A short thing I wrote after working on HW icons for my Ghirahim and HW Zelda rp blogs.
He stood there in a scarf of blue wrapped around his neck. Blue eyes were attentive as ever, and he held a sword in his hand. It was not the sword that he so labouriously crafted, it was clear some time had passed since they had fought in the sealed grounds and then his master sealed him away into his sword.
He was free again to fight, to destroy the human brats that brought him so very low. So low, bokoblins hardly recognised his status. His master was dead, thanks to that boy.
Yet, when their eyes met, confusion lit them. Had he forgotten his enemy? The one he fought with tooth and claw to protect his goddess, the hero that twisted and tore him apart in ways he did not have words for, the very boy who ended who he was?
And that boy seemingly did not recognise him.
"You lived. How… infuriating. I was about to forgive you for what you had done, yet, here you are, standing against me yet again. Maybe I shall let things slide if you join me." He held his hand out to the boy, and his expression merely furrowed further in confusion.
A fairy fluttered around the boy's head. "Who're you?" A soprano voice asked him, flying a foot away from the hero with the scarf. Her voice was laced with confusion, just as deep as the boy's expression told.
"It seems I must introduce myself yet again to you, skychild, but it seems that you are not who I remember." Ghirahim tilted his head back slightly, before raising his other hand and moving his feet. "I am the demon that was once in charge of these lands once known as the surface. You may call me… Ghirahim."
Recognition sparked in the hero's eyes, but quickly faded as confusion once again took it's place.