I've been meaning to write a fic for Team Villain for a while now, but as I have not written fanfiction for years I had a hard time figuring out how I would do so. Even still, this came out much longer than I had anticipated, much differently than I had anticipated, and I will probably end up writing even more of it later.
Looks can be deceiving, as can first impressions. When Ghirahim first laid eyes on his new partner, everything seemed like it would be just fine. The creature was tall, and his bizarre alien features were certainly intimidating, as was his booming voice that was only rivaled by Ganondorf's own. They had no chance to even get each other's names before they were sent into battle. Their first mission together would be clearing the Gerudo Desert of monsters who would not owe their allegiance to the demon king. As Ghirahim watched the creature charge straight for a group of their foes and bring them down with only a few swipes of his scimitars, the sword spirit couldn't help but feel like his master truly had picked the right man to fight beside him.
And then the creature received a blow from a bokoblin's club.
And his true nature came to the front.
"OWWIEE! HELP ME!" came the ear-bleeding shriek from halfway across the desert.
Ghirahim visibly flinched at the sound, as did every creature around him. He turned to see if he could locate the source of such a horrendous cry, but only saw Ganondorf grit his teeth, break off from the lizalfos he was engaged in combat with, and dash across the dune in the direction the shout had emanated from. Left confused and without explanation, the spirit returned to the task he had been given.
But his peace did not last, as even after the assistance of his master, Ghirahim continued to hear shrieks, cries, moans, and even giggles, all of which arose in tones that could shatter glass. About halfway through their mission, the spirit finally learned just what had been making such a cacophony. The creature Ganondorf had summoned along with Ghirahim had been carving his way through enemies, marking every attack, both his and his enemies, with a wild noise. Ghirahim watched, speechless, as the creature summoned a large stone-like hand from the sky, and proceeded to beat his own fists into the ground to make the hand repeatedly smack and flatten bokoblins against the sand. With each strike of the hand, the creature let out a sharp giggle. Even after leaning his whole body from one side to the other in order to direct the hand into two magic walls and the creature had taken up his swords again, he was hardly any more graceful with dispatching the remaining monsters. His strikes were uncalculated, untrained, random, and wasted far more energy than was necessary. Ghirahim began to wonder if the creature even knew the meaning of the word "tired", but got his answer after only a few minutes of watching him out of the corner of his eye. After a series of long, not-at-all thought out strikes, the creature drooped and panted for a few seconds, ignoring his enemies' attacks as he caught his breath.
Just what was Ganondorf thinking?!
After the long battle, Ghirahim learned that the creature was a Twili by the name of Zant. He had once been a puppet of Ganondorf's and through the demon king's power had usurped the throne of the Twilight Realm. Ghirahim remembered hearing something about him from Volga and Wizzro, but hadn't felt the need to remember every detail as he despised spending time with the both of them, as well as Cia. It was explained to him that while Zant's methods were certainly unorthodox, and his cries were hardly standable, he was a valuable asset to their conquering of Hyrule, and that Ghirahim was to tolerate him.
And tolerate Zant Ghirahim certainly tried to. For the most part, it wasn't a hard task. Zant kept to himself and his own little corner of the camp. During most of the day he would stay hidden in his tent to avoid direct sunlight, and at night he would come out to eat, stretch his limbs, and whatever else he needed to do. He didn't talk much, but the spirit was thankful that when he did, it was in that same deep rumble he had first spoken in. Ghirahim also found that when Zant spoke, he would first stop and think for a few seconds before uttering anything. At first Ghirahim went to his master in order to learn anything about the Twili, but after the tenth or twentieth question, Ganondorf had grown tired of answering and instead instructed the spirit to go and ask Zant instead.
One evening, just before the sun fully slipped behind the horizon, the spirit's curiosity piqued, and he decided that it would be best to do as Ganondorf had said, as the demon king had holed himself up in his own private quarters. Ghirahim made his way through the camp, twisting and turning this way and that to avoid the careless bokoblins that cluttered his path. He approached the Twili's small section and was mildly surprised to find it empty save for Zant. It seemed the spirit wasn't the only one who wished to avoid the strange creature.
