Chapter 7
The Stairwell
If only I hadn't gotten sick. If only. I would've killed you. I don't care what sort of magic you have. I would've sent you into oblivion with the stalhound.
In Link's head mixed countless feelings, thoughts and emotions; mostly anger. Some, however, he didn't fully understand.
Scaling the dreary, winding stairwell that connected the manor's great hall to the second floor, Link glared at Ghirahim's back. His feet alternated between stepping and scrambling. Held around the wrist like a child, he ascended in the dark, urged on by the eager demon lord. His smile was hidden from Link's view. If the demon's outfit had not been made of pallid material, Link would barely have been able to see him.
The demon allowed Link's wrist to drop.
Covering his mouth with his fingers, Link rubbed vigorously, trying in vain to erase the feeling that the demon had left on him. While he was grateful to have the use of his vocal cords back, he would have been far happier had the demon opted for an alternative remedy. Not to mention that the first sound to leave his mouth had been a forced groan mixed with a heavy breath.
Although stifled, the involuntary hum had lurched itself free before he was able to stop it. It echoed faintly off of the stone walls, including the one which his back had been pressed to. Once again, he had been given a small, somewhat pleasant reprieve from his ailments. But that was all it was: short and temporary. It was evident that either Ghirahim could not—or would not—transmit the necessary power to bring him out of his malaise. It was also plain as day that the demon was all too willing to pounce gladly on every opportunity to encroach upon him, and his dignity.
The brief ordeal brought to Link's mind one of the last kisses he'd shared with Midna back home in his room. In that moment, however, he had been the one to drive her, although amorously, against the wall. At least he didn't have to feel bad about feeling good during that encounter.
With a cringe, Link tried to fend off the realization that Ghirahim had locked lips with him, and thoroughly infringed upon his throat, for the third time that day. Not wanting to acknowledge such a dreadful thing, he continued to scrub at his lips with the back of his hand, feeling as though his efforts were merely smearing the filth around.
"Well, if I could afford to have a hopelessly sex-addicted hero affixed to my side for eternity…"
Stepping carefully so as not to trip in the darkness, Link winced at the demon's haunting words. He hoped to the Goddess that mythology's postulation that a human could become captivated by—and eventually obsessed with—a demon's touch was fallacious; an exaggeration. A shudder rushed through him as he considered the idea.
Terms such as satyriasis, nymphomania and sexual dependency materialized in his head. Scary words, indeed.
The notion of a human's propensity to become hypersexualized toward a demonic entity would not have been all that disturbing, save for the fact that Ghirahim had a way of making him feel…good.
Ugh, Link thought, his face twisting.
Midna…. What about Midna? Am I addicted to her? Link thought. I'd spent so many hours with her since we met at the party. I was having trouble keeping her off of my mind. I kept thinking about it. I would've shown up late for the Wing Contest if Pipit hadn't stopped me. And when I should've been heading out to look for Zelda, Midna and I were…. Link bit his lip. Maybe I am.
While certain physical contact with the demon did take his pain away, it left in its wake awkwardness that far overfilled where his discomfort had been. Not worth it. He unquestionably would've rather been in agony than accepting the demon's aid.
Well, that's what he would have said, not even a day ago, had someone inquired as to what he would do in a situation such as this. But now, the unavoidable truth was that he had ceded; agreed to the demon's help. A most distasteful anodyne.
And it had worked. What Ghirahim had transferred to him in the woods had saved his life, while at the same time allowed him to tap into something remarkable. Link was perfectly aware, of course, that he had been set up to fail, but still. The striking memory of the event, in all of its phantasmal eeriness, hung in his mind.
Link's usual gentle nature notwithstanding, the demon had convinced him to do something that any sane human in Skyloft would have deemed barbaric. And it was fun—at the time, anyway, to rip that stalhound to shreds. It had been one of the greatest experiences he'd ever had to actually see fear, either rising out of his own body or from his enemy's, and to utilize it somehow.
He was unsure as to how the whole process had worked; it confounded him to no end. It was further complicated by Ghirahim's own account of what happened. The entire 'experiment' that the demon had initiated was a conundrum; in all likelihood, not a completely unsolvable puzzle, but still a hard one to figure out.
Whether the demon had set out to disunite him from his humanity, force him to depend on demonic power, extract a higher level of respect from him, draw out feelings of indebtedness and appreciation, or simply just mess with him, Link knew that Ghirahim had a reason for doing what he did. Perhaps the demon wanted to accomplish all of the above.
