It was too quiet.

Link knew what a posse was never quiet. Dogs barked, men exchanged observations, torches burned leaves and equipment rattled. They were meant to be heard, to rouse the prey and scare it into flight again. While hours of search were exhausting and dull to a tracker dog, a running body activated natural instincts. The rest was merely a matter of time.

Link rose and glanced at Ghirahim. The demon slipped on his glove, but he was poised to act quickly. It was either run or fight, and for the first time, he didn't seem to immediately prefer the last. Templars hadn't been a bother to him, and now he was almost careful. A cold feeling settled in Link's stomach.

"How far?"

"With the Silent Realm at your command, it's of no importance." Ghirahim's eyes seemed black as he stood up as well and closed his cloak. His voice was dark with wrath. "A dowsing mechanic. It will track any traces of magic, no matter how far."

Link heard himself laugh dryly, but without the harsh edge that had been in it before. "And I thought we were going into battle."

Ghirahim didn't smile. Link didn't know whether that was a sign of sympathy or pity.

"This is no opponent."

"Whatever else?"

Ghirahim didn't answer. His eyes darted around, as if he was unsure where to look, and then again, he didn't seem to see anything. Link couldn't tell whether he used some kind of supernatural sense or merely hesitated, unsure what to do. And it wasn't an option to wait.

"Then we run." He gave a crooked grin that felt like his tense face crumpled and relaxed at the same time. "That I'm good at."

"It won't be enough to crawl into a hole," Ghirahim objected, but he sounded less taunting than usual. People usually sounded like this when they had no better plan to offer. Link already turned to get his boots.

"This is no hive, it's a forest." He glanced over his shoulder. "Can you ride?"

/

"You did not think this over, did you, honored one?"

Link wasn't going to admit Ghirahim was right. The horse stomped anxiously, its ears turned flat back and the head slightly tilted to see Link better. It hadn't been easy to remove the knot from the reins without being bitten or kicked. He had dealt with feral animals before, and he had prided himself to have a good hand with them.

But a horse trained to fight was more… risky.

Link slowly extended his hand, careful to avoid rash movements. The horse ground its massive jaws, eyeing his fingers in a most ominous way.

Ghirahim hummed darkly, a sound just bordering to a growl. "I told you that the moment it endangers you, I will kill it. I may be so bold to remind you, for your wisdom is eternal while your memory seems not."

"This is your way of telling me I'm an idiot, yes?"

"As I said, thy wisdom is unrivaled."

"Shut up."

Link breathed deeply and tried to silence the voice of reason that kept insisting how he could come up with a different plan, a less hazardous idea, only that he had none to offer. There was a small chance Hylia hadn't guided the horse's dash into the Lost Woods without thought. And if it had nothing to do with her, it could still be luck.

Too bad he didn't have bolas or something of the sort. At least a rope. Without letting the horse out of his sight, Link reached back with one hand.

"I need the chain of your coat." Knowing that his determination would slip if he got distracted, Link added: "Please."

Ghirahim didn't reply, but there was a soft, slicing sound, fabric being cut with something very sharp. The horse snorted nervously as it felt the presence of magic, and Link's fingers closed around heavy gold, the metal was still warm from Ghirahim's body and shimmering faintly.

The horse prepared to shy at him. Link lunged forward.

Even before he could leap onto its back, it reared up – he had never expected it to be so fast. Link barely managed to push his fingers under the cheek girth and hold on before the beast jerked up its head and almost swept him off his feet. The muscles in his arm screamed with a ripping pain, but he forced himself to keep his grip and use the momentum given by the bucking horse.

Link hissed as it tried to throw him over its head and maneuvered one of his legs over the croup. He clung on; his arms were tiring rapidly, and the beast was damn strong. It was reasonable to let go and scramble back to try again, perhaps from a higher position, and yet Link knew he couldn't do it. It was not a matter of pride, even though he feared that Ghirahim might take action. He knew he had to succeed this time. Something in the angry trembling of fur and muscles beneath him told him that he had one try, and one try only.