"What could possibly be in this single, dismal tent that could keep any sane man occupied for hours on end?" Ghirahim asked.
From his seat on the ground, the Twili jumped in surprise at being spoken to and turned his large orange eyes up at Ghirahim quizzically. His lips parted half a centimeter and the spirit could see the gears turning his head.
"I'm thinking." Zant replied. "And I'm watching. Watching your allies and learning about them is important, yes?"
"For three days, without stopping? I've spent a thousand years in solitude, working only towards a singular goal. I am more than aware at how droll one's own thoughts become after a time."
What could pass for a smile imparted itself onto Zant's features. "Then I am lucky that you came to talk to me."
Ghirahim was taken aback by such a remark. Thankfully he was spared from trying to think of something to say to that by the sound of the monsters announcing that the evening feast had begun. Zant moaned softly as he stared passed the spirit and got to his feet. No matter how many times Ghirahim watched the way Zant more floated up from a sitting position than he stood, he felt he would never get used to it. As he stepped passed Ghirahim, Zant turned his little smile down at him again for a moment.
"The large beasts that the creatures roast are delicious. What are they called again?"
"Bulbos?" Ghirahim replied, raising an eyebrow.
Zant nodded once. "Yes, those. Bul…bulbos. Try them sometime, if you can."
And thus began the process that Zant would later call the "Twili-Spirit bonding period". When they were not out on the field, and their master wished to be left alone, Ghirahim would inevitably wander over to Zant's tent and join him in conversation. At first it was hardly more exchanging a few words before the evening meal, but the time they spent together steadily grew into conversing with one another for hours until the Twili would become too tired to speak Hylian coherently.
That was one of the first things Ghirahim learned. While Zant's command of their language was astounding, it was not his first, and there were many times it showed. Zant explained that when Ganondorf had imbued him with his powers, he had also imparted onto him the Hylian that Zant now spoke. Because it had not been a natural learning, improving his vocabulary was sometimes difficult at best. This became a problem whenever Ghirahim would tell stories about his era, as much of the spirit's flowery language was lost on the Twili. Nevertheless, Zant proved to be a good listener, and would sit quietly and watch the spirit's dramatic movements with interest as he took in every word that was said, even if he couldn't understand half of it.
Ghirahim told Zant all about how he wished to revive his master and creator, Demise, and how he was positive that Ganondorf was somehow his reincarnation. Ghirahim also explained that though took on the (beautiful, stunning, perfect, and fabulous) form of a demon, he was the spirit of a sword that Demise had wielded a very long time ago. Zant told tales about the Twilight realm, and how he had once tried to spread the Twilight to the world they are in now. Ghirahim was surprised to hear that the hero of Zant's era had taken the form of a wolf at some point, and could not imagine how he must have looked like.
What perhaps was the most startling to Ghirahim was the revelation of Zant's relative age. He didn't know how Twili grew and developed, but by giving Zant several reference points of Hylian ages, Zant was able to conclude that he would be somewhere between a fifteen to eighteen year old. The spirit had taken him to be older, but he was perhaps just a little younger than the hero himself.
One morning, Ghirahim found Ganondorf hastily gathering supplies together. At first he thought the demon king was planning for them to move out, but when questioned, all he said was that he had something he wished to do, and that he was going to do it alone.
"I will be back tomorrow evening. Until then, you and Zant are to ensure that they" he gestured to the large camp of sleeping monsters, "are kept in check. I trust you are able to do this?"
With little more than a nod, the large Gerudo turned on his heel and began his trek across the dunes. Left with nothing else to do all day, Ghirahim sought out the Twili's company yet again. Zant was surprised to find the spirit waiting for him in his tent when he awoke, and let out a little moan when he was told of Ganondorf's departure. While he didn't say it aloud, Zant was overjoyed at the prospect of spending even more time with Ghirahim.
Before the Twili had eaten, Ghirahim sat with him in his tent as the ex-usurper king went about his morning routine. After breakfast, Zant dusted off the large, garish helmet that he wore in battle, and even polished it a bit with his over-long sleeves. He drew little doodles in the sand with a stick, and Ghirahim soon became able to decipher that what he was drawing was the layout of a castle. Zant used it to explain how the Twili castle had looked to Ghirahim, as the spirit had shown a curiosity about it before. Ghirahim in turn drew out a rough sketch of how the world looked in his era, and both marveled at how different it was to how the world looked now.
