Legend of Zelda 1. Chapter 1

**Guys I fully acknowledge that this chapter is rough. Give it the benefit of the doubt because I had never done an RP before this , plus this first chapter is all off the top of our heads. It gets better when me and my ghira get used to writing with each other.**

**also I will reformat this chapter to be easier to read by tonight, right now i gotta find a new car.**

* * *

Ghirahim had not seen one of their kind, save that blasted Impa, in hundreds of years. They were all so good at hiding, he wondered now why this one had taken up following him around. Perhaps the silly child was just curious who or what Ghirahim was? Or perhaps he already knew… He crossed his arms over his chest, tapping his fingertips against his own arms when he did, and considered it.

"I see you there."

Sheik smirked beneath his cowl. He would let the demon think he had discovered him, blown his cover and seen through his ways. He lurked a bit longer, hanging back in the shadows before descending a ways from his perch high near the ceiling to a ledge that, while still cloaked, was more visible. "You seem intrigued by my presence, Lord Ghirahim," he said, his voice flat and rather matter of fact.

Oh, so the boy did know his name. It made a smile come to his perfectly white lips, and he turned to face the Sheikah more directly. "Mayhaps I am. I very rarely see such likes as you…" His chocolate colored eyes lurked over Sheik. He was hard to read, behind that cowl, indeed… but he let off an essence of superiority. Almost cockiness. He could practically smell the smirk on the blonde… "May I ask what you are doing here?"

The demon's expressions were flashy and blatant, but still they hid something. He could feel the pale being's eyes searching him, trying their best to analyze him. Many a lesser man would have crumbled under such a fierce stare, but Sheik held his ground; he stared back, unflinching under the gaze. The demon spoke once more. His voice echoed in the large chamber, shattering the silence that had hung over their motionless battle. "I'm looking for something, or maybe I should say, someone." A lesser Sheikah might have laughed, possibly trailed his words with a hummed chuckle, but Sheik cut his words with a sharp, crisp formality.

Ghirahim raised his eyes over him, admiring every detail of the young man. He seemed courageous enough, standing before him and not even once flinching away… But he was still just one of Hylia's children none the less, and he was not impressed.

"I imagine whomever it is you seek is not here." He mused aloud, for Sheik to hear and confirm. "I do hate to have my time wasted…"

"I am aware." Swifty he lept down from his perch, landing on the stone floor with light footed grace, and approached the man calmly. "And I have no intention of doing so." Sheik continued as he crossed his arms and looked up at the demon lord. He had to admit, although it may seem otherwise, Ghirahim had a rather refreshing amount of control over his emotions, and the challenge to break that mask invoked a certain thrill within him. "There is something you seek as well. Am I wrong?"

Ghirahim could have reached out and touched him, it seemed his personal space had been invaded. Of course, the demon lord was hardly one to complain about personal space. "I suppose everyone is seeking something. Currently I find myself desiring something sweet—such as revenge…" He crossed his arms ever so slightly and wondered what this Sheikah's angle was. Was he going to bargain? That seemed interesting enough.

"I imagine you will be explaining yourself soon?"

"I'm sure someone of your status would know what lies beyond the sand sea." Their was a glint of curiosity in his garnet eyes as he paused for a moment searching the demon for a reaction. "After all, there are many of your kind in Ikana." Without breaking his stare, he reached for a small scrap of cloth that had been tucked away securely in the sash that hung loosely over his hips. On it was what might look like a random spatter of ink at first glance, but it was much more than that. "I believe you'll find this to satiate that pallet of yours."

Ghirahim began to roll his eyes, although when he laid eyes at the scrap—one which clearly pictured a marking that anyone with a brain should recognize—he turned his lips into a frown.

"Go on."

He wasn't sure that he liked where this was going—this young man. He was acting as if he knew something Ghirahim didn't… which simply could not be true, when the demon lord was ageless. He watched closely… fingers twitching slightly at his sides because he simply could not determine if this was a threat, or a bargain.

Sheik inwardly smiled at how, not uncomfortable, but maybe…wary he was making the demon with his still rather vague proposal. "It's whereabouts are currently unknown and few have the knowledge to even begin to track it." Sheik had to be careful of the his wording. Flattery would only get him so far, and he couldn't hide that he was also gaining something from the deal, Ghirahim wasn't a fool. He decided being blunt might work best. "Join me in my search and when we find it, I shall fight you to the death. Whoever wins can do what they will with it."

The proposal was curious. Of course Ghirahim was well aware that a sheikah would not approach him if not to gain something. They were loners, for the most part… He pursed his lips, considering the bargain. Well this could be interesting… after all, he could potentially find the mask and use its power to end all of the Hylians… which would likely be his goal by the end of this.

Of course Ghirahim was also aware that such a power was very dangerous. Sometimes uncontrollable… Which brought his lips into a smirk once more. It was practically a challenge in and of itself…

"Alright. I accept your bargain… although it is a fool's bet, on your part."

"Is that so?" Sheik looked the other up and down, sizing him up, or at least making it apparent that he had. "That is saying quite a lot, especially from someone who was defeated by a teenager playing hero." With a quick shift of footing he leapt at the wall, using it to throw himself back up to the enshadowed ledge. He stared down at the pale figure. An excitement ran through him at what could lie ahead. Finally a task worth his skill. This demon would be a formidable opponent, but certainly one he could best once he was done with him. He turned away, "Tomorrow at dusk. I'll find you. Be ready."

Ghirahim's eyes flashed with as much emotion as they would show all day. He even parted his lips, as if he might protest or argue… but he held his tongue simply because he was not ready to give the sheikah the pleasure of flustering him. Instead in clenched his fists, but looked up at the retreating male.

He could think of no goodbye for him however, and so he turned his gaze away and instead just watched him make his retreat. He would kill that boy someday… and that brought him comfort in his time of annoyance.


	2. Chapter 2

**Formatted it a bit differently. There are now lines separating ghira's posts and Sheik's posts so that I could keep the spacing within each of them. **

* * *

Sheik lept nearly hazardously through the trees, sacrificing silence for speed, as the thick forest thinned and made way for the desert landscape. That demon was harder to locate than he had anticipated and Sheik had the strong feeling that the man had done this on purpose. He came to a sudden and abrupt halt. His ears twitched slightly and he shut his eyes, listening for that faint shimmering sound he was almost positive he had heard.

* * *

Ghirahim was not really in hiding so much as making a point to be as annoying as possible. Sheik told him to be ready, not to be readily available. For that reason the demon lord thought it best to test if he could actually do any tracking or not. After all, he wanted to find that mask…

Although, he wondered slightly if Sheik could track at all. Maybe his aim, by seeking Ghirahim's help, was simply because he knew of Ghirahim's skills? Perhaps he knew that the demon lord was a sword spirit—that he possessed the ability to dowse…

Regardless, he was strolling along a stream in the forest… and not at all regretful of his choice to be difficult.

* * *

Sheik sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. That bastard was teleporting every time he got close. Fine, he could play his game. Calmly he perched himself on a sturdy branch and cleared his mind. It wasn't his strongest ability, but he didn't have two rings in magic for nothing. Pale rose overlaid his vision as he sought out the other. The demon lord proved to be quite the peculiar signature to latch onto, but with some persistence he pin pointed him. "There you are, you little shit." he mumbled to himself before striking down a deku nut and disappearing in a puff of smoke.

* * *

Ghirahim's lips curled downwards. He couldn't sense Sheik, for the briefest of moments, and it frustrated him. How was he to hide from the man if he didn't know where his stalker was? It was a predicament…

He closed his eyes, trying to feel where he was. Trying to locate him as he had been all day, through that same dowsing ability… but for a moment he was unable to do so. "Blast…"

* * *

With a purposefully loud crack Sheik landed behind him. He allowed for a sharp glare to briefly cross his usually stoic features, thoroughly annoyed with Ghirahim's games. "You're not the only one who can teleport." Sheik said as he straightened up and adjusted the small pack slung over his shoulder.

* * *

It startled him—the loud crack that shattered through the air. He didn't jump or flinch though, so his initial shock was cut short. He inhaled sharply through his nose, and then turned on his heel—the red mantle actually flowing slowly behind him when he moved to face Sheik.

"That may be true… but at least when I teleport it doesn't create that wretched sound…"

* * *

Sheik was feeling rather mischievous, having successfully startled the man. "That was just for you." he said as he canted his head and tapped the demon lightly on the cheek. They hadn't even started for the desert and Sheik knew he was already pressing his luck, but it was more fun that way, and it had been quite some time since the Sheikah had been so lucky. He wondered just how far he could push the sword spirit, and how long the promise of power would be enough on its own to halt any ill will that might try to befall him.

* * *

Ghirahim reached up and his white gloved hand gripped onto Sheik's removing it from his face. He even took a step back to exaggerate the action, that he was moving away from the touch.

"Your grubby fingers do not belong on a face such as mine." He corrected—as if he were speaking to a child. "As for your noise—I do not appreciate it."

Sheik was very lucky that he had caught Ghirahim's interest in relation to the mask. Quite frankly if he had not, the demon lord may have just killed him there. To think! What if those fingers were dirty? What if, Goddess forbid… it had soiled his flawless face?

* * *

"Grubby? Tch." Sheik commented as he tore his hand from the other's grasp and just for spite, wiped it on his trousers as if Ghirahim had tainted it somehow. "If you're done with your games, we should discuss how we are getting to Ikana. It's not what one would call easy. There are several curses that were designed specifically to prevent us from doing so." Sheik cringed at the thought of his last venture into that wasteland. He had taken the woods, unaware of what they held, and was not about to do so twice.

* * *

Please. If anything Sheik was spreading Ghirahim's 'cooties' all over himself. He was practically running his hands over himself in desire.

Or at least that was how Ghirahim chose to see it

He rolled his eyes at him though. "You sound scared, boy. Would the most efficient way not be through the woods?"

* * *

Sheik eyed the man as he tried to decipher whether the demon was toying with him or if he really didn't know. "Actually, it's an equal distance, but the desert is…less cursed. Even with your skill I'd think you to find yourself rather lost. You do not want to be lost in those woods." Sheik had set all kidding aside, and now his gaze only reflected how serious he was on the matter at hand. "We're going through the sand sea." and with that definitive statement he began walking.

* * *

Ghirahim certainly could tell the woods were a pressing issue for Sheik, and that made him want to discuss them further—although he began to walk beside the shorter male. "You sound as if you have experience with the woods…. and I am interested to hear what has you so afraid of them."

After all, what better way to bother a man than ask him about his fears?

* * *

Sheik halted his step and turned to face the man. "I didn't venture into those woods alone, but I'm the only one who came back." he said with and almost eerie calmness, looking up at the demon from under his brow. "It isn't fear I harbor. I'm simply adverse to the idea of walking into the same trap twice." The Sheikah resumed walking at a rather brisk pace. This wasn't a conversation he was all too pleased to have, but he wouldn't give Ghirahim the satisfaction of raising his voice. "Besides, wouldn't you rather kill me yourself?"

* * *

"I would be thrilled to kill you." He agreed, considering the idea. He brought one gloved hand to his chin, tapping it thoughtfully. "Yes… I am already making decisions on how I would like to do so. I am becoming increasingly more fond of the idea." He chuckled to himself.

"Although I would hate to boast _too _far in advance… It seems almost too cocky for me, even." He watched the sheikah's face, admiring how stern he seemed in his decision to be vague… until he turned and began to walk again. Ghirahim took a few long strides to keep up, but then fell into step with him. "I am becoming sick of having to 'catch up' with you."

* * *

"Don't get too excited." Sheik quipped, smirking to himself. They continued walking on for some time. The silence was near deafening, but Sheik was accustomed to it. As they neared the forest edge where the trees grew thinner and thinner, Sheik finally spoke. "We won't be walking. I've borrowed a horse for you. She'll carry any provisions you might have." In a patch of shade not too far off from where they were, was Sheik's faithful grey steed and next to him a white mare. "You are familiar with horses I presume?" Sheik asked as he took his cloak from the saddle and slung it around his shoulders. He was secretly hoping the demon had never seen the beast. She was a patience mare, and he had picked her for that reason, but it would still provide him with hours of entertainment if the lord of demons had never laid eyes on such a thing. He had to hold back a laugh at the mere thought.

* * *

Should Ghirahim admit that he had never ridden a horse before? Why would he—when he could travel by foot? He had never gone too far a distance… And yet he didn't want to seem ignorant. "I know what a horse is." He scoffed. True, he was familiar with the mechanics. Horse. Mount horse. Ride horse. How difficult could such a task be?

Of course he would have to execute the task with finesse. He would not be looking like a buffoon atop a useless mount. He approached the white horse—although he was certain he already did not like it. Hell… he could smell it from some feet away… "As for provisions they are unnecessary… I am not as needy as someone like you."

* * *

The desert was getting steadily colder as the night crept on and Sheik was growing more and more thankful for his cloak. However it was better than the desert heat; _that _was near insufferable. Figures shifted in the distance, but Sheik's true sight kept them at bay, although it did have him wondering about how Ghirahim was fairing. The desert held many tricks and if you didn't know where you were going, you were not only bound to fall prey to its disorienting landscape, but to crumble under its hallucinaginetic powers.

"Those figures, they aren't real, you know."

* * *

Ghirahim had been having enough trouble understanding how Sheik was riding that horse. Good lord, was it not uncomfortable for him as well? And yet, as Sheik had predicted, he could see figures in the distance.

Being a sword spirit though, he was able to determine with certainty they were not real. But… he could still see them, and they weighed on his mind. Simply knowing something was not real did not make it any less unnerving.

"I am aware." He commented. "Do they not bother you, boy?"

* * *

"I know they are there, but I don't see them the same way others would. It's comparable to not seeing them at all." Sheik said before dropping the loosely held reins to warm his hands. A harsh and coarse wind howled, tossing his cloak, and running its icy hands over his already chilled skin. Abandoning his horse's reins, Sheik threw his hood up and regather the heavy fabric to pull it tightly around himself. However, without much warning his horse began to fuss, whinnying and breaking his graceful gate to stamp his hoof until the Sheikah took up his reins again. "It's alright, boy." he said softly to his friend as stroked his mane, now only holding shut the cloak with his left.

* * *

Ghirahim didn't have such a lovely cowl to shield him from the wind. He actually was faring well enough with the mantle though. His skin was not as fragile as Sheik's was anyway; chances were… although he couldn't say the sand didn't make it difficult to see. He would have much preferred the forest.

"Ah. They are distracting." He admitted, and there wasn't even an insult behind it. He was just making conversation.

* * *

"I suppose, but it's better than having my soul removed." Sheik sighed at the thought of his fallen comrades. What was worse was the one he had abandoned to save his own skin. He often told himself Skullkid wouldn't have made it anyway, that he was justified in leaving the Sheikah behind, and that maybe the giants had saved him when he could not.

* * *

"If you say so." Ghirahim wasn't too sure on that. Frankly the removal of souls may be preferable over having gritty sand all over his otherwise flawless body. Hell it would make him less dirty, after all. "Why do you want it?"

He paused, considering his own sentence, and then cleared his throat to repeat the question more properly. "Why is it that you seek the mask, I mean to say."

* * *

Sheik pondered the question. Not answering it would make the other question his motives, but answering the question was out of the question. "It is an object of great, but destructive power." Sheik made a clicking sound with his tongue, bringing Ghirahim's horse to stop as he halted his own. He kept his hand on his sword as his eyes swept the area and his ears listened closely.

* * *

Ghirahim found the answer to be an obvious cover. He did not want to answer… of that Ghirahim was certain. It was a useless question anyway. Ghirahim would certainly claim victory over this pathetic blonde…

He found it slightly bothered him that Sheik had control over his horse, if only that it made him feel as though he was not in complete control of the situation. He enjoyed having that control and that power. It gave him the edge.

His curiosity was high. Why had they come to a stop? He would have asked, but he had already asked enough questions for now. Questions, after all, made one seem less wise. He looked around as if he could spot what Sheik was looking for, but frankly all he noticed was the obnoxious mirages…

* * *

Sheik hadn't thought that they would run into one of the Garo so soon and he half wondered why they were so far east, scouting the area perhaps, but why? "Stay put." Sheik openly scowled before wiping his face of emotion entirely and dismounting his horse. "You too, boy." He stared into the distance. If he killed the Garo, more would come. If he didn't, there was a chance that they would come anyway and much quicker. He threw a warning shot, letting the long needle stick into the ground in front of the figure. Its single glowing red eye looked down to acknowledge the object before red turning its gaze to the Sheikah and drawing its swords. It wasn't exactly the most desirable outcome, but then again there were not many of those when it came to the Garo. With a nod of his head he unlatched his cloak and sprang forward, eager to land a hit and bring the invisible being out of hiding.

