A/N: Okay, a few notes on this one before you begin. First, this is an old-ish story, so apologies if there are any spelling/grammar/general writing mistakes along the way. Second, I realize that there is an "error" concerning the plot. I know that the volcano eruption thing did not happen at the same time that you go through the Fire Sanctuary, but I had to switch stuff around to make this work. Lastly, I am currently working on another story for FFXV, so this might not get updated for a while after I post chapter four, which is the last one I have already written. Apologies for that as well. With that said, enjoy the story!
Disclaimer: The Legend of Zelda is the property of Nintendo, not me. Probably a good thing. Feel blessed, everyone.
One
Link slowly turned the convoluted, golden key around in his gloved hands, looking at his honey-hued reflection in its surface. Even with his image slightly blurred by the dark amber color, he could still see the lines of tension in his face. He was nervous—he always was, standing before the great doors that marked the end of another ancient temple; marked the prelude to a long, nerve-wracking, oftentimes painful fight. He was more nervous now than ever, though, and for good reason.
He had lost the Goddess Sword, and with it, the company and guidance of Fi, the spirit that dwelt within the blade.
Naturally, he hadn't meant to, but when he had descended into Eldin Province to find the third and final Sacred Flame, the Flame of Power, a terrible eruption had burst forth from the volcano, sending him flying. He had landed hard, knocking his head painfully against a stone, and had blacked out. He had awoken to find himself a prisoner of the red-skinned Bokoblins, stripped of his all his weapons and equipment. After a long search made successful by covert movements and aid from the peaceful, treasure-hunting Mogmas, Link had managed to retrieve all of his gear.
All, that is, except for his sword.
He had looked everywhere, searched every Bokoblin camp, every cave and rock, had even asked the Mogmas if they had found it, but to no avail.
The Goddess Sword was gone, and so was Fi.
Sure, she had annoyed him at first, with her long explanations and strange, robotic way of speaking, but over time, Link had found his companion to be an immense source of calm on his journey. Now, he found her otherworldly, monotone voice to be very soothing in intense situations, especially when he was injured or facing down a new enemy.
Like he would have to do once he opened the door in front of him.
That was why he was nervous—no, more than just nervous, he was scared; terrified, even. His hands shook as he slowly inserted the golden key into the correct position in its lock. The door creaked ominously as it swung inward, and Link took a tremulous step forward, drawing the crude Bokoblin machete that he had taken from one of the red-skinned monsters from its resting place across his back. The door came to a stop on its great hinges, and Link knew he had to go forward. Perhaps the enemy beyond this door had somehow gotten a hold of the sword. Perhaps the Bokoblins had brought it to the creature lurking at the end of the ancient Fire Sanctuary as a gift. Or maybe he would be given help by an agent of the Goddess in the chamber that housed the Sacred Flame. Either way, he had to go forward and emerge victorious from the battle that awaited him.
He thought of Fi, another friend taken by the dark forces, and charged courageously forward.
•
The door, predictably, boomed shut behind Link when he entered, trapping him in the circular chamber with his enemy. His enemy... who stood with his back to Link, his long, crimson cloak draped over his deceptively wiry frame.
Link's mouth went dry.
No, no, no! This wasn't happening! He couldn't face him without the blade that vanquished evil, without Fi, his ever-present adviser. Of all the things that could have been awaiting him in this particular temple, why did it have to be him?
The cloaked figure turned slowly and deliberately to face Link, a little, disdainful smile on his lips.
"...Oh, hello there, Link," Ghirahim said, the young Hylian's name sliding off his long tongue like poisonous molasses, "I see you're still among the living." Another smile quirked at his pale lips, an expression that clearly said that, although he was among the living now, he soon wouldn't be.
"Fancy meeting you here." the Demon Lord finished with an unconcerned air.
Link didn't reply, but his grip tightened on the Bokoblin-made sword.
"We seem to bump into each other time and time again!" Ghirahim said smoothly, turning dramatically on one heel to face the rich paintings on the circular wall.
"Oh, it's no coincidence, though, is it?" he asked, though the question was clearly rhetorical.
"You and I, we're bound by a thread of fate!"
