a smirk, the demon lord mentally cursed the hero:

One day, you will lose everything and know true loneliness. When that time comes, I will return to revel in your despair.

With those thoughts in his heart, the demon succumbed to blackness as his being absorbed into the blade held in Demise’s hand.