Disclaimer: The Legend of Zelda, its characters and locations are all property of Nintendo. Any and all OCs and original locations belong to me unless specifically stated to belong to someone else.


Sanguine Shackles
Chapter 9
Clothes Make the Hunter


Crowded, busy, smelly, hot, stifling; Ravana was all these things, but above all, it was noisy. Link's ears were already hurting after about half an hour of sightseeing in the city's markets, with Ayla leading the way confidently through row after row of stalls and shops, cutting into alleyways like she'd memorised them. He tried to keep up with the directions, tried to make a mental map of the area, but the sheer amount of visual, olfactory, and auditory input was making it difficult.

Dozens of languages, whose owners all tried to outcompete each other in volume, were shouted from all corners, coupled with the calls of animals, carts, and the distant sound of the ocean lapping at the docks; the warm, moist wind creating tall waves.

Children were everywhere, especially underfoot, laughing and screaming as they treated the heavily-trafficked streets like a playground, causing trouble for the merchants, and likely filching more than a few small trinkets. Link felt a bit nervous, afraid he'd accidentally knock down the kids, who barely came up to his hips.

So many people, all with their own lives and schedules, working and living in a city so large and complex it made Castle Town look like a tiny village. The architecture was so different—the buildings were tall, just like home, but the stone had been covered in limestone and other bright, white materials.

"To repel the heat," Ayla explained. "Keeps the interiors cooler than just regular stone."

After another ten minutes of Ayla leading them in seemingly getting lost in a very guided manner, she made an exclamation of triumph and pointed towards a shop that looked more like a hole in the wall than a place of business, hidden away in an alley two streets away from the main thoroughfare, the only thing giving it away as such being the rolls of fabric stacked in the window, along with a small sign by the door (well, bead curtain, really), written in a language Link couldn't read—the letters were all curved and loopy.

"Told you I knew where it was," she said with a grin, parting the beads and waving him inside with a flourish. "After you, milord."

Saying that only makes it more obvious you were lost, Link signed, giving her a crooked grin.

"Oh, shush you," the Gerudo said, waving her hand in his face. "I just needed to jog my memory."

That why we walked in a circle at least twice?

"I said shush!"

Link considered asking her how he can be quiet when he never makes noise speaking to begin with, but decided not to. It was an argument they'd had more than once. He settled for taking a look around the small, cramped shop that was supposedly the workspace of the finest tailor in the city.

Most of the space itself was taken up by, just like the brief view through the window had hinted, the fabrics and other materials used to make clothing. As far as he could tell, the sewing itself wasn't done here—possibly in another room, behind another beaded curtain by the counter at the very end of the room.

The air smelled of leather, wool, and cotton—but unlike so many other tailors' shops Link had been to, there was not a hint of rot, decay, or just that smell that he could only describe as "old". The floor was covered in a threadbare carpet, as were the available space on the walls beside a large mirror, presumably to dampen sound bouncing of the stone.

The heat was nearly unbearable, even in here, but that was to be expected. The clothes on their backs were hardly suitable for this sort of environment, which was the entire reason for finding this place. Link had a strong suspicion he smelled particularly ripe, but then so did Ayla...and he could only hope that the tailor wouldn't be offended.

Speaking of...

Where's the shop keep? he signed, a faint pang of worry striking him when Ayla only grinned widely and headed for the counter, where a large bell rested on the worn wood.

"Knowing him, busy in the backroom," she said, unceremoniously slamming her hand down on the bell, which gave off a toll that was completely off-key, and made shivers run down Link's back, the Beast recoiling at the awfulness of the sound. "Ab!" she called at the doorway near the counter. "Where the fuck are you?!"

Under the terrible toll and Ayla's, quite frankly, grating voice, Link heard a gasp, followed by a groan of annoyance. The beads parted, revealing a young man about Ayla's age, his skin a dark bronze and hair so black it swallowed light, pulled back in a high ponytail. He was slim, and dressed in the same sort of light, loose-fitting tunics, which exposed his shoulders and collarbones, that seemed to be the general fashion in Ravana. His brown eyes, narrowed with irritation, swept over the two of them. Link received a double-take (presumably because of his size, as he easily towered over the man), while Ayla was greeted with a severe, seemingly instinctive frown.

"Oh no," he said, his voice surprisingly high in register, and words sharp with an accent Link was unable to place, "Not you!"

Had a tailor in Castle Town greeted prospective clients in that way, they'd quickly find themselves out of business. Link would definitely have been offended, but Ayla seemed completely at ease with the rudeness, offering him a cheerful wave in return.

"Me!" she announced, stepping forward and hauling him into a tight, bone-crushing hug that made Link immensely glad he wasn't being subjected to it. "Back at last! How have you been, you little shit?"

