Chapter Text
The first one is easy. Almost too easy.
In the dim light of the canteen, the man with the chunk missing from his forearm doesn’t recognize Zelda. Maybe it’s the dyed hair, maybe it’s because he’s too focused on staring at her cleavage in the tight dress she and Link had stolen from a clothesline a few towns away. Whatever it is, she’s not complaining. His idiocy makes it all the easier.
So it’s almost too easy to ply him with foul liquor, to get him good and drunk at the bar, and to have him agree to come up to the room above the canteen.
The only thing that’s difficult is the memories.
Every time Zelda catches sight of the crater on the man’s arm, she sees Link struggle against his chokehold, screaming in rage before sinking his teeth deep into flesh. Every time she blinks, she sees Link in a pile of blood and vomit on the wooden floor, unmoving. Every time the man slaps the bar with his hand, it’s as if the whip stings her back again where the marks have now faded to scars through Link’s care.
So it’s easy to lead the man with the chunk missing from his forearm up the creaky wood stairs to the room. It’s easy to lock the door behind him. And it’s easy to gag him as Link slips his knife right through the man’s throat.
Even the hot splash of blood onto Zelda’s hands and forearms isn’t difficult to deal with.
“Two to go,” Link says and takes her bloody hand in his.
---
A new man showed up at the brothel one late August night, but he wasn’t a john or pimp.
“My name is Link,” he told her over dinner in the kitchen and stuck out his hand across the tabletop in greeting.
Bright bruises dotted his neck, leading down to the frayed collar of his shirt and past a pendant on a silver chain, but Link still gave Zelda a sweet smile that reached his eyes. They crinkled up in sincerity, something Zelda hadn’t realized she was missing until she saw it again.
Zelda swallowed her mouthful of potatoes and gave his hand a quick shake. It was warm to the touch.
“Zelda.”
His smile widened. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Zelda.”
Even though it was difficult for Zelda to admit to herself, she realized that Link had a nice presence. There was something about him, something she couldn’t quite describe or put a finger on, that radiated goodness. Maybe it was because anything good was sorely lacking around there, so she didn’t have much of a reference to draw upon.
As Zelda appraised this strange new man, she couldn’t quite decide if Link was more handsome or pretty. He had a nice jaw and lips, though they seemed slightly swollen. For obvious reasons. Choppy hair fell to his collarbones, tucked back behind his ears and falling over part of his face. His eyebrows were rather strong, but it suited him.
But whether it was handsome or pretty, it didn’t really matter. Neither of those would serve Link well there. Zelda knew firsthand; it only made it worse.
“There’s not much pleasure around here,” she told him after a moment, trying not to grimace.
“Yeah, I’ve figured that one out.” Link glanced to the side and waved the biscuit in his hand. “Hands-on experience and all.”
For a moment, it didn’t sink in. But then it did, and Zelda almost choked on her spoonful of quite sketchy beans.
“…Was that a joke?”
“Yes, sorry. It helps me cope.” Link shrugged and fiddled with his biscuit. “Let me know if you want to hear any other awful ones. Or just talk with me; I’ll probably end up saying something stupid.
She shouldn’t have responded to him. She shouldn’t have been encouraging any camaraderie or friendship; someone was only bound to end up disappointed. But the casual self-deprecation and gentle, goofy smile broke something inside her she didn’t know existed.
“Alright,” she finally replied. “I will. If you promise to say something stupid.”
Then, being an expert at avoidance, Zelda shoved a mountain worth of potatoes into her mouth.
Link laughed and said, “Oh, I sure will. Cross my heart.”
Zelda tried to ignore the sliver of happiness that wormed its way into her ribs. Maybe she could drown it with more beans and potatoes of dubious quality.
“I’ll see you around,” Link told her after he’d cleaned and licked his plate in record, mildly horrifying time.
When Link got up from the table, he winced. A pang of sympathy shot through Zelda. After all, she’d experienced the same pain; their nights took a toll on anyone’s body. Especially a male one. She personally hated it even more every time a john wanted to take her there, so she couldn’t imagine how difficult it was for Link who had drastically fewer options due to anatomy.
