A/N: This chapter was recently rewritten. There will probably be mistakes until I am able to complete the job and scour for typos.
WARNING: This chapter contains violence.
Chapter 11
The Ides of March
Link felt as though he was being led to his death—an animal brought to slaughter.
But he wasn't being led. He was walking on his own accord, sword in hand, shoulders back and head high. Aside from the Goddess Sword, the only articles he'd arrived with still remaining on his person were his leather boots. The residual dirt from the Faron Woods had all been washed away, adding to the feeling that he hadn't been there for an age.
He walked, determined to do his best against an indomitable enemy. Keeping his chin down and his eyes up, he looked several spectators in the face. The room was so quiet. His shoes scraping the floor sounded as grating as metal against stone.
The demon lord's presence had hushed everyone in attendance, from the men who had stepped hastily out of the sparring area to the onlookers. Light and warmth poured from the flambeaus lining the wall to Link's left. Flames pelted the air, climbing from silver bowls hoisted by long, swirling iron stands. The heat hit him as hard as the silence.
His heart pounded in his ears as he walked, passing by fire and demons far taller than himself. Their heads were low to offer due respect to Ghirahim, but Link could still see their dark eyes.
They must be thinking his lordliness and his lover are having a tiff.
Link looked into several sets of eyes. They were accusing. They hated him; he could feel it. They didn't understand him. He represented the Goddess's people—the very thing that they wanted nothing more than to overpower. But for what purpose? A three-millennium-old grudge?
Link took a breath and looked to the ceiling. It was high. Far higher than any of the modest structures in Skyloft. He noticed the fissures in the granite. The glow of the flames moved across the surface, bringing about shadows on the marbled stone. He would've taken the time to admire it if he'd been able.
This place was strange. It was surprisingly similar to home in many ways, yet so alien; too alien to ever feel comfortable in.
When his head came back down he saw her—an image of beauty in its most dangerous form. She was like a solar flare in all of its glory, dancing before an unprotected eye. Link fixed his gaze on her as he passed. Her right side was illuminated by the fire. The three golden hoops in her ear gleamed, reflecting orange light. Her uniform appeared even redder than before; almost the shade of deep, red wine. The color of blood.
Several feet away, Link saw her lips move. Maybe she was trying to tell him something.
He squinted, giving her his full attention. She repeated the phrase. Five words. She said it again, stressing the first word.
Beware…? Link thought, shrugging. She sighed and tilted her head, a meager grin spreading across her face. Her voluptuous lips moved slowly, communicating something cryptic.
Thanks to her final reiteration he realized what it was she was saying. He stared until she disappeared into the crowd. Still walking, he faced forward. "Beware the…Ides of March," he murmured. After a few seconds of rumination a ripple of anger ran through him. He crushed the sword's hilt in his palm. What a maddening woman—a Valkyrie.
Rounding a bend through the people, Link slowed. The battle arena was directly ahead. From where he stood, he couldn't see his opponent but he knew he was there. He looked around. Granitic pillars around the sparring floor stretched to the ceiling like monuments, perhaps for the victims of misfortune.
The demons' stares were unceasing. Link tried not to look at them anymore, but it was nearly impossible to ignore something so probing. They seemed especially interested in his eyes. Perhaps their color and shape seemed strange. To them they probably radiated exoticism. His sun-kissed skin also was a thing unseen in this realm.
Still, it was odd to be sized up by so many people at once. They sized up not only him but the Goddess Sword. The scores of eyes seemed to look upon it with contempt. Had some of these demons been present in battle that fateful day, so long ago?
The hate in the room was oppressive. Resolute to not be brought down by it, Link focused on the sparring ring.
They don't matter. They're faceless.
He approached the peristyle. Crossing the threshold between the crowd and the arena, he imagined a wall. He passed between two pillars, arresting in their sheer size and magnificence. The perfection in their striations was undeniable.
He looked ahead. Just as he emerged between the columns, he saw him. He was patiently waiting in the middle of the floor with hands behind him and a smile on his face. The contrast of light and shadow made him seem even bigger. He looked taller and more muscular.
Link lowered his chin and centered his eyes on him. He took a step. Ghirahim's air of happiness appeared to grow. Link thumbed the leather on his hilt. He abhorred this creature. He was sure his own repugnance overtopped that of all the demons put together.
