This AU is set in the past (think like 70 years ago). Just to make sure everyone knows this, The Legend of Zelda and all its characters belong to Nintendo.

Christmas After All - by Pseudo Twili

Chapter 1: Just a Smile

Link hated Christmas. He hated the crushing, deafening crowds who pushed and shoved uncaringly in their avaricious attempts to get the best deal in Christmas presents. He hated the excited children and parents either wildly indulgent or quietly generous. He loathed the hellish din which was the department store in which he worked. Most of all, he despised cheery faces and people who were always wanting him to be merry. He grimaced mightily when the holly, red bows, wreaths, and other decorations came out all over Hyrule City, and he had the strongest desire to plug his ears when the store started playing the music of the approaching season while November still held them in her old age.

Rupin's Department Store was the biggest, most exclusive establishment in the entire city and was arguably the place to go for the very best, from fishing rods and canoes, to the best perfumes and to-die-for ensembles, to life-sized toy trains and superb imitation clawshots. The owner insisted upon the fine quality of the vast selection of merchandise that his store carried, but his employees knew this was at least partly in rivalry with another successful businessman.

Shad, the general manager, prevailed upon Link and some of the other employees to work on nights and weekends to festoon the store, and brought in extra workers for that specific purpose. The thought of helping cover the place with decorations of a season that he loathed was very repulsive to him, but he only agreed to it because he had nothing else to do except sleep, and the prospect of a little extra money was always a welcome thought. At least he didn't have to be cheery for customers and wait upon them hand and foot. The other employees stayed clear of him as much as possible and complained that he was terrible to work with; he was pricklier than a cactus bush without fruit or bloom, they said.

In the other months, Link was comparatively happier working in the sporting goods department, an activity which was more satisfying to him because he actually enjoyed demonstrating the equipment he sold and especially having the freedom of doing so outdoors. It seemed almost as if the management took perverse pleasure in moving him from that section to the huge toy department, called Fairyland, immediately after Thanksgiving. He had to accept the decision, too, for the store could easily find a replacement if he was foolish enough to let go of both sanity and job.

"Blasted toy department!" he muttered as he hurried up the stairs to the ninth floor. "Again this year?! Why? This store hates me and I hate them!"

He would have liked to continue wearing that glowering face, just to show how disagreeable he could be, but that was out of the question. Even more reason to frown was because he had a great dislike for the manager of that huge floor, Mr. Tingle, who seemed to think he was a child himself and was always coming by to tell the sales personnel to smile for the dear kiddies. Link plastered a sickening smile on his lips as he greeted his superior and received his instructions.

"And remember!" the red-cheeked, plump man with black goatee called. "Keep smiling for the kiddies!"

Link cringed and very briefly assumed a fierce scowl again. It was going to be a very long month…

"Why so down, boy?" boomed a nearby voice that was somehow sad and cheery all at once.

The young man started slightly and with a deepening grimace he glanced up at Batreaux, replete in bright red Santa suit and stuffed with a couple of pillows.

"I hate working here," he growled.

The gentleman with tufts of orange hair sticking out over his strangely shaped head did not understand the problem. He worked in the toy department year round because he loved children and always took pleasure in being near them. The little tykes who had been coming for months or years always recognized him and were very glad to see him. It was almost like having a few of them himself, the bachelor often remarked. There were several other Santas hired for the Christmas rush, but Batreaux was proudly the 'head Santa'.

"It's not so bad when you get used to it. The children really are wonderful and it's so much fun to hear their fanciful ideas. It brings back memories of my own childhood and many happy Christmases."

"Hmph."

"Well, if you'll excuse me, I must go find my wig and beard before the children see me like this. Everyone knows that Santa isn't red-headed or half bald!"

Batreaux chuckled and shuffled away, while Link stepped behind his counter and, with bangs and angry shoves of merchandise, made sure everything was in order before the customers began flowing in. He wore a smile and was polite to everyone who approached him; he gritted his teeth as he served the little brats who, in his opinion, would be better suited with a paddle in the stocking than to be so spoiled with expensive presents. Much as he wanted to, he did not cast glances at the clock, for when he did the hands of time seemed to mock him by moving slower than ever.

When at last the store closed at night, the employees trooped wearily to their homes and the cleaning staff put everything in order for the next day; they cleaned up counters and displays that children had been all over, made sure the train that ran through the entirety of Fairyland was in tip-top shape, and replaced all those decorations that had vanished or been crushed.

