#edit: I KNOW they're ooc I'm sorry. i can't fucking write Ghirahim I'm insecure about it stop telling me ;-;

[skyview-temple-spring]

Title: Damage Control (originally called by the prompt title Please...) Rating: T Pairings: Ghiralink and Ghiralink only (though past Zelink is fine too) Warnings: Implied Character Death, Mild Body Horror Summary: Canon Divergent Dark! Link AU (but not really)

"It's just a precaution. A safety measure. I'm sure you understand."

He does. He agreed, after all. It was a condition of joining, a fail safe to make sure he wasn't a double agent. (Even if he is. If he can go through with it.) Ghirahim's idea, one he had been lucky to convince the demon king would work. Link nods slowly, stiffly, back straight and hands folded in his lap. He's not going to back out now.

"Besides, think of the power you'll have! Near immortality, invulnerability, increased strength, and you don't even have to lift a finger!"

It is very appealing. He wants it, really. He's still scared, of course, still terrified of his own actions and unsure if he's made the right choice.

"It won't hurt too much. I promise. You'll survive. It will be wonderful." Ghirahim steps closer, taking Link's head into his hands. Link doesn't flinch, doesn't move, doesn't acknowledge Ghirahim's presence, even when a kiss is pressed to his head.

You were late, hero.

You were late, and you failed her.

In the end, it was the best decision for everyone. Zelda was no longer counting on him, after all. He wasn't giving them false hope. This way, maybe he had a chance at some sort of damage control.

Ghirahim sighs, brushing his fingers through Link's hair. Another reassurance is on the tip of his tongue, Link can tell, but his motions still. Looking back to the door, he rests a hand on Link's shoulder.

"It's time."

His heart couldn't be beating faster, his nerves strung any tighter. Not that it will be a problem soon. Ghirahim takes his hand, guides him to his feet, and kisses him again.

"I'm so proud of you, darling. You won't regret this."

It's as if he's outside of his body as they make their way down the hall. It's not him anymore, not Link as Ghirahim guides the ex-hero through the castle, twisting down, down, down dark hallways until the soft light of the moon is no more, the torches snuffed out as the demon passes by. Link shivers in the cold, and reminds himself that won't be a problem anymore, either.

"We're here, dear."

Ghirahim pushes open a foreboding door, the intricate patterns springing to life with a red glow. It means nothing to him.

Link walks ahead, as if marching towards his own death, and for all intents and purposes, he is. The boy from Skyloft is long gone. The hero is no more.

The chamber is dark. Demise is waiting for them, new sword in hand. Distantly, Link recognizes that as his future form, the vessel his soul will be trapped in for the rest of eternity.

Ghirahim is behind him again, coaxing him forward towards a stone table, glowing with the same red runes as the door. The whole room is alight with this magic, shadows dancing across the ceiling and walls as the glow flickers like flames.

The sword spirit's hands are light on his sides. Ghirahim had been unusually kind to him, after he came, broken down, to his doorstep, begging for a way out. He had been gentle, soft, even, caring for him as he sobbed and shook, pleading and admitting he was in over his head. He had kissed him for the first time that night, sealing the pact and trapping Link in his web.

He didn't mind Link's distant attitude after, long bouts of motionless silence followed by a hunger for attention, needy pleas and cries for affection. He gave it willingly in return for roughness, bruises and cuts and marks that Link didn't mind.

It was his idea, in the end. To become a sword spirit.

Ghirahim helped forge the sword, choosing from blades and hilts like they were wedding dresses not weapons, a special occasion he should be happy about, and it had to be perfect.

But for Link, this was an execution. A sacrifice. A rebirth.

Ghirahim presses another kiss to his neck before beginning his ceremonial spiel, presenting Link as a willing participant to his master, bowing and groveling and flattering the demon king with all he had, trying to keep him appeased and calm. Demise couldn't care less.

Link waits patiently for Ghirahim to finish, absently wondering if he will pass out early and not have to feel it for long. He never had a high pain tolerance.

Finishing his monologue, Ghirahim catches Link off guard with a push forward, sending him scrambling to catch his balance. The spirit's finger's slip underneath Link's shirt, snapping him from his dissociative thoughts.

"Hey! You never said anything about...." Link gasps, tucking his arms in on himself until Ghirahim swats them away.

"You'll be stuck with them forever if you don't take them off—stop fussing."

He protests still, whatever is left of his “unbreakable spirit” choosing to rear its head now, of all times. Ghirahim sighs, and lets go.

"You don't want to end up like your spirit, do you?"