This space within the circle of pillars—the place in his dream—was enormous. It was just as imposing as the first time he'd seen it. Perhaps more so. Or maybe it was an illusion created by fear.
Link inhaled, then slowly let it go. Now wasn't the time to be bogged down by fear.
It felt as though hundreds of steps had been taken by the time he'd finally reached his challenger. With a twirl of the Goddess Sword, he planted his feet about five yards from the demon.
He lifted his cunning, gloved hands. His head bowed a bit. His dark eyes gleamed and his grin widened.
Link glared with unyielding eyes.
"Ah," Ghirahim said in his deep, plummy voice, "my hero." He stood with his arms out. Link waited silently. "Are you ready for your baptism of fire, sky child?" He took a step forward. His pristine shoe brushed the floor. Link stood his ground. "Have you thought any more about what I spoke to you about? Have you reconsidered?" His examining eyes closed in. They quickly met harsh resistance.
"Mmm. I suppose not," Ghirahim said, stepping to the side. He set off at a slow pace around Link, orbiting him like a stellar body. Link watched him as if he might go supernova. He concentrated on the demon's hands.
"It's not too late to change your mind, hero," Ghirahim assured him. "In fact, it's never too late. The opportunity lingers, waiting to be picked up." His voice was as silky smooth as his expression was deadly serious. Link rotated along with him, holding him on point. "Don't forget it, hero."
Continuing to circle, the demon looked thoughtfully at his feet. "Well, the first phase has come and gone. Do you remember? First, we discuss a few things. We've certainly done plenty of that." His head swiveled as he gave Link a stern glance. "And seeing as though my generous proposal was not to your liking, clearly we must move on."
All eyes were on the pair. Volatility was all Link could feel.
"So, what comes next, my winsome human?" Ghirahim smiled at Link's silence. "Ah, brought this evening full circle, have we? Choosing not to speak? Are you even aware of why you're able to vocalize without that searing ache in your throat? Or have you forgotten the pain already?" Link swallowed, noticing that his throat did feel relatively normal. "Well, being in the position that I am, under normal circumstances I'd expect a thank-you. But I have a sneaking suspicion that you'll soon be well-acquainted with being on your knees before me, so…" The demon turned his head away. "I'll let it slide."
Link wasn't sure which was worse—diving carelessly into a fight or waiting on the edge of one. Fear did strange things to a person, and a knight was not immune. Maybe this was Ghirahim's tactic.
"Phase two," the demon said, still strolling. "A deal, hero. We make an arrangement before we fight. Come to an agreement. You would be wise to accept as I believe you will find it to be your only option." After a few more self-assured steps, he shot Link a brazen smile.
Then he vanished, leaving behind nothing but a flashy trail of diamonds. Link spun, looking behind him. He twisted and turned, searching the area for his opponent. But all he saw were the accusing eyes of spectators.
He looked at the flames along a distant wall. He immediately wondered how he was going to claim victory over a contender such as this. What was this deal he mentioned?
As his gaze rose, he came upon a familiar sight: a balcony projecting from an adjacent wall. It sat over the upper hall's entryway. He realized that this recognizable terrace had been his place of observance in his dream. There, he had witnessed his own death. He blinked, half-expecting to see a young blond man gawking fretfully.
Then, two hands crept over his shoulders. Throwing his head up with a gasp, he looked to his left to find the demon's face. His sinister smirk was so close, Link could feel it.
"Listen carefully, sky child," Ghirahim said softly. "Here is what I'm offering you. First, you try your luck with teaching me a lesson, just as I know you've been dying to do. In fact, to even the playing field I'll fight you sans magic. It will be a fun game, sky child. I promise you." The demon laid into Link's shoulders, massaging them and brushing his ear. He shuddered. "If you win, I'll leave your little friend alone." Link's eyes widened at the demon's words. He glanced over his shoulder, waiting for more.
"That's right," Ghirahim said, sweeping his mouth across Link's azurite earring. He chewed his tongue. "If you defeat me, I will stop my pursuit of the spirit maiden. She and her guardian will no longer have to run from me. In fact, you will be free to take her home without any danger of retaliation from myself or anyone. In addition, the threat of war against the sky realm will cease to exist. At least for the length of your lifetime."
Ghirahim curled his fingers around Link's neck, running his hands over his collarbone. His fingertips pressed to Link's chest as he drew him closer.
