Emi shuffled her way down the hall. Her fellow maids worked around her, sweeping up the little specks of dust motes that gathered in the hustle and bustle of the castle. She carried a set of fresh towels and warm water for the guest in the far wing. The women who worked parted around her; they all eyed her as she walked past, whispering slander under their breaths. Their gazes wobbled with fear and judgment.

This had been her routine for the past couple of weeks. Every morning came with getting fresh sundries to restock the west wing vanity. Within days, the waitstaff separated themselves from her. Emi supposed it was because of the scars left behind by the war. Demons were laced with well-deserved superstition. Ghirahim, on the other hand, was a strange beast. The first night, she did not even see him and could have sworn she was being misled into some prank, but come morning, he was there, like a vengeful phantom appearing to haunt those who wronged him. That time he was standoffish, only speaking to her if absolutely necessary. Even though she did her best to meet this unlucky draw with a bold demeanor, she would later admit that he terrified her. She felt like prey pinned under the gaze of a ravenous predator every time his eyes flicked to watch her movements. However, all it took was one chipper morning to start to see past those eyes of cinders.

Emi practically pranced into the room that dawn. The night before, a nervous young lad had approached her, all shaking like a leaf with a shivering bundle of flowers. He confessed his affection and asked if they could do an evening activity together. Emi obliged with a giggle and a blush. Those flowers brightened up her room for the next week, but that was beside the point. When she came in, making sure to knock at least three times as she learned that the second morning when she so brazenly entered to be met with a blade to her throat and a hard stare, Emi practically sang as she replenished the water and towels.

"What has got you tweeting like a morning bird, girl?"

Ghirahim asked. Emi jumped but chuckled. He had a way of just appearing from nowhere. She knew better that the room was occupied, but that did not stop him from startling her. Her glee shone on her face as she tidied up the vanity.

"Nothin', sir."

"Nothin'," He echoed, placing a hand on his hip. "I'm no fool, girl. I know twitterpation when I see it."

Emi averted her eyes before twirling a lock of hair around her finger. Should she tell him? It didn't seem proper to talk about, and she doubted he wanted to concern himself with her insignificant life. He stepped closer, crossing his arms and leaning against the dresser. Despite being only above average height, this demon towered over Emi though most do.

"Don't keep me waiting. I'm not an overly patient man."

Emi felt her cheeks flush as she resumed her work in the room. She never could figure out where all the dust came from. Boldly turning her back to him, she decided it would not hurt to talk about it. After all, last night played over and over in her mind, and she had no one else to talk to anyway.

"It's about a boy."

"You don't say?" He replied, his tone thick with sarcasm earning a laugh from the short servant.

"I know, I know. It was probably obvious. He is a member of the castle guard, and last night, he came up to me while I was helping my fellow maids bring in the laundry. Oh, he was so nervous, hands shaking while he proffered a bouquet of flowers. He very sweetly asked if I had an evening free and if I would like to do an activity together. He had such sincere green eyes and chocolate hair. Oh, he was the cutest lad you ever did see!"

Emi did a little dance covering her mouth to suppress the giggles rattling in her throat. She sighed and regained her composure.

"I'm sorry, that wasn't very proper of me at all. I just couldn't help it."

The servant turned back to face the ashen-skinned demon, performing a small bow to accompany her apology. To her surprise, though, Ghirahim started to laugh. It was a small one, nothing uproarious or malicious by any means, but it was almost that of a kindred spirit like he understood. It made Emi's grin widen. She found herself smirking and rallying to say.

"Have you ever experienced that?"

Too late did she realize the fault in her question. She gave him a perfect opening.

"Have I experienced what? A lad professing his affections?"

Emi gaped, and her cheeks puffed up as she scrambled for what to say.

"No! But yes--if that's what you like...which is fine! Of course...I-uh."

"Yes, I have had men, women too, confess their desire towards me. But, where I come from, ones of romantic expression are rare, and I've only ever received one of those."

Emo blinked. That almost seemed more lonely than receiving none at all.

"Truly? What happened to them?"

Ghirahim's expression darkened, and he frowned before casting his eyes to the floor.

"It doesn't matter now," His smile returned, but his eyes still seemed glossy with the mists of a painful memory. "But, enough about that. What is your little soldier boy called, little dove?"

Emi expressed her condolences with a sad frown before his nickname for her caught her attention.

"My name is Emi, and he is Lucas."

"Hm. How suiting. Don't be offended if I forget; human lives are often like a blink of an eye compared to mine."

Emi blinked with disbelief. This was about how things went over the next few weeks.

Emi would come in the morning; he would address her as 'little dove', and she would tell him all the little goings on about the castle-any rumors or gossip she had picked up from listening amongst the castle staff. Emi found herself recalling another morning last week.

"And she actually let him!" Emi exclaimed.