He spun back suddenly to face Link, tossing his sheet of white hair to the side with a gloved hand before spreading his arms wide and exclaiming with an abrupt change of topic "look at these old drawings! Until I found these, I was... upset about that little stunt the goddess's guard dog pulled at the Gate of Time. What was that twig's name again? Impa?" He paused for a moment, a disagreeable expression twitching at the corners of his mouth before he waved his hand absently and chuckled darkly.
"Well, never mind that, because these drawings suggest the existence of a second Gate of Time. This news has just filled my heart with rainbows!"
Despite this strange exclamation, Link felt a bubble of ire building in his chest. He knew now where the discussion was leading, and it brought with it a fast-growing rage. The self-proclaimed Demon Lord was still speaking as he turned a full circle and waved a hand about to draw attention to the various pictures displayed about the room.
"I've been a busy boy, searching here and there and everywhere for a second Gate of Time." he stated, then snapped his fingers and disappeared in a flurry of white, gold and black diamonds. Knowing that Ghirahim had yet to finish his speech, Link sensed he would reappear somewhere in the room to complete his soliloquy. He cast his gaze about, and was rewarded when his enemy revealed himself again, about a meter to his left.
"And yet," the Demon Lord continued, a pout creeping into his tone, "I couldn't even find a single clue. Since I know I can be honest with you, I'll admit I got a little sulky. It was frowns all around."
He vanished a second time, this time reappearing on a ledge above the far door.
"The thought of never getting my hands on that darling young girl again was... well, more than I could bear."
The anger in Link's chest felt as if it was about to burst out of him. This overly-dramatic, demon lord dog was back on Zelda's—his Zelda's!—trail now, he was sure of it. The Hyilan's face contorted into a snarl, and his hand was gripping the crude sword so hard now that, had he not been wearing gloves, his knuckles would have showed white.
"But then!" Ghirahim shouted suddenly, vaulting off the ledge and diving to the ground, only to disappear a third time before he hit the ground. Link whipped his head left, then right, trying to predict where he would show himself next. He was hardly surprised, though no less repulsed, when he felt two slender hands on his shoulders and the warm breath of his enemy on his pointed ear.
Ghirahim had appeared behind him.
"Then I found this place!" the Demon Lord whispered darkly. "And the prospect of a second Gate of Time has made me positively giggly!"
Revolted and outraged, Link spun around, swinging the machete at Ghirahim, intending to cleave the vile man in half. The Demon Lord jumped back, nimbly avoiding the strike, and frowned. His no-doubt pre-prepared speech going unfinished as he straightened up, pointed disgustedly at the sword in the young hero's right hand, and asked, repelled, "what in all of vile Hylia's land is that thing!?"
Link, his face a mask of anger and his hands nearly trembling with rage, didn't even try to conceal the acid in his voice.
"It's called a sword, noroma!"
"It's not your usual weapon." Ghirahim stated. "What happened to that cursed goddess sword?"
"I don't see why it's any of your business!" Link shot back with a growl.
Ghirahim's pale face suddenly went a shade lighter and he murmured softly "by the name of the Dark Lord, you lost it didn't you?"
Link clenched his teeth, wondering how the crimson cloaked figure in front of him had guessed the truth so quickly.
"I didn't lose it." he lied.
Ghirahim raised what would have been eyebrow, had the Demon Lord possessed any.
"Oh, you didn't did you? Well, if you didn't lose it, where is it now?"
"It's... safe." Link floundered. He was a terrible liar.
"'Safe?'" Ghirahim echoed skeptically. Link nodded stiffly. Ghirahim dropped his face into his palm and moaned disbelievingly.
"You have absolutely no idea where it is, do you?"
Link opened his mouth to respond, but Ghirahim answered for him.
"No, you don't. So don't try to lie again. You really are perfectly dreadful at it, aren't you? Urgh! I can't believe you lost it, foolish boy!"
"I didn't lose it!" Link retorted, a bit confused by the whole conversation, "it was stolen from me!"
"Stolen!? You let it get stolen!?" Ghirahim burst out.
"I was unconscious!" Link shouted back, though now he wasn't as angry at Ghirahim as he was at himself. He felt the loss of the sword and of his companion keenly, and, worst of all, he knew it was his fault.
Ghirahim growled in frustration—though exactly why he was frustrated was beyond Link—and spun away from the Hylian, both hands covering his face, his head thrown back. He stood like that for a few silent moments, before he seemed to take a steadying breath and said, quite calmly and seriously "alright then. I suppose we'll just have to go steal it back."