A/N: TW: Implied past suicide bating, mentions of the destruction of prized possessions, blood, mentioned past abuse, attachment issues.

Something strange was going on with LInk. Ghirahim had his suspicions before, but now he was certain.

Ghirahim's tongue could taste more than just flavors of food, and tell him things about the world that it took most others quite a while to learn. His senses told him things about people: their moods, their health, their genders, and most relevant to the discussion at hand, their ages.

And oh boy, Ghirahim had never experienced something like this before. People's ages changed, sure, but slowly, chronologically. Not like this.

Link was so close now, closer than he had ever been before, that the demon had no doubt. The way the Sky Child acted, clinging on and speaking in such a childlike way, just clenched it.

Somehow, someway, Link had become younger. If not in body, then in spirit. How, or why, or when this had started happening, Ghirahim didn't know. But he could tell this was not a good time to ask of such things.

He may not have a lot of experience with hylians off of the battlefield, much less children, but something told him it wasn't a good idea to open that can of worms at the moment. Perhaps when Link was older again, then they could have a chat about all of this. But presently, this is what the demon had to work with, so he had to accept that and move on. Link was a bundle of vulnerable nerves just waiting to crash in upon themselves, and for some miraculous reason, he'd chosen to rely on Ghirahim to keep them together.

He must be completely desperate, he decides. Because there was no conceivable way the boy would've come to him if he had another choice. Not after everything.

The Sky Child appeared to be inches away from falling asleep again, but an apparent discomfort trapped him in the world of the wakeful. A little analysis revealed it to be because of dehydration. This made the demon come to the Grimm conclusion that Link had been so overcome with emotion that he hadn't the will to search for water. That was more than a little concerning.

Luckily, Ghirahim just so happened to have some water on him. He stole it from Faron out of pure spite. The holy blessings upon it made it useless to him, unless you consider burning his flesh like acid to be useful. But perhaps, as Link was a Devine's chosen, it would be beneficial for him to drink.

I do, in fact, have a need for your sacred waters apart from removing myself from this world, Ghirahim thinks smugly as he lowers his charge to the ground. I hope you choke upon it, Faron!

The Sky Child begins to squirm and fuss, either from being put down so suddenly, or because he could sense Ghirahim's growing anger. The demon takes a few deep breaths. This is not the time to get mad, especially not about past events that can't be changed. He had to stay in the present; focus on the task at hand. Link was completely dependent on him at the moment. What a surreal thought…

"Just a moment," he says, doing his absolute best to keep himself sounding completely calm as he carefully leans the boy against the wall of the building. "You didn't do anything wrong," he reassures.

Link, for his part, seems utterly unhappy at this new arrangement, but he complies.

With a snap, Ghirahim retrieves the water from his inventory. He had it kept in a small, crystalline bottle. The sight of it instantly cheered link up somewhat, and he made clumsy grabby hands trying to reach the prize, but was none too successful in that endeavor, because he refused to sit up any further. Or, more worryingly, maybe he couldn't? Perhaps he lacked the strength.

Figuring the boy would have trouble opening the bottle at the moment, Ghirahim gingerly removes the cork, being careful not to let a single drop of the liquid touch his fingers. He then offers the drink to Link. But rather than taking it in his hands like the demon expected, the Sky Child leans forward, latches onto the opening of the bottle with his lips and begins greedily suckling down the water. Almost like… a baby would.

This wasn't at all how Ghirahim pictured this playing out. Not at all. But as strange as this scenario was, he found he actually didn't mind all that much. In fact, he found himself experiencing an odd fluttery feeling in his heart. Oh no, was he getting sick?

He decides to shrug it off for now. "Very well," he says, making himself comfortable on the ground and tilting the bottle so it flowed a little better, but still ensuring the boy wouldn't drown. "I suppose you've earned the right to be a little lazy, just this once."

Everything was silent for a minute or two, besides the sounds of creatures in the surrounding area going about their business, and LInk's soft drinking, and the small breaths he took in between swallows. He was really going to town on that bottle, gulping it down as if he had never drank water in his life.

"You are surprisingly trusting," Ghirahim notes, only catching himself rubbing the Sky Child's back with his free hand after he had been doing it for a while.