Link breathed in sharply, feeling his back drawn to Ghirahim's body.
"But if you lose…" the demon said with a gravelly whisper. Link tilted his head away. "If you lose then I am free to continue my pursuit, and you will owe me something."
Link looked around, perplexed. "What will I owe you?" he asked, his voice tenuous.
Ghirahim grinned. "Oh, you'll find out. When the time comes."
Link shut his eyes, trying to pretend that he wasn't in the demon's grasp. "How can I agree to something like that?"
"Patience, my hero, patience," Ghirahim chirred coolly, running his hands down.
Link's breathing quickened. He instinctively swung his sword up.
But the weapon stopped mid-swing. Link gaped, wondering what had obstructed the blade so swiftly. Panting, he looked up to see his enemy's fingers wrapped around it.
Link stared in disbelief. How…? he asked himself. He looked the demon in the face. As if his pleased grin had commanded it, Link turned red. He faced forward again. "And what if I refuse?" he asked, shutting his eyes.
"Then I give you everything I've got, hero," the demon stated. "I fight you trenchantly, sparing no expense. It will be beautiful music to my ears…and a beautiful sight to my eyes." His hand slowly dropped, nearing Link's waist. "And exactly what my hands have been waiting for."
Link clutched the demon's arm with both hands, tossed it away and jumped back. With a racing heart he turned just in time to catch the tip of his own blade against his throat.
"You're much too easy to distract," Ghirahim said. He licked his lips and cocked his head, eyeing Link with ferocity. He held his breath. A stab of shame even sharper than the blade hit him in the stomach. "So, how does it feel, sky child?" the demon asked.
Link looked him in the eye. "How does what feel?" he asked. His shoulders tensed as the demon inched closer, bringing their bodies together. Ghirahim slid an arm around the small of Link's back.
The demon's touch made it harder to breathe than the cold metal against his throat. He stared up in horror, at a loss. Ghirahim's smile was even bigger. His fingers were moving against his back. The demon pulled him closer. Their bodies rubbed.
The oddest sensation Link had ever felt filled him. Alarmed, he hustled out of the demon's arms. Hopping back, he glowered.
Ghirahim chuckled, his body swaying with his gleeful snickers. His fingers flexed with excitement. Link gave an angry sigh. He turned his gaze to the captive Goddess Sword.
"Well, what say you, hero?" Ghirahim asked.
Link stood aloof. He gaped at the demon, unsure of what to say or what not to say. Perhaps saying nothing was best.
"No time to dither, sky child. Why don't you show me what you've got?" He chortled. "Also, bear in mind that you can always default." The demon took a small step. "In which case, this pact will be null and void."
This time Link had no trouble finding the right words. "I'm not joining you," he said.
Ghirahim sniggered. "What will your fugacious life be as you struggle to contend against me, the Demon Lord, sky child? Hmm?" He took another step. "Will your cardinal virtues—prudence, temperance, fortitude and justice—really be enough?" As he put another foot forward, Link took a step back. "Will the motif of your life be failure? Will guilt, doubt and misplaced confidence be the ruin of the hero?"
Link flinched at the demon's loud, histrionic tone.
"Will this privileged, exalted character of high repute fall from glory into suffering?" Link gaured at the demon's gracefully moving hands as he backed away.
"Will your life be a black comedy, hero? One in which everyone around you will laugh and sneer at your misfortunes? Will it be a tragedy, depicting the downfall of a noble knight as he succumbs to his frailties? Or perhaps your precious Goddess will simply strike you down in all of your planned obsolescence."
Link shook his head and looked to his sword again.
"Perhaps a tragicomedy, humorous throughout but with a dastardly ending. Or a satire? A work that magnifies the very plethora of weaknesses and failings within you which will lead to the destruction of mankind?"
"None of them," Link said quietly.
Ghirahim smiled. "You're right in a way. It doesn't have to be any of them."
"No," Link said obstinately. "I won't join you. But..." He paused, shutting his eyes. "I'll...agree to your terms."
Link heard Ghirahim laugh softly. When he opened his eyes, he saw an amused grin. "So be it, hero. If this is what you want…" The demon pointed the sword at him. "Then I think it's time I show you the true meaning of the phrase, 'bloody hell'."
