Chapter Text
The campfire crackled softly, low orange light flickering across eight peaceful faces slack with sleep. The peace lasted approximately three seconds. Then came a sigh. A loud one. A rustle. And then another sigh, somehow louder than the first. By Hylia above did Sky hate the middle watch. Actually no. Correction. He hated all watches. The very concept of being wrenched from perfectly good sleep to stare at trees and contemplate mortality was, in his humble opinion, a crime against the ages. A travesty. An insult to soft bedrolls everywhere. He sighed again, shifting in place and blowing a stray lock of hair out of his eyes. It promptly fell back into them. Another offence! There had been no time for haircuts on this ridiculous quest. He certainly wasn’t about to borrow Legend’s mirror shield for the endeavour either… unlike a certain blue-scarfed hero who had, on more than one occasion, spent suspiciously long periods polishing his reflection. Sky blew upward again. The hair refused to cooperate. Warriors’ hair, on the other hand, looked phenomenal. Truly. Suspiciously so. Impossibly so for someone living on the road. Actually… great even for someone not living on the road. Oh Hylia. What if they visited his Hyrule next? Sun couldn’t see him like this. Not after so long. Not with hair doing… this. He paused. On second thought, the mirror shield didn’t seem like such a terrible idea. Sky wet his lips, boredom settling into his bones like damp. “Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the—”
“Not again.” came a gravelly mumble from beneath a cloak. “Wild kept me up with that last night.”
One eye cracked open. Time. Sky smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry.”
The eye narrowed. Closed again. Sky lasted perhaps seven seconds before sighing. He shifted, chainmail clinking softly. There was a twig somewhere beneath him, stabbing with malicious intent. He twisted to dislodge it. The eye opened again.
“Sky.” Time said flatly, voice muffled by cloak. “Please. I am begging.”
Sky raised both hands in playful surrender. “Sorry, I feel all restless.” he whispered. “I’ll walk it off.”
A pause. A reluctant nod, Time rolled over and, with long-suffering efficiency, reached out blindly, grabbed a sock from the edge of the bedroll pile, and shoved it into Legend’s open mouth to stifle the snoring. Legend made a muffled, deeply offended noise. Sky bit back a laugh.
With one last glance at the camp, eight heroes, breathing slow and steady, Sky rose quietly and reached for his sword. Habit. Always be prepared. The world had proven itself untrustworthy at almost every turn it seemed. He kept the camp within sight as he wandered a few paces away, humming softly to himself. A tune he couldn’t quite shake, one that tugged at his memory like loose thread. It sounded like a Skyloft ballad… but he’d heard it in Twilight’s Hyrule. Funny, that. Seeing how the kingdom had grown. Shifted. Changed. Yet still held pieces of his world within it. A smile tugged at his lips. The people were still kind. The sky was still blue. His fellow Links still bickered over socks and scarves. It made the weight of his memories easier to carry. Almost. His smile faded. The cycle had started with him. That truth lived in his chest like a stone and he intended to keep it buried.
The forest creaked softly around him, tall trees swaying in the night wind. The quiet felt thick, contemplative.
“Mmh. Still as sad-looking as I remember, Link.” The voice brushed against his ear like silk over steel. “Or do they call you Sky now? It’s all terribly confusing.”
The Master Sword was at the spirit’s throat in less than a heartbeat. Ghirahim did not flinch.
“I'm not the child you once tormented.” Sky said evenly, blade pressing lightly into pale skin.
“Now now! Lets not be hasty, though that was never your particular strong suit...” He said, voice lowering to a teasing murmur. The comment stung, designed to be sharp, though there was a well hidden pang of something, a desperation that Sky could smell.
“You would do well to remember I defeated Demise.” Sky replied sharply, grip steady but not deepening.
“Yes, yes.” Ghirahim sighed dramatically. “Were the legends and ballads not enough for you? You really don’t need to remind me, I was there after all.” Ghirahim responded petulantly, before he seemed to remember himself. “Regardless, that is exactly my problem. You did indeed defeat Demise, my lovely sweet tender master of evil incarnate. Which means that now…” he lifted one finger delicately, “you owe me.”
