Hands fisted in material, before throwing it over a tree branch just over head and quickly tacking to the ground. The sound of thunder rumbled in the distance and Link tilted her head to one side, gauging how long she had to set up camp.
After deciding it would be a little while before the storm hit, Link's strong hands continued to tug her small camp into place, the tent large enough for a bed roll although it was unshealtered from two sides, it was enough to keep her semi dry from the down pour.
Hence why the hero pitched it near a cliff wall. One less side to worry about.
She rolled her shoulders before sliding into the tent and rolling out her bedroll and carefully set out the soft fabric that made up the growing map of the surface, and Link carefully wrote down where she had travelled away from Faron, attempting to find new places that she had never seen before.
The hero was sure she could get back to the small settlement of Hyrule, and she had taken the liberty of monitoring the relationship of Zelda and Groose and prevent a possible creation of life before they were ready. After all, neither of them had the time to dedicate to a young child yet.
Zelda would make a great mom, after all, she had technically mothered an entire race as Hylia. Caring for one small child would be easy for her hopefully.
And then there was Link. Mention her settling down with any old person and her nose wrinkled. She didn't have much of an interest in any of the others she lived with, and procreating was the last thing the hero needed. She wasn't overly excited about continuing her bloodline, leaving that for the other clear couples.
Besides, the one person she even considered doing such a thing wouldn't be able to have a child with her.
She laughed. "The purpose in society that women are only good for bearing children needs a reality check." She muttered as she drew a few more lines on the fabric.
The hero put the ink and brush away, cleaning the bristles first in a small bottle of water meant for that purpose. Ingesting the ink made from various bugs and plants was something she wished not to do ever.
The map needed to dry first, so she pulled out the simple blade she used now, pulling out a whetstone and looking over the edges. Some areas needed a little TLC, so she put thinking on the back burner and started to sharpen the sword, running a cloth along the edge every so often , the thick fabric holding a polish to help it get the shine.
There was a sense of loss as she sighed, missing the feel of the Master Sword. It had never needed this as she travelled with Fi, and she missed the sword spirit deeply, the man's face was always set in a neutral expression. His voice was monotone, and was a high pitch, easily mistaken for a woman's. In a way, Link missed him.
And then there was Ghirahim. She entranced her. Link hated her and she hated Link, but at the same time they respected each other. It was an odd relationship.
She did not know what happened to her but after the fall of Demise, she presumed she had died, and she swore off the romantic partners. Not many turned her eye, except her.
She was pulled out of her thoughts to the sound of rain falling against her tent and she sighed, finishing one edge of the blade and continuing to work on the other.
If Ghirahim was still alive, Link had to wonder what she was up to, or if she was even capable of causing any problems.
But there was a part of her that craved... Craved what? She craved something but had no words on her tongue, falling mute even in her thoughts.
She had no words for what the dense heat was. It was a desire for something, and she needed release. Link had been wound tight like a spring for ages and now with her just there alone, the sensations she had stepped on to keep them from controlling every thought she had was just too much to be kept down now, and there was nothing that she could use.
If it was the drive for battle, Link had long since won the fight, and she would be no better than the Demon Lord, who sought opponents to fight and end, until her own end.
Blue eyes flicked closed and the hero tuned out of her thoughts and to the pattering of rain against the sap coated canvas to keep the rain from soaking her and her things.
A sharp pain started in her chest. It was a small dot of pain, but it suddenly grew until her body felt on fire, the source of it seeming to be the hottest, and her mind didn't know which way to make her body curl; outwards, or inwards to attempt to control this pain.
Was this how Ghirahim felt?
The pain in the center intensified and pulled, as if something needed to be freed from her desperately. The pulling waned and waxed, and with each harsh tug, a scream sounded from her mouth, and before long, tears streamed down her face, and she had not known when she had slumped uselessly to the floor.
Was this how she felt when Demise tore his sword from her?
Did she feel this useless?