Ghirahim hurled the Goddess Sword so hard that Link had almost no time to dodge it. He spun around, immediately hearing a shrill clank as the blade crashed to the floor. Before the weapon even settled he jumped for it, swooped down and grabbed the hilt.
He stood eying his adversary. Angry at the way he'd been given his weapon, he was still grateful to have it back. Looking at his shining blade, his certitude resurged.
With or without armor, he was going to do this. This demon—all of these demons—needed to be shown that this human was not a weakling; that all humans weren't weaklings, and that mankind was a powerful force, unafraid to defend itself and ready to fight for what was right. Always.
Zelda needed him to give it his all. And he would do nothing less.
Link assumed a battle stance. With arms down, his sword up and his expression unwavering, he watched.
His enemy's weapon was drawn. Its handle was gold and curved; its blade was long and thin. It was clearly a much lighter-weighted weapon than the Goddess Sword. Link shook his head, knowing that this was far from a fair match. But with no say in the matter, he went straight to work planning ahead for the discrepancy.
It suddenly struck him that this was what should have happened in the Skyview Temple. This fight felt so much more than just one day overdue. It seemed like an eternity. And with each passing day, Zelda felt further and further out of his reach.
If only he hadn't gotten so sick. He really should've listened to Fi. Having to endure this place and all of this madness was really his own fault.
Ghirahim's pleased expression suggested he knew exactly what Link was thinking. He wouldn't have been surprised. He answered the demon's smirk with determination.
No matter how he'd gotten here, this moment was all that mattered. If the demon wanted a real fight then he would get one.
Link shuffled around him. Ghirahim stayed put, quietly observing.
"Fi," Link said softly, "have any advice for me?"
"Ghirahim is capricious," Fi replied. "Expect his tactics to change throughout the course of the engagement. He is highly skilled, sleight of hand and very quick. His encounters typically do not last long. Classically, his opponents are promptly disabled."
"I already know he's unpredictable and agile, Fi," Link said. "Got anything else?"
"Be prepared for anything, Master," Fi said. Link shook his head. Still, he had a strange feeling that Fi was more intimately versed in the demon's fighting style than she was letting on.
If this was the case then Ghirahim would have already taken Fi's knowledge into account. If he was smart he would simply do the opposite of what Fi was likely to say. Then again, maybe he wouldn't. Perhaps there was little point in consulting Fi any further right now. 'Be prepared for anything' was good enough for him.
Raring to go, and with a slew of do's-and-do-nots of swordplay going through his head, Link was the first to step forward. He looked at the demon in a different way now; a way that came naturally and had nothing to do with fear. He considered points of interest and prime targets. Ghirahim's rapier would be easier to maneuver. But the demon would have to work harder to parry the heavier Goddess Sword. Aiming for an opponent's leg was always a good idea. Incapacitating his fighting arm was even better.
Link's strategizing came to a stop. Why did he feel so off? He looked the demon in the eye.
Link had participated in so many fights that he'd lost track of the amount long ago. But this was a duel to the death. Not only was this terribly grave, but it involved fighting someone who he knew…sort of. The demon wasn't his friend by any means of course, but still. Not wanting to dwell on the issue, Link brushed it off.
Ghirahim couldn't look happier as Link approached him. The Goddess Sword came up, passing cautiously before his eyes with a flash.
In an instant the sword and rapier had clashed, filling the hall with a noise so sharp it hurt Link's ears.
"So it begins," Ghirahim said with exhilaration. He swiftly counterattacked with an even stronger blow. Raising his sword, Link blocked the strike, shoving the demon's rapier away. Taking a breath, he swung the blade from right to left, slashing the demon across the torso. With the arc of his strike complete, Link jumped back.
Flinching and leaning over, Ghirahim dropped his head. Breathing heavily, Link watched. He seemed to be assessing the damage, which constituted a sizable gash. Why did it seem like he cared more about his clothing than his injury? Link was further mystified by the grin that he saw.
With a torrent of thoughts trying to disrupt his concentration, Link circled his enemy once more, holding his hands low and his sword up. Ghirahim turned with him, keeping his weapon just as high.
With a fierce jumping thrust, Link aimed for the demon's chest. But he dodged, demonstrating the lightning-quick reflexes that Link had expected. A lot could be learned from an opponent's first defensive move. The scope of his enemy's skill was making itself known.
