Ghirahim couldn't quite describe the sense of confusion and apprehension that came over him as he was carried into a warm and steamy bathroom. Certainly, the warmth was welcome and the idea of a bath was more than a bit tantalizing, but he didn't understand what he had done to earn this sort of treatment from his makeshift caretaker.
"You sit tight for a moment." Link grunted, placing Ghirahim on the floor and positioning the demon's broken leg as comfortably as he could. "I'll be right back."
Ghirahim nodded slowly, watching the boy's every move with cautious eyes. He better not do anything kinky. That is my job. He couldn't imagine Link being very good at kinky things anyway, but the demon lord knew exactly what he would be doing if he got his enemy wounded and alone in a bathroom.
But there didn't appear to be any sort of trap or ulterior motive, and Link walked out of the room without another word, leaving Ghirahim to survey his surroundings in peace.
The chamber itself was rather spacious, and the bathtub was of considerable size and lined with stones, looking more like a small pond than anything. There was a faint smell of lavender wafting through the steamy room, and forest plants were scattered around the tub and along the walls, giving the room an overall sense of calm and relaxation.
Link stepped in and kicked the door shut behind him, holding a large bundle in his arms, and Ghirahim tossed him a smirk.
"Quite the bathhouse you have here."
Link shrugged. "Some of the worst hygiene in the world takes place at the Knight Academy. When I decided to make a home on the Surface, a bathroom was one of the first things I sketched out." He put his cargo on the floor and unrolled some of it, running a hand through his bed-tousled hair. "I got new clothes, bandages, a few potions, and a fairy in a bottle."
Ghirahim nodded his head, glancing at the stuff and nodding with a somewhat impressed expression. "Fabulous."
And then came a solid twenty seconds of awkward silence.
Ghirahim looked around slowly and then turned back to Link. "Are you waiting for something?"
"Just for you to be ready to get in," the hero replied, jerking his head in the general direction of the bathtub.
Ghirahim blinked incredulously and stared for several moments before narrowing his eyes, shaking his head as Link's words sink in. "Now wait just a minute, Skychild. I may be injured but I am certainly capable of bathing myself."
Link raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms over his chest, tapping a foot impatiently. "Oh, really?"
"Yes, really," Ghirahim insisted.
Link shook his head, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "Ghirahim, it's 2:15 in the morning, and I really don't want to fight with you. Can you cooperate with me just this once?"
Ghirahim clenched his fists, growling low in his throat. "I don't need your help."
"Fine. Then want my help or something."
"Not on your life!" Ghirahim grasped the cabinet to his right and pulled himself to his feet. "I may be sick, and I may be injured, but don't think I'm at your mercy because—"
"I don't care what you're at, I just want you to let me help you."
Ghirahim jabbed his finger into Link's chest, snarling. "I am not accepting help from some filthy, weak, goddess-serving—"
"Enough, Ghirahim."
"—lowlife, ignorant, worthless human bag of fle—"
Pain exploded over his left cheek, and his head snapped to the side, his grip failing and sending him back to the floor, stars spotting his vision.
"I said enough, Ghirahim."
Ghirahim raised his gaze, lightly brushing his fingers against his cheek. He blinked, blood trickling down his nose.
"Let me help you."
Ghirahim exploded, struggling to get to his feet again and failing. "Help me? Help me? You chain me to a bed, force me to accept medical attention, put me on my knees at your feet asking for shelter from a goddess-forsaken thunderstorm, utterly humiliate me at every opportunity, and then you want to help me?"
There was silence, the demon's screams seeming to bounce from wall to wall despite the lack of acoustics in the small room. Neither of them said a word, staring at each other without blinking, refusing to back down.
Then Link took a step forward and reached out, taking a hold of the bloodied tunic and looking at Ghirahim as if asking for permission to remove it. The demon sighed, shaking his head and sinking back against the wall in defeat.
Link raised the shirt over his head and tossed it into the corner. "Earring?" he asked softly.