"I was so happy while you were gone," he replied, voice muffled by the front of her chest. "Let go! You reek!"

"Aw, you enjoy my company, just admit it!" she said, letting him go and smacking his shoulder. She paused, taking a moment to look him over, and nodded in apparent satisfaction. "You look good."

"I've been good," he replied, breaking his severe expression to give her a small smile.

"They've left you alone?" she asked.

"They have," he confirmed. "The lesson you taught them seems to have sunk in. One of them even came in for measurements for a guard's uniform a year ago." He chuckled. "I gave him a discount."

"Huh," she said, taken aback. "First time I've scared someone straight."

"You were quite terrifying." He chuckled again, and looked back at Link. "I see you've brought a friend this time." He took a long moment to study Link closely. "A fellow hunter, judging by the hardware," he noted, indicating the sword and mechanical crossbow, the Zukov, hanging on Link's back.

"Where're my manners?" Ayla said, eyes widening.

"Presumably where you left your sense of propriety, modesty, and personal hygiene," the man said.

She ignored the comment and gestured to Link. "This is Link, he's from Hyrule, our newest brother." She then nodded towards the man. "This is Abbas, the finest tailor in the city, and notorious booze hound."

Abbas smile faded quickly at the last descriptor, shooting her an angry glance. "Once; I got drunk once, and you've never let me forget it!" He shook his head, aiming another smile at Link. "A pleasure to meet you, Link. You may call me Ab, if you'd like. She certainly won't stop."

Nice to meet you, Abbas, Link signed, slowly spelling out his name, quickly deciding that the nickname was faster to say, but afraid of insulting his host.

Abbas looked confused for a moment, before he realised it, and frowned. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realise...I don't understand signing..."

"Ah, it's okay," Ayla said, shaking her head. "Link doesn't mind—besides, I'm here to translate for him. He said it's nice to meet you, and he spelled out your name."

"Ah," Abbas said, his smile returning. "In that case, welcome to my shop. I hope Ayla's slander hasn't given you a poor impression of me or my skills—I assure you, you will find no better tailor than me in Ravana."

Link smiled back and nodded, hoping to convey his belief in that statement. There was definitely confidence behind it, and if Ayla vouched for him...well, who was Link, whose only expertise in the art of sewing involved wounds that needed to be closed, to argue?

"Nothing wrong with his bragging skills, that's for sure," Ayla said, snickering.

"So, I assume you are here for a reason other than catching up," Abbas said, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms, looking between them both. "New outfits?"

"We have an important meeting in three days," Ayla explained. "With Master Terra, and we can't walk around in this furnace you call a city dressed in these clothes." She gestured to their thick leathers and heavy cotton clothing.

"The collective noses of the city would certainly agree," he said, wrinkling his nose, which made Link slightly self-conscious. Was he really that bad? "I think we can manage that," Abbas continued. "How long are you staying here?"

"If all goes according to plan, a week, week and a half," Ayla said. "But knowing hunter business, we're probably looking at two weeks, at least. Can you have something ready by tomorrow? I'd like to show Link around without melting in the meantime."

"As long as it's something simple, certainly," Abbas said, gesturing to himself. "Something like this for the gentleman, and your usual for casual wear in the city?"

"You all right with something like that?" Ayla asked Link, who nodded. "Sounds good to me. We'll also need something a little more professional-looking for our meeting—"

"I can make something similar to the guard uniforms, if you like," Abbas said. "In more muted colours, of course. Atelier hunters seem to prefer that sort of fashion these days, at least for when they're roaming at home."

Link recalled seeing the Ravana city watch members parading around the streets in brightly-coloured, military-style uniforms, wincing a little at the memory of plumed helmets.

Just not bright yellow, he signed to Ayla, who relayed the wish.

"Of course not," Abbas said, looking offended. "I was thinking a lighter tan colour—reflects more heat to make up for the slightly heavier material. I can't do much in terms of sigils or epaulettes—"

"We don't need any of that stuff, just something that doesn't look like we just came in off the street," Ayla said. "Whatever you can do like that is more than fine, Ab."

"All right," Abbas said as he went behind his counter and brought out a piece of paper, a pen, as well as a measuring ribbon. "So...one casual outfit apiece for express delivery tomorrow, two uniforms, and..." he looked at them. "How many more casual outfits for each?"

"I'm thinking three or four, depending on how long we're staying—I'm not sure how much laundry we'll be able to do."

"Let's make it four, then, assuming I can send the bill to the usual place?"

"You can," Ayla confirmed. At Link's confused look, she elaborated, "The Atelier has made arrangements with most businesses in town—they'll pay for things like clothes, weapons, special equipment...just about anything related to our profession, really. Meals not taken at the Atelier we'll have to cover ourselves, though."

Should we eat there? Link asked.