A preemptive strike by Ghirahim tested Link's reflexes right back. Shuffling away, he blocked his torso with the blade. Another strident clang sounded as Link summoned all of his strength to protect himself.
He barely had enough to time to breathe when the demon came at him again, sending him stumbling back. Link grunted, almost losing his footing.
Angry at himself, he parried with a strained shout, feeling his face redden. When his opponent was sent back a few steps, he let his breath out.
Allowing his enemy no opportunity to collect himself, Link shot forward and slashed, but missed. He swung again but was blocked. With a growl he made a third attempt, landing a hit and adding another tear to the demon's clothing.
Ghirahim stumbled to the side but immediately returned with a forward jab. Twisting his shoulder away, Link barely evaded the needle-like tip.
"You're quicker than most, hero," Ghirahim said, breathing heavier. His eyes sparkled and his face beamed with delight. "So, why diamonds, sky child? I'm sure you're wondering what the diamond motif is about. What are your thoughts?"
Lunging, Ghirahim took a hurried swing. The only thing that didn't escape fast enough was the excess linen on Link's shirt. He took a glimpse at the hole over his chest. The demon giggled. "No material—metal or gem—makes a sharper weapon, sky child. Has anyone else succeeded as profoundly as I in cutting you to your very core?"
Link glowered. "Yes. But I like it when she does it."
Ghirahim's smile darkened. "Touché, sky child."
Link suddenly jabbed his blade, sinking an inch of it into the demon's shoulder. Ghirahim jerked back with a guttural growl. Amazed that he'd landed such a vicious blow so early, Link stared. The demon grabbed his shoulder.
Link looked at the wound. Why wasn't he bleeding?
The smile had been wiped off Ghirahim's face, but not for long. It returned larger than before. Link couldn't shake the feeling that the demon really was enjoying this.
"Would it bother you to know that the spirit maiden cries herself to sleep every night on your account?" Ghirahim asked, stiffly dropping his hand.
Link's face softened. "What? How would you know that?"
"I know more than you realize." Ghirahim straightened himself. "How does it feel to desert the one who counts on you?"
Link gasped at the sight of the rapier hurtling toward him. He blocked the weapon, but not without pain shooting through his wrists. He groaned at the floor, wishing his hands had the protection of thick leather.
With his sword as his only shield, he defended against several more blows. Ghirahim's strength was immense, and each swing landed more powerfully than the next.
Strangest of all was how eerily happy his adversary was. As Link's wrists cramped and his eyes watered, he stared into Ghirahim's dark eyes. He started to think they were more piercing than his weapon. They were certainly more frightening.
Twirling away from a deadly jab, Link brought his sword up and cut straight through the demon's upper arm. Link drew back and stared at the tattered red velvet. Did he really just do that? As accustomed as he was to harmless sparring matches, this didn't feel right at all. He would've expected the demon to cry out in pain, and maybe even fall, but neither happened. What was going on here?
Ghirahim's nonchalant expression was so out-of-place. "When the war was over and the battles had ceased, he still came to me, sky child," he said in a breathy voice.
Link's face twisted in confusion. "What?"
"Your predecessor, hero. The one in green whom you read about in your sacred texts. It's uncanny how much you look and sound just like him. But will your spirit shatter like his eventually did?" His grin was malicious.
"What?" Link couldn't wrap his mind around it.
Then, a burning pain like he'd never felt hit him in the lower leg and climbed up to his ribcage. He shouted, dropped his sword and doubled over. He frantically searched the afflicted area.
Small red daggers—four of them had embedded from his ankle to his chest. His mouth fell open. He watched in horror as blood seeped through his pants and shirt, leaving dark, growing stains.
"Seems the hero got a little distracted," Ghirahim said mockingly.
Link gawked at his injuries some more, coming to terms with what just happened. How had the tables turned so quickly? Dizzy from shock, he gritted his teeth, hating himself for playing straight into the demon's hands.
Trying to curb his anguished panting, he reached down, pinching the shard by his ankle. Grimacing, he tore it from his skin. His knees shook and tears fell, but he held back the agonized cry. Grasping the dagger by his knee, he held his breath. Do it fast. Do it fast…! He pulled and clutched his wound.
Biting his tongue, he counted to three and ripped the last two daggers out simultaneously. "Mmm…" he moaned angrily. Two unbearably sharp stabs shot through him. Still hunched over, he held his leg and chest. Blinding pain mixed with the feeling of matted, sticky clothing.