The horse writhed and kicked out, and if Link's foot hadn't been caught in one stirrup, it would have thrown him over its head; the cracking feeling in his knee told Link that this would be memorable later. But it also gave him a valuable moment of time until the horse had regained balance.

The saddle was meant for a knight in full armor, thus it was too large for Link, who was slim and rather short. He kept gliding back and forth, and the stirrups were too long for his legs, so he didn't even try to climb into them. Instead, he hooked the chain around the massive brown neck, just below the jaw, and pulled.

The horse gave an irate cry and bucked again. Link could feel its heavy pulse against his cheek and the rebelling strength that caused agony in his arms and legs. Sweat poured down his forehead and temples, it slicked his hold on the chain and burned in his eyes. They wrestled quietly, and breaths grew harsher.

Until the struggle stopped.

Link gasped for air and willed his stiff, once more bloody fingers to ease their hold. The horse stood, its head lowered as far as the chain allowed, its nostrils flaring. Link dared to lift his hand a little; he had torn his skin again, but the animal's neck was unharmed.

Link slowly straightened and carefully collected the reins. The horse grumbled and complied, throwing a telling glare at him.

Don't push it.

Link wiped his face with the back of his hand and looked around. Ghirahim wasn't far, despite of the churned earth that ended just before his feet. Maybe the horse hadn't kicked him because it had missed a golden opportunity.

The demon had crossed his arms. His cloak lied loosely around his shoulders where the clasp was useless now. It was no stance of attendance or fight, and his expression was hidden in the dark. All Link knew was that Ghirahim hadn't intervened, and insecurity was an unlikely reason.

As he nudged the horse slightly with his legs, it trudged forward. Its hooves were shoed with sharp steel and made almost no sound on the fresh earth. Link was aware how intimidating it was, even though Ghirahim seemed to know no fear. When he moved his right hand from the reins, it was bloody and sweaty, as if it had never been healed. The golden chain glittered between his fingers, dirtied by the touch.

And still, it had been this blood that had awoken the creature.

"Ghirahim."

Link keenly felt the weight of cooling gold in his extended hand.

"Trust me."

White lips curled into a soft smile, the pale skin reflected the moon's light. As Ghirahim shifted his weight ever so subtly, his cloak fell open, and for the first time, he seemed vulnerable under the red brocade.

"Not because I fear a chain choking my neck." His voice was low and vocal, thrumming with his whole being. Link had never heard it this way before. "Not because you have demanded it." Words flowed like cool, clear water. "Not because I dread for my mission."

Ghirahim stepped forward and reached out, the palm white glove became stained with little specks of red when he touched Link's hand, but his grasp was firm and a hint gentle.

"But because my master has finally called my name."

The moon caught in Ghirahim's dark eyes, for once clear and unhiding.

"And I will follow."

/

The Lost Woods had many dangers, and perhaps the Mist was the greatest of them.

It required a sixth sense to know when and where it appeared. Whole caravans could get caught in it: the violet fog suddenly rose from the ground and seemed to turn everything into a labyrinth, numbing the senses and crawling into lungs and eyes. Whatever died in the Mist seemed to disappear with it, never to be found again. It was either foul magic or a nature phenomenon, and Link had learned to avoid it.

Tonight, he sought it.

When the horse first lifted its head and whinnied, Link patted its neck. "I will call you Windwaker," he proposed, still awed at the speed the horse had ran at, even through thick forest. It was truly a fine steed, both beautiful and intelligent.

"Good. I won't."

Ghirahim, on the other hand, had a different opinion.

Link could feel the aching in his sides where the demon had pressed his arms down; if Link had forgotten how strong he was, he could count the blue marks later to memorize it. It was true that Windwaker had been running at a breakneck pace, but it was unusual for Ghirahim to be affected. Link suspected that it was less fear of a fall and more anxiety of the thief following them.

Knowing what Link planned probably wouldn't soothe him.