Link had no idea when everything faded into nothingness.
Sunlight streamed into the tent, and it was what Link opened her eyes on, and the hero glanced around, pushing herself to all fours. It felt like she had been mowed over by one of the snails in Lanayru; the exact name of the creature escaped her. The hero lifted a hand and pressed it to her chest, feeling herself. Her breasts felt sore, most likely due to the way she had been lying on them.
A quick glance outside proved things were quite wet, and she got to her feet, wandering out to dismantle her camp, shaking water off of canvas and packing it away into a rucksack. The bags amazed her, as she could fit various things into her adventure pouch and rucksack, and it was like she carried empty bags.
Her bedroll was the last to be tucked away, and the hero sighed, brushing stray hairs out of her eyes and continued to keep plodding on through the unknown area, stopping every so often to hastily draw out the little more of the map.
Her map making skills were hardly professional, and the maps she made were just rough outlines for others to fly on overhead and map out further. She had to find a way to know where she was going, and paused to check the one of the compasses she had kept from the dungeons. Why they ended up like that, with each dungeon having a map and a compass that seemed to be enchanted to pull her in the direction of undiscovered treasure chests, escaped her. When she had finished her quest, they had merely become everyday articles.
A quick glance at the sky told her that she was around midday, as the shadows cast on the ground told the same story.
Link was a mere child still. She had yet to find her feet in the world, and Ghirahim's perfect white lips would smirk in satisfaction as she watched her precious little plaything run around without much clue.
A dark sense of foreboding passed over the young woman, and she quickly glanced around the area around her and sketched it down on the map. A certain chill found its way up her neck and she shuddered before noticing an arch span the thinner part along the sides of the roots, a tree twisting its way around metal posts.
Old, dark marks were scorched into the bark, as if a long time ago there had been a fire that had taken place at this area.
And she stepped forward, stumbling over on her own feet, passing through the arch. The next sight had caught her off guard, and she audibly gasped, clamping her hands over her mouth, even though she was alone. It was unknown what lay within the spanse of this area.
What it was appeared to be a village, long ago destroyed and pillaged. The remnants of houses were dark, dead poles of ash that should have been eaten away by time itself, but here it stood on its own throughout the ages. Not to mention the fire, or whatever had caused the damage in the first place should have destroyed it totally.
Foolish girl. A suave voice inflitrated her head, and she waved a hand as if trying to sweep whoever it was away from her. You and I are bound by the thread of fate, do you really think I would go down that easily? Come find me. You are close to me. I doubt you would like me finding you, my dear Skychild.
Link sighed, picking up the pace, glancing around her surrounding every moment she could, eyes shifting around. The hero occasionally turned around, walking backwards, and once she had reached the other end of the village, she turned around, checking each part of the destroyed place people had once called home.
The hero continued exploring slowly before blinking at the ruins that seemed to be in the best condition, and she walked to it, placing a hand on what would have been a doorframe, the door itself having long been kicked in and destroyed.
Her breath caught as her feet carried her inside, her stomach twisting up with a sharp pain. An arm wrapped around as if to try and soothe her stomach. She felt distanced from her own body.
The main room was torched to the afterlife and back, but the only thing that was untouched was obviously a new addition to the housing she was currently in. The sword that Demise had used in battle; still as dark, sharp and looking like you would be sliced merely by looking at it. It was the source of the problems Link had gone through in the last while, going all the way back to her former peaceful life on Skyloft.
Now every day was an adventure.
Link's fingers danced along her thigh, staring at the wicked blade. She took a breath before stepping forwards, curling her dirty fingers around the hilt.
The sword was heavier than expected, partially because Link was maladjusted to a heavy sword, and the blade was new to Link. It was a struggle to pick the weapon up.
Link had to hold it in both hands, her feet apart to brace her. Her grip tightened, waiting for Ghirahim to harm her before she heard three audible beeps.