He bent to pick up his sword, but his hands were trembling. He thought he heard a chuckle. After retrieving his blade, he stood. Ghirahim was blatantly admiring Link's blood-soaked clothes. He seemed excited by it. Link winced, shifted his weight away from the injury and tried not to take too deep of a breath.
Never before had he made such an ignorant mistake during a fight. It definitely topped any mistakes he'd made with the stalhound.
Refocus. Don't let him get the better of you.
He did his best to will the pain away. His throat was so dry he could barely swallow. He shook his head, hoping to the Goddess that the bleeding would stop.
Without warning, Ghirahim lunged forward. Link jumped back, bashing the demon's weapon to the right, then to the left. Ignoring the blazing pain in his side was nigh impossible.
After one last parry, Link counterattacked, swinging sideways, then vertically, grazing the demon's face from forehead to chin. A deep scratch was drawn, but no blood was.
The demon swung his head away. When his gaze returned to Link, he appeared more angry than pleased. "I think it's time to raze your fragile little ego to the ground, hero," he gnarled, his eyes beginning to change.
Slipping behind him, Link edged away. He observed as the demon threw his rapier. It flipped through the air and hit the floor, skidding outside of the peristyle. He looked back at Link.
The demon made his way toward him. Confused, Link held fast to his position. His heart beat heavier. He had no idea what to expect. He blinked, suddenly feeling lightheaded. How much blood had he lost?
Standing still left him lethargic—the last thing he needed right now. So instead of waiting for the inevitable, he decided to meet it head-on. He set off, running so fast that the breeze winnowed his hair. A weaponless enemy couldn't skewer him in midair so Link jumped, swinging his sword over his head. With a ferocious holler he knocked the demon back, dragging the edge of the blade along his body. The motion was rapid and satisfying.
Now Link had finally gotten the better of him. With a gratified grin he prepared for another strike, aiming for the demon's neck.
Renewed eagerness drove Link's swing. The blade landed not on target, however, but in the demon's hand. Link pulled but the blade didn't move. He stared in bewilderment. Ghirahim was smiling as though he'd caught a fly ball. His gloves were sliced but there was still no blood.
Link huffed in frustration. This wasn't fair. It made no sense! He'd secured several good hits on his enemy. Anyone would've been put out of action by now. But this demon was still standing, still fighting back, and still smiling.
Why isn't it shredding his hand? Link's face turned bleak.
"You're right annoying, hero," Ghirahim said, removing the Goddess Sword from Link's hands. The young man struggled, desperate to not lose his weapon again. The demon just chuckled. Red-faced and sweating, Link gripped the hilt with all of his might until he felt his feet leave the floor.
The struggle ended as Link was lifted. He gaped, face-to-face with his enemy and that same sinister smile. He knew Ghirahim was strong, but able to lift a person single-handedly? By the business end of a sword, no less?
"This is just a game to you," Link said crossly, trying to keep his feet from dangling too much. "You can't lose. How is this fair?" His hands were tired and aching.
"Who said it was going to be fair, human?" Ghirahim snarled, bringing Link's face closer. "And who said you had even a miniscule chance of winning? No. I am teaching you a lesson."
Using his other hand, the demon crushed Link's wrists together. The hilt was brutally seized from him. He gasped as it slipped away. The sword changed hands once again.
Link abruptly found himself bound before Ghirahim. Just like the first time. But this time was worse—he was hanging. Trying to touch the floor, he swung, fed up with the demon's grin. All he could do was stare at him, helpless and demeaned. Ghirahim was much too pleased.
Link felt the edge of the blade against his palm. He looked up, horrified.
"Have you ever had a dream come true, sky child?" Ghirahim whispered. Link turned his nervous eyes to him. "While you're thinking about that, I'll ask you this: how does it feel?"
Link's heart was pounding so hard he could barely speak. "Why do you keep asking that?" He didn't want to know, but he asked anyway. "How does what feel?" The question faded into silence.
With a mad look in his eye, Ghirahim dragged the edge of the blade along Link's hand. His entire body shuddered and curled as his skin was cut. He shouted in agony, trying to wrench his wrists apart. But the demon was too strong. Seeing spots, Link watched a stream of red drip down his arms.
Panting and shivering, Link looked at his enemy, whose face seemed to have melted.