"No!" Ghirahim replied, drying off his hands. Emi sat in a chair off the side of the vanity. She even started coming up on her days off after breakfast. It's not like anyone else was talking to her still.

"Yes! And she has the nerve to sneer at me about my budding relationship with Lucas."

"She obviously feels intimidated by you. Jealous, even that you have found yourself the attention of a strapping young man. Next time the piglet tries to squeal, you should stick it with a skewer."

Emi had gotten used to his metaphors, but that did not stop her imagination from toying with the literal idea. She shook her head.

"Eh. It's not worth my time. Besides, if I do that, then she wins cause, with my luck and her manipulation skills, the rest of the wait staff would find more ways to dislike me."

Ghirahim hummed, his eyes flicking back toward the mirror.

"That is true, but that does not mean you have to flinch at every errant snort."

He was right; Emi knew that, but she was never a confrontational soul. Combat, of any form, was not her strong suit, and she found the only way to win was not to play anyhow. Emi shifted in the chair. Perhaps she could try something, anything, maybe, to show that she was not as much of a pushover as everyone thought.

She yelped and quietly cursed as some of the hot water splashed on her side when she rounded the corner at the top of the spiral stairs. The maid employed tactical use of servants' entrances and hallways to slip past the guards posted at every set of stairs leading up into the western wing. The atmosphere of the castle was thick and practically wavered with apprehension. The night's events have unleashed turmoil amongst the waitstaff. Several of her coworkers had accused her of consorting with the demon about the monster attack, but she pleaded that she did not know. How could she have known? Despite Ghirahim speaking to her in a more friendly tone, she still knew so little about him. Impa had even pulled her from her morning duties for questioning. Emi was then saddled with even more responsibility upon returning, one for each maid or butler missing due to the vire.

Indignation burned in her chest as she marched towards the western guest room. She would demand answers from Ghirahim; he owned her that much, considering the hell he put the whole castle through these past few days. What little she did know was what Fi explained to her this morning.

Fi had stopped her in the hall while she straightened out some tapestries and other such things. She warned the maid that Ghirahim might not be himself, or at least the mildly pleasant version that he shows, and that Emi should exercise extreme caution. Fi even suggested that she continue to forgo her duties and leave dealing with the demon to her for Emi's own personal safety. Emi declined, though she was grateful for the advice, she had far too many questions for Ghirahim than she could continue to ignore. They rattled in her mind like battering rams. Why did he even do that? Had he really been planning something like that all along? Had she fueled his machinations with her stories and kindness? Was she only a tool? Fi frowned before she stated, in no uncertain terms, that Emi was forbidden from going up there and that side of the castle was off limits to any without special permission or escort; however, before Fi could say more, she was called away. Emi, of course, defied her and snuck upstairs. She needed to see him, to demand answers, and to see for herself what had become of him. Emi did hear that, in a strange turn of events, it was the demon lord who slew the beast in the end.

The western wing was deathly quiet; no souls moved in the cold halls. That was to be expected, all things considered. The servants were stretched thin as it is, and no doubt the western wing was deemed able to wait for a better time. Not that anyone wanted to get even remotely close to the demon anyway. Emi stepped up to the door. Her knuckles rapped at the wood, and she waited, counting to three in her mind before she quietly pushed open the door. A barrier shimmered to life before her, and she recognized the seal. Emi steeled her will and drove past it. It tingled against her limbs but did not seem to resist her, and it pulsed lightly as she slipped inside.

Emi gasped, nearly dropping her bowl at the sight of disarray before her. The entire room had been tossed. Glass was scattered across the floor, and everything that once rested upon the dressing table now lay strewn across the bedroom; some items even appeared to have been hurled at the wall, evident only by the powder and dried colors that stained the stone brick in some places. Emi carefully stepped around the glass, setting the bowl and towels on the remains of the vanity before she looked about the room. Ghirahim was nowhere to be seen. Usually, he would at least show himself when she entered, even if he always enjoyed surprising her.

She coughed; the air was thick and oppressive. It was laden with a dark, shadowy haze that choked her lungs as she turned in place, desperately searching for him. She finally found the will to move against the evil gloom. Her hand fanned the air in front of her face as she squinted to see. It was as if the light itself struggled to pierce the dense aura. Emi could feel the shadows trying to tug at her heart. Why she did not know, but it took every ounce of courage and worry for her to stay and not bolt from the room. The servant girl stepped around the carnage; possibly, there were some clues as to where he had gone scattered about the room.