* * *

Had Ghirahim been a considerate person, he may have perhaps helped Sheik with this trial. In theory they were supposed to be 'partners' for the moment. They had a common goal, it seemed…

And yet he took the opportunity instead to observe his fighting style, and determine how he went about his battles. Should he actually be in need of assistance, perhaps Ghirahim could be of service. Although he certainly would just fight on his own. He would by no means ever incarnate himself into a weapon for Sheik to wield. Ha! The thought itself was laughable.

Although it was odd for him to be outside of the land where monsters were under his control. Frankly he rarely encountered creatures that did not acknowledge him as their commander. It was intriguing almost.

* * *

Sheik had to admit, the Garo having such a similar fighting style did make it somewhat fun, but the being was still far from being his match. He dodged its blows with ease and before the masked fighter could recover, Sheik whipped back around and cracked his leg down over the Garo's back. It fell to the ground and the guise of invisibility faltered. Sheik wasted no time. Quickly he pinned the other to down against the barren ground, climbing onto him to straddle his back and holding a blade to his throat as his other hand wretched back its hooded head. "What are you doing out here?" Sheik said in a hushed tone as he kept his eyes on the Garo's weaponry. The Garo grinned up at him. "I could ask you the very same thing." With that there was flash and a burst of flames. "To die without leaving a corpse…that is the way of us Garo" The voice hung in the open air as Sheik stood and retrieved his needle.

* * *

Ghirahim approached Sheik when the battle was over, wiping his hands together as if he had actually helped participate in it, and then watching the remains of the creature burn. "Congratulations." He murmured in sarcasm. "You killed it, and wasted an opportunity."

Certainly if it had been Ghirahim it would have gone differently. He would have at least _attempted _to torture information out of it. Especially if Sheik found it to be so important that he had to ask why the Garo was there. Regardless though, he looked up at the flames and the sort of smoke signal it had created.

"I wonder how long you have, boy, before others like him come… You may have made your life very difficult just now…

* * *

Sheik scuffed a bit of dirt over the burning body. "I didn't kill it. Threatened yes, but killing it wasn't my intention. It killed itself." He glanced back at the horses and then toward their destination. The sand sea was now out of the question. Sheik wasn't sure why the Garo were so far out east, but if there was one of them, there were bound to be more. The body would burn quickly, and the smoke would dissipate soon. Other Garo wouldn't spring forward to avenge their comrade; they were loyal, but only to their master. They would only retaliate at his command, but still. "We'll have to change course. The terrain is a bit rougher, but if we travel south west, we should be able to avoid them." However, this would mean they would have to pass dangerously close to snow peak, and Sheik wasn't too thrilled about that.

* * *

"Whatever suits your needs, shadowchild…." He murmured, walking back in the direction of the horses. It was nice to be on his feet. "Although if you don't make up your mind soon I may become impatient with you. I don't imagine you will like me when I am impatient."

The fact was that he had been remarkably patient this far! He simply could not, however, endure this horse much longer without complaint.

* * *

Shadowchild? Sheik eyed the demon lord for a moment at being called such a thing as a child. It wasn't his fault they ran into the Garo, and it wasn't like he wanted to wander through the frozen tundra. Annoyed with the man he was trying to use, Sheik walked back to his cloak and picked it up roughly, throwing it back over his shoulders and bundling himself in the well woven fabric. This was going to be a long night, but worse were the nights ahead.

* * *

The journey to get to snowpeak was nowhere near as tedious as the journey through it. It was difficult, frankly, to lead horses through snow that was nearly two feet deep… Not to mention it was cold.

Ghirahim, being a demon, was not too affected by weather… his needs were not the same as Sheik's, perhaps. He only found it to be an annoyance. The snow was falling, it was hard to see far distances, and his clothing was wet from the moist landscape around them…

Ah, but at least he was not shivering like a soaked kitten. He eyed the Sheikah. "I believe if we continue in this direction, we will save time." As opposed to traveling in a circle around those monsters, it would be simpler to just trudge through the snow the whole distance in a straight line…

* * *

Sheik was full of hate. He hated the snow, he hated the cold, and he hated the satiated look on that demon's face when he saw how he shivered. "We will have to turn eventually, but yes, better to go straight through Snowpeak than to back-track." Sheik wasn't going to waste his energy arguing. No matter where they shifted course, they still had to pass through the snow, and Sheikah were not built for the snow.

"There should be an alcove not far ahead. We can rest there. If we are granted any amount of luck, the storm may die down." In the most casual of manners Sheik sparked a small blue flame to toss back and forth between his hands, warming them just enough to return the feeling to his numbing fingers. It was by far one of the more useful things he had been taught to do.

* * *

Ghirahim rolled his eyes to the Sheikah, who was now entertaining himself by juggling fire. "You seem to know a lot about this place, shadow boy… for someone who seems so disgusted with the environment."

He was becoming increasingly fond of the snow. Perhaps for the sole fact that if he were to remove his mantle he could essentially vanish into it. It would amuse him to annoy the Sheikah further… Yes that seemed good. Without words he snapped his fingers and the mantle vanished in a splatter of diamonds…

And then Ghirahim did as well. It may be fun to play tag in the snow, after all. He was growing bored with just walking.

* * *

He heard those fingers snap and knew nothing good could come of it. A small groan left him. Tag was fun when he was a kid; they played it to hone their sight, but right now all Sheik wanted was to be out of the snow. "Ghirahim, I'm not going to play this game." First the man had abandoned his horse to trail along behind them, now he thought he could vanish in the snow simply by getting rid of his mantel. "I can sense exactly where you are, and if I thought it worth the energy I would be able to see you as well."

* * *

Ghirahim could see the Sheikah was not interested, from his new perch atop a hill, and yet he did not care. What fun would it be if he was interested? It was more of torment than a game, after all. Sure, the Sheikah could find him through sensing him… and Ghirahim could find the blonde through dowsing. But that was useless to him now. Even if he knew exactly where Ghirahim was, the demon lord could always teleport away.

It was less hide and seek than cat and mouse… and Ghirahim was happy to continue scurrying away like a mouse. If Sheik chose not to chase… well perhaps he could make up for it by simply vanishing. After all… he could surely find that mask on his own… Yes, the idea of disguising his 'escape' as a game of tag certainly seemed like a fine idea…

* * *

Sheik got the distinct feeling that something was amiss. He was half tempted to just let the man wander off. He wouldn't be able to get the mask on his own, not if the ones "guarding" it were other Sheikah, strayed or otherwise. But Sheik knew he shouldn't let him go. As much as he despised him, Ghirahim did have some skills, and he had managed to get him to come along without even mentioning that he was pretty much live bait. He was believable though, and if the fallen shadow dwellers could believe they were fighting him…

He would have to fess up something to keep the man here. "If you're thinking of fleeing, you might want to know that you can't dowse for that mask."

* * *

Ghirahim groaned internally, and he vanished… before reappearing behind Sheik, gripping onto his shoulders and groaning in displeasure. "This does not please me one bit." He murmured into Sheik's ear. "Why should I be unable to dowse?"

* * *

He hadn't meant to attack the demon; it was a reflex. It was so second nature to him that he didn't even remember drawing the blade that now rested at the man's throat. He quickly lowered it before seeing the motion through. "I advise you not to do that again." He slowly put the knife away. "You can't dowse for it because the people who currently posses it are wary of things of that nature. They are as skilled as I in the art of hiding." Sheik didn't want to give everything away but…."You could even go so far as to say, we are cut from the same cloth."

* * *

He tilted his chin up, slightly, when the knife was brought to his throat. Would he actually cut it? The answer was no, although Ghirahim wasn't fond of the threat either. Scars on his perfect body were just that. Scars. Blemishes. He was not willing to wear them.

"Temper, temper." He rolled his eyes, but then he looked back at Sheik. "I am not stupid, you realize…"

* * *

"Do I now?" he snarked as he dug his heel into his horses side. "If you want to come with me, fine." He tugged his cloak tight around himself as the wind gusted, sending snow everywhere. "If you don't, there isn't a snowball's chance in Eldin that you'll get passed a tribe of former Sheikah."

* * *

"Where are all you Sheikah even coming from?" Ghirahim was not fond of being on horses, as he may or may not have mentioned when he blatantly abandoned the white one to walk behind them, but he chose to follow anyway. "I was under the impression that you had all died out or something."

* * *

The comment had Sheik's mood lightening ever so slightly. To think they were so well hidden that the masses assumed them to be dead. "What better way to conceal one's self than to have other's think you dead?" The alcove Sheik sought was coming into view, much to his relief.

* * *

Ghirahim found that to be amusing. "People are not smart enough to fear the dead. Perhaps you are on to something, choosing to sneak up on people like that… Although I must say… You did a poor job of concealing yourself."

Although he was quite certain the only reason the Sheikah was seen was because he chose to be. He noticed the alcove as well, and looked back at the shivering mess of blonde. "Is this the little hole-in-the-wall you would like to rest in for the night? You must be thrilled to get out of this dreadful cold. Yes, I can practically smell your desire for that alcove."

* * *

Sheik scoffed at the insult and climbed down from his steed. "Yes," was all he could muster without firing a barrage of insults in the man's direction. Quickly he began setting up camp, securing mostly dry branches, and lighting a fire. Every now and then he would glance over that the demon lord who seemed intent on remaining useless. However Sheik hadn't expected anything more, he knew Ghirahim wasn't about to expend unnecessary energy. When the fire was finally burning strong, Sheik settled himself beside it and held his hands out to the heat.

* * *

"Are you quite comfortable yet, shadow boy?" Ghirahim asked, standing in the front of the cave. No, he had no desire to be helpful… not quite yet. His desire was to simply get Sheik, and himself, to that mask. Once there he may attempt to kill the Sheikah… but not yet. Clearly he couldn't get to the mask if he could not track it.

And it seemed like Sheik seemed to know how to get to it, or at least who was guarding it. Ex-Sheikah. Whatever that meant… "Your shivering is beginning to get on my nerves. You look like a wet kikwi."

* * *

As much as he hated to admit it, he probably did look like a wet kikwi. He mumbled under his breath and turned around, pulling the wet cowl and tabard over his head, and bundling the cloak around him in lue of the covering. He glanced around briefly before finding a place to hang the items up to dry. To say Sheik was displeased would have been an understatement. Even in the company of friends he was known not to remove the customary cloth.

* * *

Ghirahim actually was thoroughly impressed by such an action—and to say he was intrigued was an understatement. He stepped closer to the blonde, bending at the waist to be at eye level with the man sitting by the fire, and admired him.

"Good gracious. You have a face."

* * *

He could have smacked that smirk right off of him for daring to even try to look at his face, which he was doing his best to keep covered by the cloak. However, that probably wouldn't get him very far. "How observant of you. Of course I have a face." he quipped back at the man. They had only just begun and already he wanted to slaughter the demon where he stood. At least he could sleep soon, there was always that. And then he noticed something. Ghirahim had made no move to set any kind of camp for himself. He didn't think he was sharing his tent with him, did he? "You might want to pitch your tent while the fire is still strong."

* * *

Ghirahim had been tempted to comment that it was a somewhat good looking face. Hey, he'd always had a thing for blondes. Of course the comment just made him wrinkle his nose and roll his eyes. "You are annoying." He commented, before standing up straight again. "And I am not pitching a tent. I have little need for such nonsense."

Sword spirit. As such, the demon lord didn't need things that hylians—or in this case Sheikah—did. Eating, drinking, sleeping. They were useless to him. He did not need it.

To say he couldn't do such acts was a lie. Occasionally he did eat and drink, simply because it was an occasion on which it was useful, or because he desired or craved a taste. Or he may sleep—if only to bask in a dream. Cold did not bother him, heat did not bother him. The world was full of annoyances, but not needs

* * *

This made Sheik a bit wary. Did the demon really not have need for rest? And if he didn't, that would mean that Sheik would have to put himself at the demon's mercy for several hours, several times throughout their journey. He may be one of little sleep, but Sheik most certainly did need some sleep. There was no sense in waiting then. "I'm turning in." he said as he made his way under the well constructed tarp.

Sheik wished he had known that they would be traipsing through the snow. He would have brought something a bit warmer with him. He could try to teleport, but there was something about Termina that made teleporting over its border very difficult. One could leave yes, but getting back was almost always a futile effort. Sheik curled further into his blanket; the cold seemed to cut right through him. He let a breath slowly leave him as he cleared his thoughts and made attempts to channel his energy to warm himself.

* * *

Yes it was true. Without having a need for sleep, there would be hours when Ghirahim could potentially stay awake and do anything he wanted to the Sheikah. Of course, in all likelihood he would simply sleep to ease the boredom of standing around snow peak… Or perhaps he would poke Sheik with a stick while he slept to bother him.

He walked into that tent that he had already been told he was not allowed to share, and took a fine seat right beside the Sheikah's head. "I am bored." He commented absently, as if that explained his entire presence there.

He could practically see him shivering again, through the sheets. Was it really that cold? He supposed it was a little nippy… ah, well. "I can almost _see_ you catching your death in this cold."

* * *

Sheik had almost achieved a comfortable temperature when Ghirahim shattered his focus by invading his tent. He was then further irked when the demon lord had decided to take a seat so close to him that he could practically feel the heat radiating off him….although it was begrudgingly somewhat appreciated. Well, that is, until the demon pointed out how blatantly obvious it was that he was not prepared for this environment. "I'm not going to 'catch my death'," he grumbled. "When I die it will be with honor and dignity. It will be a warrior's death." However, in actuality, Sheik was a bit concerned about becoming ill, but he would certainly not fall to the weather of all things. That was just disgraceful.

* * *

Yes, for what it was worth, Ghirahim did have plenty of body heat to share. That had not been his intention though, and frankly the idea of being nice would have sent him to sit elsewhere if he knew Sheik appreciated it.

"Many a warrior die in the cold." He commented absently, whilst admiring his own fingernails. "You seem under-prepared. Perhaps you need something else to keep you warm? I am almost feeling generous, this is very unlike me. I may be willing to aid you in your need for warmth."

* * *

At that last line Sheik was now awake and alert, and quickly (but not so quickly as to seem startled.) sat up and turned to look the other in the eye. "And what exactly do you mean by that statement." he asked, his voice calm and rather matter-of-fact. Sheik was not one to throw himself into something without looking into it. He was well aware of this man's rumored tendencies towards some of his captives during Demise's reign, and now he was slightly more inclined to believe them.

* * *

"Well as I said I am feeling generous. You seem to be very chilled, and I have this mantle that I have little use for… after all it will not keep me warm." He shrugged his shoulders. "Therefore I suppose I could let you borrow it… on the condition that you, perhaps… admitted to needing me."

* * *

On the outside, Sheik kept calm. On the inside, he scowled heavily. The mantel certainly did look rather warm, lush even, and it would somewhat cover his face as his currently soaked cowl would have. But he had dignity, goddess damn it. Still, it would do him no good to become ill. He did not need to be in a weakened state around Ghirahim. Dignity was one thing, but pride was another. Was it really that horrible to admit that he might need some assistance? As if the universe felt the need to mock him, a gust of air blew through the tent flap that Ghirahim had left unsecured, and sent a shiver down his spine. "Fine." he paused a moment. "I ..mayberequiresomeassistancefr omyouunderthecurrentcircumst ances" he mumbled nearly inaudibly.

* * *

Ghirahim put a hand to cup his own ear, smirking devilishly. "What was that, shadow boy? I didn't quite hear you. I am looking for the words 'I need you'."

Was he evil? He felt evil. But the look of pain on Sheik's face was perfect. It must have destroyed him inside to say that—all hushed and rushed like a child admitting they had broken something of value. But Ghirahim simply 'hadn't heard' it!