"How long can you hold your breath?"

Ghirahim snorted behind him and shifted in the saddle. Although he hadn't been hanging over the saddlebow this time, he didn't seem to enjoy riding in general and on this horse in particular. Link had been too fixated on finding his way to notice the waves of displeasure practically rolling off Ghirahim, and now that he did, he was almost grateful for something trivial.

"I am a sword."

Something cracked under Windwaker's hoof, the sound seemed dull. Link knew it was the right way, as if the air grew thicker. Gooseflesh spread over his arms as he fought the urge to turn around.

"You'll need to hold on now, and I don't have a sheath," he reminded Ghirahim. The sword form he had seen before was way too unwieldy here, and too heavy to hold. The Mist never returned what it took, whether living or dead.

Ghirahim hummed and wrapped his arms around Link's waist instead of placing them on his sides. The pale outline of his faces appeared in the corner of Link's eyesight, close enough to feel the brush of hair.

Link swallowed and grabbed the reins tighter in case the horse reared. Animals sensed tension, and by now, Windwaker probably suspected something, even though there was still obedience.

"Close your eyes. Try to breathe as little as you can."

The night seemed darker now. Link stopped the horse to collect himself, then looked over his shoulder. Ghirahim's eyes were open and measuring. He didn't protest, but he was clearly refusing to stumble blindly ahead. Figuratively speaking.

"Something will… arise soon. As long as we're far enough from the ground as well as fast, we will be fine." That was what Link had heard, but he had never tried it himself. "The Mist cuts off both the way and our trail."

He didn't offer an apology for the risk he took; he had trusted Ghirahim that the pursuer was a danger, and it resulted in trying his best to escape. Link didn't need to ask about the nature of the thief. It was enough to know that there was more magic to come, and he wasn't keen on meeting someone else throwing it around.

Ghirahim covered his mouth and nose with his gloved hand and snorted quietly. "Quite lovely."

Then he tightened his hold again and his inquisitorial eyes disappeared behind their lids.

What the hell does that mean?!

By now, a violet veil crept over Windwaker's pasterns, hardly visible in the dark of the night. It was part of the Mist's perfidiousness. Link took a last deep breath and rammed his heels into the soft sides of his horse. Windwaker bolted at the signal, almost sweeping Link down once more.

Even the clumping of hooves seemed softer through the fog, and as Windwaker dashed deeper into the forest, thin tendrils of Mist followed. Link leaned over the neck of the horse as deep as he dared, blinking as the air suddenly burned in his eyes. His thoughts became unfocused, unsettling his sense of direction and numbing his muscles. He could feel Ghirahim holding onto him, his face buried in his cloak. The Waking Water had burned him before, and Link dearly hoped that the Mist wouldn't damage him in the same way.

Windwaker slowed and neighed hoarsely, throwing up the head so Link had to yank the reins and spur the horse on again.

There is a trail, I know it. Holy Heavens, don't let me turn wrong!

His throat itched with the need to cough. Link straightened as much as he could to keep his mouth above the violet fog, but he needed to watch the ground for possible hindrances and holes. If Windwaker stumbled, then this was the end of it.

Something shook him. He hadn't even noticed how he had been slipping down sideways in the saddle until Ghirahim jerked as his waist. Link remembered that movements were forbidden. They required oxygen.

Windwaker stopped abruptly and pranced, nearing a panic. Link leaned over again to see: a massive shadow staggered through the brushwood. The low growling could not be mistaken, nor could the stench that Link accidentally breathed in through his nose.

A bear. Caught in the Mist as well. If anything could evoke primal instincts even in the most trained of horses, it was a beast of prey.

He barely had time to cling on before Windwaker reared and galloped into the opposite direction, unreceptive to any kind of command. Link could merely duck down to avoid being hit by branches.

This was no good. He couldn't do it. They were going to die here. Screwing his eyes shut, Link pressed his hand over his mouth and stifled a cry of helpless anger.