And besides that, Link knew that it tied into the demon's all-important question, and his world-changing decision.
Link brooded as the lantern-lit corridor above them finally came into view. He was thankful for the upcoming light. This stairwell was too dismal. Present company wasn't helping.
Conflicting thoughts bombarded him in droves.
Do my friends even miss me…? he wondered.
"Forget about your home. Forget about the people who care nothing for you."
That couldn't possibly be true. I don't care how much you've tried to make me doubt Midna. It doesn't matter if Pipit and I were at each other's throats before I came to the surface. And Fi being a double-crosser…how stupid.
"You were not built for heroship…You would never last a week…You know that you're a failure."
You really think that?
"Obtain the answers that you seek for every mystery that has haunted you for so long. You can accomplish what you've set out to, but far better... You have the aptitude to influence my judgment over you depending on what you choose."
Lofty promises this guy makes. What does all of it even mean?
"You will learn more about the spirit maiden's affairs in time."
I want to see her so bad. We've never been apart this long.
"You may call me your tormentor. I will leave you so gobsmacked, so gutted, so completely and utterly ashamed of your very person and everything that you've ever done in your pitifully incomplete life that if you walk away from here, your pathetic compilation of pride will not be following you."
Well, there's no question that you accomplished the first. I've been awed, gutted and ashamed. But you still haven't broken me.
Abhorrence and hostility had been the dominant forces in Link's mind for too long. He hated feeling this way. On top of his unpleasant state of mind, which he had always urged Fi to help him avoid, like any isolated victim, he was conflicted.
Having been trounced all evening, beaten down in multiple ways and brought lower at times than he had ever dreamed possible, he had witnessed the manifestation of his own resilience. Wishing to keep his pride at bay, he was almost willing to admit that he was impressed with himself.
His life had turned into a pandemonium in more ways than one; not only during his time in the demon realm, but in the Faron Woods. It was disorder; a change so drastic from his tranquil life in Skyloft that, by all accounts, he had every right to go insane. Yet he hadn't.
Was it normal for him to be…happy in some way?
Not happy that he had been subdued over and over again and showed the meaning of humility—not to mention suffering—but that so far he'd risen back up like a buoy. He somehow had managed to keep himself afloat in a sea of misfortune.
Unbreakable spirit….
It had been one debacle after another. Countless times, he thought he was going to die—that his life was going to be wiped out.
He could have slit my throat with my own razor. He could have snapped my neck the first time I talked back. When I ran and he chased me, he could've followed through with every one of his threats. I was sure he was going to. His words weren't Hylian but I knew what he meant. He promised I would taste pain and death tonight. I believed him.
And the night wasn't over. The demon was beyond treacherous; the creator of brinkmanship. Link could feel that he was going to bring it to a whole new level.
Whilst delighting in Link's discomfort and misery throughout the evening, the demon had been careful to preserve him; to allow him to remain intact. He had been his tormentor, but also his protector, and in some small way, his teacher.
Link was himself an island in a vast and dangerous ocean. And this demon had been his only companion.
And his strange affection.… Link swallowed, trying not to shudder in repugnance at the inexplicable inclination that Ghirahim had toward touching him and making him feel—
What is he trying to do, anyway? Link winced. Well, I think I do know what he's trying to do. The only one that he wanted that close to him was Midna. He thought, anyway.
The term 'personal space' must not exist in his vocabulary.
Link rubbed his eyes for a moment as he stepped, thoughts of all kinds racing through his head.
All I need is to disprove one of your lies. Just one, and I'll have no qualms with not believing anything you say.
Link sighed. A minor case of the jitters, something that he was always subject to in the moments before a fight, started forming in his stomach. Or maybe it was just his emptiness.
Link was famished, but he refused to gripe and whine about it to the demon. He was nauseous and lightheaded. It was probably due more to the extreme thirst which had developed over the course of several hours rather than hunger. How he was going to fare in battle, he couldn't even guess.
Even if this place hadn't been the most arid place he'd ever visited, the need for water would have been just as real. As it were, this place was the opposite of Skyloft, with its fresh, warm air, mixed to perfection with the ideal amount of humidity.
The air in this realm was enough to make a human's lungs shrivel up. This place promised nothing but death for a human. Link didn't know how much longer he could linger here.