Ghirahim removed the jewel and allowed Link to place it on the counter, still fuming.
Link ignored it and pulled the demon to his feet, wrapping one arm around him and holding Ghirahim's arm over his own shoulder to give him some support. He turned his head aside, and Ghirahim glared at his blonde hair, realizing he was allowing the elder to strip with a small amount of privacy.
Sighing, Ghirahim stripped the pants off of his legs and tossed them on top of his discarded tunic. "Alright. I'm ready."
Link slid his foot to the left until he reached the bathtub and then moved the injured demon alongside him, all without looking away from the wall. Ghirahim huffed and grumbled nonetheless and slid his left foot in, the rest of his body quickly following.
It wasn't that he was ashamed of his body—in fact, on any other occasion, he would have loved to show off his physique—but he was sick, and injured, and weak-looking, and in a situation where he was not in control.
"You in?"
Ghirahim nodded, throwing Link's hand away from him and leaning back into the hot, soapy water. Link turned to look at him and leaned over the edge of the bathtub, grabbing the shampoo bottle and squirting some into his hands.
"Ghirahim…" he started, digging his fingers into the demon's scalp and washing his now off-white hair. Then he sighed, combing the lord's bangs back out of his eyes so he wouldn't get soap in them. "Geeze."
Ghirahim scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest with no little indignation. "You are just full of insight and wisdom," he quipped.
Link swiftly dunked Ghirahim under the water without warning, sending a flood of liquid through his mouth and nose before jerking him back up.
"Link!"
Ghirahim pinched the bridge of his nose, trying desperately to alleviate the burn, while Link simply grabbed a cup and dipped it into the water, pouring it over Ghirahim's head as his free hand worked the soap out. Ghirahim kept his eyes, nose, and mouth shut, waiting for the process to be over.
"Well, I'm not sure what to say." Link grabbed the other bottle from the shelf and sighed once more. "On one hand, I'm sorry for making you feel humiliated. On the other, I think it's good for you."
"Good for me?"
Link must have sensed Ghirahim's intent to stand, because he placed a hand on his shoulder to keep him down and continued to speak, massaging his head with conditioner all the while. "You may be a demon, and you may have magic, but you are not better than me, Ghirahim. You're not, and you think that you are."
"I—"
A sharp smack on his shoulder cut him off.
"Quiet, I'm talking." Ghirahim's jaw went slack, but Link just kept going as if he didn't see it. "I think being, as you call it, at the mercy of someone else will do you good and open your eyes to different perspectives. Perhaps in the future, I will have a different verdict, but for now, I will not apologize for anything that has happened to you since you got here." Link nodded affirmatively, and Ghirahim grit his teeth, anger boiling the blood in his veins.
"Or maybe the result of all this is me mercilessly torturing you when I am back to full health, and the sooner you admit your wrongdoing, the more forgiving I will be when that time of judgement comes."
Link dunked him under again, letting out a sigh as he pulled him back up. "I guess I'll pay for it then, won't I?"
"Yes," Ghirahim spat, wiping his eyes. "Yes, you will!"
Ghirahim fumed at the suds and bubbles that surrounded him, glaring furiously at them as if they were the cause for all his troubles. His heart pounded in his chest, his vision blurring as rage literally shook his body.
He felt Link's hands ever-so-carefully cleaning his hair, and he began to fight off the anger, a sense of calm coming over him as he tried to think about the situation differently. He couldn't deny Link had been more than kind to him, but it was kindness that infuriated him so. Why couldn't Link just let him suffer?
That sounded rather foolish, especially given the immense pain he was in at the moment, but he didn't much care. Link was an enemy, and it wasn't as if Ghirahim had been the one to make that call. He had no say in which side he was on, and he apparently couldn't force the boy to do much of anything, let alone betray his loved ones.
It doesn't matter. I don't want his help. I don't need his help. I can take care of myself.
Sighing, the demon dropped his head and allowed his anger to recede to the furthest corner of his mind. "Link…?"
