When Zelda opened her eyes, she realized she was back at the Sealed Grounds. Sitting her down momentarily, Ghirahim began to examine her closely. He grabbed her arm and pulled up one of her long sleeves. He did this in a hasty fashion, first one arm and then the other.

"You must be in perfect condition to revive the Demon King. You're not hurt are you?"

Before Zelda could get a word in, Ghirahim was pulling up the hem of the dress and running his hands up her legs, searching for any sign of injury. Zelda instinctively tried to shove Ghirahim away, but he maintained his grip on her, unfazed. He stopped inspecting her and looked straight into her eyes.

"If you were not the goddess reborn I'd punish you for your audacity. Or do you want to end up as a crater in the ground?" he growled, frustrated.

She struggled in his grip at that frightening mental image. He gave her a smirk and softened his voice.

"My lovely goddess, I've been searching all over the surface to find you," he said running a gloved hand through her hair tenderly. "And now..."

Ghirahim trailed off. He was now pulling his hand back and looking at his glove. It was stained red with blood.

Ghirahim was shaking in anger. "Those idiots! Can't those bokoblins follow simple orders? It looks like the ritual will have to wait."

He held Zelda tightly in his grip and snapped his fingers, disappearing again.

Materializing, Zelda saw that she was in a beautifully furnished room. It was easily one of the biggest rooms she'd ever seen. There was only one door. Zelda wondered at the point of a door when Ghirahim could teleport. Sunlight poured through a window and reflected off the white marble floor. A king sized canopy bed was the focus of the room. Other pieces of furniture included a vanity table with an attached mirror.

"Welcome to my abode. I hope you'll find it to your liking."

Zelda was beginning to catch on to his mind numbing, insincere politeness. This exquisitely furnished room matched Ghirahim's eccentric taste so much so that she assumed he must have used his powers to create everything.

"My deepest regrets to leave you here, but I must dispose of those two maggots. I can't let them get in my way, not when I'm this close. What are their names? Link and Impa?"

"Don't you hurt my friends!" Zelda screamed at him.

"Hurt them? No, I'm just going to snuff out their very existence. While I'm gone, why don't you be a good girl and go to sleep."

"Never!" Zelda snapped, still trying to maneuver out of his tight grip.

"I don't believe that was a request."

He gently placed a gloved hand on her forehead. Zelda began to feel drowsy. The last thing she heard was Ghirahim's voice.

"My dear Spirit Maiden, your assertiveness is certainly adorable, but let's not forget who's in charge here. You may have been the goddess in your past life, but I don't follow your orders. My loyalty is to the Demon King."

Zelda collapsed to the floor at Ghirahim's feet. He looked down at her broken form and shook his head as he laughed. He had to remind himself that this pathetic creature housed the soul of the goddess. Her long white dress was heavily soiled with dirt and perspiration. Despite this, Ghirahim had to admit that this girl before him was quite lovely. He was filled with a strange curiosity about her. His only company had been the bokoblins. He knew his master would probably be gloating if he could see what Hylia had been reduced to. He would clean her up. He wouldn't dare offer his master a filthy goddess.

Ghirahim willed her to rise in mid air. Zelda remained deep in sleep. His magic wrapped around her like ribbons obscuring her form. The garb of the goddess disappeared and yellow diamonds against flesh were soon replaced by skintight fabric. It was much like his own clothes, but Ghirahim had to admit he liked the way it looked on her.

Taking her in his arms, he could sense her heartbeat inside her small frame. She was breathing lightly and seemed to be sleeping peacefully.

Such a shame. Such beauty, such grace, only be wasted and destroyed soon...

Ghirahim rebuked himself inwardly. The Demon King would not be pleased if he knew what Ghirahim was thinking. He tucked her into the canopy bed and sat down on the edge next to her to take a closer look at the deep cut on the top of her head. Ghirahim wasn't one to tend to wounds, especially a human's, but he quickly reminded himself that his master depended on it. What if the wound became infected and she died? This might be his only opportunity.

Ghirahim stood up and looked around the room, making sure there was no way for her to escape. He would return soon with the items necessary. If the sky child or servant of the goddess were to get in his way, he'd make them wish they had never been born. Their shrill screams would make all his hard work worthwhile. He'd make sure the spirit maiden would hear their screams of agony as well.