"Wielder recognized." Ghirahim's sharp tongue was subdued in the same manner Fi's was, robotic and uncaring. There was no emotional intonation to her voice. "Mast - Mistress Link." There was a short break between the two forms of address, switching to the proper name.
"Excuse my mistake, mistress." The apology was forced, and the hilt warmed up rapidly, forcing Link to drop it.
As the blade fell, it lit up, changing shape into a humanoid form, going from dark skin to pale grey, clothes appearing on a nude body before the older woman straightened up. Her makeup was as flawless as ever, but her eyes were aged and distant. Link wondered how that look of pride had changed.
Ghirahim eyed Link just as warily as the hero eyed her before turning away. "Just because you are my mistress, it does not mean I am going to willingly submit. You must earn that, unlike earning the right to wield my blade." She curtly spoke, a hand running through white hair, longer than Link remembered.
Ghirahim curled her fingers into her hair at the back of her head, containing it in a handful. An extra three hand lengths were present. Her free hand rose up with one of the knives she used in battle, the hand holding her hair slipping down an inch. The demon slipped the blade under the curtain of hair, and neatly pulled up.
The hair at the back of her head fell back into place, the rest held in Ghirahim's hand. She stared at it, turning back to face Link.
"This haircut shall do for now." She spoke, dropping the handful to the ground and smearing her foot through the white strands, covering them with old charcoal.
Link watched as beautiful white became tainted. The hero stared at her enemy, or her weapon now, a frown on her face. She wordlessly questioned Ghirahim's actions, watching as she threaded her fingers through the longer curtain of hair, a look of distaste on her features.
The Demon Lord's fingers curled into her palm, a breathy sigh exhaled from her nose. She quickly tucked her bangs behind her strange ear, turning away as she revealed her less than perfect side of her head.
"Why did you call me mistress?" Link asked her after a silent moment, both hero and weapon locked in a staring contest.
"Because you are the only person alive at this moment who is worthy of having access to my blade." Ghirahim stepped past her, wiping dirty feet off on long green grass, the greys and blacks smudged with greens and browns. It only served to make her scowl more.
She moved her hands over her chest, brushing over the two breasts she had used against Link a little unfairly during their encounters, quickly discovering Link's true sexuality. She had taunted her about running after her best friend, and after making a certain remark, grinned at how Link had flushed.
Ghirahim refused to let her off easily after that, being persistent and quite invading with her personal space. Given, Ghirahim had pressed herself against Link, so those... Breasts of hers had been against her back, fingers creeping around to brush over Link's own, her chest a little smaller.
Ghirahim seemed to be checking over her body, hands smoothing down her taut and muscular stomach and over her narrow hips. Most women would be more of a broad build there, but Ghirahim curiously wasn't. She walked out of sight of Link for a moment before returning.
"What were you doing?" Link raised an eyebrow.
"I was merely checking if my body was functional. Time locked in a sword is not good for a spirit's flesh and blood. I... Needed to check a few things out." She didn't miss how one hand pressed against her lower stomach briefly, possibly a habit of comfort, but that was an idea that fled her mind quite quickly as a downtrodden expression changed her pretty features for a moment.
Link was going to admit the woman that now served her was pretty, and she had long accepted the fact that she frustrated the hero in more than one way. More than once, Link had caught herself wondering what Ghirahim's bare body would look like, or how soft or chapped her lips were.
She had seen Ghirahim's naked body for only a few moments, but there hadn't been any details show to her, except the curves she saw anyways.
The demon quickly adjusted her top. "I'd say we should return to where you started from." Ghirahim spoke. "As there is nothing here for you to find other than myself." She glared at Link for a moment before her new mistress nodded and Link stepped forwards, taking the sword off her back and slipping it into her rucksack, and placing her shield on her arm.
"How heavy will you be for me?"
"Hopefully as light as a feather and not as large once I adjust to you being my source of strength." The last comment flew over the Hero's head, and she made a mental note to ask her at night about it.
Ghirahim was going to be... Interesting to live with.