Trembling, Link hung his head. His arms hurt and his hand was on fire. The pain was excruciating. He breathed, determined not to shed another tear. The demon would probably like that even more.
"How fitting that you were outfitted in green, sky child," Ghirahim said. "To be sure, I've never seen anyone more immature in the battle arena." With that, he let go of Link's wrists.
He hit the floor with a thump, landing on his hands and knees before rolling to his stomach. Laying his face to the cold floor, he sighed in relief, looking at his enemy's shoes. His right side still stung and burned and his hand throbbed with a hurt that was entirely unfathomable. He shut his eyes. He didn't want to move, but he had to. He certainly couldn't stay at Ghirahim's feet.
"Did I not tell you when you arrived that you wouldn't be leaving here with your pride intact, human?"
Shaking, Link slowly crawled away from the demon. He felt cold and fatigued. He prepared to climb to his feet, disgusted by the feel of his bloody clothes. He gazed at the coating of blood on the blade in the demon's hand. It unfortunately was not his opponent's.
This fight to the death was not going well.
Ghirahim flipped the sword and offered the hilt to Link. He looked up questioningly.
He felt so humiliated. Ghirahim claimed he'd be on his knees before him, and he was. And so many people were watching.
No longer desiring to fight an enemy whom he had no chance of defeating, Link reluctantly reached out.
"Other hand, hero," Ghirahim said coldly. Link stopped, looking at the gaping wound on his right hand. He lifted his left. "Well, isn't this a familiar sight? Where have we seen this before? A left-handed hero?" Ghirahim placed his hands on his hips and smiled. "Someone here must have the gift of foresight."
There was nothing but silence for a time. Link glowered at the wall, refusing to look Ghirahim in the eye. With his sword in the wrong hand, he was furious.
"Come on, sky child," Ghirahim said invitingly. "Why don't you give it your best shot? Try that left hand out. You never know. Perhaps using your other hand will bring out an unknown talent." Still looking away, Link clambered to his feet. He was certain he'd heard a few spectators snicker. "And that cut sure looks painful." The demon took a step, bringing himself uncomfortably close to Link. More lightheaded now, he looked up. "So do those flesh wounds on your body. I can help, you know."
"I know what you're trying to do," Link said. "It's not gonna work…" He took an uneven breath, grimacing from the ache. It was consuming him from the inside out. Ghirahim brought a hand up and tenderly brushed the stray hairs out of his face. He flinched.
"Come now, hero. Defiance does not become you." He turned the young man's face toward him, making firm eye contact. "You will suffer far more painful, far more humiliating, and far worse things if you refuse an alliance with me. I give you my word on that."
Link tightened his grip and stepped back. "Your word means nothing to me."
Ghirahim leaned down, taking Link's face in his hands again. The demon's fingers played lightly with his hair. Looking into his eyes, Link didn't move.
Ghirahim leaned in closer, brushing Link's mouth against his. "Then why aren't you fighting me?" The question was soft and seductive. "Your sword is at the ready. Go ahead. Use it—if you don't want this."
Relief tingled on Link's lips. A state of painlessness sat right in front of him. All of the bruises, the cuts, the dizziness, the throbbing and burning—it would all be taken. And he wanted so much to give it.
For a moment the audience disappeared. It was just the demon, Link, and the decision that had to be made. But was it really so hard?
Holding him, the demon tilted his head. Was he asking permission? Link's mouth opened on its own.
The demon neared. Link shut his eyes and gave an outward gasp. Ghirahim's pull eased, but Link was reluctant to look at him. His eyelids inched up.
The demon's expression was…. It was….
Just having the demon this near made Link's pain diminish. Relaxing just slightly, he looked at Ghirahim's mouth. He came closer and Link jerked back. But he soon felt so pleasant that his eyes shut and everything loosened.
The demon's tongue slid into his mouth. Slipping pride was soon forgotten as the agony was siphoned from him. His head fell to the side. He was sure he was floating on a cloud. As the pain dissipated, his hand, his side and the cut on his neck felt wonderfully cold. He'd never experienced such a glorious reprieve.
Inhaling deeply, he breathed in the demon's essence, filling his lungs to capacity. He exhaled, giving Ghirahim a long, soft moan.
The demon clasped his shoulders. His touch felt different. His embrace didn't feel like a simple energy transfer anymore. It felt so much better.