"Yes, Ghirahim?"
"My…" He swallowed hard, shifting slightly. "My leg hurts. Badly."
"I know." Link paused in his meticulous cleaning to peer down at the injured limb. "It's broken, isn't it?"
Ghirahim nodded, fatigue sweeping over him now that the anger-fed adrenaline was no longer supporting his body. "I think so."
"Put it up here."
Link slapped the rim of the bathtub, and Ghirahim slid to the other side, lifting his leg up onto the stones. The hero dried it gently and then examined it, scratching his chin for a few moments before placing one hand directly above the break and one hand directly below.
"Link…" Ghirahim said warily, cringing as he realized what the boy was doing.
"Relax. I had to do this after a big fall in Eldin. It'll be alright." Link glanced up at him briefly, a boyish smile on his face. "I promise. Just close your eyes."
Ghirahim did just that, hands gripping the mat at the bottom of the tub nervously.
I don't like being in the dark.
He heard the rustle of Link's clothes and tried to relax, knowing tense muscles would not only increase the pain but also make it more difficult for Link to fix.
Ghirahim inhaled deeply and let out a long stream of air, stopping abruptly when Link jerked his leg back into alignment. There was a sickening pop, followed closely by white-hot pain that seared through his leg like venom, drawing a pained cry from his lips.
Link reached into the bundle he had brought and pulled out a bottle with a fairy. He released her and pointed to the leg, both of them watching as she swirled around it, working her magic with diligent, dainty little hands.
The limb went completely numb, and then a cool, tingling sensation spread throughout the muscles, a sigh escaping his lips as something felt good for the first time in days. Link thanked the fairy for her work, and she gave him a cheerful salute before zipping away.
"Glad she had no hard feelings." Link nodded, watching her leave, and then turning back to Ghirahim. "Well, you can finish up now."
Ghirahim nodded as Link moved towards the door.
"Soap's on the shelf and there's a rag and one of those mesh, scrubbie things, too."
Ghirahim gave another nod, waiting for him to leave and frowning at the funny way the hero was walking and talking. Like there was something he wanted Ghirahim to do or say before he left.
"Yup. You're all clear to do it yourself!"
He was just about to ask what was wrong with him when a realization sank in, and he glared daggers at the boy clad in pajamas, fury returning tenfold. "You could have healed my leg in the beginning, and I could have been doing this myself all along!"
Link threw his head back and laughed, running out the door and slamming it.
"Link, I am going to kill you! Get back here now!"
He looks exhausted.
Link let his hand trail through the damp, white hair and watched as the demon's chest rose and fell with each congested, wheezing breath. He seemed uncomfortable—although he always appeared to be a bit better when Link played with his hair—and Link wished there was something more he could have done to ease the other's pain.
There were some things, though, he knew were more than just illness. There were bags under Ghirahim's eyes, unusually large and so incredibly dark that the hero had to wonder if they were the reason the demon wore so much makeup.
I guess spending every waking hour trying to make me miserable is pretty tiring.
Reaching out, he brushed his fingers over the red spot on Ghirahim's cheek, certain there would be bruising in the morning. In an odd sort of way, it made him feel protective. Like being the older sibling or responsible friend who occasionally had to beat some sense into the younger, less responsible counterpart.
"Master." Fi, who appeared to be rather puzzled by the turnout, hovered just a few feet away. "Has your revenge been extracted now?"
Link smiled at her, shaking his head with a chuckle. "Not quite."
"Master, if I may, you are running out of time. You have only two weeks, and if what has transpired thus far has not quenched your desires, you—"
"Trust me, Fi." He cut her off gently, putting a hand on her sleeve, as she had no arms. "I've got this."
"Very well, Master." There was one last moment of hesitation, and then she flipped into the Master Sword.
"Goodnight, Ghirahim." Link got up and walked out, carefully closing the door behind him so as not to wake the other. "Sleep tight."
He's really not half bad... when he's sick and tired and powerless.
