If the Boot Fits

Confrontation

Ghirahim reached into Aryll's apron pocket, pulling out the fistful of rupees. "Stealing? Or finding dropped change?" he asked charmingly, as if this was a friendly conversation. He dropped the rupees in his own coat pocket. "Either are unacceptable."

He held his hand out, palm up. Groose set the box into his hand, staring at the straw-covered floor as if he were the servant. Ghirahim smirked, tilting his head in Link's direction. Before Link knew it, Zant's cold hand clamped on his shoulder.

"No," Aryll whimpered. She tried pulling away, but Ghirahim's grip tightened. "Please." Her cracking voice was hardly a whisper.

Zant's lips curled in a devilish smile over his teeth. He pulled his fist back, then swung, connecting hard with Link's nose. Link didn't flinch, nor did he bring a hand up to stop the blood gushing from his nose, waiting for the next hit. He didn't have to wait long.

Again, Zant's fist landed on his face. He kicked the back of Link's knees, sending him to the floor. The horses snorted, hooves scraping the floor in an uncomfortable pattern.

"Please," Aryll cried. "Please stop."

A kick to the stomach had Link gasping for air. A boot connected with his spine.

"Please!" Aryll's voice grew louder. "Stop hurting him!"

Through the punches and kicks, Link peered up at Aryll, remembering why he was taking the torture. For her. It was all for her. He had to bare everything she could not, be strong whare she could not. Another kick in the stomach made Link curl into the fetal position.

"Stop it!" Aryll screeched. Link could hear her struggling against Ghirahim's hold. "Let me go! Let me-" Aryll's cries were suddenly interrupted by a loud CLAP ricocheting through the barn. The horses winnyed, covering up Link's gasp.

Ignoring the kicks trying to hold him down, Link slowly rose to his knees. His vision was clouded with rage as he watched Aryll bring a hand to her shoked face, cheek red. Link's attention slipped to Ghirahim as he readied another slap. He shot to his feet, charging at Ghirahim. In the last few feet, he lunged, hands ready to clamp around his throat.

Groose blocked his path, catching his wrists and knocking Link off balance. He quickly regained it, ripping his arms free, but instead of attacking Ghirahim, Link bent next to Aryll, holding her in his arms. Her trembling fingers gripped his forearms.

Unfazed by Link's sudden outburst, Ghirahim, standing tall, scowled down at the two. "I want steak for supper," was all he said before waltzing out of the stables, Zant and Groose in tow.

Groose was the last one out the door. He hesitated, one fist clenched, the other suffocating the door handle as he stared down at Link with a long face. He dropped his gaze, then shut the back door behind him.

"Link," Aryll whispered, her voice deafening in the silence. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Link forgot about his own bruises as he teared a piece of cloth from his tunic, wrapping it around the claw punctures in Aryll's arm. "Are you?"

"They took it all, Link," she said, ignoring his question. "The money, it's all gone. We have nothing left. Our only chance at escape, gone!"

"It'll be our lives if we don't fix dinner. Come on." Link lifted Aryll up, holding her close as they hurried to the kitchen. He hated this. Hated Ghirahim. Hated how he had to work under his rule.

Aryll began the fire while Link took the meat from the icebox, cutting out the fat. He diced herbs and cut the meat, throwing them in a skillet. He placed the pan over the fire, waiting to flip the meat and add the spices. After about 30 minutes the full meal was done.

Setting the plates on silver trays, Aryll tried to slip her new pet frog under one of the domes, but Link caught her. Aryll let the creature hop away. Link shot her a look as he grabbed the goblets and utensils to set the table. It wasn't long before their stepfamily sat down in their usually places.

Ghirahim snapped his fingers, signaling for the food to be brought out. Link and Aryll set the plates covered in silver domes in front of their stepfamily, lifting the domes in unison. Steam wafted up from the hot meal, following Aryll and Link through the kitchen door. Their stomachs gurgled with hunger.

As the two waited for their stepfamily to be done with their meal, they cleaned up the kitchen. But washing the dishes, putting the spices away, and cleaning the workspace wasn't enough to keep their minds off the despair of toiling under Ghirahim's harsh rule for another 8 years.

Without realizing it, Link's mind wandered to the clothes Ghirahim bought in the last two days. The ripped and stained fabrics had been discarded in an attack room while the soaked ones were put away in Zant's and Groose's closets after drying. Ghirahim didn't care much about the prior set. So what if Link could use those miss-matched clothes to make his own suit? Aryll could help fix the tears and Link could patch together something that looked decent.

"What are you thinking?" Aryll quietly asked beside him.

Link blinked the fog from his eyes, looking down at his sister. "We don't need the money. We can make our own suit."