Mystic in the Air - Ghirahim x female reader

Chapter Twenty-Five: Aftermath

A/N: LMAO so story time. My best friend and I were doing a like boss rush race (he was playing Splatoon 3 and I was playing Skyward Sword) over FaceTime and were having a great time. He was SO DAMN FOCUSED the entire time and I was talking through all the fights and telling my friend my record for all of them (I'm very proud of my 29 second Skyview Temple Ghirahim). When I stopped talking during the final fight (which is what I call Ghirahim's daddy form), he was really confused... until I moaned every time I did the final strike LMFAO. He got SO mad. He ended up winning the race, but I didn't die once and he died multiple times, so who's the real winner?

The crowning ceremony ends early with all the panic. You personally escorted Ghirahim inside, sword drawn the entire way. 

"I can take care of myself, (y/n)," he assures you.

"I'm a knight of Skyloft. It's my job," you shrug off.

You don't ease up until back inside, where you finally sheath your sword. The castle is still empty. Currently, all the royal guards are helping with crowd control and cleanup. Ghirahim carefully lifts the crown off his head and holds it out in front of him. From up close, you can see that it seems to be made with obsidian. It still glimmers in the limited light. 

"So how does it feel to be king instead of just some camp leader in the middle of a forest?" you ask teasingly.

He shrugs and slips the crown into his robe. You start walking him back towards his room. 

"So why was someone trying to assassinate you?" you ask.

"There are people who think I don't deserve to be king after what I did during the war," he replies.

You nod slowly.

"They're not wrong," he mumbles, pressing his long sleeves in-front of him.

"Well, I think you're going to be a great king," you reply.

"Thanks, (y/n), but you've only known me for a bit. The others have known me for centuries," he points out.

You stop walking and turn to him.

"Hey, who's the one who saved your life out there?" you ask.

"You," he sighs.

"Exactly. If I didn't think you were going to be a good king, I would have just let him kill you," you reply.

"Wow, that makes me feel so much better," he grunts sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, you might be a jerk sometimes, but I don't have the right to judge. I don't know your past well enough for that yet. We've hardly even talked until recently. But you trust me enough to invite me to your fancy party and be your friend, so you can't be too bad," you add.

He looks into your eyes. His shoulders relax as he takes a deep breath.

"You seem so different now. More open. I can get used to the kinder version of you," he says.

Surprisingly, you blush, which causes you to become embarrassed and blush more. You look away. Why does the seemingly egoistic Demon King make you feel this way? 

"I've never really had friends," Ghirahim admits awkwardly. 

"Really," you ask, starting to walk again.

He nods.

"People were always scared of me or ignored me. Everyone in the castle and in parliament saw me as Demise's right hand and nothing to focus on. All the soldiers who've seen me fight are terrified of me. Of course, they spread the word on how scarry in combat I can be," 

"What about your master? Weren't you sort of friends with him?" you ask. 

He pauses for a moment.

"We had a... complicated relationship," he replies.

You nod, deciding to not press any further. It takes just another minute to reach Ghirahim's room. He stops right outside the door and turns to you.

"Thanks again for saving my life," he says.

"No problem. That's what friends are for," you smile.

"I know. And I haven't been a good friend or host. My ego gets the best of me quite easily. I must admit, it's one of my flaws. After this evening, I promise that I'll try harder to spend more time with you," he replies.

You're taken slightly aback. This doesn't sound like the Demon Lord Zelda described or the Demon King you met in the forest, who would've killed you if Link wasn't the one who sent you after him. Who would've left you to die if you didn't prove useful. 

"I-it's totally okay. You don't h-have to do anything for me," you stammer.

"I insist. You deserve nothing short of the best. And I will start by asking for your forgiveness from last night. I understand that I was a tad bit harsh," he starts.

"Maybe more than a bit," you grumble.

"Please, accept my humble apologies. I promise it won't happen again," 

You look deep into his eyes, trying to find proof that he was teasing. But what you find is sincerity. It's almost scary how fast he's changed on you.

"I forgive you?" you reply, a little confused. 

He gives you a warm smile. 

"My apologize, but I must get going. I assume I'll see you at the ball?" he asks.

"Y-yeah, see you there," you stutter.

With another quick smile, he opens the door to his room and slips inside. You walk back to your own room, head spinning. What had changed him? Why was he acting so strange? It wasn't the fancy speech that confused you, but the meaning behind it. You walk inside your room, shut the door, and flop down on your bed. Sunlight streams through the large window. The ball begins at sundown. Your stomach growls. A single fruit for breakfast wasn't going to hold you off. With a sigh, you stand up and make your way to the kitchen slowly. 

The kitchen is a bustle of activity. Servants fly around the tables, helping prepare many spectacular dishes, presumably for tonight. You sneak past them to find Uttara. They're talking with a Bokoblin, simultaneously wiping their hands on their white apron at the same time. You clear your throat. Uttara turns to you and dismisses their conversation with the Bokoblin, who goes back to work. 

"You're definitely busy," you chuckle.

Uttara smiles and nods. You hoist yourself up onto the counter and sit with your legs crossed, taking care not to lean against any of the cabinets. Uttara takes something out of the oven and places it on a counter across the way. Another Lizalfos picks it up and moves it to one of the many tables that were set up. Uttara turns back to you. 

"Do you need any help?" you ask.

They shake their head. You jump down from the counter. Uttara places a basket of pastries right in front of you and gestures towards them. You take one and unwrap it before taking a large bite. 

"I'll get out of your way, then. Good luck!" you reply, dodging servants as you leave.

Uttara waves as you turn down the hall. It won't be long until you have to start getting ready. You walk back to your room to grab a book and the dress you chose, which sits on a chair. The shoes rest on the floor right next to it. Something catches your eye as you snatch your book. You turn to the dresser. Sparkling in the sunlight, the earing you were given on the day of your graduation by none other than Zelda herself rests on the countertop. You pick it up and fiddle with it between your fingers.

"Oh Zelda, if only you could see me now," you sigh. 

You slip the earing in your pocket and grab your clothes. Thankfully, the changing room isn't too far from here. You sling the dress over your shoulder, hold the shoes in one hand, and the makeup book you found in the library in the other, and head out the door.