* * *

Sheik shut his eyes a moment and sighed. There was no going back at this point. As agonizing as it was, he said it. "I need you" It left a bitter taste in his mouth. Gently he reminded himself it was for the best. The last thing he needed was sickness. He had a job to do, and this was a necessary sacrifice. Still, the pleased look Ghirahim had about him was nauseating, and Sheik half-wished he had just kept his mouth shut.

* * *

Ghirahim's face had curled into perhaps the most thrilled smile he had ever had. yes… that was a wonderful statement. I need you. It meant so much, too. He hoped Sheik knew the gravity of what he had just said. I need you.

I need you. I can't live without you. I must have you. I _need _you. It was so pleasing to Ghirahim that he actually chuckled while he pulled the dry mantle off of himself. It was warm, from his own body heat, and dry because he could manipulate it with his magic… yes, it was fabulous as he was…

"Well since you need me so much, perhaps I will humor you. Here—have this." He extended his hand with the mantle in it. "Or do you _need me_ to dress you like a child, as well?"

* * *

"I can dress myself just fine." he said as he accepted the warm cloth from the other. It took every fiber of his being to be courteous and not snatch the mantel from his hand in frustrated anger. Humiliation welled in his stomach as he pulled the garment over his head. However, it was warm, and he did feel much better physically. "Now if you don't mind, I'm going back to bed. You'll have to find some way to entertain yourself until dawn." With that Sheik snuggled back under his blanket, hoping the demon would refrain from torturing him further.

* * *

Ghirahim smirked, sitting there. He didn't make any motion to move yet, in fact just stared at the blonde while he attempted to sleep, making him as uncomfortable as possible without saying a word or moving a muscle. After all, he wasn't going to pamper him too much.

He wasn't sure what he would do while the Sheikah slept. Perhaps sleep too. Or maybe go through his belongings. He was interested to note that he had not been kicked out of the tent… he would claim that as a victory. After all, not ten minutes earlier he had been informed he would not be allowed in it.

Yes, he was full of victories tonight

* * *

It was unnerving to have the other still sitting there. It was as if Ghirahim was watching, just waiting for him to fall asleep. Sheik would have kicked him out, but he was tired and really didn't feel like instigating a fight, especially when it was only he who had something to lose. So instead he put up with the presence, hoping to the goddess that the other wasn't up to something. It took much longer than it normally would have, and longer than he would have liked, but eventually Sheik was able to drift off, although his sleep wasn't peaceful.


	3. Chapter 3

Morning came with a fierce blizzard. It was practically impossible to navigate… and Ghirahim wondered if the Sheikah was stubborn enough to try. After all the 'weather wouldn't best him'.

Through the night he had snooped through the blonde's belongings. His findings were that he had hardly prepared himself for winter. Most of the shirts in there were very thin. Clearly he had hoped to travel through the desert instead. He also found a stash of various oddities and weapons…

And of course potions. It was nice to know that the sheikah had come prepared to have his ass handed to him by Ghirahim. Not that the demon lord actually planned to fight him…

* * *

Sheik awoke to a world of white. He sat up and rubbed his eyes as he tried to think about what his next step should be. He was surprised to see the fire still burning, or maybe Ghirahim had re-lit it. Either way, it was helping to keep the snow out. He still wasn't certain about what he was going to do but Sheik thought it best to at least get up. He leaned over to secure the tent flap, that was again left open, before rummaging in his bag for a fresh shirt. If he wasn't awake before, he was now that cold air surrounded his bare skin. Quickly he dressed and returned to the warmth of the ever so degradingly acquired mantel.

As soon as Sheik stepped from the tent he made a b-line for his cowl. Relieved to find it dry and not frozen, he quickly worked it over his head and began redoing the wrappings that covered his hair. There was just something about the familiar cloth that put him at ease.

* * *

"I still do not understand why you cover your face." Ghirahim muttered from his position near the door. He was practically invisible to a bleary-eyed-just-woke-up set of eyes, sitting so close to the snow, but he rolled his eyes. "I see you survived the night, however. Congratulations, Shadow Boy. You are not dead."

He rolled his eyes back to the entrance of the alcove. He was deciding if the snow could be navigated. He felt it could… assuming one knew to tread carefully. However he didn't have to worry about freezing to death, like some fools he knew.

* * *

Sheik turned to the sound of the demons voice. He actually hadn't seen him there. He knew he was around though. "Most Sheikah men do." he answer even though he wasn't exactly asked.

Sheik decided to ignore the second comment, however. It looked as though there was a chance that they'd be stuck here and he didn't want to start his day on the wrong foot. Instead he calmly made his way over to where the Horses had nestled themselves and retrieved a small pouch and a pot. "Would you like some tea?"

* * *

Ghirahim considered it. Well maybe a sheikah tradition was reason to wear it, but it was a lousy piece of fabric. It covered most of his face, it made it impossible to see if he was smiling or frowning, and it made it hard to guess his emotions.

Frankly it was hard to tell if he had emotions when he was wearing it.

"Yes." He answered, curious as to why Sheik was being so kind as to ask. Surely he remembered that Ghirahim did not need food or drink. Regardless, tea sounded nice in this environment, and he was not one to refuse kind gestures towards him. He rarely received those. "I would enjoy some tea. Do you follow many sheikah traditions?"

* * *

"I would imagine I follow more than I realize." He said, grabbing two cups and heading over to a snowbank to scoop some fresh snow. "Tea with breakfast is apparently one of them, so I found out." Leisurely Sheik made his way to the fire and set the pot carefully to boil before fishing the amber leaves from the small pouch. He smirked slightly. Ghirahim was far less annoying when he was legitimately curious.

* * *

Sheik would learn that Ghirahim's curiosity almost silenced his obnoxious behavior—but also opened doors for him to learn more things to make fun of Sheik for. He smirked, a little, considering it. "I hardly knew the sheikah still existed, and here I am learning they have traditions. I must say I am impressed." He moved a little closer to the fire. It was tacky to engage someone in conversation from across a room, if not for dramatic effect. Therefore he moved closer to the fire—where he knew the sheikah would likely plant himself.

"It is almost interesting."

* * *

Sheik made his way back from returning the tea leaves to there proper place, now with a chunk of bread in hand. "Hiding is one of the things we do best. After all, we are originally a clan of assassins. " He said as he took a seat. There was an air of jest in his voice as he gently reminded the demon that he was raised to kill.

Without a second thought Sheik tugged down his cowl to eat. It was funny, any other time and not having the cowl up bothered him to no end, but eating seemed to be the exception to the rule. Maybe it was because he only ever ate alone or with other comrades who also shed their cowls.

* * *

Ghirahim smirked, watching the sheikah eat the bread. How interesting. Did he ever get crumbs caught up in the folds of that cowl? Because that seemed endlessly annoying.

"Yes, assassins. I am not intimidated by you, boy…" After all, what was an assassin to a nearly immortal demon? "And I am considering hiding that cowl the next time you sleep."

* * *

Sheik did not like the sound of that and shot the other a sharp glare. He would be sleeping with his cowl on whenever possible now. The moment was over with that one sassy remark and Sheik now poured all focus into preparing their drinks. "Your tea." he said roughly. Had he wanted to, he could have dropped it, or spilled it, or thrown it at the demon, but Sheik wasn't a child and he wouldn't give into such childish antics. So, despite the antagonizing threat, Sheik merely held out the cup for Ghirahim to take. He wasn't going to let himself be so easily baited.

* * *

Ghirahim accepted it, a little too much of a smirk on his face. He should have been nicer to the sheikah, but he was acting so childish! One comment and now he was pouting like a wee babby over a cowl.

"You seem so defensive of it. My my. Do not let my comment make you cry, boy. I would not strip you of something that can keep you warm while we are in a blizzard."

Or would he? It was a good question. "It seems redundant. I have seen your face—and it is a fine face! That scrap is more than useless."

* * *

Ok, maybe he was being a little pouty, but things weren't going as planned and he was stuck with less than desirable company, and— wait was that a compliment? "Thank you…I think?" he said canting his head in slight confusion. "But it's intended purpose is not to hide my face's existence, so I think it not useless."

Sheik peered outside a moment, the storm seemed to be dying down a bit. Maybe he wouldn't be stuck here all day. He wasn't sure how long he could keep up this banter, so if they could leave, he was going to make certain they would. "The storm looks to be letting up a bit."

* * *

"Why do you children of hylia think it necessary to thank someone for a compliment? I would not have complimented you if you had not earned it. You do not thank someone for a compliment, you merely accept it." His voice was less sharp though, and it was clear he'd enjoyed that Sheik had caught on to the hidden compliment.

"Alright, I will bite. What _is _the cowl for?"

He totally ignored the storm comment. Frankly he did not care if they were walking or sitting. It would be the same amount of him bothering the sheikah either way.

* * *

Sheik couldn't have held back the smirk if he had tried. "Now, now, I can't just tell you all my secrets." It really wasn't much of a secret and it really wasn't all that important, but Ghirahim seemed to be fixated on his cowl and now Sheik had something to hold over him. He sat their and sipped at his tea coyly, watching for the demon's reaction.

* * *

Oh he didn't like that. He didn't say anything to that effect—his words did not come for a moment. It was simply clear by looking at him and admiring his body language. The way the corner of one of his eyes twitched, and suddenly he couldn't keep his fingers still. He had moved the to tap against the cold ground he was sitting upon. No… he did not like that answer.

"I am not interested anyway." He murmured, like a child who had been told he couldn't play with a group of friends. It was practically an insult! Ghirahim had just complimented him—although now he was more in the mood to insult him.

In fact, he thought, he would. "I am sure there are more interesting things in life than the filthy rag you wear around your face."

* * *

Sheik had a feeling that might happen, but it was worth it. "There certainly are." again he sipped his tea. "Like that mask and its guardians." Maybe that would drag the man's focus, faster than the weather, to the task at hand. It was a distinct possibility that they may be running against the clock. Sheik wasn't exactly certain how much of the mask's magic his former brethren had unlocked.

* * *

Ghirahim nodded, and almost exactly as Sheik wanted him to was drawn back to the mask. He wanted it, that mask… but he did not know just yet what he would do with it. For now all he knew was he needed a test subject—a certain sheikah—and he needed to come up with a plan.

"Yes, you have mentioned. If you are planning to venture out in the blizzard may I suggest you do it while the sun is still up? You will freeze to death at night—whether you would like a warrior's death or not."

* * *

It was a quick and dirty job, something that under normal circumstances would be a waste of good wolfos hide, but Sheik was warm now, as they trudged through the mountains, and almost more importantly, not reliant on that mantel. Sure he had a bit of blood on him, but he also had new mittens as well as some fur to line his cloak. Ghirahim on the other hand didn't seem quite as thrilled.

* * *

Ghirahim was less than impressed. Sure Sheik had some fur to wear now, but it meant that he didn't get to tease him for walking around in the mantle. It was a shame, because he had found it so amusing… it was big on him, and practically too long… and it had almost been—a word he would have never considered saying aloud—cute, to see him struggling to keep his cool under all the obnoxious comments Ghirahim had been dropping.

"If you stained the mantle I will be unhappy." He muttered, in protest of the stupid fur.

* * *

Sheik buried himself in the cozy fur, a small hummed sigh escaping him. Things were going better now. He was warm, Ghirahim wasn't in a position of power, the storm had died down considerably, and maybe, just maybe they might get out of the perma-frost soon. But the more he thought about it, the less gleeful he became. There was still the threat of ambush, not to mention the people they would have to cut through once they got to Ikana. And there was most certainly much to discuss with the man he was leading straight into dangerous territory, most importantly, who and where they were fighting.

* * *

Speaking of that… "You know where the mask is, then? You say I can't dowse for it, but you never explained how you seem to think we will find it."

Dowsing was one of the few abilities he still retained from his time as a true sword spirit. Frankly he wasn't that good at it either—not that he would admit he was less than perfect at anything. "Your tracking can't be that much greater than mine."

* * *

It was a slip of the tongue and he knew it, but Sheik still inwardly laughed that the demon had just admitted to having skills lesser than his. "I can't track the mask either," he laughed, just to unnerve Ghirahim a bit. "but I do know who can track the mask, and that's why we're going to Ikana. "

* * *

"You are bringing another body into this? Have you never heard that three is a crowd?" He looked forward at the snow. "We are going to Ikana, to find your friend, who will help find the mask." He clarified. He hated not being the one with the plan, it made it hard to predict the next moves.

* * *

"Yes, he is quite well studied in masks. He collects and sells many oddities, but masks are his passion." The was a slight uneasiness in Sheik's voice. The salesman wasn't exactly Sheik's friend so much as a very distant relative that more or less creeped him out. "And if we have any shred of luck, he will not be coming with us."

If they were truly lucky, the mask would be somewhere in Ikana, as Sheik has suspected, and contacting the salesman would only be a formality. However, Ikana was vast and the Garo were sneaky and it was a possibility that they were not the brains of the operation. There were simply to many uncertainties. "Ghirahim, do you have any sort of reputation in Ikana?"

* * *

Ghirahim shook his head, but then for clarification vocalized his answer as well. "No… I do not believe so. I cannot control the rumors, of course, but I rarely travel far from Hylia's blasted home lands. I am less interested in it, obviously."

He looked back at Sheik, wondering what that strange tinge of discomfort in his voice was about. It wasn't the happiest sound he'd ever heard. "Why do you ask?"

* * *

"Curiosity." After he had said it, Sheik wasn't so sure it was the best of word choice, but he left it at that and continued guiding the horses through the pass. The snow was getting lighter and the wind had all but stilled for now. It would pick up again once they changed direction, but for the moment Sheik enjoyed the comparatively nice weather.

* * *

"Ah. Curiosity." He admired the clearing. It really was nice… almost tolerable! It was comfortable to stand without snow up to his knees. "Maybe I should take up an interest in Ikana. Perhaps I can fill this land with my master's minions too…"

* * *

Sheik raised an eyebrow. So Ghirahim really was still looking to revive Demise. He had thought the demon would want the mask for his own power. Well, at least the man had loyalty if nothing else.

"It is unwise to raise the dead…especially those that should stay dead." Sheik muttered.

* * *

Ghirahim had loyalty in the highest amounts. So much so that his eyes flared with anger at such a comment. "You have no _idea_ what you are talking about."

He turned his body to face Sheik's and for a moment he looked like he may just jump him. "My Master is beyond vital to this world… and it's foolish inhabitants. He brings order and government to a world full of idiots. If he can be revived, he will be."

* * *

Oh what was this? It would seem Sheik had found a rather sore spot. After forcing Sheik to humiliate himself by admitting need, the blonde was definitely not going to pass up the opportunity to toy with the man. "If by vital, you mean destructive, and if by order and government, you mean ethnic cleansing, then …" Sheik smirked, this was delicious. He could practically see the rage emitting from the other. " Well, it doesn't matter. The mask won't fall into your possession anyway."

* * *

Ghirahim rarely let his temper best him like this but… he actually made a dive for Sheik, pouncing on him in such a way that shocked even himself. Had this reaction ever been drawn from him before? The blasted skychild had defeated Demise, but he had not directly insulted him to Ghirahim's face.

Perhaps he would tackle the fool someday too. For now though he was simply knocking the sheikah into the snow, growling. "You will regret those words!"

* * *

Sheik knew he was pissing off the demon, but he hadn't expected to be knocked from his horse. He hit the ground hard and square, a small gasp leaving his mouth along with the air from his lungs. Trying his best to disregard his hindered breathing, he reached for his dagger.

* * *

Ghirahim was fuming, and almost immediately he took advantage of Sheik's moment of weakness, pushing his wrists down to his sides and, admittedly, not giving two shits about the dagger. If the Sheikah managed to free his hand to use it, Ghirahim had every intention to toss it into the snow.

He planted his bottom on Sheik's hips, and scowled at him. "Your lousy goddess soils the name of my master, but I will not tolerate your insults! Do not speak ill of him again."

* * *

Sheik was in quite the predicament now. He quickly assessed the situation, and looked at his options. With a firm voice and a cold stare he spoke. "Your master was nothing but an overgrown lizafo."

* * *

"You…" Ghirahim growled from deep within his throat and practically shrieked with rage. "You impudent wretch!"

He couldn't even think of how to respond to that. It was actually eating away at his insides. "How dare you say that! I demand you take it back this instant!"

* * *

Ghirahim was giving him a chance, but that chance entailed that he go back on his words, and Sheik wasn't about to do that. He stared back at the brimming bundle of rage on top of him. For a few long seconds he kept silent before uttering a single word, "No."