Honestly, he wouldn't mind. No emotions means no emotional pain, no anger or sadness or frustration. It’s a possibility he will accept. 

Link mutters his indifference, quivering as Ghirahim scoops him into his arms.

"It'll be over before you know it. Stop struggling." Ghirahim coos, laying Link down on the cold slab. His hand drifts over his chest, where in a few hours time, a gem will appear.

Link's breathing speeds up. He is feeling the onset of panic, having second thoughts that maybe this isn't the only option, maybe he should have tried to fight harder. Words he doesn't understand invade his ears, motions that are a blur to his frantic mind pass by, his heart is pounding in his chest, blood roaring in his ears as black spots dance across his vision and—

Everything stops. All he focuses on is the blade held high above his chest, pointed down and ready to strike.

"Wait—!"

It's too late. Link screams as it plunges into the place a gem will form, excruciating pain spreading from the wound, burning away at his skin, magic eating at his core and changing his very being. It hurts, it hurts more than he can take, it is worse than death.

"Stop! Please!" He cries, but the blade only seems to burrow in farther. Ghirahim is by his side, stroking his hair as he sobs and writhes in the torture, whispering praises and reassurances.

"You're doing so well, Link. Let it happen. Let it go. It's almost over. I can already see your core forming, isn't that wonderful? It's almost done. You made the right choice."

"No! Get it out! Hylia, I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry, please, goddess, forgive me!"

He cries helplessly, knowing he will be ignored. He had agreed to this. He told them to do it. He can't stop now.

Link pants harder, struggling for each breath. It feels as if his lungs are solidifying, everything in his body shutting down and stopping, ceasing functions he needs to live. His blood is turning to molten lava, his eyes are glazing over.

As it goes on, he feels more numb. Maybe he is dying, maybe this is the end. This is his punishment. Maybe it won't work, maybe he'll wake up in his bed on Skyloft and it will have all been a nightmare. But as his limbs grow heavy, his eyes feel hard to keep open, and his mind grows empty with a desire to serve, Link focuses on Ghirahim's smile, his whispers meant only for him.

By the time it is over, Link can't feel anything. He can't move, frozen in place, nearly blind and deaf. He feels nothing, not even his heart beating.

The sword is drawn from his chest, clean of any blood.

"No more...."

And no more comes.

---

When he awakes, he is still on the stone slab, but the room is brighter. Fire light illuminates the dark figure at his side, kneeling with head resting on crossed arms upon the table.

"Oh! You're awake!" The demon snaps up, grabbing onto his hand. Link turns his head to see black against green, a shimmering diamond pattern synching up with each other's hand.

"See? It wasn't that bad, was it?"

It had been. It had been so much worse than he imagined, but it was over now, at least. Shifting his head back, he lets it rest on the stone, becoming aware of how everything felt.

He can still feel, emotionally and physically, which is a surprise. He is stiff, like rock, and his chest is sore. It's a different kind of feeling, not one he is used to, and he feels as if he is lacking something, desperate for a missing piece.

Ghirahim smiles down at him, gently stroking his hand. His gaze washes over his body, something akin to pity filling his empty white eyes.

"You're really very pretty, Link—an emerald sort of green. Green and gold, and your gem is gorgeous. Like the sky."

Link only nods. It hurts. Everything hurts. He makes to sit up, but cries out as his limbs crack, creaking like a rusty gear. Ghirahim rushes to press a hand behind his back, helping as Link swings his legs off the table.

"Oh, careful, careful, not so fast! It's difficult to get used to, yes, but before you know it you'll understand. And this!" Ghirahim brushes over his new gem, Link wincing at the touch, "You'll love this! It's so sensitive, wait until our Master first pulls your sword from it, or it heals so that soon," He smiles down at Link, taking his befuddled face into his hands. “soon enough, I'll teach you to shift forms. Not now, don't even try now. You need rest, to heal."

Ghirahim helps him stand, Link wobbly as he holds on for dear life. The other spirit laughs gently at his struggle, sighing when Link glances forlornly towards the exit.

"I expect you're feeling lost. I was too when I woke up, but Master was there for me. Unfortunately, he had matters to attend to, but I can take you to him now. The ache will dull, eventually, and you'll be able to stray further with only a weak bond, but for now, you yearn, don't you? You simply ache with the need to serve? To be used?"

Link nods, finally putting words to what he feels. It is like... like he has a purpose, one purpose, one goal now. All that matters is finding it.

That, and the spirit he is clinging to. Ghirahim seems to feel the same.

"Come now," The sword coos, taking Link's arm with his own, "It's time I introduce you to our Master."