But even through his pain, Link still gave her another nod and sweet smile as he left.
Zelda didn’t think he would keep that smile long there.
---
Link smiles at Zelda and kisses her cheek.
“You did a great job,” he tells her before unfurling their bedroll on the canyon floor.
Zelda frowns and picks at the dried blood underneath her fingernails. Even though they’d vigorously washed each other in a nearby pond, some of the blood still wouldn’t come off.
“You did the important part.”
With a forceful shake of his head, Link shrugs that off then motions for her to join him under the blanket in the bedroll, holding his arms out.
Pressed together under the warm bedding and the bright stars above, Link kisses Zelda’s nose and asks, “Since you’re the brains of our operation, what do you think we should do next? We’ve got the two to go.”
“I’m worried that someone might recognize me after the first if we go into another saloon. And because of the wanted posters. Not that they were especially accurate or flattering…” She hesitates, weighing their options. “Maybe I should dye my hair again or wear a wig.”
Link hums then offers, “How about I just dress as a woman and be the bait? As you know, I’m quite convincing. And they probably won’t be looking for that.”
“You don’t mind?”
“Not at all. It was never degrading to dress as a woman because there’s nothing degrading about being one. Nothing at all.” His arms tighten around her. “The only degrading thing was what they did to us.”
He’s not wrong. While a wolf howls in the distance, Zelda snuggles closer into Link’s embrace and presses her face against his neck.
“Okay.” With a kiss to his slightly stubbly jaw, she concedes. “I’ll do your makeup really well then. You can wear my dress; it’s lucky we’re close to the same size.”
Link ponders it for a minute. Then, with a hard glint in his eyes, says, “Sounds like a good plan. I have to say, it’s kind of appealing to use it all against them.”
---
Sometimes, the owner of the brothel made Link dress up like a woman for the johns who would pay extra for that.
For some strange reason, Zelda always volunteered to do his makeup. Since Link was completely hopeless at it and the one and only time he tried, he looked like, “An impressionist painting threw up on his face and then decided to try and paint by numbers on it.”
Link’s words, not hers. Even if Zelda agreed with his rather colorful description.
But Zelda shouldn’t have wanted to talk to him, to be in his company more. She was not in a profession known for its strong friendships. And she was supposed to hate him like she did the whole race of men that visited them each night. But she couldn’t quite bear to hate Link. Not with how hard Link tried, how he became more and more quiet as time passed but still never failed or even hesitated to offer up a helping hand or smile to anyone.
“Close your eyes for me, please,” Zelda said and brushed a strand of hair back from his face.
Link swallowed and obeyed.
The glow from the sun on his tan skin had faded since working primarily at night and Zelda had to use an ungodly amount of concealer under his eyes to mask the dark circles.
“You know, I wanted to be a doctor,” Link confessed without any prompting, breaking the tense silence as she swabbed shadow over his closed eyes.
The weight of the words fell heavy over Zelda’s chest, like stones on a grave.
“My sister is sick,” he explained, nervously rubbing the pendant hanging on his neck. “Where I’m from, there’s not much opportunity. I was told there’d be jobs here, ways I could earn money. I wanted to be a doctor’s assistant, to learn so that I could have a practice of my own one day. But they didn’t want me, so I tried everything else. I even offered to muck out the stables for some money, any money. But nobody would hire someone like me. Only this hellhole. When I left home, I didn’t expect… this.”
Zelda stroked her hand over his hair in an attempt to be comforting and asked, “How are you holding up?”
Link opened his eyes and tried to smile at her, but the pain ruined it. When he couldn’t quite make eye contact, he glanced to the side out the window at the golden sun setting over the faraway mountains.
“I’m not holding up too well.” With a shaky breath, he continued, “They said it would only be a small fee for room and board and that I would get to keep all the tips and some of the money the johns spend on booze. And they fucking lied . Every paycheck is smaller because of some bullshit debt they’re making up so that I can never leave. I’m hardly sending back anything to my family. But my sister needs money for her medicine and I can’t do anything else now. I don’t know what to do, Zelda, I–”
Tears bubbled up under Link’s eyes as his voice cut off with a choked cry.
