Aaaaaaand I die. -falls to the ground dramatically-
It saddness me that it began so good and then slowly... eh, I don't know. The end of this chapter just doesn't 'do it' for me. I might have to search for a beta-reader or something so help me improve my terrible writing (i've been in a bit of a rut)

Well, this is the first chapter of the Ghirahim/Vaati I've been wanting to write for... not really the longest time, but since I thought of how much I loved both of these characters, wondering what would happen if Ghirahim survived after the end of Skyward Sword. (this story totally goes against that Ghirahim = Vaati's Dad picture I made on dA x'D I can now add incest to the list of taboos in this story! pffft, jk)
It's been a while since I've written anything for Vaati so his character might not be completely up to par with Ghirahim's (it might not help either that I believe Ghirahim has the stronger personality in the way the two of them clash). I dunno -shrug-

Nothing too intense here (unless you count Vaati's heated dislike of the Demon Lord~)
Things get a little more touchy, shounen-ai-ish next chapter. (I need to finish my GhiraLink story before that happens though)

Hopefully you enjoy~

Shady does not own either of these amazing characters -sad face-

A long, long time ago and even longer ago still… Legends speak of a hero of extraordinary power who – equipped with the sword of evil's bane – put an end to the king of darkness, casting him into eternal shadow. The evil king was said to have wielded a sword as well. But this sword was nothing like what the hero bore. This was a wicked blade, able to match the hero's in every way, only faltering when the king was sealed. The weapon shattered, never to be whole again…

…At least that's what the ancient people believed.

As centuries passed, the blade became aware of the power it still harnessed deep within its scattered body. It began pulling the pieces back together. Shard by tiny shard it came closer to becoming whole once more.

These days it waits. Slowly allowing the dark energy to build up inside it as it waits to be released by someone just as sinister…

.

Dust clung to every surface – floors, walls, and the pillars – everything. It was obvious that no one had been to this temple in ages. Pushing on the colossal stone doors, a man cloaked in a violet shadow entered the back room of the sanctuary. As beautiful as it was, a dark presence had long engulfed it all in an eerie dark glow. The man's scarlet eyes were captivated by a strange object protruding from the stone tiles at the far end of the room.

Each step laid to the ground in an odd kind of forceful grace that befit the wind mage. Near silent crunches emitted from the filthy floor, feet leaving tacks as the dust was whipped behind him by his cloak. In his approach, he noticed that this object held a familiar shape. It was a sword that sat there in the low light, patiently waiting to be freed it from its forlorn captivity.

Resting his feet near the base of the weapon he brushed a few of his long lilac tresses behind his pointed ear. It was quite the beautiful blade. The blade itself was curved in then to a fine point in several places; the handle was similar to that of the sword he remembers shattering at that pathetic human festival, though far more elaborate – it was hard for him to even explain. And the entire body of the weapon was coated in a gorgeous black shell. The craftsmanship was so provocative… he wondered what this sword was used for. Then his eyes caught hold of the symbol that resided just below the hilt. It was the emblem of the Light Force he had been searching for! Could this lone thing possibly be connected with the power he hunted so fiercely?

Taking a solid stance and his fingers gently caressing the hilt of the blade, he brought a finger to his lips muttering a low, inaudible incantation – there was no way he was going to risk callusing his palms. A purple glow enveloped the dark collaboration of metal, gradually exonerating it from its stone prison. He was anxious and strangely… it felt like the blade itself was emitting a sort of restless energy as well. It was an evil weapon – he knew that – and it suited him well since he wasn't much of a saint himself. As the ground released its hold on the tip of the blade and it fell softly in his hands, the wind mage felt such a great power – this sword would assist him in achieving his long awaited goals.

As he began to trace the triple geometric symbol beneath the hilt, a bright wave of energy pulsated from the blade. The mage's darkly outlined crimson eyes widened, amplifying his surprised reaction. It soon became a shapeless light, momentarily hovering in front the sorcerer as if examining its new master, then arched over his head, landing near the masterfully crafted Hylian doors he had entered through. Upon contacting the ground, the beam appeared to have scattered into plain colored diamond shapes, but near instantaneously collided together as it finally began to take a solid form. The light's radiance subsiding, a humanoid silhouette stood alone in near the arched doorway. Its body as darkly shaded as the sword it was birthed from and contrasting white hair. The being's back was facing him, but the mauve clad sorcerer saw it hold up a hand as if to confirm it was really there.

A low trembling chuckle erupted from the now apparent male figure. "I'm… I'm finally free!" He laughed exultantly, his voice holding the faintest sound of the purest stones gliding against each other. The sword-spirit's smirk was revealed when he decided it was time to face the man responsible for his liberation. "Oh, excuse my rudeness Master." His bow was low and respectful, yet when he called the mage 'master' it sounded more like he was mocking him. "I am the conscience that resides within the sword you held merely a moment ago. My name is Ghirahim." White eyes met with a stern fiery gaze. Ghirahim's smirk only grew seeing the growing distrust in his new master's eyes, taking note on how he slightly opens and closes his curvaceous mouth several times, possibly due to some internal debate. "Perhaps my current form makes you uncomfortable Master…?" He paused.

