The sound of skin being smacked — almost sounded like metal being banged against stone — resonated throughout the quarters, followed by a dull thud; the demon's knees hitting the floor.
"I'm sorry, master," he pleaded and bowed, "Please forgive my insolence."
The Gerudo gazed down at him, his cool, gold eyes not making any attempt to hide the distaste he felt in his blade's actions. "Don't apologize to me, I am not the one you insulted."
Few weeks passed since that incident, yet Ghirahim still felt the sting of Ganondorf's palm against his hard cheek, like he had been struck only moments ago. The burn especially felt intense when he watched him fight. The one whom he had received punishment for. Rather unrightfully so if you asked Ghirahim considering he was a mess, anyone would have made fun of him.
Yet, Ganondorf made sure to engrave that rule into his mind— and into his cheek: Do not slander your comrades.
He never did apologize to Zant like his master had advised. It wasn't as if Ganondorf said he had to, he just said he should. Ghirahim felt he didn't owe the squabbling Twili jack, so he didn't.
"Ouchies! I'm bleeding!"
It was strange, he thought, how that man could go from speaking like the king he apparently was to whining like a child. It seemed he would have to come to his rescue. Again.
"Oh, Ghirahim! Look out!" The Twili had pushed back his enemies enough to momentarily cease fighting and shout over to the demon.
A group of Goron soldiers had made their way behind Ghirahim while he had been inattentive to his surroundings for that moment of time. His reaction to Zant's warning wasn't as quick as it should have been, he didn't understand what he was yelling about for the first second, and he realized he wouldn't be ending this brawl unscathed—
As soon as he thought that, a blur of neon aquamarine and black sprinted to him and took out the Gorons in one fell swoop. For once, that useless Twili had been the one to come to aid his folly.
"It is unlike you to make a mistake like that," Zant said with, shockingly, concern. "Are you feeling unwell?"
Ghirahim only expressed outright umbrage, "I did not need you to assist me, I would have handled it fine on my own."
"Really?" He hummed in disbelief, but nodded nonetheless, "You always rescue me, I thought it would be good if I did the same."
He hissed. "And what made you think that?"
"We are comrades, we work as one. Just as you protect me, I must protect you."
Ghirahim opened his mouth to make another retort, but closed it when he realized he had no words to say. He was taken aback by Zant's reply; how noble, he thought, but their master had said something similar to him. The small amount of guilt he felt that had ebbed away earlier now showed itself again. There was only one way to diminish such an awfully mundane feeling;
"Sorry." He grunted lowly, hoping it was quiet enough for Zant not to hear.
It was not, unfortunately. A high-pitched squeal of confusion left his throat before waving his hands in front of him feverishly, "No, no, not at all. Like I said, you always rescue me, so—"
"Not for that."
Zant fell silent for a few a seconds as he thought, but came to no conclusion. "Then...for what?"
Ghirahim sighed loudly and dramatically, swinging his arms around Zant's shoulders and neck and pulling him to his side. Zant, predictably, was in utter shock of his sudden and unexpected actions. He made odd moaning noises and sputtered something in a language that was completely lost on Ghirahim, but he decided it was probably nonsense anyway.
"Nevermind that, we have yet to complete our mission."
Depending on how he looked at it, Ghirahim technically apologized to Zant as Ganondorf had advised him to.