Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Don't you dare touch her," Link snarled, and struggled to move in his bonds. The rope was tightly wound around his torso and fixed him to one of the chairs in the living room. His wrists were starting to go numb, but he paid it no mind – he only had eyes for the red-haired woman in front of him and the knife to her throat.

"What was that?" The woman holding Malon asked, her voice bordering on amusement. "I think we've got a lad who likes playing hero on our hands, boys."

One of the "boys", another thug, made a nervous grimace.

"I, uh, think – Boss, I think he might be the actual hero. Like, the hero of Hyrule," he said. He stuck an arm into the closet he'd opened and pulled Link's armor out. It hit the floor with a loud clank, the thug apparently surprised by its weight.

"Nonsense," the woman dismissed. "Lots of people wear armor."

The last thug sheathed his knife in his belt and walked over to his companion's side. He tryingly lifted the armor in front of him.

"No, really, boss. I think Timmy might be right." He held the metal up, and it glinted in the light of the candles. "How many people d'you reckon can afford sumthin' like this?"

The woman looked at her companions for a moment, and Link sighed in relief when her hand slacked and the knife inched away from Malon's neck. Malon's eyes caught his. Panic, anger, passion burned intensely in them, swirled in her gaze.

Link's throat went dry when he thought of the precariousness of the situation. If anything happened to Malon...

"You're bein' awfully quiet over there," the woman said and shot Link a glance. "Don't you have anythin' to say? Are you the hero or not?"

Link's mind stalled. Was it better to play it safe and deny it? He had made a lot of enemies over the years, though he didn't recall ever meeting these particular thugs. On the other hand, it looked like they had already figured it out, and lying could have grave consequences in a situation like this if it was discovered...

Link caught sight of the youngest of the bandits – Timmy, apparently. His hands fiddled with the hem of his shirt. It would be easy to intimidate someone like that with his status as the hero. But the other two thugs...

The woman sighed irritably. 

"Here, hold this," she said and handed Malon and the knife to the last thug like an unwieldy piece of luggage. He grabbed Malon's arm and held the knife threateningly, but it wasn't pressed to her throat like before, Link noticed. Clearly, their leader was the real danger among them.

The woman marched over to Link and bent down to look him in the eyes. Her face was uncomfortably close, so close that Link could see the two yellow spots in her eyes. She smiled. And then before Link could even comprehend it, she struck out with the flat of her hand, palm connecting to the side of his face so forcefully that his head jerked to the side.

Link's cheek stung as he turned his head back to look at her with hatred burning in his eye.

"I asked you a question," she said sweetly, voice not matching her cold eyes at all.

"Let's suppose I were the hero. What would it matter?" Link asked.

"I knew this was a bad idea," Timmy piped up somewhere in the background. Link kept his focus on the woman in front of him.

"Shut it, Timmy," she said, similarly without sparing him a glance. "I think we could get a nice ransom for a personal friend of the queen. Don't you, hero?"

"I think you're in above your paygrade," Link hissed back. "No place in Hyrule will be safe for you if you harm us."

The woman opened her mouth to answer, just as Link caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. The woman broke off her sentence before it had begun in favor of turning her head and following his gaze.

They both turned just in time to watch what happened.

While Link and the woman had been talking, the two other bandits and Malon had kept mostly quiet. In a moment of distraction on the part of the thug holding her, Malon had snatched the knife from his belt. The next second was only a blur to Link, but suddenly the living room was swimming with blood, and Malon and the man had stumbled in opposite directions. Timmy's eyes were wide open and fearful (and young, Link's mind unhelpfully supplied). 

The thugs' leader took a step toward Link's wife, but Link kicked out with his legs and swiped her off her feet. Rage bubbled in his chest, and he knew this was the best opportunity he was going to get. He managed to stand up, the chair still tied to his back. He twirled around and slammed it into the woman, who had just managed to regain her footing. The chair splintered with an ear-splitting crack, and she went sprawling to the floor again. 

Link shook the remaining rope off of him, ready to pounce on his foe, but she was already unconscious on the floor. Timmy took in the scene from his place at the door: his unconscious leader, the other bandit covered in blood and clearly wounded, Link, tall and obviously strong, now waiting to deal with him. And without a second of hesitation, Timmy bolted out the door.

Link turned his attention to Malon, who leaned heavily against the wall. His eye swept across her, noting her pale skin and the red stains on her dress, face, and arms.

"Malon," Link gasped and rushed to her side. He let his hands glide over her dress, looking for tears that could indicate where the wound was, then took her arms and turned them confusedly when he didn't find anything.

"Link," Malon said gently and pulled her arms free. She grabbed his hands with hers. 

"You're injured," Link insisted, eye still scanning her clothes.

"It's not my blood, love," Malon said. 

The injury had to be there somewhere. Where had he put his adventuring gear? He probably still had a potion lying around...

"Link," Malon said and put a hand to his cheek right where he had been hit. It was pleasantly cool against the irritated skin.

"Link, I'm not hurt. It's not my blood," she repeated.

"It's ... not?" Link asked, brain finally catching up to her words.

"It's not," she confirmed. "I'm alright."

"But ... the blood."

"It's his," Malon explained patiently and tilted her head towards the man on the floor. "I'm alright."

Link pulled her into his arms and buried his head in her hair, suddenly feeling every bit the stress and trauma he'd just been through. He shook silently, tears slipping down his cheeks, and Malon held him close. His mind went through a dozen other possible outcomes of that situation, all of them worse than this one, and Link couldn't process it, couldn’t understand it was over and that they were safe.

But Malon's body was warm against his. Her hair smelt faintly of hay and flowers, smells he'd come to associate with the ranch. With safety.

"I'm alright," she repeated.

And that, Link thought as he held her, was enough for now.