"Hell no," she said, grimacing. "The food there's more likely to kill you than nourish you."

"One case of food poisoning, and they'll never hear the end of it," Abbas said as he continued writing up the details for the order. "Right, any specific desires for materials, or will you leave that to me?"

"Just pick what's suitable for the environment here, and somewhat comfortable," Ayla said, looking to Link for confirmation, which she got. "We're not picky."

"All right," Abbas said, finishing the order and looking at Link. "Please step towards the mirror, take your weapons and coat off, and I will take your measurements."

Link did as he was told, closely followed by Abbas, who was brandishing his ribbon.

"Oh, you're...taller than I thought," the tailor said, blinking as he stepped up to Link's front, where his chin barely reached the middle of Link's chest. He blushed a little when he realised what he'd said, and cleared his throat. "Arms out, please."

"He's a big'un, all right," Ayla drawled, making herself comfortable on a stack of fabric rolls. "Practically dwarfs his beau, which is always amusing to see."

Link felt his eye twitch at having that particular detail of his personal life revealed so casually, but Abbas didn't seem perturbed by it at all, simply nodding. "Opposites attract, as they say," he mumbled as he measured the span of Link's arms, then each individual arm, his total height, his inseam, and so on. "And who is the lucky gentleman? Another hunter, perhaps?"

"Not anymore," Ayla said smoothly, ignoring Link's pointed looks as she continued to reveal his personal history to someone he'd just met. "Poor thing had to retire from hunting because of his injuries, but he manages our library now."

"Ah, the Sanctuary I've heard so much about," Abbas said, writing down the numbers that made up Link's total bulk.

"You've heard of it?"

"It was all the hunters here talked about, for a time," Abbas said, giving Link an intense look that made the Hylian fidget slightly. "I'm just trying to figure out good colours for you, my friend," he said when he noticed it. "I am thinking some lighter and darker shades of green, how does that sound?"

Link smiled and nodded. He'd always liked green.

"Duly noted," Abbas said, smiling back. "I shall see what I can do."

"They talk about the Sanctuary?" Ayla prompted, which made the tailor frown.

"Yes," he confirmed. "As well as the Studio's destruction. No details, of course, only that it was utterly annihilated, along with nearly every hunter present. I was so worried until I got your letter." He sent her a pointed glance at that. "You could have been a bit faster with that, you know."

She scratched her neck, shrugging. "We were busy foiling an attempted coup at the time, and then building a new workshop. I'm sorry."

"I'm just glad you're all right," he said. "Both of you," he added for Link's benefit. "I'm...sorry about your master. She sounded like a good woman."

"The best," Ayla said, and Link nodded.

True, Sheik and Impa's relationship had been, for the lack of a better word, tense, but given their history that was to be expected. Despite the words that flew between them, Link had sensed a genuine familial bond there, and love, though not of a very overt sort. And she had sacrificed her own life to ensure Sheik and the other, younger hunters, would make it out alive. Link could do nothing but respect her for that.

Sheik had been absolutely devastated by her death, and still felt it keenly every day, despite how he kept claiming he had made his peace with it. The cheek tattoo, which he'd gotten without telling anyone, was only one symptom of that.

Link, not wanting to upset his lover, simply nodded along, making sure that he was available whenever Sheik had what Link had come to call "fragile moments". That is, moments where his Sheikah was prone to do something stupid like accidentally injure himself while cleaning his blades because his mind was in completely different place than the rest of him...and the inevitable fallout that followed.

More often than not, his mind was back at the Studio, with his aunt and the others who died there. He denied it, of course, and Link didn't argue. But he was there, and that mattered a little, right?

He hoped so.

"Right, that's it for you," Abbas said, patting Link's arm. "Ayla, you're next."

"I swear, if you tell me my waist has gotten bigger..." she told Abbas warningly, curling her fists.

"The ribbon does not lie," he said evenly, meeting her challenge. He turned to Link, pointing towards the doorway leading to the backroom. "I have a restroom back there, if you would like to freshen up," he said. "Food, too, if you're hungry. Just fruit, but anything that fills you up, right?"

Link paused, quite sure this was not normal for a business owner to offer out of the blue, even to their customers. Abbas must have sensed his consternation, however, and chuckled.

"Any friend of Ayla's is a friend of mine," he offered as an explanation. "And you look a little tired; no offence."

"Go ahead, Link," Ayla said, shooing him towards the doorway. "And bring me back a pear, or something."

Feeling a bit like he was being asked to leave, Link ventured deeper into the shop. The backroom was, as he'd thought, the place where Abbas did most of his work. Mannequins, pedal-powered sewing machines, reams of fabric being prepared for use, and half-finished clothes covered every available bit of space in the room just beyond the shop. Connected to it was a small, kitchen-like area, with another, smaller washroom behind it.