With his eyes downcast, he took one last step before knocking squarely into his leader. He gasped and lifted his head. He stepped back as Ghirahim turned smoothly around. Looking into his face, Link saw an odd glint in his eye. The demon looked him up and down.
Link turned away, feeling self-conscious. "What…?" he asked, his gaze slowly rising.
With a twist of his pale lips, Ghirahim stepped down, startling Link with his sudden approach. Placing his hands over Link's upper arms, he pushed them against his sides. He drove him against the wall once more, but this time, more gently.
Link eased back and tilted his head, giving Ghirahim an edgy look. His teeth grinded and his shoulders curled. Now what does he want…? His tired eyes bounced back-and-forth. Even though he knew what the demon lord was capable of, and despite the likelihood of being violated, he found himself to be less afraid than he once was.
"You are lucky, sky child," Ghirahim stated in a low voice, his mouth far too close.
Link had grown accustomed to this position, so he simply stared back. "Uh, why?" His eyes shifted around.
The demon grinned. "I would quickly push away this naturalistic fallacy of yours that my tongue in your mouth is the most repulsive thing in existence." He inched closer.
Link looked at him strangely. "Uh, what—"
"Something far worse could have happened in this stairwell, sky child." Link eyed his surroundings once more, curious. "Are you aware of that, human?" Link just nodded. Something far worse could always happen. That was the standard state of being when in the presence of the Demon Lord Ghirahim.
"I don't doubt it," Link answered.
"Something so good, it's painful. Unbearable, in fact."
"…What is?" Link asked, confused.
"What I can't do, sky child," Ghirahim said. "Like I said, you're lucky." He stepped closer, released Link's arms and brought a gloved hand to the side of his face, almost close enough to touch his skin. Link began to shy away. Ghirahim's lips arched into a cool grin as he rocked his head and chuckled. He stared at Link's mouth. His chin nudged forward.
"I believe you," Link said quietly.
The demon's eyes came up to meet him. "I wonder, sky child…"
"…What?" Link asked with a morbid curiosity. He knew he shouldn't be asking. He didn't want to incite him.
"How you would handle yourself."
"With what?" Link asked, his eyebrows curving with concern.
"How tough are you, sky child, truly? Could you, in all of your ridiculous frailty, bear the awe-inspiring sensation, survive through the overwhelming ecstasy, travail the rhapsody which I would so willingly thrust upon you under different circumstances?"
That was quite the question. Link just gaped at the demon, and swallowed. Hard.
"You need not answer that right now," Ghirahim said, admiring Link's parted lips.
They both stood before each other, still and quiet. Link was about to speak, but Ghirahim shook his head to silence him. "Don't deny it, sky child. You're already reasonably comfortable with me. Or are you not conscious of it?" Link began to mumble and shake his head, hoping to the Goddess that this conversation would end soon.
"Ah, a little tongue-tied, I see," Ghirahim said, looking pleased. "Well, relax hero. I await your consent with bated breath. Like I said, you're lucky."
Link paused again. "Why?" he finally asked.
"That I've got something holding me back." The demon's voice was low and harsh. "If I were the proprietor, oh, the story would be far, far different." His dark eyes burned, sparing Link no discomfort. With a smile, he turned his head to the side, brushing Link's lips in the process. Their eyes stayed together. Link shivered, not wanting to hear or feel any more.
Ghirahim snatched Link's arm and pushed him up the last few stairs to the second floor. Taking a gander at everything around him, Link was amazed.
Ghirahim stepped up beside him. "To the champagne room," he said with a wily grin.
Link turned his face up to the demon, his eyes looking surprised. "The what?"
"Come on, sky child," Ghirahim sang, seizing him by the crook of his arm.
….
Marching down stone corridor after stone corridor, Link promptly came to the conclusion that floor two of Azrael Manor was more labyrinthine than the Skyview Temple. The structure of the floor might have been a grid, but there were so many passageways, not to mention a myriad of rooms. Amazingly, the demon lord seemed to know exactly where he was going. Link was sure, however, that if the need arose to find his own way out of here, he'd have to rely on happy chance to escape.
The pair traveled down one last walkway. The walls were lined by bright oil lanterns.
Link was able to catch a passing view through a window. Stretching to look, he saw the Acheron townscape. Aglow, it sat beneath the darkest night sky he'd ever seen. The sight was unnatural yet oddly serene at the same time.