Sifting amongst the glass, she took the time to clear the shards from the floor, prop the chairs back up, and tidy the room after the apparent tornado that went through it. What happened in here last night? She noticed droplets of an oily substance had splattered the floor, which reminded her uncomfortably of blood. It stained the ruins of the vanity mirror as well Emi paused, and her eyes followed the trail over toward the wardrobe. She stood and crept over. The atmosphere grew heavier as she approached. Her legs twitched, and her heart raced as the urge to run overtook her senses once more. She had to find him. What if he was hurt? Something was definitely wrong; that much was certain. Her fingers went numb as they lingered on the wardrobe door handles. She pulled them away, nursing her hands to stop them from shaking before she calmed herself. Deep breathes. Slowly pulling the door open, she peered through the crack just enough to make out a familiar pale form inside. Emi inhaled sharply before the doors opened with an eerie creak to reveal Ghirahim's curled-up and trembling physique.

She whimpered at the sight. He was huddled as far back as he could. His knees were tucked under his chin, and his face was turned away from her. He was different, and she had never seen him like this before. Black stained certain parts of his body, reminding her of ink on a fresh page with how the black marks were scrawled across his figure. The slimy substance also stained his shoulder and the wooden base of the cabinet. It was practically caked on. His body was racked with shaking, and she could see the sweat glisten across his neck and back even in the dim light. His teeth chattered as he hugged himself tighter once she let the outside air in.

"Ghirahim?"

Emi inquired, her voice barely above a whisper. She reached out to touch him. His gaze snapped over his shoulder, pinning the young woman in place, and her hand hung suspended as she weathered the onslaught with a worried frown. He was suddenly in her face baring his teeth as he said.

"Leave me. I am only going to say this once." He growled, but Emi was not even the slightest bit deterred. Her hand lifted to touch his forehead. She winced and pulled her hand away, nursing it gently. He was burning up. Emi's expression hardened as she stood up.

"Yah? Well, I am only saying this once. Get out of the cupboard." She commanded. The servant stepped back, dodging a swipe from the irate demon. He stumbled from the wardrobe with a thud and a roar, but he barely reached his feet. He staggered and swayed as he stood, and his eyes had a glossy sheen despite the burning fury behind them. His shoulders sagged and rocketed with his labored breath.

"You dare command me, girl?!" He panted with a croak which he obviously noticed as his snarl worsened. Emi nodded matter-of-factly.

"Yes, I do." She stated, "Look at yourself--"

"No!" He cried, flailing his arms out, but Emi had to catch him to stop him from falling to the floor.

"--you can barely stand." Emi continued, this time with a gentler tone, as she helped him to a chair. She walked over to the basin, wetting a towel.

"I'm fine. Don't bother with that."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am!"

"NO. YOU'RE. NOT." Now it was Emi's turn to get in his face. She held him back against the chair as he tried to stand. They held each other in a stern gaze for a long time before Emi brought the towel to his face to whip away some of the dirt and dried blood that stained it. He exclaimed wordlessly with disgust but conceded.

"You cheat." He muttered. Emi continued to study his wounds. The worst of it was on his shoulder, but the rest of him still looked harrowed. His face was gaunt, and his eyes haunted.

"Is this all from the beast? Why didn't you see a doctor?"

Ghirahim laughed drily. "You think anyone would see me?"

Emi opened her mouth to protest, but she knew no one would. Especially after last night's trouble. He was always the talk of the castle, but this morning things had taken a turn for the worse.

"Well, you're feverish...I am surprised that delirium hasn't taken you yet. Can demons even get sick? And why on earth did you do that? Do you realize now how stupid of an idea that was? There is petty rebellion, and then there's that."

Emi scolded, earning an eye roll from the demon.

"Yeah, yeah...I have had plenty of time to contemplate my actions. Spare me the lecture!"

Emi swatted him on the arm. Ghirahim gaped at her before he grabbed her wrist and tightened his grip.

"Do that again, and you'll meet a very gory end."

Emi huffed. "yeah, good idea. Kill the one friend you have in this 'goddess-forsaken' castle."

She surprised herself. Where was this brazen behavior coming from? It did not matter, for goddess knows she needed it right now. Ghirahim's grip on her wrist loosened, and he slumped back against the seat.

"You do not want me as a friend, little dove." He whispered; his eyes actually lightened somehow, but they were quickly overcast with a blanket of melancholy. An accent even came into his voice, but she could not place where it was from. Foreign was the only word that came to mind.

Emi only sighed as she brought the bowl over and continued to clean the grime from his face. She eyed the wound on his shoulder then her gaze shifted.

"We really need to do something about your shoulder here..."

Ghirahim shook his head, pulling his shoulder away as best he could from the confines of the chair.

"Leas, ita dirra...Yshar mit tiha."

(Please, little dove...Spare me that.)

Emi blinked, she was unsure what language he had spoken, but it was evident that the feverish haze was starting to take hold. His eyes seemed distant now, and his cheeks flushed with a rosy hue. She floundered over her words as his eyes sharpened again, and Ghirahim straightened up in his chair.