He took the opportunity to thoroughly wash what areas he could, hoping to alleviate some of the riper aspects to his scent, if only for Abbas' sake. He let the sink fill up with cold water, relieved to be able to cool down his heated skin just a little. He worked as fast he could, not wanting to intrude on the tailor's hospitality any longer than he had to. Afterwards, he found a bowl of various fruits on the counter in the kitchen, and helped himself to an apple and, as requested, brought a pear for Ayla.

He paused at the doorway, however, when he heard the two having a quiet, muted conversation clearly not meant for his ears. Ayla had clearly forgotten about Link's enhanced hearing, however.

"...can't believe he's still here," Abbas said quietly. "I thought my testimony would be enough, but there was virtually no consequence—not for him, at least. Just a general notice to behave themselves while in the city."

"S'what happens when you have powerful friends," Ayla muttered in return, her voice wavering slightly. "He knows several council members, apparently. Got Terra by the balls, more or less. More and more I think about, I'm convinced I'm lucky I got away from the whole thing alive, if not unscathed."

"Does it hurt still?"

Abbas question was even quieter, and it took Ayla a long moment to answer.

"Every day."

"I have some medicine that might help—"

"Ab."

Silence.

"I'm sorry. I just...I wish I'd been able to do something—"

"You were a kid, Ab."

Another moment of silence. A shaky breath.

"So were you."

A long moment.

"No...I hadn't been a kid for a long time, at that point."

"Still..."

"Still...it remains in the past." Ayla cleared her throat. "So, what kind of fashion disaster are you going to put me in this time, eh? I still haven't lived down the tea ceremony incident, you know."

Abbas made a frustrated sound. "You'll never let me forget that, will you?" he asked. "That was just as much your fault as it was mine—granted, the veil was a bit of a mistake, but you should have known better than try to use it as a strainer!"

Now that the conversation had turned to a lighter subject, followed by the subsequent raising of their voices to a more normal level, Link took it as his queue to come back. He made a bit of a racket with the bowl, just in case, and re-entered the front part of shop.

Abbas was finishing taking notes about Ayla, giving her a slight grin. "You remember that bit about your waist...?"

"I will kill you, Abbas."

"I will hold my tongue, then."

"Link, can you believe this guy?" the Gerudo was giving him an incredulous look. "Years of friendship, and this is what I get!"

You probably deserve it, Link signed after tossing her the pear, which she barely caught. And what was that about a veil?

"Oh, that's a good story," she said, biting into the fruit and ignoring the hatred radiating off Abbas. "So, I got invited to this fancy tea party by some nob a few years back, but I had nothing to wear so I decided to have Abby—"Abbas growled"—here make me an outfit suitable for the occasion. Unfortunately, he decided to go a bit ethnic with his design..."

She spent the next five minutes reciting one of the most harrowing tales Link had ever heard, and as far as he was concerned the titular Tea Party of Doom was more akin to a battlefield than a social event (though, in the broadest of senses, he supposed you couldn't get more social than during battles). He had to admit, though, he was impressed with Ayla's very creative uses for the veil Abbas had given her outfit.

"...and I'm pretty sure the place was on fire when I left," she finished, surveying her audience's horrified faces. "What? She started it."

"That story gets worse and worse every time I hear it," Abbas muttered as he returned to the counter, looking over the order. "Right, I should get started if you want your clothes ready by tomorrow."

"Ah, we'll get out of your hair, then," Ayla said, putting her jacket back on and re-holstering her weapons. "We're overdue for checking in, anyway." She walked up to Abbas and drew him into another hug, this one quite gentle, and he only made a token protest this time before hugging her back. "Want to have dinner tomorrow? We're staying at a hotel near the artificer's quarter."

"I'd love to," he replied. "As long as I'm not imposing."

"Ab, you couldn't impose even if you actively tried," she said, releasing him. "Link doesn't mind, right?"

Not at all, Link signed, nodding for emphasis.

"It's settled, then. We'll come collect you when the time comes."

"I am looking forward to it," Abbas said. "Your clothes will be ready around noon, if you wish to get them before dinner."

Link shook Abbas' hand before they left, the Hylian's mind already clicking and whirring as he considered the conversation he'd overheard between him and Ayla. Was it related to Mel and the agitation he'd woken in the Gerudo? If it were, he had every intention of finding out...and how he could use it to exacting utter vengeance on his pack member.

"You're looking awfully thoughtful," Ayla noted as they headed back towards the busy market square, the heat surprisingly stifling in comparison to the atmosphere of Abbas' shop.

That tea party... Link signed vaguely.

"Heh, yeah, it sticks with you for a long time," she said, chuckling. "Incidentally, that was the night I discovered men and women are just as much fun in bed."

Link's train of thought derailed.

To be continued…


Argh, stupid world building!