A/N: Okay, so you know how this fic says heavy angst on it? Yeah, well, me thinks I went above and beyond in this chapter and I made myself very emotional writing it. Read the trigger warnings very carefully this time.
TW: Temporary character death. Plus the usual mentions of abuse and self-deprecating thoughts, but the first one is the most important one to keep in mind.
When Ghirahim next became aware, he found that at some point, he had reverted to his blade form. He was hoping it wouldn't happen, that he could at least remain in his true form until the end, but he really shouldn't have been surprised. After all, what Ghirahim wanted never mattered. He was a weapon, a tool to be used by others how they saw fit. No one cared about what he thought or how he felt. He knew this, and yet even now, he struggled to accept it.
This was not the only new development, however. Far from it. He was also no longer alone.
Link was here, and he had his hand lightly grasped around Ghirahim's hilt. How odd. He never thought the Sky Child would ever willingly do such a thing.
But his exhausted mind was too tired to wonder about that for long. He got the sense that maybe he was supposed to have a stronger reaction to this development, but he couldn't muster the strength to even pretend to care.
Still, he wasn't completely out of it. The demon knew what this encounter likely meant, but it felt… right, in a macabre sort of way. A twisted sort of poetry, a storyline swiftly brought to a close.
Still, he should probably acknowledge LInk in some way; just because Ghirahim is at death's door doesn't mean he was incapable of being polite, thank you very much.
"I can never get away from you for long, can I?" Even his mental voice sounded worn down.
Of course, this was a completely rhetorical question. The hero had never spoken a word in the sword spirit's presence before, and he didn't expect that to change now. And just as he had thought, a small ripple in the Sky Child's mind was the only indication he'd heard him. Ghirahim would take it, though.
"I suppose it is only natural for you to wish to tie up loose ends. Yes… This does appear to be where our little thread of fate reaches its end."
That seemed to get more of a reaction. Ghirahim couldn't see LInk's face, his gem was too damaged to provide him with sight in this form now, but he could feel the boy's hand tightening ever so slightly around him. It was so small compared to his large blade, and so much softer than the hot, unforgiving scales he was used to.
If Ghirahim were as truly loyal as he'd claimed, he would hate the sensation. But he didn't. In fact, it felt good. It shouldn't feel good. He didn't deserve—
Focus. Just focus on the speech. It will all be over soon.
"First, I suppose some amount of congratulations are in order. You've won. You seem surprised I said that. Well, I may not show it most of the time, but I do know when I have been beaten. You survived anything and everything that was thrown at you, and I would be remiss not to acknowledge that."
Ghirahim paused for a moment. Speaking, or rather the mental equivalent, was really taking a lot out of him. But he felt that he owed the boy this much.
"Now we return to the matter at hand. Yes, this truly is the end of the line for me. You and my former master really did a number on my heart that not even my superior demonic healing rate can fix. There is no coming back from this… I am dying."
The Sky Child's hand is trembling now. Ghirahim feels a twinge in his core at the sensation, and now, with no dominating presence restricting him, he allows himself to act upon it.
"It's alright," he says, allowing his voice to soften for the first time in… oh gods, had he ever let himself be soft before?
Softness is weakness!
No, he supposed he hadn't, not really.
"It was always going to end like this, I see that now. And I can hardly fault you for doing what you must To survive. Don't you dare even think about blaming yourself for this."
The boy's entire mind seems to be quaking at the seams now. Ghirahim can't imagine why. Still, the last thing he wishes to do is cause the Sky Child more pain than he already did. So even though it is far from what he is used to, he continues to try to be reassuring, even as he feels himself fading. It's the least he can do after everything.
"I'm not angry with you, LInk. I don't believe I ever truly was. No, I'm actually deeply grateful to you. Because of you, I die free. That's as much as a creature like me could ask for."
He thinks link finally tries to respond, sends something into his mind. But everything feels so, for lack of a better word, blurry. He can't quite tell where his mind ends and the Sky child's begins. This doesn't distress him, though. Noe, he feels… light. Peaceful, even. All of the pain and suffering he's been through seems so far away. He knows without a doubt that he has mere moments left now.
"It's time. Go now, Sky Child. Enjoy the fruits of your labor. Put down your blade and live for yourself, unburdened by fate. … Thank you. … I'm sorry."
And then he dies.
It doesn't feel like falling asleep.
It feels like waking up.
Link doesn't understand what happened, not at first. One moment Ghirahim's presence was there and the next… Gone.
"G-Ghirahim?" He looks down. The blade has gone cold, no traces of magic left. The gem is dark.
"Ghirahim!" He feels the emptiness in his soul, a wound created by the loss of the first blade, reopened by the loss of the second.
"N-N-No…"
He collapses onto the ground and cries.
A/N: I feel like such a jerk. I thought I would never be able to write about the death of my absolute favorite blorbo, not even a temporary one. But I just couldn't think of a way to heal his injuries that both felt believable and carried the emotional weight that I wanted.
But I promise that Ghirahim will be back soon and I will deliver on the fluff.