Assuming this odd creature was asking for his name in return, the younger man answered, "You may call me Vaati." And then took a half step back. In all honesty Vaati was unsure how to feel about this 'Ghirahim's' present guise, he still couldn't believe this unnerving power he sensed within this man – far greater then his own. What was he playing at?

"Master Vaati…" Ghirahim licked his lips, tasting the name that had passed through them. "…once again, please excuse my disrespect, though this time for my unseemly appearance." He straightened out his bow, placing a foot forward, then another. Distance between the two bodies closing, while Ghirahim's darker form began a dramatic change. Skin paled, eyes distinctly underlined in purple, his body clothed in a slimming white body suit with diamond shaped openings lining up the legs and gloves to match that ended just below the elbow. A golden sash-like belt wrapped around his waist, a large, red diamond fashioned jewel resting over the right hip. Covering his shoulders down to about his slightly exposed midriff, he wore a red cloak that had a high raised collar, repeated yellow diamond patterns decorating the inside, and golden armlet hugging the top of his right bicep. His hair was draped over his left eye, collar not completely covering the grin dominating his pallid lips. Stopping in front of the mage, mere inches from him, Vaati took notice of the dramatic difference in their height. Ghirahim stood – at the very least – a head taller, with a few more noticeably toned muscles, and proud wide shoulders. It was obvious in his body language that his intentions were all but innocent. "Is this form one you might find yourself more familiar with, Master?" A slight seductive tone saturated his words.

Vaati locked eyes with the sword-spirit, displaying a look of monotony in an effort to stifle his inner displeasure towards this man. "I never said I had a problem with the previous." He stated flatly.

"I understand," Ghirahim chuckled. The younger could feel his blood begin to boil from the heat of his fury as his jaw clenched, and crimson eyes narrowed. "I look positively magnificent in any circumstance – it's a gift really." What! Could this guy not hear himself? I wonder if I can stick him back in the pedestal… Vaati smiled at the thought of already ridding himself of this ostentatious headache. "I shouldn't brag about myself when… now that I think about it, you're not too bad looking yourself, my Master." Ghirahim mused in the young mage's pointed ear. Vaati nearly jumped when it occurred to him how close the other had gotten, unable to hide his obvious discomfort.

Feeling the embarrassment over his failed guard creep up his purple cheeks, Vaati suppressed it as best he could and changed the subject. "Where is the Force?" His voice echoed his low commanding tone. How had this man tricked him into forgetting the whole reason he was here? What bothered him more was that he had some how lost his control in the situation… but he would deal with that problem later.

"Oh, straight to business I see." The oddly garbed sword-spirit straightened from his flirtatious position; knowing full well the turmoil he was causing his master. I made him positively giddy! "I'll be blunt, I have no memory of this 'Force' you're asking about."

"Don't lie to me." Vaati felt his growing rage fuel his words, though only for a moment. Two could play at this game, he thought. "You know… the Light Force – the sacred relic that will grant my wish for power. You must know of it since your weapon form was ornamented with its emblem." He finished, lifting his head proudly towards the other. It was such a profound frustration he had never felt before, what was it about this man that made him so unusually angry and out of character?

Ghirahim smirked; placing a finger on the younger's lips to halt any further questioning. "Ah! You must mean the Triforce, am I correct?" Vaati's scarlet eyes drained of their former resentment and filled with a new curiosity. "Yes, my former master – before he was destroyed – also sought this mysterious power." He stated as if to discourage him from his quest. "It seems this was not a random meeting, but perhaps it was destined by fate."

Pushing the man's gloved hand away from his mouth, Vaati found a sinister grin spreading across his face as he regained more of his former self – relishing how good it felt. Cocking his head to the side, he spoke, "I am doubtful about us being linked by 'fate', my friend, but I will agree that this union is more then a coincidence." He re-postured himself and held out a hand previously hidden by his long sleeve. "You help me find the Light Force – or Triforce, if you prefer – and I'm sure we can think of a suitable reward for you by the time this all comes to an end."

Ghirahim laughed. "I am but a weapon meant to serve." He laid a hand on his chest, leaning in towards the wind mage, faces so close yet far from touching. Ghirahim hears the other's breath catch slightly, he assumed due to the realization of their proximity to one another. "As long as my master is happy, then I will be as well. All I require is that the history of this conquest be written in the blood of those who oppose you."

"You know," Vaati began, his smirk vaguely faltering. Eyes narrowed darkly and locked with those of his new servant. "I think I'm starting to like you, sword-spirit."

The elder's fingers twitched a little at being addressed by something other then his name. He stood straight, one hand now on his hip. "Please call me Ghirahim… Master." He said, capturing his master's hand in his own.

Oh, the beauty of it all.

Yaaay, your torture is over! Unless you come back for the next chapter?