Destined to Fight (GhiraLink)

Prologue

As if to announce the defeat of Demise, lightning flashed, zigzagging through the air behind the Hylian and the Demon King as Link shoved his Master Sword as deep into Ghirahim's master's chest as it would go, lips pulled back into an angry snarl and perspiration mixing with his own blood. Demise flailed and roared, forcing Link to jump back. The upset pool of water harshly reflected the lightning, nearly blinding the half-dead hero. Demise's flaming hair faded to black ashes as his strength diminished. Even after the boy pulled his sword and got off of him, he knew that he would not be able to continue the fight for much longer, at least. If at all. He grunted as the pain in his chest and forehead flared up.

Inside his blade, Ghirahim boiled, his anger shown in the crimson glow that the Triforce adorning his sword emitted. Defeated by that damn boy! Has Master become weak?

Demise shoved his sword into the ground, using it to pull himself to his feet. How pathetic. He can't even stand. At one time he wouldn't have dared think such words. But now Demise was dying, and nothing Ghirahim did mattered now. The demon lord summoned what was left of his magical energy to teleport. There was no room for the typical diamonds that accompanied him.

The blade vanished with a strange mix of a dark aura and bright orbs, leaving a confused Demise. He didn't bother to think that maybe, just maybe, his own creation had betrayed him. 

He had underestimated his own sword's mental ability. But, as Fi had once said, Ghirahim was smarter and faster than a normal human being. He could think for himself, and therefore he could decide what would become of him. 

The Demon King's mouth formed a snarl that revealed his full set of sharp demon teeth, blood specked along the edges. This boy was inhuman, he had to be. It was the only way he could have ruined everything so quickly.

"Impressive...you stand as a paragon to your kind, human."

The boy stood a few feet away, much smaller, much shorter, wounded, but still stronger than the root of all evil. It was unlikely that he would make it through another round of fighting, but he gave Demise a look that dared him to make another attempt to kill him. What was that boy? He'd sacrificed his mental health, his scarless body, even allowed himself to get used by his own best friend, and he would probably allow his quest to take more from him if it could...but yet he was stronger than the demon king that had forced even the Goddess Hylia to flee. He had so little...how could he do so much?

This boy, this boy that had sacrificed so much, stood before the dying Demon King, not saying a single word. His master sword, which glowed with life amongst the dark clouds surrounding him, was clutched tightly in his hand, a symbol of who he was.

The goddess's tool. 

Thump!

Ghirahim landed on the dead grass, standing a few feet away from the outer circle of Demise's seal. 

As if Demise had never been resurrected, the dark clouds had vanished, allowing the soft sunlight to shine on the area. Birds chirped as they flew around the pit in search of food and animals darted around the forest that surrounded the pit. The only sign that anything had happened around this seal was the missing sealing spike and the dead demon army that littered the area. It was mid-spring, just a day after Hylia sealed Demise and died. Just an hour later, Ghirahim was pretty sure, that bag of bones called Zelda entered her sleep to maintain Demise's seal. Five minutes later Ghirahim had come back with her.

A boy. A boy that barely stood at half Demise's height had killed Ghirahim's master. What was he? What did he do right that Ghirahim and Demise did wrong?

He felt sickened with anger directed not at the boy, but at his master Demise. He had done everything he was told and more. He had sweat and bled to get his hands on that goddess. He'd made sure that the twig, Impa, would not get in the way. He had held Link off long enough and even injured him to make sure that Demise would have the advantage if he had to face him.

Yet Demise failed to defeat a simple teenaged boy. He was not going to serve someone who failed as miserably as that useless lump of flesh.

What should he do, then?

Ghirahim decided that he couldn't sit in that pit forever; if the boy didn't appear where he was standing, someone was going to do something about the Gate of Time, and if he didn't go through it, he would be stuck in the past. He decided to return to the present and avoid the humans so that he would, hopefully, be assumed dead. That would give him the time and peace he needed to consider what he would do next. A quick look down at his cracked and nearly shattered chest told him that he would need the peace and quiet to heal as well.

Still, he wondered. A sword had to serve someone; that was the only reason it was created. Who could he go to?

With those thoughts in mind, Ghirahim snapped his fingers, vanishing and reappearing by the Gate of Time. The goddess's dog and the redhead were too anxious waiting by the door leading out to what was once the statue of their goddess to notice another presence in the room. They only turned to look when they heard the gate open, but before they could even register who he was, he walked through it, now out of view and in another time.

Just as he hoped, Ghirahim was assumed dead, and that is what the hero, the goddess, and the oaf with the bad hair thought for the next six years.