* * *

Ghirahim's growl rippled through the air before he leaned his face close to Sheik's, pulled his lips into a smirk… and then spat on him.

"Imbecile."

* * *

Sheik immediatly tried to break his arms free as saliva dripped over the bridge of his nose. It was absolutely disgusting. He could feel it oozing closer and closer to his eye. Three syllables of his native tongue venomously fired from him. They were not nice words. "You jackass!" he cursed, cleaning up his language only slightly as he continued to thrash.

* * *

Ghirahim tightened his grips on the sheikah's wrists, although a magnificent grin was spreading over his face. "What—little shadow boy doesn't like to swap spit? What are you gonna do about it, hmm? Spit back? Oh wait—you can't—because your hideous cowl is in the way. What a shame that you can't move your wrists…"

* * *

Sheik continued to glare daggers at the man while he worked a more tangible one from his boot. Once free he lofted the weighty knife, handled first, at the demon who was relishing in his torment. He didn't exactly want to injure the man, hence handle first, but he did want out of the man clutches and Ghira being hit in the back of the head gave Sheik just enough time to wrestle away his hands. Quickly he wipe the spit from his face and began the struggle of breaking the rather effective hold.

* * *

Ghirahim gasped and released one hand to reach back and rub the back of his head—although if anything he only tightened his fingers around the other. If he hadn't been wearing gloves his fingernails would likely be digging into the blonde's skin. "Rotten brat! I should beat you within an inch of your puny little life!"

* * *

Ok so maybe Sheik might have crossed a line somewhere along the way, but could he really be blamed? The man held him down and spat in his face after all. He mentally sighed and furrowed his brows. "Wait wait, look. Lets just….we should be looking for the mask. Not trying to kill each other." Sheik just knew he wasn't going to live this down either. He had the distinct feeling that, in Ghirahim's eyes, it fell under the category of begging.

* * *

Ghirahim paused in his words, simply looking down at Sheik with what may have been just a little bit of shock. His chocolaty eyes looked over the blonde, and he begrudgingly released his other hand as well, sitting back more comfortably upon his hips. "…" He did, slightly, see it as begging. Ghirahim may have killed him then and there—after all. But he actually also saw it as a form of integrity, and that made him smirk.

"I will tell you a secret." He paused, and cocked his head to the side ever so slightly, in such a way that his bangs fell out of his face. "Seeing as how you will not share any of yours…" He said it with a little distaste. He was annoyed about the cowl, yes, but he was also annoyed that Sheik had yet to share why he wanted that mask so bad. "I hold grudges very well."

But it seemed he agreed to Sheik's request. He cleared his throat, straightened his gloves, fixed his hair slightly, and after all those tasks were complete he finally stood up off of the sheikah, as if the whole event had never happened.

* * *

Sheik got to his feet and stared at his soaked clothes. Great, now they'd have to stop again. It seemed as though Ghirahim was intend on trying to make his life difficult and the universe intent on killing him. "Well, at least we made a fair distance." he sighed. "Lets set camp, the mountain should block the wind well enough." He clicked his tongue and the horses turned to follow him to the cliff face.

* * *

Ghirahim rolled his eyes. "I forget you are so fragile that a little moisture can end your journey for the day. A shame. If you had kept your mouth shut like a good little boy we could have continued on."

He was going to make it quite clear that it was Sheik's fault they were stopping, and not his own. After all, he was the one who did the provoking.

* * *

The fire crackled after finally catching, much to Sheik's relief. He could finally peel off the fabric that was slowly freezing to his form. He reluctantly pulled the cowl and tabard from himself and hung it close by the fire along with his cloak before disappearing into his tent.

Sheik sincerely wished they hadn't happened upon the Garo. He was not prepared for this and there was a significant chance he would be asking for that mantel again. Although, maybe it would ease the grudge Ghirahim had with him. With a heavy sigh he pried the wet fabric from his skin.

* * *

Ghirahim granted him no privacy. "It is almost cute how you seem to think this little flap of a door will prevent me from entering."

Frankly he wanted to get under Sheik's skin. He knew that sheik enjoyed calm and privacy, thus far in their journey, and so he would give him none. The only real way to get back at him would be to embarrass him, anyway. The real question was how could he possibly embarrass him enough to satisfy his want for revenge.

* * *

Sheik cringed at the sound of the other entering the tent and ceased disrobing, eternally grateful that he still had pants on. "Do you mind? I'm getting changed here." He grumbled, still facing away from the other. As if that would honestly get Ghirahim to leave.

* * *

Ghirahim smirked. "I do not mind at all. As you were." Of course he was more than happy to go ahead and stay there. Clearly this was working, Sheik was uncomfortable. He had warned him he held grudges…

"Now, if you don't mind, perhaps turn and face this direction so I have a better view…"

* * *

"I think I may prefere freezing." Sheik growled as he pulled a dry shirt over his head and re-did his sash. He would just sit by the fire and dry out. There was no way he was undressing in front of the other. He drew the line there; he still had some dignity. With that he turned around and pushed passed the other to make his way over to the warmth emitting blaze.

* * *

"You are no fun." Ghirahim followed him, and planted himself in front of that fire. He had nothing to say to Sheik, really, but he wanted to be there. Just to annoy him. Or perhaps just to assert dominance in the fact that he would, in fact, be as annoying as possible the entire journey.

"You seem very unfit to be in the cold, as well, based on your provisions."

* * *

Sheik sat opposite the demon lord and edged close to the fire. "I don't generally dwell in the cold, and had I intended on being here I would have prepared better for it." He stared blankly at the fire as he recalled the drastically different climate back home. Maybe, maybe if he told the demon a few things, possibly Ghirahim might see them as secrets. It could wear down the grudge he was making evident.

Sheik straightened up a bit and looked at the other. "I come from a much different place. Most people would consider it almost unbearably warm." And yet it was different than the desert. "But unlike the sand sea, the sun doesn't beat down on you. It's more like the air itself is warmer. Even the ground is warmer. " A small smile drew over his face at the thought of the warm evening breezes of home.

* * *

"A warm place. I believe I prefer the cold. At least I do not perspire." Ghirahim smirked a little. "Although I am certain I will never see your home, so I do not mind. Are there many people there, or just a few? I don't suppose you will reveal the location of this little settlement, after all."

* * *

"That would be treason." It was said rather lighthearted, but in actuality it garnered a strict punishment. The sheikah leaned to rest back on the heels of his hands, getting a bit more comfortable for his story telling. "It is a rather populated settlement. Mostly because other villages often send their children to train with us. Some stay, but almost all of them return once they reach a certain level."

Sheik looked up again. Ghirahim seemed to actually be interested in what he had to say. "You know, each of these rings," he flicked the blue ones in his right ear. "mark a level of skill I've earned. The silver one represents my completed training and rank."

* * *

"Is that so? I suppose just 'remembering' what your skill level was did not work, that you had to inflict holes in your body in order to do so." Not that he would complain much. He did, after all, have an earring of his own.

He was slightly interested. How had an entire population gone unnoticed by the demon lord? With laws and practices and traditions? Besides, the more he knew the more he could use it to his own advantage. He frankly wasn't fond of the sheikah. Namely Impa.

* * *

Sheik shrugged. "It's a status thing. I guess the culture doesn't translate. Does help keep my subordinates in line though." A shiver ran through Sheik and he returned to leaning close to the fire. He thought about asking to borrow that mantel again, but quickly stuck the notion from his mind. Maybe it was stubborn of him, but he didn't care. He could survive being a little cold, well a lot cold, but still.

* * *

Ghirahim was frankly didn't pay attention to Sheik's body temperature enough to know he wanted the mantle. "People actually take orders from you? Ha! I am amazed."

* * *

Sheik eyed the man. "Yes, people take orders from me." How dare Ghirahim look down upon all that he had earned. He had worked hard, harder than most to get where he was.

Sheik's mind wandered as a brief silence overtook them. He should eat something. Slowly he stood, blinking away a slight head rush before making his way over to his provisions and pulling some dried meat and bread from the bag. As he made his way back over he stopped to see how dry his cowl was. "Still damp" he mumbled under his breath.

* * *

"So do not wear it." Ghirahim commented, in reference to the cowl. "In fact, why don't you sit back down and share with me the story of why you wear it in the first place."

Tell him the story of the cowl. He really wanted to know. Not that he would say it TOO directly.

* * *

Sheik rolled his eyes, but decided to oblige the request. He took his seat back by the fire and tore a chunk out of his food. "Well, I suppose it's not really much of a secret. It has become simply something that we do, but It does stem from our hidden ways. I guess it is a way to compose ourselves better." He shrugged and took another bite of his food.

* * *

"That is not at all interesting. You made it out to be some big secret." Ghirahim snickered a little bit, amused by Sheik's antics. "Perhaps you are playing my own game with me. I dare say I will never be very fond of that cowl though. I do not like it."

* * *

"Perhaps," Sheik laughed lightly. "So, why _do_ you harbor such hate my cowl?" he asked as he held his hands as close to the blaze as he could without burning them. He just couldn't seem to shake the chill despite his efforts to warm himself.

* * *

"Why would I like it? It is clearly a device meant to cover your face. Frankly I only think one should cover their face if it is unpleasant. Therefore, it is a waste of your time." It was once more a buried complement, the same from earlier. "Besides, it seems like a hassle. Of again on again to eat and drink and it must be harder to breathe with it in place. Just seems like one fine glass of annoying, to me."

* * *

Sheik raised an eyebrow at the compliment. He hadn't missed it, but he didn't see the need to call Ghirahim out on it. Mocking his kindness did not seem like a way to get back in decent graces. He was about to comment on how his cowl was not actually a hassel, and how he rather liked it, but a sneeze cut him off before he could. This was not good; this was the opposite of good. A cold was possibly the last thing he needed right now.

* * *

For a moment Ghirahim didn't think to notice it. He just murmured out a reflexive 'blessings' in response to the sneeze.

And then he considered it, and looked at the silly sheikah. "Are your clothes dry? Perhaps you really should go change into something warm." He needed this silly man to be alive so that he could use him to get to the mask, after all.

* * *

Another sneeze took him before he replied with a nod of acknowledgment and went to check on his clothes. The cloak seemed to have dried enough and his cowl was thankfully warm. He quickly threw them on and disappeared into his tent without a word.

With haste he threw on dry pants. He did not need the other walking in on him. Even with all of his attire dry, he still couldn't shake the chill that wracked his body. Fearing that he may indeed be getting sick, Sheik crawled into bed. Maybe some sleep would fend it off before it got worse.

* * *

How long did one person need to change his pants? After all, Ghirahim had granted him privacy. He was sure that it was necessary, for him to not remain in the wet clothes. But when he did not return after a number of minutes, his privacy was revoked.

"You know, it is rude to simply go to sleep mid conversation. I believe we were having a discussion of some sort—though at this point I do not even remember what it was. Your severe lack of manners has literally wiped it from my mind."

* * *

Sheik was not up to dealing with this. Every moment that passed only had him feeling worse. An indecipherable mumble left him and he curled up tighter into the blanket. He already could feel a headache coming on and Ghirahim was surely only going to aggravate it. Maybe if he just apologized the other might leave him be. "Sorry."

* * *

Did he just apologize? Ghirahim actually was silenced for a moment, by the surprise of it. He was just full of surprises today, wasn't he? He then took a seat close to where Sheik was laying, much as he had the first night. "You must be ill." To be sorry that soon, surely. "I would prefer you stay alive, however, so do get better soon."

* * *

Sheik rubbed the bridge of his nose. Great, just great, he was staying. He felt his forehead with the back of his hand and cursed under his breath. Well, maybe it wasn't so bad. If his fever got too high, at least he wouldn't be left to die….hopefully. After all, Ghirahim did need him to find the mask. Languidly Sheik felt around for his bag. It wasn't what he had intended the potion to be for, but he did have some.

* * *

Ghirahim scoffed. "What are you looking for? Surely it isn't your bag—which is all the way over here." Ghirahim indicated to the fabric in question, snickering slightly at the blind effort, and pushed it in the sheikah's direction. "You are supposed to be sleeping, not playing with your toys."

* * *

Sheik snatched up the bag and took out the bottle of red liquid. "Not weapons. Potion." He mumbled before taking a swig. "I'm getting a fever." It sounded rather pathetic even to him as he said it, but it was true. He capped the bottle and threw it back into the bag. He needed to sleep now. With any luck, not that he seemed lucky lately, it would pass quickly and when he woke up they could continue.


	4. Chapter 4

The night came and went, and so did the blizzard. When morning finally arrived and daylight splattered over the pass, there was no new snow, and the sun was even beating down on what was there. They would be out of the snow soon…

He didn't feel comfortable though. No, Ghirahim could sense something out of the ordinary. For the moment he could not tell what it was. Perhaps he just had a bad feeling growing in his chest because he knew the shiekah was sick—and it could endanger his goal? Or, and far more likely, it was because an enemy was approaching.

Regardless, Ghirahim stood and left Sheik's silly tent, in favor of looking around the clearing and waiting impatiently for the blonde to awaken so they could be on their way.

* * *

Sheik awoke with a start before laying back down with a groan. Sitting up that quickly was not a bright move. However the thought was soon dashed from his might. Something was off. Slowly he sat up, holding his aching head, and made his way to the tent opening. There was one too many presences in the area. Setting aside his sickness, Sheik tugged up his cowl and scanned the area. "Oh shit"

"Move you idiot!" he yelled as he let loose a fistful of needles toward the jagged cliff face. Unfortunately they all missed their mark, something Sheik wasn't much accustomed to. With an annoyed sigh he ran toward his invisible opponent.

* * *

Ghirahim snapped his head in Sheik's direction, and stepped back in an effort not to fall victim to one of those needles. "Move? From _what_?" He practically scowled at the sheikah. "What are you—Where are you going?"

It wasn't like he was going to let Sheik get away, but he wasn't fond of running that much… so he was almost hesitant before he began to run after the still quite ill blonde.

The invisible creature didn't seem to relent in his efforts though. He was a monster, after all, but a monster formed from what was once a sheikah. He was giving a good flee it seemed though… perhaps only to exhaust the sheikah who was giving chase.

* * *

Why couldn't it just stay still long enough for him to hit it? Sheik stopped a moment, perched on the cliffside and stared down the being. Neither moved for a moment, knowing that the first to strike would lose. And then, curiously the Garo disappeared. For a split second Sheik thought that it had retreated, but then with horror he spun around, trying to both dodge the attack and get a hit it if only to make the damn thing visible.

With little to no grace Sheik descended back to the ground. He looked up to see a very annoyed and slightly pained, but visible Garo, and with a smirk he let himself collapse to the ground, knowing the other was now perfectly capable of handling it.

* * *

Ghirahim was fairly stunned to see Sheik just drop like that. He could see the Garo though, and at least that would be helpful enough. He had never fought one before, but just from watching this one and the last he knew they were sneaky.

Needless to say, he could play sneaky too. He held out his right hand to his side and the familiar, black slim sword materialized within it. It did so literally as he was moving in his efforts to approach and attack the Garo… And when it was disposed of, and burning as did it's brethren, only then did he take a moment to step closer to Sheik—curious if he was dying or not.

* * *

Sheik blink a few times. Had he really just blacked out there for a moment? It took far too long for him to see that there was a shadow looming around him and he rushed to defend himself, only to find that it was only the demon lord standing next to him. He returned his weapons to their hiding place and rubbed his eyes before making the effort to get to his feet with aid from the wall beside him.

* * *

Watching him try to get up was almost pathetic, and so he extended his gloved hand to the sheikah. "Next time you decide to faint," He began, curious to see if Sheik was even totally conscious, "I would recommend doing so _away_ from the evil entities…"

He frowned after that, and then added, "How are you able to see them?"

* * *

Sheik took his hand, grateful for the assistance and nodded even though the comment was meant to mock him. Right now he really didn't care. All he wanted right now was to crawl back into bed. It took him a moment, but Sheik realized he had been asked a question. "They use a very similar technique and..you know.." he motioned toward his eyes. "sight." It wasn't the most coherent sentence, but it was good enough.