Sky blinked. “…Excuse me?”
“A new master.” Ghirahim clarified, as if this were the most reasonable request in the world.
Sky stared. He had expected vengeance. A dramatic attempt at murder. Perhaps a theatrical monologue. Not this. Dye his hair pink and call him Legend, what a surprise! Ghirahim, coming to him, for help. He narrowed his eyes, silently staring.
Ghirahim narrowed his eyes right back. “…You never were much of a conversationalist.” he huffed. “Whole camp full of you. None require a blade? Not even the bedraggled blue one? I distinctly recall him carrying a broken handle around like a fool.”
“We have no vacancies.” Sky deadpanned.
Ghirahim gasped, affronted. “I’m wonderfully entertaining! Besides, I hear Fi is giving you the cold shoulder these days. My shoulders are very warm, alternatively.” He seized Sky’s hand and pressed it dramatically against his spandex-clad shoulder.
Sky recoiled instantly. “Why was it slimy!”
Ghirahim looked personally betrayed. “I had to follow you halfway across Hyrule undetected by your little brigade of fools who also think wearing a sock on your head is fashionable, sometimes I had to get a little unorthodox”
Sky narrowed his eyes.
“…I hid in a Chuchu.” Ghirahim admitted stiffly.
Sky nodded gravely. “Yes. I can tell. Based on the slime. The slime that is now staining my trousers.”
Back at camp, Warriors sat upright sharply. Sky’s gaze softened. The Captain’s sleep was always light. War did that to a person.
“Tick-tock!” Ghirahim murmured, voice dipping low and sharp. “This may prove… difficult to explain. Especially if I happen to mention who truly began this cycle of suffering. Who started it.”
The words slid like knives. Sky’s grip on the Master Sword faltered. He lowered it. He could not, would not, let that story be told by anyone else.
“Fine.” he said quietly. “So be it. Though I don’t know how I’ll explain two swords. I can’t exactly dual-wield.”
Ghirahim’s smile sharpened. In a flicker of light and the faintest sound of shattering glass, he was gone. In his place lay an ornate silver dagger, inlaid with flawless rubies. Silver vines twisted along the hilt, elegant and deliberate. Clearly he was weaker than he let on if all he could manage to form was a measly dagger. Sky crouched and picked it up. Even through leather gloves, he felt the faint pulse within, warm, present, alive. Something that the master sword had been lacking as of late. He could feel the satisfaction of the spirit within. He felt a pang for his old friend, sheathing his sword too. Idly he wondered if Ghirahim would be able to speak to him in his head, like how Fi had done.
‘Oh yes, yes I can!’ Ghirahim’s voice rang inside his head instantly. ‘This will be such fun.’
Sky closed his eyes briefly. Clearly he could at least partially hear thoughts in the same way Fi had too. Phenomenal. That wouldn’t be abused at all he was sure. He started back toward camp, lifting a hand to wave reassuringly at Warriors, who was already half-risen and scanning the perimeter. Legend glared up at the Captain, sock still lodged in his mouth, he pulled it out with a grimace. “You didn’t even look around before assuming Sky was in trouble. Not even a glance? And everyone calls Time the mother of the group ... why does my mouth taste of feet?” He grumbled, very displeased.
“Sorry for disturbing your beauty sleep, it’s already obvious from how grotesque you look that you clearly don’t get enough of it.” Warriors griped back whilst probing a spit covered sock with the tip of his sword, a flush on his high cheekbones. “And Sky, no wandering off without telling anyone where you’re going!”
‘That one is actually dressed competently’ Ghirahim observed smugly inside his mind. ‘Are you certain he belongs with you?’
Sky sighed. He had a feeling this was going to be a very long adventure.
‘Rude!’ Ghirahim added primly. ‘And frankly unbecoming of Hylia’s chosen.’
Sky grimaced.
Yes.
Very long indeed.