Link's apartment was way on the other side of the city and the only mode of transportation he could afford was the train. He hated it too, as it always smelled and he could almost never get a seat. When he did manage to snag one he was customarily so tired that he dozed off right away and awoke with a stiff neck a while later. On a few occasions he had snoozed past his stop and had to walk the several blocks through dark, dirty streets.

His apartment was quite a run-down affair and he loathed it. The paper-thin walls were cracked and dropped plaster everywhere, the uneven floors were always icy cold and squeaked terribly, the ceiling was spotted darkly, the rooms beneath the roof leaked like a sieve, the facilities were all outdoors, there wasn't even a telephone in the hall, and the landladies were perfect terrors. Link was sure that they were witches in disguise and that they were at least three-hundred and eighty years old. Because he was often late in paying his rent, he would always sneak past their door to avoid any unpleasant confrontation, but somehow one or both of them would unvaryingly hear him.

"You there, young man!" one of the sisters cackled. "Where do you think you're going?!"

"You owe us sixty rupees!" came the shriveled voice the other. "Come on, pay up or we'll take it out of your hide!"

A tired Link replied testily, "Look, I don't have it right now! I get paid tomorrow, so I'll be able to give you most of it then."

And with that he fled up the several flights to his cold little attic of an apartment. Sometimes he brought up a poor sandwich from the corner delicatessen, or stopped in at the nearby drugstore for whatever was cheapest. On days like this, he was too tired and cold for any extracurricular activities; it was too dark to read and the extra light would have cost him. He had no radio and even if he did there would be no place to plug it in, so he pulled his pitiful excuse for a bed as near to the tiny stove as he dared and covered himself with all the moth-eaten blankets he owned. Making a fire was something of a luxury for him, but when he did manage to find some flammable material he was ever so grateful for the additional warmth.

Before sleep claimed him, his thoughts sometimes drifted to his childhood. He'd been much happier then; even though his parents died before he could really remember them, he'd lived with his younger sister and the little grandmother who had loved them both very, very much. She was far from being wealthy; she only just managed to scrape together enough for herself and her two grandchildren because of her husband's pension and her sewing jobs, but the three of them were affluent with joy. She taught them many wonderful things before she grew sick and died when Link was ten and his sister was six. After she was gone, they had no other family. The siblings were separated amid a great deal of tears; he was shipped around from orphan homes to foster families and treated despicably. He ran away from the last one when he was fifteen, came to the big city and eventually found work as an errand boy for the department store.

Alone in that frigid room, his bitterness and grief melted into tears that fell and nearly froze upon his pillow. He had no idea what had befallen his sister; he missed both her and his dear grandmother so much! No one else had ever really cared about him since her death and it was during the joyous season of Christmas that he missed them most. He dreamed of someday saving enough money to pay detectives to find the girl, but something always happened to siphon away the precious funds he tried so hard to reserve.

Before a week of December had passed he was already so weary of the mad rush of always unsatisfied children, harried adults and of the pressure of his superiors; his mood was the darkest and gloomiest he'd ever experienced and he could only just keep from snapping at his many difficult customers. The forced smile that he assumed went no further or deeper than the very edges of his mouth and even then it seemed to be stretched very thin. He gritted his teeth whenever Mr. Tingle came by his counter.

"Dear fellow, are you helping the dear little kiddies find their hearts' desires?" he inquired all too sweetly. "It's very important that we help them to find something they want for Christmas!"

Before Link could form a respectable reply, the strange little man drifted away in hip-hoppy fashion. He muttered something under his breath that would have been printed in asterisks, and it was quite fortunate for him that no one was close enough to catch his words. He could already feel a headache coming on and he briefly rubbed his temples with his knuckles. In moments like this he thought very seriously of just quitting his loathsome job and finally having some peace of mind, but he would not give up while he still held hope of finding his sister.

"Blasted store!" he muttered. "I wish someone would burn it to the ground!"