* * *

"I have sight too, you know." He rolled his eyes, although he assumed that Sheik meant some sort of better developed sight. He could see the man struggling… and with what was far more generosity than he normally bestowed on people who called him an idiot, he put his arm around the blonde's waist and pulled their sides together, so that the sheikah could lean on him while he walked to the tent.

"If you are about to faint again, don't."

* * *

Sheik was more or less dropped, but nevertheless he was back in bed. He sat up enough to consume more of the potion and again put a hand to his forehead. A small noise of annoyance left him. "Thank you," he said, feeling he should acknowledge what was probably almost an unheard of amount of kindness for the other.

He tugged the cowl and tabbard from his person, setting them near his bag, and ruffled his hair. All that moving around had given him a terrible headache. "I'm going to pass out now." And with that rather blunt statement he laid down, thoroughly exhausted, and waited for sleep to take him.

* * *

"You most certainly are not." Ghirahim disagreed, in reference to Shiek passing out. "You have about fifteen seconds to pick up your belongings so that we can move on. I don't recommend camping out in a clearing that we know in infested with invisible assassins."

He didn't really have the means to see them, after all. "Get up, Shadow Boy, before I sling you over the side of your horse like a wet blanket."

* * *

He was right, very right. Sheik held up his hand to cease the baragge of speech, that at the moment felt much too loud, and sat up, staying still for a moment before tugging his cowl and tabbard back over his head. He looked momentarily at his head wrappings before shoving them into his bag, deciding it wasn't worth it at the moment.

His bedding and tent were packed away with the ease of a mindless task he had done many times before. It hadn't actually taken much time at all, but to Sheik it felt like a lifetime. He climbed atop his horse and tugged his cloak tight around himself. "Should I not be able to stay awake, he'll follow you if you take up his reigns, or he'll follow her." Sheik said wearily, motioning to the mare in front of him.

* * *

It took them some time before they found a village. Frankly Sheik had slept off and on the whole time, and Ghirahim was concerned about him. Once or twice he had even pressed the back of his hand against the sleeping man's head, to check that he wasn't getting too hot… Snowpeak had melted into Ikana by now, and it was beginning to become the vast wasteland that was Ikana Canyon.

Ghirahim did not even think to wake the sheikah until they had almost approached its boarders. "Shadow boy." He spoke, eventually nudging him. "Rise and shine. You have had more than enough beauty sleep for the both of us combined."

* * *

Sheik groaned as the waking world greeted him. He blinked several times as his vision came to focus and he sat up sluggishly. "That village is shady as fuck." he mumbled to himself. "He's probably here." Probably, because he couldn't be all too certain. It was a bit difficult to think at the moment let alone try to sense a presence.

Sheik turned to look at the demon as he spoke this time. "He'll be running a mask or a curiosity shop. Just look for someone who looks like they might as soon skin us alive as serve us tea."

* * *

It was amusing that the sight of a run down, creepy village was enough for Sheik to determine the man was likely around. Ghirahim watched the buildings go by, and he then looked across to the sheikah. "This does not seem like a man we should be seeking out. The more you speak of him the more I think he may kill us instead of help us."

* * *

"He won't kill us. He may be a bit….off, but unprovoked murder isn't in his agenda." A shiver suddenly ran down Sheik spine and he turned to look behind the both of them. The man standing there had a content, but eerie grin plastered on his face and merely waved at them with his free hand, the other carrying a rather ornate box.

"It's been quite some time, Sheik. You look awful." The salesman said flatly before sharply tilting his head to look at Ghirahim. "And who might you be?"

* * *

Ghirahim actually had to fight ever FIBER of his being not to scrunch his nose up at the sight of the man's face. Maybe _he _should be the one wearing the cowl, not Sheik. He cleared his throat so as not to come off too spiteful, and answered "I am Lord Ghirahim." Maybe best to leave off the 'demon' part. If the man hadn't heard of him then there was no reason to start off on the 'wrong foot'.

"And you?"

* * *

Sheik smirked beneath his cowl. If Ghirahim thought he was going to get any respect out this man, boy was he in for it. Just as he knew he would, the salesman completely ignored the Demon lord's question, apart from a slight nod, and turned his focus back to Sheik.

"You look awful. Let's get you inside. Some tea I think should do us all nicely."

* * *

Ghirahim did not necessarily expect respect right away, but acknowlegement, perhaps. He cleared his throat and in what may have been a bit of possessiveness moved closer to the horse that Sheik had been on. Like hell would he be ignored. Wherever his stupid travel partner went, he was going, to ensure that his plans were not altered.

At least he was certain this was Sheik's 'friend'…

* * *

The salesman led the way down a twisted maze of streets, and at one point Sheik thought they may have been going in circles, but eventually they stopped in front of rather plain appearing house. Although it was rather peculiar that there were no less than six locks on the door, all requiring rather elaborate keys.

"I'll take your horses around back. Why don't you make yourselves at home. There is a fresh pot of tea on the stove." Sheik nodded and climb down carefully from his horse, steadying himself before letting go.

* * *

Ghirahim's arm twitched, like he may have reached out to catch the sheikah should he have fallen, but that was the extent of his courtesy. He looked over the home when they entered and found it to be.. interesting to say the least. The decor was a little… frightening. Masks and such, it seemed, was the theme. And yet he walked with Sheik as the searched for the stove in question. "I do not like him."

* * *

"He is…he takes some getting used to." Sheik agreed as he located the tea kettle. "His name is Simon, by the way." he added. It took a moment, but Sheik managed to locate three cups. With tea in hand he made his way to the table, placing the salesman's cup opposite them, knowing Ghirahim probably would be adverse to the idea of sitting beside him.

It was as if every ounce of energy left him the moment he sat down, and he slumped against the table over his tea. How had simply being in the cold managed to make him this ill. He couldn't fathom it.

* * *

Ghirahim could almost see energy leaving Sheik, and once more he hesitantly pressed his hand to his head—although this time quickly. He wasn't in the mood to have his fingers bit off for touching the sheikah… .though he doubted that Sheik could pull a knife on him at this point. "I do not like him—but he is right. I do think you are beginning to look worse… your skin is becoming a distasteful shade…"

* * *

Sheik didn't even flinch when the hand came up to his forehead, he just didn't have it in him. Sheik was about to reply when the eerie man walked through the door humming an off key tune. He stared curiously at Sheik for a moment; it was rather unnerving. Then without warning he strolled up to him, yanked aside his cowl and pulled his head to the side, revealing a small, but rather inflamed scratch on his neck.

"Hmm, just as I thought. Are you aware you've been poisoned?"

* * *

Poisoned? "How could he have possibly been poisoned?" Ghirahim rolled his eyes, but moved to look at the scratch himself. It did look rather bad. And was hidden under that goddess forsaken cowl.

He glared slightly at the mask salesman, though. Simon. He was /farrrrr/ too close to Ghirahim's… well for the moment 'property'. Sheik was to be used in his plans. Therefore he belonged to him, hands down. He was not fond of his belongings being touched.

* * *

Sheik did not appreciate being manhandled and agitatedly took back his head. Although, it _was_ rather fortunate. It would explain why he felt like death. "That Garo." he wondered as he absentmindly rubbed his neck.

Simon clicked his tongue as he sashayed over to a large wooden cabinet. "That will certainly do it. You're lucky that cowl stood it his way. He only nicked you," the man remarked as he dug through a collection of various bottles. "Much more and you'd be dead." The sentence was followed by a less than comforting chuckle.

Sheik looked up miserably as a mysterious purple liquid was poured into his tea. "Drink up." Sheik looked to Ghirahim and then back at Simon before staring at his tea. He really didn't have much to lose.

* * *

Ghirahim was not fond of the cowl actually being 'useful' for once. He held in his distaste for it in favor of watching Sheik. "What did you just give him?" He asked, curiously. It was /purple/. Maybe Sheik would turn into a toad. Ghirahim would not be surprised. This man was fairly shady.

"And sit. Your hovering is more than annoying."

* * *

The salesman glared at him a moment before shifting his face back to the calm tone it had before. "Oh, just something to counter-act the poison….and sedate him."

Sheik nearly spit out his tea, only halted by reminding himself that there was an antidote in there as well. "Pardon? Did you just say you drugged me?" Simon waved him off as he leisurely took his seat. "Drugged is such an unpleasant term." Sheik could just make out the corners of the man's lips upturning deviously as Simon sipped his tea.

"I'd recommend finishing up your tea and relocating to the sofa. You've only five minuets left."

* * *

"Sedate! _Why_ would you do that?" Ghirahim practically growled and stood up—to match the man who had ignored his order. If he thought he was going to kill Sheik or something he had another thing coming. Ghirahim was in no mood to play games either. "And wipe that disgusting smile off of your block shaped face. Good lord it is disgusting."

* * *

The man just waved his hand in the air as if to say 'because I can' or brush off the statement.

Sheik on the other hand had a sort of grimace gracing his face as he downed the rest of his tea. "At least I won't die." With that he stood slowly, bracing himself against the table briefly before shuffling over to the plush red sofa.

* * *

"Unless that sedative was just more poison!" Ghirahim protested, but it seemed his argument was useless. The blonde had already drank it. He shrugged and stood up to follow him, slightly just to hover around the sofa.

What did this Simon guy think he was going to do? Harvest organs? Not on Ghirahim's watch. Nope… he planted his ass on the sofa near Shiek's feet, crossed one leg over the other, and looked right up to that man. "I am sick of being ignored, and sick of looking at your face. Either leave or speak."

* * *

Sheik let his half lidded eyes drift to the other end of the sofa. Lightly he nudged the man with his foot to get his attention. "He won't kill me, Ghira-hmm." Sheik mumbled, the end of his sentence dying as his consciousness waned.

A cross look suddenly came over the salesman's face. "You disgrace me with such slander! Poison my own family, tch." he scoffed before he returned to his calm grin. "So you would like to talk, is that right? And what might you like to speak with me about?"

* * *

That man was creepy as fuck when he was angry. Good lord. His eyes buldged and he made a face that Ghirahim would not soon forget. But regardless, he kept his arms crossed and looked boredly at him. "Well we could start with the blatant elephant in the room. Why did you put him to sleep?"

* * *

Simon continued to sip at his tea. "He's going to feel much worse before he feels better. It's best to sleep through it." He paused in thought, tapping his chin. "Although if he does wake up, he might become very disoriented…hmm oh..well…he shouldn't for some time yet. Nothing to concern yourself with."

He set his tea aside and walked closer to kneel next to the Sheikah, completely disregarding the obvious discomfort looming in the room, and tugged the blondes cowl over his head. "Better to take this off though."

* * *

It was impossible for Ghirahim not to envision Sheik waking up just long enough to bite the man who was trying to remove his cowl. Good riddance, to it. Maybe he would lose it. Of course, he was not fond of the words that the salesman was speaking. "Ugh. He came seeking you, for advice, not to be put to into a sleep."

Speaking of that advice, it was hard to imagine this man could possibly know where the mask they were looking for was. Or even if he was trustworthy at this point.

* * *

"I've been expecting him." he chuckled. "I knew he'd be after that mask sooner or later." He walked leisurely over to a candle set in a holder afixed to the wall. "But let us leave those matters to the morning shall we?" With that he blew out the single candle, although oddly enough, all the candles extinguished.

* * *

Well whatever it was that Simon thought he would be doing to Sheik once he had fainted wouldn't be happening. Ghirahim would stay in that spot all night—save that after some time he leaned his back against the sofa slightly. He certainly did not sleep. He did not trust Simon as far as he could throw—and he most definitely did not want him to do something odd.

It annoyed him that he had not told him where the mask was located. It was frustrating to say the least. And the mere fact that he had sedated Sheik for no more than viewing pleasure… that irked the man too. Something fishy was in the air… and he was determined to find out what.

Of course, not until Sheik awoke and could take care of himself, however.

* * *

Sheik awoke to a bright and foggy world. For a moment he wasn't sure where he was, but it soon came back to him. He sat up and rubbed his eyes as he became more awake and aware. It was a slight surprise to see Ghirahim still sitting on the sofa, but Sheik was rather relieved that /someone/ had bothered to watch him.

"What time is it?" he asked the other as he looked around for his cowl, finding it on the arm rest behind him.

* * *

Ghirahim glanced at Sheik. He sounded better, to say the least. A full night's sleep had done him good. "The sun is hardly up." Ghirahim answered the question. "Are you quite alright? I was wondering if you would ever wake up—who knew what that man could have done to you." He wrinkled his nose at the thought of the salesman.

* * *

Sheik raised his eyebrows in surprise at the concern for his well being. "Yeah, I'm feeling much better." Ghirahim seem to really dislike Simon and it had him wondering if he had said something to the demon while he was unconscious.

"He is a creep, but I think I'll go find him. There is much I need to speak with him about." Sheik rose from the couch and stretched as he made his way to what appeared to be a solid wall, and walked straight through it, only to dart back out a moment later as if he had forgotten something.

"Ghirahim, how would you like to see the world as I do?" he asked with a mischievous grin as he removed a white mask from the wall and held it out for the other.

* * *

"To see the world as you do?" Ghirahim wasn't even sure he was processing it. Had there not just been a wall where Sheik had walked? It was obnoxious, to say the least, that he could see all these things the demon lord could not…

He reached out for the mask, but was not a fan of it. "Are you expecting me to put this disgusting thing on my face? To cover up the unmatched flawlessness?" Despicable!

* * *

"Fine then, if you don't want to.." he taunted, pulling back the mask that he hadn't quite let go of yet. He wasn't entirely sure why he was toying with the demon lord as he was, but he was feeling much better, so some fun was in order. The only question was whether or not Ghirahim would take the bait. And if he did, what would he make of the sight? Sheik was used to peering under the veil of truth. He was so accustomed to switching back and fourth, hell, he had even figured out how to merge them, but what would Ghirahim make of the odd colored auras and mists of twilight?

* * *

Ghirahim stared at the shiekah's hand for a minute, before indeed accepting that bait. "Fine—but only for a moment." He reached out to take it, but shit would go down if Sheik tried to pull it away.

He was sort of interested. What did Sheik see, if not a wall? Was it a door? A cave? Nothing? It made him consider wearing it, if not just to satisfy his immense curiosity.

* * *

Sheik was a bit surprised. He quickly looked over to the hidden archway. It may have been a bit mean to offer Ghirahim the mask only to find the salesman waiting in the library at the end of the disguised corridor.

* * *

Ghirahim watched him, and waited patiently for all of two seconds before he cleared his throat. "Hello, shadow boy. Are you going to let go of the mask, or should I rip it from your hand?"

* * *

Sheik smirked, and allow the grin to reflect in his eyes as he let go of the mask. His hands hung dramatically in the air for a brief moment before folding crossed in front of him. Oh this would surely be good.

* * *

Ghirahim took the mask and stared at it with less than genuine enthusiasm. Frankly he thought it was ugly—though he found it curious it had patterns similar to the one on Sheik's clothing. He would have to ask questions about it, later. He did not want to wear it, because he could already tell he looked like an idiot doing so.

Of course, when it was situated on his face he refused to take his hands off of it. He knew about magic masks, and how they had a tendency to fuse to one's face. He was not about to let that happen. Although he was taken aback—even flinched and stepped back. He had never seen the world like this before.

There were walls missing—and some in places he hadn't seen. Stains, markings, words, and images he had never noticed before. Even Sheik seemed more exposed in this sort of sight. It was almost frightening.

"Oh—"

* * *

A short laugh escaped the blonde as he watched. "Funny how much you can see through an eyeless mask, isn't it?." He leaned back against the wall, simply watching. He would continue to the library once the little show was over. But until then he would inwardly laugh hysterically. The first sight was always..well.. a sight.

* * *

Ghirahim cleared his throat, especially upon hearing a laugh. "It is not funny." He muttered. "Is this really how you see all the time? This is almost overwhelming."

* * *

Sheik relieved the other of the mask, knowing it wouldn't be the easiest thing to put down. "Not always. I can chose to ignore it. But once a Sheikah learns to see that way, it is difficult to go back." Sheik fiddled with the mask before placing it back on the wall. "Well, now that you know there isn't a wall here, you should be able to pass through it." he said as he lead the way into the corridor.

* * *

The fact that he had taken the moment to remove the mask himself was actually quite kind, but Ghirahim ignored it. After all, he had to walk through that wall himself now—and he followed the blonde into the hidden room, looking around it thoughtfully. "Interesting."