It was so quiet out there…
"Here we are!" Ghirahim said with gusto, causing Link to yank his head away from the small window. The demon smiled widely at his semi-bewildered companion, sounding as if he was beside himself with happiness. Link's gaze floated from his captor to the huge wooden door before him. He looked at the bulky metal handle on the right side. His sharp ears caught a subtle drift of female voices. They were coming from within the lateral room.
Link froze in place. What the...?
Not bothering to hide his sardonic laughter, Ghirahim took hold of Link's shoulder, leaned forward and pulled on the door handle. As soon as the door swung inward, Link was shoved inside. The room was exceptionally well lit, full of lanterns, full of candles, and full of…women.
Link's jaw dropped. All friendly chatter ceased as every face turned toward him. They looked as surprised as him. As Ghirahim stepped alongside, every lady's snowy white head bowed. They were scattered among several small wooden tables along the wall. Link felt a face appear next to his right ear. He hopped aside.
"Take some time to…freshen up before our match, sky child. I downright repudiate the idea of you using either hunger or thirst as an excuse to lose. And…" He leaned over with his hands clasped behind his back. "…enjoy yourself, hero," he said with a smirk and a wink. Link's head came forward, a dumbfounded expression coming over him.
Placing his hands on his hips, the demon stood up straight, his tall stature nearly bringing the crown of his head to the low-lying ceiling. His smile only got bigger as he prepared to address the ladies. Link's eyes shot around the room, spotting clear and present danger in the form of eight beautiful female demons.
"As is made apparent by his ragged appearance, this human could use a little TLC, ladies," Ghirahim said congenially. Each and every pretty face bashfully rose to look at him. Link's head slowly turned to him as well. "Most of all, he could use some new clothes," he said with plenty of cheerful emphasis. Link looked down for a moment, his mouth falling open a bit. "I'll be back in about thirty minutes. So, until then," he said, giving a small, debonair bow, "enjoy, ladies."
With one final, joyful glance, Ghirahim twirled around, the red fabric around his shoulders flowing elegantly as he stepped through the door. He shut it tightly behind him.
Link stood as still as a bronze figure for a few moments, wondering why in the world Ghirahim had left him alone. The silence in the room smacked him in the back of the head as he felt sixteen eyes feeding off of him all at once. He took a deep breath, knowing that he would eventually have to turn around.
Link hoped with all of his strength that the age-old saying was true: There's no sex in the champagne room.
Upon rotating cautiously, he slowly, slowly scanned the small area before him.
Women…everywhere… They were all a good deal taller than him, too. And they were staring at him. He wasn't sure who was going to make the first move. He had no idea what they were going to do. Why were they looking at him like that?
Should I just run? Chewing his tongue for a few seconds, Link sighed and fretfully rubbed the back of his neck. Was I better off with the nut job?
"Um…" he began, his eyes jumping from one face to the next, "hi?" He stood waiting for the gawking ladies to say something.
Then, like a gaggle of hungry geese, every lady began jumping to their feet and gathering together, exclaiming excitedly. Link's eyes popped open as he leaped into a battle stance. He would have reached behind his back for the hilt of the Goddess Sword if it had been in its rightful place.
Each woman, dressed in a formfitting, beige linen dress which was almost as pale as her skin was moving toward him with a gigantic smile on her face. Link put his hands out in front of him as sixteen long, shapely legs came rushing at him.
Before he could do anything at all, Link was completely surrounded by slender, reaching arms, grabbing hands, and supple shoulders which were left uncovered by strapless tops. Their skirts were far too short for his liking, and their chests of varying sizes were right at eye level, suffocating him and making him wish he was either much taller, or very, very short.
Silky, alabaster braids, ringlets and ponytails swept his face as he looked into their faces. With so many keyed-up voices jabbering at once, Link couldn't hear himself think. He tried to tell them he couldn't breathe but they weren't interested. He felt hands start to tug roughly at his bloodied, slashed shirt. He jerked and curled up. Never before had he wanted so badly to keep such dirty clothing on his body.
"No! You don't need to—" he started to say, but it was no use. Within seconds, his shirt was gone, leaving him half-naked in a room full of rapacious women.
I was definitely safer with the nut job!
With over a dozen hands making short work of the remainder of his clothes, Link shouted, shoving his way through the voracious crowd. Once on the outside, he turned toward the wound up huddle. Still beaming, the ladies turned their attention in his direction.