The saddlebow pressed uncomfortably against his crotch; Windwaker ran downhill. The Mist would concentrate there. He needed to change directions… Link forced his teary eyes open again and tasted the air. It was sweet with slow poison and smelled faintly of blue lotus. There were Deku Babas that imitated both the color and shape of that flower with mimicry to protect themselves. While their poison was not as strong, it had the same characteristics.

Blue Deku Babas didn't grow on stony ground, they preferred humid earth and nearby water. The stream… If he could only get uphill…

Link grabbed the reins and pulled as hard as he could, forcing Windwaker's head up. In the moment of disorientation, the horse stumbled after his lead and turned, dashing up with dulling reflexes. There was not much time left.

The clatter of hooves got louder, but suddenly, Link knew his body was failing him. Although he had found the trail again, he could not stay conscious for long enough to lead the horse there and keep himself in the saddle. Ghirahim could do both, at least maybe, but it was no use. He could teleport to escape, and Link realized that it was the only chance. For the demon.

His fingers trembled as he gently pried one gloved hand off him. It loosened its grip, and Link found himself smiling. So Ghirahim understood.

The hand buried itself in his hair and forced his head around, almost pushing him out of the saddle again. Within the fraction of a second, Ghirahim smashed their lips together, forcing the already slack jaw open and filling Link's mouth with air. Clean, warm air.

Link's thoughts struggled, then the fog in his mind began to lift. His eyes were already wet from the biting essences, and his vision blurred once more for the one moment when he felt Ghirahim carefully transfer what he, without a doubt, needed as well. Without hesitation or despair in his action.

He was a monster, but his devotion humbled Link to the point of tears.

Windwaker shot through the Mist, and Ghirahim's hand in his hair loosened. Link wanted to believe that he did it to preserve his remaining oxygen, but he sensed the weakening with all of his body. His lips still tingled with the intangible gift he had received, even as he wrapped the reins around his fist and willed the arm around his waist to stay where it was.

Then Windwaker finally burst through the violet vapor and into the cold night air. The gust hit Link right in the face and dried his eyes as he gasped for breath. The horse trotted a bit further, then stopped and the wide lungs worked to pump the poison out of the system.

Link braced himself on the saddlebow and coughed. To his immense relief, he heard Ghirahim's ragged breathing, then a dry spitting sound and someone clearing his throat.

"I think we… made it."

Another surprisingly strong gust of wind hit Link at those words, and without a sufficient balance, he was simply blown off the horse. The fall was hard, but he found that he couldn't care at all. He heard Ghirahim laugh, a deep, rich sound that he recognized. He had heard it before tonight, in his mazed dreams.

It was you who laughed, he thought with wonder. Ghirahim dismounted with admittedly far more grace and almost soundlessly, then huffed softly and held out his hand to help Link up.

They never touched. A blinding blue flash immediately made Link roll together to protect himself, and he was only vaguely aware of Ghirahim's shadow shielding him. Another gust of wind washed over them, and Link heard the unmistakable clattering of metal.

The hill Windwaker had climbed was lined with hard, blue diamonds that radiated a cold light. Link realized that they were caught, and whoever had done it had anticipated just that. For a moment, he thought he was back in Ordon with the templar facing him.

Only that it was no templar. The figure was covered in a dark, lusterless suit of armor, the flat cuirass bore a strange symbol: a golden triangle that held a gleaming blue stone with a rhombus-cut in the middle. A silver visor covered the face and hid it from sight. The knight wore a sheath, but it was empty.

And he held the reins of a giant bird. Of course it had been foolish to think they could outrun someone who wasn't even tied to the ground.

The animal was huge and unlike any Link had ever seen. Its grey feathering was streaked with white around breast and eyes, the massive beak was wide and straight, with a curved thorn at the end. It watched Link from yellow eyes with the horrible interest of a bird short before it picked.

The knight moved with an ease that seemed unreasonable considering his heavy armor. Taking a step forward, he banged his gauntleted fist against his chest.