Then, Ghirahim pulled away, leaving Link gasping from more sensations than he could even begin to sort through. A gentle shake urged his gaze up. The demon's authoritative eyes demanded his undivided attention.
"Well, sky child?" he asked, squeezing him tightly.
Still dazed from overstimulation, Link shifted his weight. He felt breathless. It would've been a lie to say that it was a bad feeling. "I—" he started.
The demon's brow furrowed. He searched Link's face.
"I—" Link breathed. "I…can't."
Silence filled the sparring ring.
Fed up, Ghirahim nabbed the bloodied Goddess Sword and pushed him away. Link gaped at the floor.
"Then I've got one last lesson for you, hero," the demon stated. "It's something that I teach every one of my opponents. Because there is nothing, nothing more humbling than this. Are you ready?"
Link stood quietly, befuddled and overpowered. He had taken a gamble with the enemy and lost. He sighed, feeling guilty that his pain had subsided.
"I'll ask you one final time, sky child." The tip of the sword danced just inches from him. "How does it feel?"
Link didn't look up. "How does what feel…?" he murmured.
Ghirahim chuckled. "Why, to be on the other end of the sword, of course." A churlish smirk formed on his lips. "But, more specifically, the other end of your own sword. Doesn't feel too good, does it?"
Link's gaze stayed on his feet. He shrugged.
Ghirahim shook his head disapprovingly. "I don't think you truly understand the art of being humbled, hero. The glimmer of insolence in your eyes can vouch for that. Ergo, we're not quite finished yet."
Link's eyes came up. "What do you me—"
But he never finished his sentence. The Goddess Sword had flown forward with the speed of one bent on another's destruction. He didn't even have time to cry out as the blade pierced flesh and bone. At last, it exited through his back.
His jaw dropped and his eyes flared. In the most suffocating pain imaginable, he lifted his hands to his chest and looked down. He'd been stabbed clean through. Blood was surrounding the wound. He tried to take a breath, but couldn't. He started to shiver. His hand came up to the demon.
Ghirahim pulled back, withdrawing the blade from his body. Link grabbed his chest and shouted. The scream that escaped him resembled nothing that had ever come from him before. The cry echoed about the hall.
In shock, he bent over, watching his blood drip to the floor. Gasping, he crumpled to his knees. Choking, he convulsed, slumping further.
Ghirahim stood unmoving. His face blanked as he kept watch over the human.
"I ne—" Link tried to say. Ghirahim cocked his head as he listened. "I never…told her."
Blood trickled from Link's mouth as he stared at the floor. With no strength left he fell to his side. Squeezing his chest, he struggled to take a breath. The pain was too much. A crimson pool formed beneath him. His vision began to fade.
Getting down on one knee, Ghirahim took hold of Link's shirt. He flipped him onto his back. Drowning from the inside, Link couldn't utter another sound. He turned his darkening eyes to Ghirahim as he slowly writhed.
The demon stared him squarely in the eye. "Join me, and I will save you, hero," he whispered. Link's eyes flipped back-and-forth. Clutching himself, he shook his head.
Ghirahim looked at him quietly, his hand forming into a fist. "Very well. Hear me, human." He stood to his feet. Link forced himself to look. "A hero is only as good as his sword."
Link watched helplessly as the demon raised his sword in the air. With a fearsome growl, he thrust the blade down, stabbing the young man through once more. His body lurched as the sword was driven in, depleting him.
Furious, the demon pulled the red blade free, leaving the hero's body battered and limp. Turning away, he lifted the sword again. Blood dripped down his hands and arms, staining his pale clothes. He leaned forward and hurled the blade to the floor with such monstrous force that it cracked from top to bottom. The deafening sound of splitting metal rang through the building.
With one final strike, the sword of the Goddess was no more. It broke into four pieces. The shards shot into the air, scattering hopelessly about and adding to the clamor.
Holding up the empty hilt, Ghirahim took a relieved breath. He smiled.
Then he remembered the human. His smile disappeared. He leaned over. The human's movements seemed to have ceased.
Ghirahim knelt again. Resting his arm on his knee, he brought his face before Link. The human's eyes were closed. His hands rested upon a motionless chest. He was gone. Ghirahim pursed his lips and shook his head.
"A shame it had to end this way, sky child…"