For some reason, Zelda swiped her thumbs under his eyes and said, “Don’t cry; it’ll smudge your makeup.”
Link broke into a rough laugh. “Wouldn’t want to ruin your masterpiece.”
But tears still welled up in Link’s eyes even as he squeezed them tight and blinked fast.
“Er, do you mind if I touch you? I’d like to hug you.”
Closing his eyes again, Link whispered, “Yeah. I’d– I’d really appreciate that.”
After making a quick assessment, Zelda lightly sat on his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. Link’s face ended up close to her breasts, still scrunched up with the effort of not crying, and his arms clutched her back around her waist.
Being held must have broken something in Link, too, because he made a small, pained noise then started sobbing, the dam breaking at last.
“I’m sorry I’m ruining your makeup job,” he hiccupped.
“It’s okay, Link. It’s okay, I can fix it.”
Having his arms around her should have been suffocating. Instead, it was a comfort, a safety that Zelda didn’t think she would ever experience after her time at the brothel. She held Link as he cried, allowing the first tears to fall from her own eyes in months.
“I wanted to be a scientist,” Zelda mumbled into his hair.
Link paused for a moment, then asked in a shaky voice, “What kind of scientist do you want to be?”
“A biologist. Then my parents died. I was out on the streets– being a young girl there is hard. If I was going to have to do this anyway, I figured at least I’d have a room and food here. But it’s worse than I ever imagined.”
Zelda didn’t know why she was telling him those things, baring her soul to this man. She had never told anyone about that before, never let herself be vulnerable in any way. But maybe it was because he was in the same position as her, maybe because he’d opened up himself, maybe because he’d always been so kind.
While she talked and spilled her thoughts and fears and dreams too, Link didn’t say anything insincere or patronizing. Instead, he listened.
And for the first time in years, Zelda felt heard.
---
“I can do this one, if you’d like,” Zelda says as she lines Link’s eyes in the bright afternoon sun, only broken by the slight shade of the spindly tree over them. “Since you’ll be the bait, it’s only fair."
“No. I don’t want you to ever have to do that.”
Link’s voice is firm with no room for argument. He gives her waist a light squeeze and Zelda presses her thighs tighter against his hips. The rock they’re sitting on digs a bit into her knees at the motion, but Zelda ignores the discomfort, too focused on Link’s eyes and words.
Link explains, “I’m already headed straight to hell, what’s one more?”
Zelda raises an eyebrow. “Link…”
“I’ll do it, okay? Just be my backup and have the pistol on you in case. I don’t want you to be burdened by it.” He takes her face in his hands and confesses, “I love you too much to let you have that on your soul. Please let me.”
Zelda thinks that is full of more bullshit than a prairie or a sermon given by a john. Neither or which are rare around these parts, sadly. But it's ridiculous, since she certainly doesn’t want that on Link’s soul, either.
The thought must show on her face, because Link says, “I don’t mind doing the dirty work. I’d do anything for you.”
“So would I, silly.”
Zelda shifts on his lap, shimmying closer on the rock so that their stomachs and chests touch.
“I love you so much,” she tells him before she runs her hand through his soft hair and bends down to kiss him deep.
“You’re going to ruin my lipstick,” Link jokes as he smooths his hands over her hips, gently kneading the fabric.
But the way Link arches up against her, pressing firm between Zelda’s thighs, tells her he doesn’t care much about the lipstick.
Zelda grins and runs her thumb over his stained bottom lip.
“I’ll fix it.”
---
“Here, let me fix that,” Link said, wielding his bulky first aid kit in the communal kitchen.
The other girl, Mandy, nodded and held her bleeding elbow out for him to clean and bandage.
In the months that followed their introduction and tentative friendship, Zelda noticed many things about Link. How he took care of the other girls, treating wounds, bandaging them, or even giving stitches when needed.
“This’ll sting a little,” Link said before cleaning out the laceration, but Mandy took it without complaint.