He assumed his frozen smile again as two small boys ran up to the display near his counter and argued noisily what toys each one was going to get for Christmas. Apparently they thought there was only one of anything within sight and they had a contest going as to which of them could wheedle more out of their parents. With one look at them Link groaned inwardly and turned his gaze toward the middle-aged man and woman who followed the little brats. He could tell at first glance that this was an affluent family, for the clothes that they wore were of the finest quality, as were their accessories, such as the stylish, gold-capped cane that the gentleman carried, and Link caught more than a whiff of what he knew to be very expensive perfume from the lady.

"How can I help you, sir, madam?" he asked, trying to keep his frayed nerve edge from coming into his voice.

The gentleman sighed, removed his silken top hat and wiped his forehead with an immaculate handkerchief. "We're looking for presents for our two little boys. Do you—"

Suddenly, the lady interrupted with an exclamation directed toward her devilish sons. "Joel! Zill! Do not kick the glass! Do you two want to break something?! Behave yourselves or there will be no Christmas presents for either of you!"

She turned back to Link of the un-moving face and said in a much gentler tone, "I'm sorry. Could you perhaps help us find something they'd like? It must be something very special and they have a lot of toys already…"

"Daddy! Mother! There you are!" came the sound of a new voice.

The owner thereof was a lovely young woman dressed in a fine style, much like the older couple who turned at her call. She wore a gorgeous, deep violet skirt that reached just past her knees and carried just a hint of red plaid, a smart, dove-gray jacket that could only have been so expertly tailored at Madame Couture's, dainty gloves that fit her slender fingers perfectly, and the a very darling, perky little dark purple hat with a single, golden-brown feather that danced with her every movement. At her throat could be seen the delicately lacy collar of her blouse and a gold locket with an elaborate, swirling "Z" upon it. As soon as her turquoise eyes met Link's tired blue ones, she smiled a very genuine, very friendly sort of smile.

"I thought I'd lost you," she said to her parents. "But then I figured Joel and Zill would drag you up here." She lowered her voice so that the boys would hopefully not hear. "Have you found anything for them?"

"No, dear. We couldn't get very far with—" the woman cut herself off again with another reprimand to her offspring. "Didn't I tell you two to stay off the counters?! Get down at once!" She turned to her husband. "I tell you, Gustaf, those boys will be the death of me!"

The gentleman sighed again; he was prepared to go over to the rascals with a lecture and a promise that they'd receive a severe punishment when they went home.

"Mumsie, Daddy, I know what to do. I'll take the boys around so they can look at everything and you two will have peace to hopefully find something they'll like. If they give me any ideas about what to give them, I'll be sure to let you know."

"Would you, sweetie? That is great relief to your mother and me!"

"Of course, Daddy! I promised to come along and help you, didn't I? My friends think I'm silly for agreeing to it, but I really do have to help you keep the little troublemakers in line!"

The aforementioned mischief makers exclaimed indignantly together, "Hey!"

She waved a kid glove—Link didn't know if she was waving to him, to her parents, or to all three of them—moved swiftly toward her little brothers and took each firmly by the hand. After wiping Zill's nose, she walked away with them, leaving their parents to do some serious shopping.

"Well, as I was saying before, we're looking for something very special for our blas—our little boys. Would you show us your best toys?"

Link pulled the catalogue from beneath the counter and flipped through the pages, automatically pointing out the store's most highly rated toys. Fortunately, he already knew the drill by heart, for his mind was not with his actions. He was thinking about the young lady who seemed, at least to him, to float in and out again with the delicacy of a fairy. He just could not cease thinking and wondering about her. He told himself that he would in all likelihood never see her again, but that did not stop him. He kept remembering how she had smiled so kindly at him. He couldn't be sure that she had actually waved to him before she left, but he was positive about the smile. She was very pretty too; her nutty brown hair fell almost to her shoulders in wonderful curls that bounced with every step of her fur-topped boots.

Somehow her little unspoken act of kindness had brought the merest fraction of warmth to his heart, which he hadn't even realized was cold and starved from love. He clung to the little bit of sweetness that her smile had left with him and cherished it. He was something of a different young man for the rest of the day. His smile had just a hint of being genuine as he helped the pretty girl's parents pick Rupin's famous, life-sized train for their two rapscallions. He wore it for the rest of that day and all of the next, harboring a secret hope that he would see her again.

However, by the dawn of the third day, the small sliver of hope that had broken through the darkness of his soul was again buried in the gloom. He aided customers without the relish of anticipation and everything was again bleak and colorless to him.

01-05-2016 ~ Published (2,859 words)