* * *

Sheik walked right up to the desk Simon was reading and plopped down on top of it, swatting away the book he knew the man wasn't reading. "The mask. Tell me everything you know about it." The mask salesman cocked his head and rested it on folded hands. "There are many masks. Which one could you mean?" Sheik continued to stare at the man. "You know which mask. Majora's. I need to find it and soon."

* * *

Ghirahim could see the wicked smile that was spreading over the man's face. It was like not only did he know that was what they wanted, but he was plotting the most difficult, cruel way to dance around the subject to annoy them. It fascinated the demon lord that he so greatly preferred Sheik's antics to his. Clearly he had misjudged the sheikah at first.

Of course, now was no time to think about how oh so wonderful the sheikah was clearly preferable to the salesman. "Yes—fast would be lovely. If we could please skip your absurd subject changes."

* * *

A smug laugh left the man before he stood up. "All you need is right here." Sheik's eyes followed him as he began to leisurely walk the room. "I have some… errands to run that will take quite some time." the man chuckled to himself and that did not sit well with the blonde who started getting to his feet. "You are however, free to paw through any of these volumes while I'm away." Sheik let out a frustrated sigh as he debated which was easier; looking through books or talking to his distant relative.

* * *

Ghirahim crossed his arms and watched the stupid man. Simon. He hated him. Dig through volumes? There were more books in this library than Ghirahim could shake a stick at. Of course he did say he was leaving, for a long , in the very least, was exciting. He would be rid of the man. Perhaps they could leave this wretched town before he had the chance to return.

"Good riddance." He grumbled under his breath. His eyes were redirected back to Sheik though, sitting upon that desk like some flamboyant fool—or perhaps he was mocking something Ghirahim himself would have done, and he wondered briefly if he knew what books to look for… or even where to begin to start.

* * *

Sheik sighed and began scanning the volumes. "As much as I hate to admit it. We are looking for a book with the Sheikah symbol on it." He let his fingers trail over the spines, pausing here and there before continuing along the shelves.

"There may also be something in a book on dark magic or evil relics."

* * *

Ghirahim strolled over to the shorter man, watching him move his finger over every single book, and inwardly wondering how much dust his fingertip had acquired in the process. He tilted his head up to begin looking over the spines of books above the sheikah's head. "So from what I gather, then, your people are the ones who have created the mask, is that right?"

It seemed to be. Sheik knew very much about it, and frankly he kept hinting at it. The fact that he was looking for a book with the symbol on it, additionally, made him question the maker of the mask. "How are you to be certain the book you seek is even in this library? That lousy man probably took it with him."

* * *

Having the other looming behind him was mildly unnerving, but if the man hadn't killed him when he was so weak, and had in fact showed him kindness, he doubted he had anything to fear now that he was feeling better. "It is something like that. We don't call them 'our people' anymore." Sheik answered, furrowing his brows at the thought. "It was something of a civil war that happened."

Sheik paused a moment as he thought about what Ghirahim had asked. "Well, I suppose he could have, but it is still worth looking for. I only know that the people who had it last, fled through the woods, and that after that, strange occurrences started happening in Ikana." Again he moved along the shelves, removing a small crudely bound book. "Hopefully there is something in this room that can give us more to go on. Maybe at the least, we can find out what enchantments are on it that prevent it from being tracked or in your case, dowsed. " he continued as he flipped through the yellowed pages.

* * *

Ghirahim was inwardly growing quite frustrated with the whole process this was. Why did they need this much help finding something that other people could stumble upon? It was ridiculous. His patience was growing thinner with each title he ran his umber eyes over.

"Civil war?" He asked, glancing back at the Shiekah. Ugh. Ghirahim was SO bored. He would almost do anything to relieve that boredom. Even listen to a boring story about a civil war. "Care to share that tale with me?"

* * *

Sheik gave a quick nod before grabbing a few other volumes and returning to his place on top of the heavy wooden desk. "The bulk of the war was before my time." he said as he settled himself, tugging away his cowl to lick his fingertips, so that the stubborn pages would separate more easily.

"But essentially, some clans thought themselves to be above others and sought a power they didn't deserve. So we sealed them away. Unfortunately, that is also where the mask was sealed away." A hummed sigh left him as he scanned the pages, not quite finding what he was looking for.

* * *

This simply wasn't doing it for him. This silly war was boring…. locking people away. It was a useless story to tell. He rolled his eyes though, and even went so far as to ask "And then..?" So that perhaps it would get more interesting.

In the mean time he was focusing more on Sheik's lips, which were now exposed thanks to that last move he'd made, and he considered them. They were just lips, of course. Nothing truly special about them… and yet they were also very smooth. Probably from staying safe under that cowl so often.

If anyone was a fan of a near-perfect body part, however, it was Ghirahim. Yes, Sheik had oddly nice lips to sit and stare at.

But he was still bored.

* * *

**Warning: The next chapter is very descriptive (tho tasteful) non-con. I've made it all its own chapter specifically so anyone who wants to can skip it. Don't worry, the chapters that follow will still makes sense without actually reading the non-con.**


	5. Chapter 5

**WARNING: This chapter has been isolated as it's own because it is entirely non-con. (and because it's really long.) This is very detailed and explicit. However it is not vulgar. It is as tastefully written as we could write such a topic. **

**YOU CAN SKIP THIS CHAPTER IF NON-CON BOTHERS YOU.**

**If you skip this chapter you will still understand the story through context clues and references in later chapters.**

* * *

Sheik looked up a moment, noting how the other was doing nothing to aid in the search. As if he had actually expected any help, no, he knew he'd be doing all the work. Still, Ghirahim's company was better than Simon's. "And then we have to find the mask before all hell breaks loose." He said as he turned to reached for another book from the stack behind him.

Again he scanned the worn pages. His eyes narrowed in concentration and he brushed his hair out of his face. Maybe this wouldn't take quite so long, this book was almost half useful.

* * *

Ghirahim rolled his eyes at the thought, and, in his boredom, strolled across the room closer to the sheikah. If not, simply, to find a flaw on his face. He even got fairly close, leaning in to examine every invisible pore or unseen freckle.

But nothing. Not a speck of imperfection on those cheeks—not one ounce. Ghirahim was almost proud of him… frankly it was rare to find someone, a mortal no less, with such a pretty face…

"Fascinating." Though, if he was speaking about Sheik's face, or about the war, it was unclear.

* * *

Sheik's garnet eyes came up from the pages to stare at the much too close for comfort demon. Clearly no one had ever had the personal space conversation with this man. "Do you mind?" he asked in slight annoyance. Truly focusing on reading with Ghirahim looming so close was an impossibility; there was something terribly threatening about his aura.

* * *

Oh well that was interesting. "Does my being this close bother you, Shadow Boy?" Ghirahim asked, a hint of playfulness in his voice. It was amusing to him… for the first time in what felt like hours he was smirking, and not so… bored. Yes, bothering the sheikah was clearly the answer to his boredom.

* * *

Sheik leaned away ever so slightly. "I'm trying to read." he replied, keeping his voice level and firm. Ghirahim was trying to get under his skin. In the absence of the salesman, the person that they disliked together, Sheik found himself once again the demon lord's target.

* * *

They said that boys only ever picked on someone because they had a crush on them. It was a statement that did not likely cross either of their minds, however. Ghirahim simply leaned in closer—to fill the void that Sheik had created—and smirked even wider. "Is that so? It must be difficult with such a lovely vision in your way…"

He snickered, almost a cackle actually, and then gripped the fabric of the cowl hanging around Sheik's neck… using it as leverage to pull him forward and plant an uncalled for kiss upon his lips.

Simply because he _could_, and he knew it would piss the blonde off something fierce.

* * *

Sheik had no time for any snappy remarks. His eye's went wide and he let the book fall unkindly to the floor, choosing instead to use his hands to attempt to remove the man from his person. And for once in his life, Sheik wished he didn't have that cowl on.

* * *

Ghirahim didn't remove his lips from Sheik, simply moved his own against them while he spoke. "Are you frightened, shadow boy? You seem hesitant… but what can I say? You simply have such a pretty face…"

And, you know, he was easy to fluster… and Ghirahim increased his efforts by running his tongue over Sheik's lips.

* * *

Sheik was rather stunned by all this, but disbelief soon turned to anger. He wasn't about to put up with this. With a growl he bit down on that wretched tongue before using that split second he had gained to put distance between them.

* * *

Ghirahim only pulled a short distance away—hissing and pulling his tongue into his own mouth to hold it between his teeth and try to stop the pain. "You _wretch_!" He growled, sure that he could taste his own blood. "I had been intending to let you go—and help with your stupid search—but this has pushed me _far_ past the limit of being kind."

He was a demon lord, after all. Magic came to him easily, and so did the fire flashing in his eyes. "Do not ever, _ever, _pull a stunt like that again." He scowled, using his arms to slam Sheik down into the desk on his back.

He was so angry that, beneath his gloves, even the tips of his fingers and stripes up his arms were beginning to turn black.

"I will make you regret the very day you grew teeth."

* * *

Sheik grit his teeth an openly scowled at the demon holding him down. "Pull a stunt?! You're the idiot that put your tongue there to begin with!" he yelled at the other as he fought to break the hold Ghirahim had on him.

He was weighing options in his mind as fast as he could. He didn't necessarily want to hurt the other, but if he had too….well, the he would have to. And after last time, it was clear that merely hitting the other with the blunt end of a knife would only make things worse.

* * *

It was true. If Sheik could remember correctly, the last time this happened he'd had to calm Ghirahim down with logic… although that likely wouldn't work at this point. In fact, he had pinned the Shiekah down so fast that he hadn't even thought of what he wanted to do to him. Spit again? That hardly seemed accurate.

"I should bite your nose clean off." Ghirahim threatened idly, while he considered his options.

What could he do to truly show Sheik just how enraged he was? Hm… After a moment, he looked down at the sheikah's hips, which he was straddling, and then smirked back up at him.

Oh he had figured it out. "Or, perhaps not…"

* * *

That smirk had him worried. That smirk told of nothing good. If only he could reclaim his wrists, but the fingers wrapped around them were so tight that he was certain that bruises were already forming. Sheik began trying to twist away, he knew he couldn't win by sheer power alone, especially since he was still sick.

And then he thought about it. Did Ghirahim know he was still weak? He had only worn that mask for a moment and even if he had seen the information, he couldn't have possibly understood what exactly it was.

* * *

Ghirahim had no idea that Sheik was still sick. Why would he? Although he could certainly tell he wasn't resisting nearly as much as he had before he'd caught his cold. Probably because he knew that Ghirahim was raging angry about being bitten.

No, he did not necessarily know… all he knew was this struggling was annoying… and he rolled his eyes before he released one hand just long enough to snap…

Obviously by now Sheik should know that snapping was a lovely sign of bad things to come… And this case was no different. nearly a dozen little knives formed in the air… and abruptly pinned Sheik down by any and all clothes possible.

"Stay still… or you'll have one in your throat too."

* * *

Sheik stilled his thrashing. He wasn't sure what else he could do. Those knives had come down fast, and he didn't doubt that the other was far more than capable of putting another through his neck. His mind raced, but he kept his face calm, his only tell being how his eyes darted to look at the situation he had gotten himself into.

* * *

To think that the sheikah could have just accepted the awkward kiss and ignored it. This would all have been avoided… But it was too late for that now. Ghirahim sat up, his hands now free to roam however he chose, and so he scooted lower on the blonde's legs so he could trace his finger over his clothed tummy, and then without hesitation over the curve of his groin.

"I bet you are currently wishing you had kept your teeth in your mouth where they belong." He murmured through a hum. "Yes… I bet you are indeed…" A shame…Because Ghirahim was beginning to have fun. No longer bored at all… yes… he was interested in what the sheikah may think. "Although I have thought of something… much more fun to bite than your silly nose…."

* * *

He could feel his pulse quickening with fear as the last speck of uncertainty fell away and it became abundantly clear as to what Ghirahim intended to do with him. This was now what Sheik thought to be an appropriate time to be deeply concerned. He swallowed hard, trying to think of something to say to stop this, but all he could think of was a simple. "Don't do this to me." It was soul-crushing to admit such defeat, to have to request mercy.

* * *

Ghirahim did not care about the desperate whisper. It was a useless plea. Ghirahim was far too enraged to think clearly, and Sheik should have known not to trust the demon lord. He found himself amused by the idea of taking one of those little knives and dragging it down the fabric of Sheik's pants—yes it was far more dramatic to cut them open than to simply unfasten them.

"Are you afraid?" He asked, tearing apart the fabric with his hands and not at all regretting it. There was such a delicious smirk on his lips… Especially when he exposed the young man's bare skin.

* * *

Sheik looked away. He considered making a break for it, but if he didn't do it flawlessly, and with the wild look in Ghirahim's eye, the man would surely kill him. This was only reinforced by the sound of tearing fabric and the sensation of a blade being pressed hard enough to invoke a slight pain.

The man's words only man things worse and Sheik shut his eyes tighter. He tugged slightly against the dagger that pinned down his wrist. Could he do it? Would he be able to break free _and_ attack before the other could try to stop him?

* * *

Ghirahim scanned his eyes over the still body of the shiekah. Had he learned to stay still? It was puzzling, because he was struggling moments ago… and yet here he was, completely submitting himself and not saying a word.

Which was so unlike the blonde that Ghirahim actually leaned down to his ear and whispered, with his lips against it, "I know that you are planning something." His white lips curled into a smirk that was almost macabre. "But I will not let you get away."

* * *

Was it worth it? Sheik began reasoning with himself. Was it really worth it to try to escape and risk his life? It wasn't like he had never done this, he'd had his share of lovers. Those daggers were not lose in the slightest either. It would take noticeable force to free himself. He had two options, accept what was happening and wait for it to be over, or fight and hope that the other wasn't so enraged that he'd kill him. And from the sound of the man's words it seemed that he would have little luck getting away. Especially if he anticipated something.

* * *

Ghirahim did not care to wait for his answer. If Sheik made to escape he would severely regret it, that was certain. He instead moved his hand over the boy's chest, and then over his sides. He came to rest his palm over his groin, which he then groped with no regards to personal space or Sheik's unhappiness.

After all, why would he? "I can think of many awful things to do to you, shadow boy… and some that are so deliciously bad that you will moan louder than you sob." He kneaded his hand slightly, and smirked wider. "I am certain of that."

* * *

In theory, waiting it out had seemed like a good idea, but as the other's hands swept over him, he realized that it would not be quite so simple. He turned his head to hide his face in the crook of his shoulder as a gloved hand attempted to shame him with a reaction he knew would soon be unavoidable. But if Ghirahim thought he would fall to tears, he would be sadly mistaken. Silence was one of his well practiced skills and he intended to put it to use. It was worse than any insult he could fire at the attention craving man.

* * *

"Are you going to play this game with me?" Ghirahim smirked down at him, his eyes narrowing just slightly. It was not in rage, or in any sort of lust. Just in spite that came with a desire to be the victor.

"I accept your challenge." He cooed, not ceasing in his actions. He rolled his eyes then to look down at the turned head of the sheikah. Such a pretty boy…

* * *

Sheik kept silent and he kept still as he tried to push his mind farther away, tried to ignore the hands on his body, tried to ignore Ghirahim's voice, which only made it worse. He reminded himself that it was for the best, that this wasn't worth dying over.

But Ghirahim had just made a game out of his means of self preservation and with it his touch only seemed to become more determined. Sheik knew it was only a matter of time until his body betrayed him. He could already feel it beginning to do so.

* * *

He drew back his hand from the warm flesh of Sheik's groin, instead choosing to tear open the fabric stitch by painful stitch so his whole lower abdomen was exposed as well. Then he lowered himself and ran his tongue—such a magical tongue he had really—along each and every muscle of his exposed tummy, even dipping it into his naval once.

The whole time he kept his eyes locked on Sheik's face. He may not be looking at Ghirahim, but damnit if he was he would see a pair of brilliant brown eyes staring back. Watching his every expression. Taking in the twitch of his lips, the way he swallowed the knot in his throat…

Yes, he trailed his hot tongue along hid abs, and then down to the skin around the blonde's groin… but not quite on it yet. No… he was simply tempting. Teasing._Threatening_.