"I will be fine...I just," He sighed, "I...I just need to rest for a while. I can handle it myself."

He grumbled, looking away for a moment before his gaze returned to hers. His eyes took on a pleading shine, or maybe it was just the fever flushing across his pale features. Emi opened her mouth to speak, but Ghirahim lurched forward in the chair and slapped a palm over her mouth. He inadvertently tackled her when he did so. She braced herself against his weight, and her heart raced as she became deathly still; she watched the demon's head shift to the left as if he was listening to something distant. Emi trembled; her eyes went wide. An almost feral growl rumbled from the demon as he pinned her to the floor.

"SrItph"

(Hylians)

He hissed, his eyes taking on a peculiar glaze. It was as if he was somewhere else. What was he seeing?

"G'irea'im?"

Emi's voice was still muffled from his palm. His index finger snapped up in front of his lips to shush her.

"Sh'sit! Da ya wcn tiha phim'us."

(Quiet! Do you want them to find us?)

"G'irea'im, plea' ge' off me...'his loo's 'inda bad..." But he did not hed her. Emi started to wiggle and writhed in a desperate attempt to escape his grasp. Ghirahim returned to reality, shaking his head with a rub of his temples. He remembered himself, removing his palm and seemed about to climb off--

Then it happened.

Within seconds, the room took on a blueish hue as the barrier Emi had passed through shimmered to life. Sprawling along the walls and vibrating with such intensity that Emi could feel it through the floor. The humming only grew louder before the magic evaporated, and a familiar spirit passed through the entrance and into the room. Emi yipped, Beeching with her eyes that Ghirahim let her up before it was too late! But it was. Fi launched forward, her form blurred, and the air nearly cracked. Emi saw concern and then decision flicker across Ghirahim's features. Within seconds, Fi was upon him, her leg outstretched, but before it collided with the demon, Emi felt his hand push aside out of the sword spirit's way. The force at which Fi struck him sent him crashing into the vanity dresser and pinned the demon by his neck with the crook of her heel. His face twisted into a snarl, and his hands gripped her calf to ward her off, but Fi planted her other foot into the floor and stayed him. Emi could have sworn she saw fear flash across Ghirahim's features. The servant sat up, scrambling to her feet.

"Wait! Fi! It's not what it looks like!" Emi cried, rushing over, but the snap of Fi's head sent her skidding to a stop.

"You deliberately disregarded my warnings." She scolded coldly. Was that anger in the sword sprite's voice? Emi had never seen, let alone heard, Fi emote anything past a small smile.

"I know, I know, but I had to," Emi said, stepping forward and placing a hand on Fi's shoulder. Fi jerked away at her touch, and Ghirahim used that to push Fi's foot away from his throat, throwing him into a coughing fit as he sank to the floor. Fi was about to fly at him again, but Emi placed herself between them.

"Fi, please! Hear me out for just a moment!"

Fi seemed unimpressed, but she began to levitate once more, which Emi took as a good sign.

"He's not well. He needs a doctor--"

"No, I don't..." Ghirahim croaked from the floor, earning a stern look from the servant.

"As I was saying, he needs medical attention...They can't seriously want to drag him away for some mock trial to execute him when he can barely stand, right? I mean, he was speaking in tongues just before you arrived!" Emi then looked over her shoulder with a flourish of her hands.

"What language even was that!?" She inquired, earning a glare from the demon, who only looked away in response. Emi looked back at Fi, who seemed...Emi could not place it. Curious was the closest she got to an answer.

"He wasn't trying to hurt me...I think he heard you or someone coming and was trying to keep me safe by making me stay quiet." Emi explained, placing her palms together. "Please believe me. I couldn't lie to you even if I tried."

There was a long silence as Fi seemed to ponder her words.

"Your words...the chances are..."

Fi turned away from the servant. Emi pouted. Does Fi really not believe her? Emi crossed her arms, but...Fi sounded..torn almost. Emi had never heard the spirit trail off before. Emit shifted her attention back to Ghirahim. She bent down.

"Are you alright?" She whispered, brushing a hand under his chin. Ghirahim offered a weak smile and an airy chuckle.

"As much...as I can be, little dove."

He replied tiredly as the servant helped him to his feet. Emi smiled back, providing a firm body he could lean on. It was still weird to be this close to him, but she preferred this to the earlier place on the floor.

"This is...embarrassing, you know..." He muttered.

"You could just leave," Emi suggested.

"Not in this state..."

He admitted when Fi finally spoke, turning back to face the servant and demon.

"The chances of your testimony being true are 74.5%; however, other factors currently in play render that analysis useless."

Fi stated before she fluttered towards the pair and, before Emi could protest, declared a single word in a tongue Emi did not know but only ever heard the priests use. Emi could see the magic pulse and shimmer, a trail of blue that shot towards his head, causing the demon to collapse in her arms.