"I have found thou." The voice was definitely male, even though made tinny by the helmet. Said piece bowed now and reflected the moon. "Accept my greeting and my blood."

Link picked himself up and stumbled back – then seized that the knight wasn't speaking to him.

Ghirahim folded his arms and hissed. "What kind of ridiculous masquerade is this, you fool?"

The hill was eerily quiet. Then a voice said: "I sense a surety of absolute nature that this is the Divine Splint, gift to His Chosen."

Link couldn't tell whether she hadn't been there before or if he hadn't seen her. The girl was short and almost frail, with blue skin in the shade of the magic imprisoning them. Her eyes were dull and deep, and her shoulders gleamed where her arms should have been. She possessed the same otherworldly beauty as Ghirahim, but in a frosty manner. Her voice, although melodious, was flat and quiet.

"I know," the knight snapped with icy annoyance. The girl at his side bowed in response, then turned her face towards Link. She had no pupils, and yet he had the feeling she was looking directly at him.

"You may have a scant death ahead of you." Ghirahim let his cloak slip from his shoulders and narrowed his eyes. "It will be over before you know it."

The knight eyed him silently. So far, he hadn't taken more notice of Link than of a bug on his boot. "Thou have no reason to threaten me, beautiful one. Fate has chosen me as thy master, and I will prove myself worthy of thy divinity."

Ghirahim chuckled snidely. "I have a master. Save your ceremonial words for the weapon you possess."

The bird ruffled its feathers and stretched, not moving although no one held the reins. The girl remained at her master's side, although her empty eyes held Link. "I sense a connection between the Splint and the present male human. It is of likely nature that the Splint nominates him as his master."

This time, her master was truly stunned. Link could tell it from his stiffness, from the way the bird suddenly turned its head and croaked inquiringly. And he could tell it was not good.

Ghirahim threw the girl a cool glance. "I suppose you are the tool of that importunate dowsing. You are work of His hands, but cross me again and I will sever you."

"She was of use to me to find thy tomb." The knight's voice was clear and sharp again. "And when I entered the place of thy rest, thou were gone. Forged to fulfill glory, thou art to wake by my blood and form the bond that was foretold. I am thy master!"

"You destroyed the Temple!" Link blurted and balled his fists, wrath taking over his mind. "And you will pay for the pain you caused!"

For the first time, the knight's eyes swept over him, piercing through his whole body. "And you are the piece of scum that desecrated holy ground and stole what was mine." His speech obviously changed to a more common tone when he didn't speak to Ghirahim.

The demon spirit formed red, razor-sharp magic to blades between his fingers. "You will regret scorning my master."

The knight growled and threw up his head. "Thou fail to see, so see!" With a swift motion, he ripped the helmet off and flung it aside.

Silvery hair tumbled down the temples, as bright as Ghirahim's. Grey skin shimmered, the ashy shade of Ghirahim's. Red eyes glowed with fervent passion in a face with hard lines of determination.

Link knew, without having to be told, that this was a real demon. It was no shock to him – but what turned his heart to ice was that for all the identical traits the knight shared with Ghirahim, his face resembled Link's to a disastrous extent.

For the first time, Ghirahim himself was taken aback. Paling even more, he stared with wide eyes while the glow of magic between his fingers grew weaker. "You are not…"

"I am scorned. I am thy master, capable of wielding thine powers and restoring what was lost. If thou wish me to kill the ignoble defiler, I will." The red in those eyes swirled vividly. "It will cleanse thy honor to shed his blood with thy blade."

It was a fatal mistake. Although Link had thought it when Ghirahim had first found him, the realization shattered him to his bones. One unfortunate fall had foiled everything that the demon considered fate, causing Ghirahim to regard the wrong person as his savior.

There was no reason it should hurt. Fear was appropriate, because his life was about to end. He had messed with powers far greater than him, and strangely enough, it gave him peace to know he was powerless against his downfall.