* * *

Sheik could barely believe this was happening, and for a moment he told himself that it wasn't. That it was all just a cruel joke meant to humiliate him, and that any moment Ghirahim was going to stop and mock him for it. However, he knew somewhere that that wasn't true.

Sheik kept his eyes hidden away and shut, he had to, he couldn't look, but it only seemed to make the sensation of that tongue running over his flesh all the more vivid. He could feel the demon's breath lapping at his skin as Ghirahim moved lower on him, teasingly close. Ghirahim wouldn't know, because Sheik was doing everything in his power to compose himself, he knew the man was looking at him, drinking in his reaction, but the skin at his hip that that tongue was currently lavishing was very sensitive. Sheik had no other option but to open his eyes, if only to dull the sensation.

* * *

Ghirahim had no way of knowing the spot he was molesting on Sheik's hip was sensitive, but that did not mean he relented in his efforts. No, he was sure to ravish every single inch of his body, tormenting him best he could, before he determined it was time to move on to bigger and better things.

So, with his gloved fingers trailing a soft pattern over the skin he'd just been lapping at on Sheik's hip bone, he moved his mouth down to where both men knew it had always intended to go… and rolled his tongue from the very tip of the [likely very unhappy man's] cock, down to the base of it—where he demonstrated his abnormal tongue by snaking it around the whole width of it, forming a ring of heat and moisture.

* * *

It was weird. That's what Sheik told himself. He refused to acknowledge the new feeling as anything except that. Discreetly he slid his tongue between his teeth, just in case. He'd rather sink his teeth into it than chance making a sound. He was not a quiet lover, and he had never really had to be, but it was one of few dignities he still had and he intended to hold onto it for as long as he could.

* * *

He was quick to notice Sheik was avoiding making a sound. It caused a smirk to come to his face, however, and he lapped a moist trail back up to the tip before whispering breathily against him. "You may be silent but I can see your face—and I see the face of a man trying to hide the pleasure he is feeling."

With such worlds he enveloped the flesh into his mouth, swirling his tongue around playfully and humming softly. Yes, he could tell already this would be quite fun.

* * *

Sheik bit back the sound that threatened to leave his mouth, but could only stifle his gasp so much. Worse he knew the other was right, and the fact that Ghirahim could see through him so easily was mortifying. He shut his eyes again and bit his tongue as the other continued, and despite Sheik's best efforts he could feel himself becoming harder with each pass of the demons tongue and every bob of the man's head. Another sharp, but still hushed breath left him. Ghirahim knew precisely what he was doing and was far too good at it.

* * *

Some people could argue that he was talented far beyond any average hylian. He found the process to be riveting. He could feel the blonde growing hard in his mouth and he lived for the sinful sensation. Yes… He was winning a battle that Sheik could hardly fight.

It was precious.

He pulled back for only just a moment, dipping his tongue over the slit before carefully slipping his tongue back down. He bobbed his head once, then twice, then simply gave a 'playful', yet hard, suck.

He certainly had forgotten why he was doing this in the first place, and had replaced it purely with fun.

* * *

It was torturous. Ghirahim was toying with him, dragging out his humiliation, and there was not a thing he could do about it. He hate how his toes curled, hated how he was fighting the instinct to buck his hips, but mostly he hated how it was becoming harder and harder to stay quiet.

And then the moment Sheik dreaded became a reality. It was barely audible, a hushed hum, but still it was a sound. It was an admittance of weakness, a confirmation that although he certainly wasn't enjoying it, it did feel good.

* * *

It was such a quiet sound he was hard pressed to hear it, but when he did he took a a deep breath and grinned. Yes… that was what he had desired to hear. "Beautiful," he murmured around his mouthful, and then bobbed his head with much more accuracy and grace. It was far more rewarding when he had the bragging rights.

Yes, even to the very back of his throat, where he could swallow around the sheikah, he was still very proud of that one small sound. It only gave him more confidence to attempt to draw forth more sounds, of the sort.

* * *

Sheik mentally cursed his actions. Ghirahim had heard him, he was certain of that. He grit his teeth as the other took in more of him, desperately trying to keep quiet. His breath hitch as Ghirahim swallowed, only causing another of his sadistic hums to radiate through him, and the whimper that followed was impossible to hold back. Maybe this was all the other intended to do, Sheik thought. He hoped to goddess that it was true, but he couldn't dispel the sinking feeling that there were much more degrading things in store for him.

* * *

Dreadful things to be done to Shiek indeed… and so when the boy was all forms of ripened and hard in his mouth, he gracefully pulled himself away, licking his lips seductively.

"You must know what will happen next." He murmured in a husk. He leaned forward over Sheik's body, deliberately pressing their groins together when he did, and even rocking his hips down just to make sure the sheikah felt that damn grind. "I will make you scream tonight, be it in pain or pleasure. It is truly your choice, Shadow Boy…"

* * *

Sheik found momentary relief in the other pulling away, but it was quickly dashed as the demon pressed against him. He did know what Ghirahim intended for him. He had been dreading it from the very start. Admittedly it had been a while and he knew the demon was going to be anything but gentle. He swallowed hard before bringing his face out from hiding. "Don't do this. Haven't you disgraced me enough as it is?" he asked, his defeated eyes darting to the side, unable to look the other in the eye.

* * *

"There is no amount of disgrace that will stop me until I hear the sound of you begging and screaming." He decided. He certainly had always been a sadist, and frankly it didn't matter if his partner was a masochist or not… he would enjoy humiliating him, and making him whimper and beg… and being unsure if it was pleasure or pain. He nipped his ear in appreciation of that, and his neck as well. Yes… when all was said and done, he would be left with a mark on his neck that could be hidden by a cowl, but not forgotten.

"I want to hear you call my name." He decided. "And to watch the look of humiliation and fear on your face as your body betrays you. As you are pleasured in such a way you cannot escape it no matter how hard you squeeze those pretty eyes shut… And only then will I stop."

* * *

He would not be reduced to that. He couldn't, no, he would not fall to such a state. Teeth came to his neck and despite the daggers holding him down he still tried to futilely move away.

At the other's words hate replaced his fear. "I will never call out your name," he sneered. It was the only retaliation he could give lest the other inflict even more pain upon him. He wouldn't show it, but those words did have him disturbed. They had truth in them. Ghirahim wasn't going to stop, he wasn't going to make this easy, and more than likely the demon would be able to outlast him.

* * *

Nothing would please him more than the challenge of drawing it out of him, moan by painful moan. "It pleases me greatly that you will offer such a challenge. What a good boy you are…"

Of course he could not resist stealing a kiss from the boy's unsuspecting lips when the sheikah turned to 'threaten' him with that statement. "No now… do not waste all of your dignity at once. You may want to save some of that resolve for when you attempt in vain to hold back your own orgasms."

He trailed his finger back to the sheikah's rod, which he then grasped in his hand and pumped as he saw fit. Wouldn't want him to go soft, after all that hard work! "You should be grateful I did not bite it off."

* * *

He quickly turned away as lips captured his own once more. Even if it did expose his neck, he rather face away. Every sentence Ghirahim uttered seemed to both make him angrier and yet also damped his spirt. He felt some of his fight leaving him, which only had him furrowing his brows as he shut his eyes to the sight of Ghirahim looming over him.

* * *

Breaking him off bit by bit, Ghirahim chuckled at his slow descent into failure. He released Sheik's cock of only to slip his hand down and around the rest of him, and to prod once at his bottom. Yes—the only warning he would have. "If you ask me for it politely," He began when a new idea popped into his head—on how to better humiliate the blonde, "Then I will be more than happy to finger you first. But if you do not, then I will not."

* * *

Pride or pain? It was not the easiest choice. A sigh left him as he contemplated just how low he had sunk. He would regret this, oh how he would regret this, but goddess damnit if he couldn't hold on to some of his dignity. "You are the worst kind of person." For a split second Sheik thought about changing his mind, but decided against it. Instead his just grit his teeth and tried to brace himself for the agony that was about to consume him.

* * *

Ghirahim snickered—but it just turned into an outright laugh. "Haha!" He practically snorted in his laughter, before just shaking his head and wiping a mock tear from his eye with a finger.

"You are an idiot of the highest level. I will enjoy this greatly, you know. By choosing this you are just pleasuring me more. How considerate of you! I am pleased." He backed away from Sheik—for a moment just enjoying that he was pinned to the table by knives… "I am sure I do not need to warn you that struggle will result in an early death. Attempt to run and I will go very, very far out of my way to torture you."

His smile turned into quite the devious smirk. "Ah, but no turning back now, is there?"

* * *

He was laughing at him. Ghirahim was outright laughing at him. This was a new low for Sheik, to be pinned down, back into such a corner, that even when the man pulled away, he didn't move. He feared too greatly for his life. More so than usual because he knew the man wouldn't hesitate to keep his word. Sheik flexed his fingers as he stewed in his thoughts. A heavy sigh left him and he looked up at the other, unflinching under the man's cruel gaze. "If…if I don't resist," he paused a moment to maintain his composure. "will you at least have the courtesy to not injure me?" Again he let his head fall to the side before quickly adding, "I did ask nicely."

* * *

Ghirahim's chuckle melted into what could have been a smile. Oh how greatly he appreciated being asked politely. Well, almost politely. "Yes… you did ask nicely… how cute."

"Alright. I will make you a deal. If you do not resist me, not only will I avoid inflicting too much harm upon you, I will even have the courtesy to release your bonds. Of course… if you run from me when I do, those knives will hold you in place by your skin next time, and not just your clothes. Keep that in mind, boy."

* * *

Sheik nodded despairingly. At least now he could tug up his cowl. The thought had occurred to run, but should he fail….it wasn't worth the risk.

As soon as he was able to, Sheik took back his hands, nursing his wrists, that now held deep purple bruises in rings around them, momentarily before putting his cowl back into place.

* * *

It was impossibly amusing to see his very first move was to replace that cowl. He even leaned forward, hovering over him, and smirked. "Yes… that is better, isn't it?" He murmured, admiring the bruising wrists. "Must have been painful… silly boy." He rolled his eyes and pulled one of Sheik's wrists up—halfway to test if he would 'resist' or not, and halfway just out of his own enjoyment—to press a kiss on the bruise. The smirk on his lips displayed he was somewhat proud of that mark, however… Yes, he enjoyed marking others.

It was a shame. He could not see facial expressions beneath the cowl, only the red eyes… but he did not care. He did not feel a shred of guilt for what he was doing, but he did leave the blasted piece of fabric alone. It would not benefit him to further upset the sheikah, after all… he wanted to force him to enjoy himself. "Now… be a good boy and spread your legs."

* * *

Sheik flinched slightly but didn't pull away his hand. He could see now that he would be fighting more than one variety of his instincts. His eyes fell half closed as he stared at nothing, telling his mind to slip away, far away from this scene. However his attention was drawn back by the demon's words. Sheik had said he wouldn't resist, he never said anything about being a willful and complying participant.

* * *

"Ah—you cannot blame me for trying. Remember, do not resist me." He echoed his voice again, reaching forward and flicking his fingers over the damaged clothes that remained on the blonde. He then looped his fingers into the hole he had made, ripping the seams apart. It was then that he slipped his hands into the newly widened holes and raked his fingers over his thighs.

Only after he had kneaded his hands into his thighs for nearly twenty whole seconds, did he pull his hands back and remove his gloves, making a spectacle of the event.

* * *

Sheik let his hands simply fall at his sides. For the moment he wasn't sure what to do with them. He glanced toward Ghirahim when he felt the demon's hands leave his, now more exposed legs. The demon lord had begun to take off his gloves, seemingly putting in more effort now that Sheik looked at him. The way he pulled at the fabric with his teeth made the blonde's stomach turn, and he sincerely thought the act would never again rouse him after this.

* * *

It was mostly just to bother him. To show off his perfect status. Perfect form. He was less dramatic with undressing Sheik, however… his tattered and shredded clothes were easily removed with the snap of his fingers…

It was fun. He wondered if Sheik knew he could have done that the whole time. Just removed clothing from him. Removed his weapons, his cowl even…

Although for just the pure irony of it all, he left that silly cowl in place on the blonde. Yes… he found it to be amusing now. He would let the idiot remember in this moment he was wearing a cowl. Admiring him he had many scars, but that did not take away from him. It merely told a story of what sorts of things he had been through in his life…

"You should consider yourself very lucky that I find you to be attractive."

* * *

There was that snap again. It never foretold good things and now he found himself even more bare before the other. Except for his cowl. Sheik knew it wasn't meant to be kindness, but nevertheless he still found it comforting. It put a certain distance between them.

It didn't take Sheik very long to realize that the fingers moving over him were tracing the many scars that were scattered over his skin. They varied, some far worse than others, a few even were raised, not quite falling flush with his skin.

"Consider myself lucky?" he echoed back with a scoff. He was going to come back with something smart, but decided to hold his tongue. Best not to anger the man too much.

* * *

"Yes, very lucky indeed." He let his fingers move over more of the sheikah. It was quite a shame this encounter was happening as it was, because he most certainly enjoyed what he saw. He was certain he would not be seeing it again, however, so he would simply have to cherish his appearance at the moment.

Yes, although Ghirahim himself was flawless and unmarred by scars, he most certainly did not think scars were unattractive. In fact, in the case of this sheikah, they were quite attractive. They gave him character, and moving his fingertips over them he could tell their depth and their history.

Yes, he loved scars. Almost as much as he loved hickies… Although hickies were far sweeter. They did, after all, imply much more than a scar could. And so he leaned his mouth down to the man's exposed hip and began to nip and kiss at it again… because he was certain that would be the most implicative place to leave a bite.

* * *

Sheik fought the urge to swat Ghirahim away, as well as fought back the instinct to lean into the touch that teased at the ever sensitive patch of skin. If he just stayed still, it would end soon enough. It was nearly a mantra in his head at this point.

"Can't you just get this over with?" Even Sheik was surprised at the amount of sorrow that had seeped into his voice, but he hid his own surprise with a far away stare.

* * *

Ghirahim's chocolaty eyes flashed up in the direction of the shiekah, before looking back down at his work on the boy's hip. "Do you really wish to rush my work? True art cannot be rushed."

He did, however, trail his finger down between Sheik's legs, circling the soon-to-be-abused-entrance with the pad of his finger in what to some may have been an arousing way to tease their lovers… but at the moment was just his own way of taking his sweet time, and reminding Sheik that there was no victory for him. "I will not be rushed."

* * *

Sheik mentally cringed as Ghirahim's touch drifted lower on him. How his wished he could simply teleport away. He wondered if the demon lord had questioned why he hadn't already, but if he had, Sheik assumed the other probably reasoned that he needed the deku nuts to do so. Granted, they did make it much easier, but mostly they were to cover the illusion. In actuality, as much as Sheik hated to admit it, he was far too nervous to use his magic. Magic was a precise process that had to be refined through composed practice and Sheik was anything but composed right now. Not to mention they were in Termina, which made things twice as difficult.

"I hate you." Sheik wasn't sure why he voice it. Maybe it was simply to vent his frustrations, or maybe because it was all he could to. However, as he said it, he realized that it was possibly not the best of ideas considering his position.

* * *

"Hate is such an ugly word." Ghirahim muttered absently. Despite his promise not to bring actual harm to Sheik, that did not mean he could not exactly revenge on him, or make him more uncomfortable. The revenge he chose was to force his index and middle finger into the man. He did not plan to finger him earlier. He had, after all, been exceptionally rude.

However now he was bent on taking his time, because the foolish man's earlier request, and besides… There was a number of benefits to having long fingers. Times like this were one of them… though he did not do much in the way of touching him yet. He just remained silent and still, a smirk on his face, until he leaned back to his hip and continued to molest it with his mouth.

Although he knew it would not be the end of the world, he slightly hoped that hurt a little.

* * *

Sheik winced audibly at the rough retaliation. He had done his best to keep still, but his body had still twitched involuntarily. He almost wished he was still pinned down, because even though it was a faint sound, his nails had skittered over the desk, making more blatant his discomfort.

Teeth grazed his skin, surely leaving marks in their wake if not breaking the now more tender skin at his hip. Although it did provide a distraction of sorts. While the pain was dissipating the awkward feeling of Ghirahim's fingers, moving only ever so slightly, just enough to reinforce their presence within him, was without doubt not going away any time soon.