Link always had a kind word for everyone, from the other girls to the bartenders to the kitchen staff to the clean-up crew. He had a knack with animals, too. But more than that, he just cared.
Zelda had been wary of other people, especially men, for so long, that when she started to trust Link after their conversation and crying, she had a complete existential crisis.
“Thanks, Link,” Mandy said with a small smile. “I really appreciate it.”
Link tied off the bandage and shook his head. “No need to thank me. I’m happy I could help. Let me know how it heals up, okay?”
Something in Zelda’s chest squeezed. And in that moment, she knew she was in way too damn deep, but that she also didn’t mind. Screw it, while she was in there, she might as well grab a shovel and keep digging.
After the other girls had cleared out of the kitchen and left them alone together, Zelda grabbed Link’s hand.
“Come with me?”
Link nodded, though his eyes held an obvious question.
“I’m going to show you a secret,” Zelda explained with a squeeze of her hand. “But I have to know that you won’t tell anyone. Do you promise?”
Link gave her a crooked grin. “Cross my heart.”
---
“Promise you’ll be safe?” Zelda asks in the dark alley, the only light coming from the stars and moon above and the lanterns in front of the saloon in the podunk town.
“Cross my heart.”
Link leans in to kiss her, but Zelda stops him with a firm hand on his chest. She can feel the knife through the padding. As Link wasn’t exactly gifted with any chest, there’s a lot of padding and strategic makeup employed to create the illusion.
“I’ll kiss you when it’s over.” With a smirk, Zelda gives him a soft kiss to his neck. “Since I ruined your makeup once already.”
It’s an objective fact that Link is beautiful. And with his face masterfully painted with makeup, if Zelda does say so herself, he’s stunning. Even her dress that had been a struggle of epic proportions and laces to get him into makes the color of his eyes shine in the moonlight.
“Deal,” Link says, but then his gaze turns serious. “You be safe, too, okay?”
“Of course I will. You’re doing all the work, as always.”
Link shakes his head so hard Zelda fears for his wig then stokes a hand over her cheek and pulls her in close.
With a ridiculous wiggle of his eyebrows and a naughty glint in his dark eyes, he whispers, “I can’t wait for you to ruin my makeup all over again.”
Zelda stifles a loud laugh and bumps him with her hip.
“Don’t let your wig fall off,” she orders before he leaves.
“Never,” Link mouths before striding out of the alley in the borrowed heels that crush his feet.
Now, there’s nothing to do but wait. Zelda hides behind the boxes in the alley and settles in, pistol heavy on her hip.
---
In her tiny bedroom, Zelda asked, “Are you ready to see my secret?”
“Most definitely.” Link gave her a solemn nod. “I’d rather die than tell.”
Dropping down to the floor, Zelda pried off the baseboard to reveal a secret compartment. Hidden there were all of the books and journals she could get her hands on. Well, that she could steal. In the beginning, she’d tried saving up, but she could never get quite enough for what she wanted. Pages and pages upon pages about nature, the natural sciences, biology and anatomy, and everything and anything else she could find.
“Wow,” Link breathed, eyes roving over the collection as he crouched down beside her.
“There’s some on medicine if you’d like to borrow them. I don’t mind at all. It certainly cheers me up.”
Link gazed at Zelda with something she couldn’t quite read in his big, sincere eyes.
“Thank you so much, Zelda. Can I hug you?”
In response, Zelda held her arms out and in less than an instant, Link’s arms wrapped around her. Just like before, it felt good, right. Not stifling, not restraining. Just safe.
“I’m honored that you trust me.” Link’s voice was muffled against her neck.
“I do,” Zelda realized, admitted, confessed.
Link pressed his forehead against hers and told her, “I trust you, too.”
---
After a short time that felt stretched to eternity, Link saunters back into the alley with a high giggle.
Whenever he had to disguise himself, Zelda was always impressed with how he could make his naturally low voice more feminine. It still wasn’t quite high enough, but it was good enough to fool stupid, drunk men. While in drag, Link liked to joke that cigarettes made his voice “husky,” and Zelda liked to remind him that he never smoked. He then liked to say that it must have been from Zelda’s “smokin’ hot presence” and she liked to roll her eyes and bump his shoulder with hers.