"Look, I really—" he called with his hands out, but he stopped short. His eyes landed on something—a ninth woman.
She stood in a far corner, leaning against the stone. Similar to the other ladies, she was quite tall and lean. But her clothing was different. Instead of a short, revealing taupe dress, she wore a long-sleeved uniform. The soft fabric was a brilliant burgundy, trimmed with jet black around the bottom and cuffs. A black leather belt hugged her trim waist. Link viewed her long legs, covered tautly in black linen. Looking at her feet, he saw a pair of sturdy black warrior's boots.
Even from across the room, Link could tell that she was gorgeous; outstandingly so. Her skin was pale, but not as pasty as the other demons'. While many of the females seemed to be wiry, she certainly wasn't. She had a small-frame, but a pleasantly curvaceous figure. Her rounded chest was trying its hardest to bust through the top of her uniform much like Midna's always did.
She pulled herself from the wall and began walking toward him. He stepped back as she drew nearer. He studied her face. She had large, round, radiant green eyes, full pink lips and a small, svelte nose. A tiny beauty mark sat under her left eye. Several loops of gold dressed her pointed ears.
But the most eye-catching of her features was her hair: it was full, wavy and extremely black; as black as the darkest sky on a starless night.
Wow…
Skyloft was full of extraordinarily beautiful women. Midna topped them all of course, at least in his opinion.
But this woman—her beauty was dissimilar to anything he had ever seen at home or in the demon realm. It was positively singular.
The mysterious woman in the wine-colored uniform stepped proudly up to him, her eyes landing on his bare chest and trailing down to his feet. Link looked around for a moment, unsure of what to say or do. He simply stared back.
She took a breath, raised her arched eyebrow and turned to look at the mass of women behind her. She lifted her hand, her fingers spreading slightly. "That will be all," she said calmly, her medium-toned voice glossy and sleek.
Every excited face instantly fell. Looks of dejection appeared everywhere. Link watched, confused but grateful. This strange woman was helping him.
Exchanging a multitude of glum looks, the ladies ceased their merry banter and shrugged to one another. One by one, they headed to the door. Link continued to watch silently as each woman exited. The last slammed the door behind her.
The pair stood alone in the hushed room. The black-haired beauty turned her face to Link again. He stood up taller in an attempt to look more presentable, but he only made himself feel silly. He was half-nude, after all, and as grubby as a little kid who'd just rolled in a mud puddle. He could feel the weight of the woman's eyes as she scrutinized him once more.
Trying to be friendly and to show his gratitude, he gave a weak, tight-lipped smile.
She cocked her head. "Well, be still my beating heart," she said as she placed a hand over her chest, her face exuding as much sarcasm as her voice. Link flinched a bit at her coarse attitude. The woman smirked, shifting her feet and crossing her arms. Her fingers flurried playfully. "They were just doing their jobs, you know." She gestured toward the door. "They normally take care of the men before they head out for a big match. It's customary in this barony. In most others, as well. Some unlucky men never see the light of day again, so it's their last right to go-as-they-please, so to speak...
"But, one thing is the same no matter where you go: the women always go ballistic over human men." Her eyes ran up and down Link's body.
Normally proficient in reading other people, he had a difficult time making sense of her.
"Some of them are my step-father's concubines," the woman added. Link looked at her. Curiosity flooded him. "Yes, my step-father is Azrael," she said, her head tipping with nonchalance. Her eyes kept dropping down as she gave him the once-over…and the second…and the third. He wrapped his arms around himself.
"I bet you're wondering what those women were so excited about," she said with a glimmer in her emerald eyes. "Judging by that mazed look on your face, anyway." Link simply listened, keeping a close eye on this odd female. "Actually, I'm willing to bet you've got a lot of questions about this place.
"I also have access to everything that your weary body needs, from food, to water, to a hot, soothing bath. I'd be willing to help, of course, if you do what I want…" Link offered her nothing but a wordless response, feeling as though he was about to be preyed upon by a dominatrix. His expression stiffened.
If she thinks I'm a coward, she's got another thing coming…
"And yes, I know exactly who you are…" she said in a quiet voice, stepping toward him, her arms still crossed. Link's head came up. She gave him a pert grin. "…The enemy's chosen hero." Link looked her in the eye as she stood directly in front of him. She was at least six feet tall, about three inches taller than him.
"At your service…" Link stated with a small, polite bow.