* * *

No—his fingers would not leave any time soon. In fact, the only thing they did was make their presence ever more obvious by twitching and moving. His chuckle could be felt on the Sheikah's hip when he began to massage his fingers against the surely still uncomfortable cavern he had breached.

He could hear the discomfort that the blonde had expressed, and frankly it made him smile. What a fool—had he been patient perhaps he would have been more gentle..

Oh well! What a fine shame that he was not planning to be gentle now… he in fact was planning to be devilish… by making a very, very clear point of thrusting his fingers in, out, and all around… his other hand very slowly tracing circles across the sheikah's abs and back down to his groin… Poor baby… he would most certainly enjoy himself, however. Like it or not.

* * *

A gasp left him and he shut his eyes tight, trying to block out the perplexing mixture of pain, pleasure, hate, and self loathing. While it still seemed to be Ghirahim's aim to make this painful for him, he had the distinct feeling that the fingers the only just grazed a particularly sensitive place, did so on purpose.

The other was only making it more and more difficult for him to silence himself. Even disguising his breathing was becoming increasingly difficult as Ghirahim thrusted harder into him. Sheik could only dig his nails into his palms, focusing on the pain it caused him, in an attempt to halt how his body acted against him.

* * *

Every move his long fingers made were on purpose. Ha! Did he ever make a mistake? Surely not. No, every time his fingers twitched or grazed over the delicious spot that Sheik was currently questioning, it was with the purpose of making the man break.

Especially the moment when he decided the best case was to curl his fingers directly into Sheik's prostate. Yes, this could be fun. Could be? Would be! No outcome was bad. If he squirmed in discomfort it would amuse him, if he enjoyed it oooooooh how Ghirahim would love to watch him wriggle in insecurity.

He practically purred just thinking about it, massaging his index and middle finger in a circular motion—almost ruthlessly.

* * *

Sheik knew it was inevitable that Ghirahim would stoop to such a level. The man was bent on humiliating him and doing a fine job of it, pulling a stifled whimper of sorts from his throat as he fought his instincts. However while he refused to let his hips rise, there was no stopping the shudder that ran through him.

It was only encouraging the demon to tease him more and he couldn't hold back the quickened pace of his breath anymore.

So many conflicting feelings were running through him, with hate at the forefront of his mind. He had never hated someone else so much in his life. He'd never hated himself this much before either.

* * *

"Tell me," Ghirahim whispered, watching every reaction he could see behind that cowl. "Does it shame you more that I am doing this at all… or that you are enjoying it?" He hummed in approval of his own words, and decided it would be a good time to assault him with a third digit. After all, he was fingering the man, not coddling him. He was angry with the sheikah for his countless insults anyway.

It seemed he would never learn either… yet somehow watching this blond squirm and whimper in what was clearly pleasure and discomfort with his own emotions Ghirahim was never more powerful. What a sadistic man he had turned out to be… "Nevermind. You do not have to tell me, I can see it for myself."

* * *

A wince left him as pain masked pleasure. He was somewhat thankful for that, but that was also a rather confusing thought for Sheik and he quickly dashed it from his mind. And while he was glad he wouldn't be forced to answer Ghirahim's question, the cocky statement he followed it with fill the Sheikah with rage.

"You're a monster—" a sharp breath interrupted him. "I will get you back for this. Assassins are not above revenge." A small pained noise left him before Sheik picked up his head. Garnet eyes glared daggers at the man as if to solidify the threat into a promise before they turned away again.

* * *

"Silly boy," Ghirahim thrusted his fingers hard into the boy's prostate before he removed them altogether. This was more than enough fingering, he was being far too generous for someone who was by all means being raped.

He chuckled and trailed his finger down Sheik's thigh, before using his hands to seperate his legs. Oh so embarrassingly wide too… and he had no regrets at all, flinging his legs open like that. It only served to make his smirk widen, as his hand drifted down to fondle his own cock—had to make certain it was nice and hard for the idiot after all—very briefly. "You will never get revenge…. For I am going to break you…. and a demon cannot be broken."

* * *

The sudden thrust caught Sheik off guard and the sound of skittering nails could be heard over the desperately hushed, "unmh," that Sheik tried to hide.

A streak of fear passed over him as he was manhandled into quite the compromising position. He knew what was to happen next. He had been dreading it. Again he reminded himself that it was better than being dead. If he just let the demon take him, if he didn't fight back, then it would be easier. But Sheik was having his doubts now that it was actually about to happen.

* * *

Ghirahim had once told another blonde he was fond of that he was perfect… save for one trait. That one trait that he lacked was mercy. Today was no different, he had no mercy to spare for the blonde. If he wanted to hesitate, if he wanted to escape, if he wanted to reconsider his decisions in life up until this point… it did not matter…

Because at that moment there was no escape. There was only a sharp—merciless mind you—thrust and the chances of escape had dwindled down to none. Time was up.

* * *

Mortifying…yes, mortifying was a good way to describe the sound that had left Sheik's mouth. His arms fled up to cover his face, his fingers tangled in his hair as he bit back the agonized sound. He had angered the demon. He should have kept his mouth shut, how he wanted to fight back, if only a little, but he was paying for it now.

Hands griped at his hips, unkindly digging nails into his skin as they held him in place. He should have known better than to bargain with a demon. Sheik wanted to slug him, to yell at him, to call out the betrayal, but he knew Ghirahim would only laugh at his pain if not make it worse.

He bit his lip hard as the other pressed further into him, giving him little time at all to adjust. Thankfully he wasn't going too fast, but it was still far from anything resembling gentle. Sheik grit his teeth, feeling the skin of his bottom lip give way and focused on the taste of copper as he tried to push his mind away from the scene.

* * *

The time for kindness was gone. Ghirahim was impressed by Sheik's level of self control as it was, and frankly he was disappointed in the boy. "I had expected more from you." He did not stop until he was fully sheathed within the blonde, but when he did he leaned forward over him and, with one hand pressed against the desk to hold himself up, he used the other to tug at Sheik's lip to pull it from his mouth.

"Now, now. I wouldn't want you to ruin those pretty lips of yours, shadow boy…" He was practically mocking him… and it was fabulous. He did not have mercy—however—he granted him a moment of recovery before he began what Sheik would discover to be quite the aggressive onslaught of thrusts.

* * *

Sheik didn't put up much a fight against the hand at his mouth. Pain wracked his body and he didn't want to invoke more. However there was that hummed laugh, ever so ominous, and Sheik realized it didn't matter much at this point.

What began as a growl trailed into a whine as Sheik withstood Ghirahim's forceful and more quickened movements, each time nearly withdrawing entirely before slamming back into him.

With what was either brilliance or stupidity Sheik lashed out, grabbing Ghirahim roughly by his hair and pulling him closer. "We had- ngh, a deal." he sneered at the other although he was clearly in a world of hurt.

* * *

"Yes… we did." Ghirahim growled, slapping the hands away from his hair. "A deal that you would not move—lest you wish to be held down by those knives. Is that what you want, Shadow boy?" Of course he was actually quite amused by Sheik's gall-to grab him in such a way.

He did not relent in his efforts—rocking his hips back until he nearly fell from the blonde before once more slamming into him with all of his efforts, knowing full well he was likely in a state of discomfort.

"Or are you referencing our arrangement that I not harm you? Do tell me which deal it is you are playing at, my lovely little play mate…" He smirked, white lips shimmering with pure attitude. "If you pull my hair again you will find the punishment was not worth the venture."

* * *

The man was toying with him again, buying time so that he could torture him all that much longer. The question infuriated Sheik. Ghirahim knew exactly what he was talking about. Sheik drew in a sharp breath through his nose at the continued abuse. "You said you wouldn't hurt me," he said, his voice slightly shaken as another shred of dignity fell away.

* * *

"Precious boy," Ghirahim's voice softened as if he cared—although it was mockery—and he actually moved a hand up to stroke Sheik's cheek. "Am I hurting you? Perhaps you should have been more patient with me. You are, after all, the one who asked me to stop taking my time."

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, child… Did you expect this to be rainbows and sunshine?"

* * *

Sheik pulled his cowl back up in a rather defeated manner and again hid his face beneath his arms. He was almost in disbelief at what he had gotten himself into. Sheik had known the demon was stronger than him, but he had thought…that maybe he was smarter. Yet here he was, gasping in pain beneath the demon, completely at the mercy Ghirahim didn't possess.

* * *

Ghirahim's chuckle was dark, he was enjoying this far too much. For a number of reasons. Not only that he was encompassed in the tightness that was Sheik's body, but also because of the way the boy simply /hated/ it. It would pass, however… Ghirahim knew that much.

He did not have much pity for the mortal. He should have known when he met Ghirahim he was toying in dangerous territory… "It is such a shame it had to be like this." He smirked, once more taking the act of thrusting upon himself. "But I must say I am quite enjoying myself."

* * *

Sheik tried to relax, but the other wasn't making things easy for him. His words didn't help in the least bit as they dug their claws into him, and to hear that the man was enjoying himself, enjoying Sheik's misery.

But even worse was the way Ghirahim kept him on the knife's edge of pain and pleasure. He felt terrible, but at the same time here and there his body would shiver involuntarily at the feelings the demon forced upon him. It revolted him and he could do little to stop it. He could only hope that the demon couldn't tell for which reason he whimpered.

* * *

With each roll of his hips he was in more and more control. He could see the blonde withering away beneath him. He was chipping off piece after piece of his emotional state… and it was more than a little bit interesting to see.

Sheik would tremble at his touches, or whimper, and he was not entirely sure if these actions were from pain or pleasure. All he knew was that every time he made a particularly harsh move he was rewarded with that sound.

And therefore he made a point to draw that noise from him as frequently as possible.

* * *

Sheik could barely fight it any longer. His body moved of its own accord, and his breath drew in sharper and quicker. He was hesitant, but he knew he had to tug down his cowl just a bit, just enough to breathe easier. The fabric was breathable, but not nearly so much that anyone would wear it while doing something like this.

He dug his nails into his skin, trying to stave off the inevitable even though he knew that it would only make it all that much worse. Still, the idea of sucumbing to the other's efforts was more than he could bare.

* * *

Ghirahim liked this. Sheik's body reacting here and there to him, once or twice he could swear that it was bucking in response to his thrusts. He chuckled, trailing his finger down the young man's chest. "Beautiful." Although if he was speaking of Sheik's appearance or his melting willpower it was uncertain. The only thing that mattered was that he had begun to bring him to a breaking point…

* * *

A soft groan passed over Sheik lips and there was no mistaking why. Fingers ran over his skin, sending small sparks through him. For his current state of arousal they fell threateningly low on him.

In his mind he silently pleaded, hoping the other wouldn't, but knowing that in all likelihood Ghirahim would in fact touch him, if not now then, soon.

* * *

Of course he would touch him… Could he have possibly thought otherwise? Where did he think that finger trailing down his chest was headed? The man with snowy white hair smirked something devilish, something that was practically evil in the form of a smile…

At first it was just the graze of his fingers over the blonde's member, just to see how it felt… There was no questioning it though, once his hand wrapped around it, that it certainly was pleading with him. The way it felt hot and hard in his palm made that devil of a grin turn into something practically macabre.

"Enjoying yourself, aren't you, my shadow boy?" He chortled as he massaged his hand over the other male.

* * *

Sheik's eyes shut tighter and his breath hitched as Ghirahim gripped him. He barely acknowledged the man's mockery, as his back arced against his will and his muscles tensed. The touch was firm and slow in a manner that was agonizing. And the way Ghirahim slid his thumb up to run over the tip before dragging it back again, Sheik could feel his will slipping with every stroke, every thrust, and every noise that the actions pulled from him.

However the knotting pressure that threatened release paled in comparison to the knot in his chest. A painful mix of feelings had been building and now when he was nearly at his limit he found him self doing everything he could to keep the tears from falling. Whether they be out of rage or sorrow Sheik didn't care, but he knew they couldn't fall. It was all he had left.

* * *

Frankly Ghirahim was impressed with this boy's stamina. The fact that he had lasted this long was purely mind blowing and annoying. In every respect too. Still he seemed to be holding onto that last piece of pride. Still he had not broken entirely—not enough to suit Ghirahim at least… No, he wanted to break him.

Why? He had no idea. Had Sheik done or said something wrong—or had he simply been bored? Ghirahim did not know for certain. He had forgotten his reasons and rhymes the moment he had pinned the blonde to the desk.

Additionally he had yet to break physically. Surely by now his body was getting desperate, if the dribbles of precum that Ghirahim consistently spread around the rest of the sheikah's cock were any indication. In the demon lord's case… he could hold out as long as he had to—he was a demon after all! His stamina was endless… and he simply refused to release until he saw that his 'mate' had broken in every possible way.

* * *

Sheik couldn't hold out any longer. He couldn't stop the shudder that shook his form, nor could he help the way his hips moved against the other. His head fell back, leaving his cowl to fall around his neck, and through parted lips a moan regrettably escaped.

* * *

Ghirahim had every intention of focusing on Sheik's cock through this whole event. Of watching it, feeling it, molesting it. The shudder made him glance up though, and never in his life had he been more grateful for the sight he saw. The way that Sheik arched into him—the way his lips parted in his pants—the way he moaned…

It was music to his ears. Not once had he expected that boy to let out such a moan… such a _pleasured_ moan.

And such a lovely sight too… Yes, for a brief moment Ghirahim was tempted to use the word perfect to describe it. Did it classify as perfect? He had not used such a word to describe anyone besides himself… although here he was, admiring every fine detail of this young man, this silly sheikah, and he had never been more sure that it was perfect.

And perfection was something Ghirahim tended to keep to himself.. "Perfect." There was no question to the demon lord—it was a compliment. A compliment in the highest power, not shrouded by shadows or insults. Simply a compliment.

Although to Sheik it could very well sound like an insult.

* * *

Perfect. To call this torture perfect, had he been able to think straight Sheik would have been furious. However at the moment he was too consumed by both the pleasure being forced upon him and the terrible guilt it brought with it. But if the quickened and more erratic pace of the demon's so cruelly well placed thrusts were any indication, it might soon be over. Sheik coud only hope so.

* * *

It ended too soon for Ghirahim's tastes normally. If he had actually been doing this to please Sheik perhaps he would have drawn it on longer, led the blonde through multiple orgasms and heard those moans over and over… and yet for now he was simply drunk off the sounds he was currently making. It was something he greatly approved of, that was certain.

When it ended, and he finally separated his body from Sheik's, Ghirahim found himself savoring it to the last morsel, to the moment that he pulled himself from the sheikah entirely… And then enjoying the cool air around his body. He stepped back and watched Sheik, admired his body. "Yes… I do believe that was worth my time."

He wasn't sure what he expected to happen next. Did he expect Sheik to just redress himself and be okay with it? Ghirahim's spell had only placed his clothes on the nearby floor. He instead just smirked and waited to see what would happen.

* * *

As soon as the man had withdrawn himself Sheik turned over to his side. He lay there for a moment stunned by what had just occurred and tried to still the various seething emotions attempting to surface. He had never felt so many things so passionately at once, all vying for his full attention. It was rather overwhelming. However, at the sound of Ghirahim further mocking his pathetic state, anger won out.

Sheik couldn't see that his clothes lied so near. Even if he had seen them, he may have done just as he was now. Slowly he sat up. He wasn't supposed to reveal this type of magic in front of anyone but his kind, usually the trick was reserved for retrieving weapons, but right now all Sheik wanted was to leave and this would let him do so faster. Whisps of black curled up his arms as he reached into the shadows and pulled from them his cloak and pants.

He dressed quickly, pushing aside the lingering pain in his desperation to leave. Once wrapped in his cloak he stood uneasily, leaning against that horrible desk. "You jerk." Sheik didn't even bother to conceal the waver in his voice. With that he again neglected to conceal his magic, instead simply disintegrating from view as he fled for anywhere that was not here.

* * *

Ghirahim stepped back and rolled his eyes. "If you insist, Shadow boy." He muttered, although Sheik was long gone. He scoffed and sat onto the desk that had just served him so well. He leaned back onto it, and stared at the ceiling for a moment. Should he feel regret? He did not… although perhaps someone other than a demon would.

He tilted his head to the side and noticed the book that Sheik had dropped. On a whim he reached down to pick it up, so that he could leave it on the desk… only to notice a few lines that caught his interest.

It was then that Ghirahim began to actually read the book.


End file.