Zelda’s memory is broken when the man’s back thumps against the brick wall of the saloon as Link presses him there with a palm to the center of his chest.
"Oh, you're a fiery one, you dirty girl," the man slurs, voice thick with liquor. "I'd like to put you in your place. On your knees."
In the dark, the man’s face comes into focus. It’s easier for Zelda to see, since her eyes have adjusted to the blackness. There’s no way for him to see her hiding, since the wood of the boxes and the darkness of the night give her perfect cover. Just as she’d planned.
If Zelda blinks, she can see him knee Link between the legs, can see him whip Link bloody, can see him laugh at Link's pain. If she blinks, she remembers the man enjoying it.
So Zelda doesn’t blink.
But the weight of the pistol on her hip taunts her, tempts her. Her fingers itch and twitch to grasp it, to bring it to the man's head, to pull the trigger. But Zelda's rational mind overcomes her rage. It's only there for backup. A gunshot will cause a scene that a knife won't. And there's still one more to go, they can't risk getting caught now.
“Wait right there, handsome,” Link orders with a wink. “Pull your pants down and close your eyes.”
The moment the man closes his eyes, Link locks his with Zelda’s and slides the blade out of his dress. With a nod, Zelda gags the man with cloth as Link punctures his throat in one neat motion.
In a quiet gurgle of blood, the man dies. It’s without ceremony, quick and efficient. Living and dead within the space of seconds. The man collapses to the filthy ground of the alley with his pants down and his eyes open wide in horror. Gone, just like that.
“Ew.” Link wipes the bloody blade off on the man’s chest and makes a face at his exposed penis. “I probably shouldn’t have had him take his pants down. I thought it would be fitting and funny, but it’s just gross.”
Zelda remembers what the man did, the agony he’d had so much fun inflicting upon Link while she was forced to watch.
“I think it’s the way he should be remembered.”
Link snorts. “Well, you’re not wrong. Let’s get out of here.”
As they walk out of the alley, hand in bloodstained hand, Zelda says, “One more to go.”
---
“I stole it for you,” Link told her on the rooftop of the brothel in the hour before dawn, presenting Zelda a battered book on plants like a sacred, ancient tome. “I wanted you to have more for the collection, especially since you were so kind in sharing it with me.”
A sweet smile stretched his swollen lips and a quickly purpling bruise marred his chest.
“Link, I–”
The words stuck in Zelda’s throat, overcome by a wave of emotion that she couldn’t push down.
“You don’t need to thank me.” Link gestured out at the vast expanse around them with a grin. “Just remember me some day when you’re some big fancy pants scientist.”
At his words, at his kindness, Zelda started to cry, ugly fat tears rolling down her face.
Link’s expression crumpled and he rushed in to cup her cheeks and wipe her tears away.
“Hey, please don’t be upset. Do you not like it? Did I say something wrong? I’m so sorry, Zelda.”
“I’m in love with you,” Zelda blurted out.
It had been building up in her chest for months, ready to explode like a keg of gunpowder. To finally say it, to be free of the secret, was only slightly less terrifying than jumping off the roof would be. Or trying the beans in the pantry that dated from the revolution. But for some reason, without the secret weighing her down anymore, Zelda’s chest was lighter.
“Oh,” Link said, voice shaky and eyes wide. “Oh, thank god.”
And then a brilliant smile broke his face like the dawn and Zelda dared to hope for the first time in years.
Link’s eyes flicked down at her lips and then locked onto Zelda's. “May I kiss you?”
“Yes,” Zelda answered and leaned in to meet him halfway.
The soft press of Link’s lips was so unfamiliar after all the time she’d spent in hell. Zelda’s hands tangled in his long hair and his rested light on her hips. Every movement was gentle, sincere, meaningful. Wanted.
When Link drew back to allow them both to breathe, he whispered, “Um, I think it’s probably glaringly obvious, but I’m in love with you too.”
Zelda grinned and pulled him in for another kiss.