And still, it hurt. It bled. Link hadn't considered himself a savior or Ghirahim's deserving master, but he had honestly believed that he could… fix things. For both himself and the spirit, who had shared his breath with him because he wanted him to live more than he wanted to preserve his own life.

For that heartbeat, his expression was reflected. Bare and vulnerable and without regret, because Ghirahim did not regret fighting him, arguing with him, holding him, healing him and trusting him.

"Your offer is an insult. You intend to shame me by using that miserable piece of Pandemonium's waste, and that I will not endure."

Ghirahim's voice was crisp and bitterly cold, the way it had been. He met the girl's empty eyes without mercy. "Get rid of her."

The demon's face showed surprise; Link was too numb to differentiate, but he probably didn't like throwing away a useful tool. "Thou do not want him slain?"

"I do not want the furor you have caused with your ignorant behavior," Ghirahim sliced through his question. "I do not want any more commotion pointing towards us before the Realm is ready to deal with it. And I do not want that filthy, by a puny Goddess tainted thing near me. It spites my ability." He gave a flippant smile and took a step towards the demon, his head slightly tilted. "Get rid of all three, and we shall proceed."

The knight regarded him, his thoughts invisible behind his ashen face. "It is thine wish, then?"

He wasn't stupid, but he also wasn't going to fight, Link realized. If Ghirahim was to be his weapon, it was best to grant him his will and thus placate him. By now, he didn't know whether he felt fear or relief; there was nothing.

Ghirahim performed an elegant bow and smirked, lifting the discarded helmet in nearly the same motion. "It is."

The knight closed his eyes; then he raised his gauntlet and removed the blue stone with a light click from his cuirass. "Leave me, Fi."

The girl's mien was impassive. She took the gem with her armless limb of fabric and laid it onto her tongue, where it disappeared. "Yes, honored one."

Honored one.

"Return him to his village. I want things in their pitiful former way." Ghirahim waved dismissively without giving Link a second glance. "I am more than sufficient to compensate, little splint."

The knight accepted his helmet from him and put it back on. If he regretted his choice, he gave no indication. Link felt his knees go oddly weak and tried in vain to move his thoughts. He couldn't.

Fi appeared beside him, gently lowering a harp into his arms. He recognized it, but the music was gone from his mind.

At the subtle movement, the strap of hair loosened from his wrist and the garnet fell into the grass, where it disappeared. He would have liked to know if he merely couldn't see t anymore, because his vision was unusually blurred.

"Your gift," Fi said softly. She, too, was the voice from his dreams, along with something that was maybe Hylia, only that it mattered so little.

"You are the shard." Her sleeves touched his face. Her magic was more gentle, cool and grazing, unlike Ghirahim's brutal strength. Link felt it tug at him as he closed his eyes.

"I'm not."

Oh, my master.

Ghirahim smiled mildly at him, his voice echoing in Link's void mind.

Precious you, who…

Fi's magic gently carried him away and frayed out the words.

/

This is an open end, a bit like the game's. I decided to do this because I know the quality is going to drop (even more) if I continue. It's best to go while the going's good (though I've certainly missed that moment with 'The Closest Thing to Crazy').

This is no rant against readers. In my experience, those fits almost every time hit the people least deserving of it, and I have reviewers to thank who have been very helpful and kind, as such Viviane Renard and others.

It's especially difficult (at least for me) to write AU without feedback. While I fully understand that reviewing can be rather pesky, especially if you didn't like the chapter all that much and have other things on your mind, I need to explain that closing this story is no tantrum of mine; I just know my writing will deteriorate, and I hate to see that happen. Nothing worse than being discontent with your work and knowing why you didn't do better. I can withdraw to reconsider some ideas and rationally ponder over my insecurities, and I can devote myself to reading, other fandoms and cosplay again.

If there's anything you would like to remark, you are welcome to email me, though I need to point out that I can't answer to guest reviews, as there is no address I could use.

Thank you all for staying with me for so long, have a wonderful summer and keep enjoying the amazing fandom of Skyward Sword and all the old and new Zelda-games!