As noon drew closer, the two found themselves at a lack of conversation. It was then that Zant brought out his swords and began to polish and sharpen them to stave off boredom. Ghirahim watched with great interest as the Twili expertly drew the whetstone across each side of the blades multiple times. He brought them close to his face to inspect them better, lightly touching the blade with a fingertip before resuming his task. He gave a single moan of satisfaction once they were sharp enough for his liking. Ghirahim noted somewhere in the back of his mind that he did not find Zant's littler moans grating, but still had to wonder how anyone with a speaking voice like the Twili's could produce such a sound, or any of the ones he heard all too frequently on the battlefield. It was only a vague thought, though, as he was once more enraptured with watching Zant wipe down his blades with a soft silken cloth. Ghirahim felt a shiver run down his spine, which did not go unnoticed by Zant.
"Is something wrong?" he inquired innocently.
"No." he lied. "There is nothing wrong with me." Ghirahim's eyes focused in on Zant's hands for a moment before they widened in disgust. "However it appears there is something wrong with you."
Zant let out a short squawk and tucked his hands back into his sleeves. He hurriedly put his scimitars away and began to fidget with the tassels on the end of his sleeves. Ghirahim was not going to let him get away with it, though, and reached out to take Zant's hands in his own. Zant squirmed and avoided looking at Ghirahim as best he could, and the spirit noted what was probably a blush on his cheeks. Zant prayed silently that Ghirahim would not make a big deal about his fingers, as even among Twili it was unusual for the middle two fingers to be shorter than the outer two. This was not what had caught Ghirahim's attention, however, as the spirit had no other Twili to compare Zant to and as such thought it was common.
"Your nails are hideous!" the spirit declared. "You tend to your weapons in a manner that could arouse any sword spirit, and yet you do not even bother to keep your nails clean?!"
The Twili let out another confused squawk and stared at Ghirahim, completely baffled that his fingernails were what had caught his attention. He also made note to ask what "arouse" meant later. With a sigh and a snap of his fingers, Ghirahim summoned a metal nail file and began to pick the dirt and grains of sand out from under the Twili's nails. Zant fidgeted a lot at first, but stopped after the second or third, and after one hand had been finished, decided he actually kind of enjoyed the weird attention he was receiving. Once all nails had been cleaned as best they could be in their situation, Ghirahim began filing them. Zant's nails were jagged, and tougher than a Hylian's, so they were difficult to shape the way Ghirahim had originally intended. In the end he settled on shaping them more like claws. When the spirit declared that Zant's nails were now passable, the Twili held them out in front of him and let out a soft wail of delight.
"I will strike you a deal, Zant." Ghirahim began, getting the Twili to turn those large orange eyes on him again. "I will continue to keep your nails, and your fingers too, immaculate, if you will continue to allow me to watch you tend to your swords."
Zant tilted his head to one side quizzically, but as he did not receive any explanation, was left to decide that he liked the way his nails looked and that he enjoyed the attention Ghirahim had given him. And clearly Ghirahim must have liked something about the way Zant tended to his weapons. Another smile painted itself onto his features and he gave an enthusiastic, singular nod.
It was then that a loud ruckus within the camp began, and Ghirahim and Zant had to step out from the shady comfort of Zant's tent in order to settle the fight that had broken out among the bokoblins over a large pot of boiling water.
SPOILERS: I plan for this to get very crack-y later on, (and it is going to incorporate a lot of my own headcanons) as this is mostly exposition. Also, this is an OT3 fic, not a GhiraZant fic. Ganon just doesn't do much this time around because Ghirahim and Zant are the two who really don't know each other and again, this is exposition.
I'll be updating this as often as I feel like, so don't expect any sort of schedule. I'm also only going to be writing this until I get burned out, so it will go on as long as it does. There will also be NO SMUT, but there may be "off screen" sexy times. If you came here for smut, you will be disappointed.