Link doesn't seem to mind though, even leaning into the contact somewhat. "Mmm-Wawa," he mumbles around the bottle.

"Yes, it is water, but you never know. I could've… done something to it. Possibly?" Not even he sounded certain about that claim.

"Muuur…" That was a low sort of grunt that, if Ghirahim hazarded a guess, roughly translated to: "Kindly shut up and let me have my bottle in peace!" Well, maybe Link wouldn't have worded it so harshly, but the demon gets the message. He's not going to get any answers out of the boy while he is in this state. Even less than he did before, he'd wager.

"Fine, you're right, poisoning has never been my style. Too underhanded for my tastes. And to kill you now would be…" He suddenly finds himself fighting off a wave of nausea. Damn. He must be becoming ill. "Uncouth, shall we say."

Soon enough, link is finished with the water and releases the now empty bottle with a small pop, and a soft belch. It seemed that Ghirahim's hypothesis about the water was correct. Though the Sky Child looked as exhausted as ever, if not more, there did seem to be a noticeable increase in color in his cheeks. That was good.

"And that's that," the demon concludes, vanishing the bottle in a small poof of diamonds. "You drained that faster than a bathtub. Excellent job." It's customary to praise small children for finishing things, right? At least Ghirahim thinks it is.

Either way, LInk seems to appreciate it. He smiles dreamily, which soon turns into a cavernous yawn.

"And now, it would seem that it's time for someone to catch up on his beauty sleep~ I'll see what I can do…"

Ghirahim uses what he can to create a nest of sorts for the boy. He decides after a moment of contemplation to allow him to sleep on his rug.

The blanket was black. It had inverted triforces in the corners, and was decorated with skulls and hearts. Anatomical hearts, that is. This was because it had been a welcome back gift for… you-know-who. But now, even though he had made it with love, and a design that he thought hewould like, Ghirahim realized that his offering would not be accepted. More likely than not, it would be burned on the spot, like what would happen to everything else he caught Ghirahim making. Like he had threatened to do with the things he currently had, the moment he was done teaching LInk a lesson.

Ghirahim buries his face into the collar of his cape, taking in the familiar feeling and smell. He… Demise—it was still hard to even think the name—was gone now. He couldn't hurt Ghirahim or his things anymore. Everything was going to be okay, even if it didn't feel like it would.

The point is, the blanket was soft and fluffy, it should do. He just hopes it won't frighten the boy, as he seems a bit fragile at the moment, for lack of a better word.

Turns out, Ghirahim had nothing whatsoever to worry about. Link was barely awake by the time he finished getting things situated, and it was all too easy to get the boy settled into the makeshift nest. But he still had one surprise left in him, it would seem.

"Ghir'him?" the Sky Child's voice is slurred with both babyishness and sleep. No one had ever spoken Ghirahim's name that way before, so… openly, for lack of a better word. The closest would be the Fierce Deity, but that had been a semiformal occasion between near strangers. This was very different.

"Yes, Sky Child?"

Link seemed to hesitate for a moment. That, or he was simply struggling to make his exhausted little mind cooperate. Eventually, he asks: "You sing?"

The demon froze. Sing? Out of all the things the boy could've asked of him at that moment, he never in a million eons would've expected that.

Ghirahim could sing. He quite enjoyed it, actually, as he did every form of artistic expression. And he had an exquisite voice, if he did say so himself. But never had he gotten the opportunity to show it off. His ex-master hated it, though he remembered several lonely nights allowing his voice to carry across the Sealed Grounds. Perhaps he hoped that somewhere, deep down, Demise did appreciate his songs, after all. He knows better now.

But this was different. Now, someone was asking him to sing for the first time in his life, and it was Link, of all people. He found that he wasn't as opposed to the idea as he might have thought, especially now the boy was desperate for comfort, and let's face it, Ghirahim would never be the preferred person to provide that. But he is not so cruel to deprive his inexplicable savior of something so effortless, in the grand scheme of things?

But what to sing? Any goddess song was right out. He knew them, of course, but just… no. The Song of The hero? He knew that one too, but that was also out. A reminder of the not so distant past was the last thing Link needed. And everything else he knew off the top of his head was either in poor taste, or he hadn't given any words.

