Seizing the castle was vital for the return of Lord Ganondorf, they all knew that. It wasn't just for show, after all. The Castle held the largest library in the world, and within it, knowledge from decades upon decades was stowed away, waiting to be engulfed. As soon as Ganondorf had control of the entire castle, he ordered every single book carefully arranged. This wasn't the first time he had control of Hyrule Castle, and so he had prepared a list in advance, of which books he had already previously read in the library, and to which room they should be kept safe, as to not interfere with his studying. Zant thought it to be pointless. What was the point in reading about a place you already had control over? Needless to say, with nothing left to conquer, The Ursurper King became bored. Teleporting here and there around the tower, the king found another bored soul to amuse him. Ghirahim sat, in a dimly lit room, appearing to be reading one of the discarded, used books from the library.
Poking the shoulder of Ghirahim, he waited eagerly for a reply.
As he waited, he observed the light of the candle on the desk, dancing and flickering. It cast enormous shadows around both of them, hardly illuminating the place at all. Ghirahim turned a page. It seemed he had been ignored.
Zant poked again, a better response this time, as Ghirahim lifted his head. He flicks a corner of the book, turning as he apologizes. "I'm sorry, I was, well, reading, so I didn't-" Glasses, atop of his nose are quickly removed and stuffed into his belt. Zant lifts an eyebrow, and that's when Ghirahim knows when to give up.
"Reading glasses. If you think this is going to affect how I fight, you should know-"
"They suit you." It is said in Twili, the language of the ancient. Ghirahim casts away his eyes. He is well-versed in any language, even those from beyond his realm, even so, it always strikes him as too intimate compared to the universal Hylian language.
When they speak Twili, it's their own little world.
"What were you reading?" The king asks the blade. The privacy is almost suffocating, and he's almost choked up for words.
"A book on ancient Hylian History. I want to learn about... weapons." Ghirahim's Twili may need more practice, but with confident little steps in the language, he dares out of his comforting shell. Zant notices this, and can't help but to give praise where it is earned.
"Your Twili is remarkable for a foreigner." Ghirahim's eyes meet his in defiance.
"I am no foreigner to anywhere." It is without stutter and without hesitation that the language of the Twili dances from his throat and into the world. Zant sees this as his cue to exit, as their feud has already started to bore him. As he concentrates ancient energy above him, ready to transport him to his room where he may suffer from boredom in peace, he ties up any loose ends he could have.
"First of all, The book you are reading is not of weaponry, but of tales of Twili. Did you think I wouldn't notice the caricature of my people, even from a few feet away? Perhaps you need glasses after all?" The language of the Twili is like a soothing melody, dancing alone in a giant castle, echoing its own chords.
"Second of all, you aren't perfectly fluent in Twili. I'd explain your errors to you, but there's no such word available in Hylian to explain your grammatical errors."
He's almost completely absorbed by the teleporter, as he finishes with a single remark, spoken in the secret language of ancient artifacts, a language from which Ghirahim has taught him a few words here and there.
"Wear them to bed with me. They really suit you."
He's gone, and Ghirahim is alone with his studying again.
He picked up his glasses and put them on his nose, feeling as confident as ever.
"I know they suit me... I wear them for a reason. As if I actually need glasses." He made a show out of pushing the hair behind his ear, even if he knew no one was looking.
He tries to keep reading, but can't keep his focus for too long before he tosses the Twili book across the room.
"Damn it! As if his butchering of my language was perfect prepared to my Twili!"
Ghirahim kicked the book on the floor, letting the pages fly around him like a small parade, his frustration showing off. He teared the glasses off his face, nearly splitting them in half as he placed them on the table and stared them down.