Then, he remembered a silly children's' song he'd overheard way back when, who knows where. It was a little dark, but hopefully, it would still work.

With a deep breath, Ghirahim began to softly sing, changing the normally upbeat rhythm into a softer lullaby-esque rendition. "Five little moblins, sitting by the shore. Along came a wave, and then there were four…"

Instantly, the Sky Child became noticeably more relaxed. He must be paying attention more to Ghirahim's voice than the lyrics. That, or he didn't really care for the welfare of imaginary moblins. Either way, Ghirahim was mentally patting himself on the back for a job well done.

He sang the next verse. "Four little moblins, climbing a tree. One lost his footing, and then there were three…"

The Sky child's lips were curved up into a tiny smile as his eyes fluttered closed.

"Three little moblins, playing with glue. One got stuck, and then there were two…"

Ghirahim remembered two of his own moblins getting into a similar situation, which the demon had to rescue them from. But then Demise— don't think about that.

"Two little moblins, having a bit of fun. One was lost, and then there was one… One little moblin, all alone…"

That was the end of the song.

That's seriously how it ended. How depressing.

Luckily, link wasn't awake to hear it. He'd fallen asleep back around when there were four or so, but not wanting to leave things half-done, Ghirahim opted to finish the song anyway. He was regretting that decision now.

Looking upon the Sky Child now, he looked smaller and more vulnerable than ever, sleeping beneath the symbol of the one who would have destroyed him utterly. Yet, he was completely none the wiser about that, simply snoozing the day away without trouble. At some point, his thumb had made its way into his mouth, and he was softly suckling upon the thin digit in his slumber.

A rush of feeling crashed over Ghirahim's heart at this odd but adorable sight, and he was suddenly very aware of what it all meant.

He wasn't getting sick.

He was getting attached.

Ghirahim was a being of feeling. His emotions were so powerful that he didn't know what to do with them most of the time. And his capacity to feel for others was no different.

It had been nothing but a detriment. Watching as the soldiers from both sides lost their lives, always trying to please his master, but getting rejected again and again. Tasting the blood of someone innocent and helpless all over his blade.

So he did everything in his power to feel nothing but contempt for those around him, pushing them away with unsettling behavior and vicious threats. It was what they expected of him to begin with, anyway. But if he were to say it ever fully worked on his end, he would be kidding himself.

It was like he said to the Fierce Deity. They didn't know he heard the things that were said about him, but he did. And it hurt. He knows it shouldn't, because it was exactly what he was asking for, but it did.

Now here he was, forming an attachment to LInk, of all people. Just because he was vulnerable around him—no. Who was he kidding? This had started long ago, the moment he had first laid eyes upon the boy, in fact. Seeing how young and clearly overwhelmed that he was, but was still trying anyway. For the one he was loyal to. Ghirahim could relate.

Then he had listened to Ghirahim whenever he needed to vent, no matter how clearly angry he was with him. He even took his (admittedly not very kindly worded) advice about swordplay. No one had ever done that before.

He knows that they're small things, trivial things. Done out of practicality and not any true consideration. But it was more than the demon had gotten in a long time. And he couldn't help but be considerate, in return. Which ultimately led to his master's downfall.

And now here he was, staring down at this small, strange, wonderful boy, feeling needed, and knowing without a doubt that he would do anything for him. He would destroy anyone or anything that dared try to harm him. He would give his life to protect him without a second thought. And it terrified him.

Slowly, so as not to wake link up, ghirahim makes his way back out of his hideout. The primal beast living in his heart hisses and screeches for him to stay, to never let go.

He had to let go.

When LInk woke up, when he was back to his senses, he would realize who had been caring for him and want to leave. Ghirahim had to be ready for that, and more importantly, he couldn't let himself cling to false hope and then do something unforgivable when it was yanked away.

He wouldn't become his master. That was his new universal truth, something to cling to after the storm. He had been damaged inside, perhaps beyond repair. But he wouldn't let that damage others. Not anymore.

He wouldn't go far, so he could still be around if he happened to be needed again for some reason. Even this was dangerous, Ghirahim knew, but he was the only one here.