Sunday morning arrived with a pounding headache for Zelda. But her alarm clock was insistent she was awakened to prepare for church.
Zelda rolled over and shut it off. Her stomach rolled and she raced to the bathroom just in time to vomit into the toilet. In hindsight, gulping down half a mixed cocktail then having another one chased with a shot of vodka after the dancers left was a bad idea.
She cleaned up her mess, brushed her teeth, and popped a couple of aspirin with a glass of water before she took her shower. A lavender shower bomb added to the bottom of the tub helped her mood and her headache, so by the time she was finished dressing, her hangover was pretty well managed.
What was less well managed was the realization her car was still parked outside of Saki's house across town. Mipha had insisted on giving her a ride home since the redhead barely touched her cocktail, and only sipped on a single glass of wine earlier in the evening.
This realization dawned on her when her feet hit the bottom stair and found her father sitting at the dining room table with a cup of coffee and a business magazine.
"Father. You're home earlier than expected." She greeted him with a smile, slipping past into the kitchen to prepare her morning cup of tea.
Rhoam glowered over his business magazine. "Care to explain where your vehicle is if you did indeed spend the night here?"
Zelda winced internally. This was freshman year of college all over again. "I was celebrating Mipha's upcoming wedding with the bridal party last night. I indulged in more alcohol than was safe for me to drive home, so my car was left at the hostess's house while I was given a ride home. I arrived home by eleven."
"Hmmm."
Zelda couldn't tell if he believed her or not. It was the truth, regardless of what he thought or felt regarding the matter. "I'll take a taxi over to collect it after church," she informed him.
"See that you do. If it was damaged in any way thanks to the area where you left it, the repairs will come from your income." Rhoam stood and picked up his now-empty cup of coffee. "We leave for church in ten minutes." He set the mug in the sink and left without another word.
Zelda looked helplessly at the kettle that hadn't whistled yet and sighed. Yet another time of taking a travel cup of tea with her, all for the sake of maintaining appearances. The thought of food turned her stomach, so all that remained was preparing her tea for the road. She headed upstairs to grab her sandals while waiting for the hot water.
Appearances were everything to him. Which is why she was wearing a conservative yet lightweight white dress and gold sandals for church. A virgin, she was not, but her father didn't need to know that. She could almost feel the weight of the disapproval he would have if he knew she'd willingly given it to a young man who didn't value the gift he'd been given.
The next young man she had her eye on turned out to be gay, so it was a simple decision for Zelda to put her past behind her and swear off all men. After the experiences she had? It was for the best. She could look. Admire the handsome men that occasionally crossed her path. But she wasn't interested in anything more. She could and would take care of herself.
The kettle whistle brought her back out of her thoughts. Zelda hurried downstairs and fixed her tea in the blue travel mug that was clean before racing to her father's car, sliding into the seat as he began to back out of the driveway.
"How was your trip?" she asked in an attempt at cordiality.
There were several long moments of silence before Rhoam responded. "Productive, but not in the ways we had hoped. There's still pressure from the Capital for us to grow in terms of infrastructure and population."
"More growth? We're already the third largest city in Hyrule!" Zelda shook her head. "Shouldn't such a decision be discussed with the people who happen to live here?"
"When the move to parliamentary leadership was installed, the individuals of the different cities lost their ability to speak for themselves. You know this. You studied this for two years!" Rhoam said sharply. "Have you forgotten the foundations upon which our government was founded?"
"No, Father. All I'm saying is that the voices of the people should be given credence. None of the representatives presently are from the younger population. Is our future to be thus decided entirely for us?" Zelda's headache was back and growing worse by the minute.
"And what of it? Do you honestly believe that someone of average intelligence and minimal life experiences is suited to make decisions over an entire nation? It was only by the blessed wisdom of Hylia herself that this nation remained a monarchy for so many centuries." Rhoam boomed, slamming his hands on the steering wheel for emphasis. "Parliamentary leadership is chosen by the people, for the people. If they should wish to have a young, brash hothead represent them, it would be reflected in the votes. As it is, we have more than enough individuals with questionable opinions controlling our actions."
Zelda said nothing, choosing instead to take a long sip of her tea. This was exactly why she kept her opinions to herself. Her father was convinced he was right, and his word was irrefutable.
Mercifully, they turned into the church parking lot, and silence again reigned as the two got out and made their way inside. Zelda had perfected 'the church mask' as she'd dubbed it upon her return from boarding school. The polite, gracious smile and exchange of pleasantries was always the same. The questions of how she was doing were insincere. The parishioners never wanted the truth, only a casual greeting to pass the time until the service began. How it never changed, even after all these years.
She went through the proper motions, singing as was expected and feigning the piety her father required. What was the point in causing more conflict? If the Goddess Hylia cared a whit about her, then she had done little to prove it. Her prayers went unanswered, especially in the last year.
The service ended and Zelda slipped out the side door before any other well-intentioned people accosted her. Knowing her father, he would be talking with his fellow deacons for the next half hour before accompanying them to lunch. It was the same every Sunday he was in town, and Zelda rarely received an invitation. She was pious enough to meet his expectations, yet insignificant enough her presence was not warranted at offsite discussions.
Ten minutes later, she was in a taxi heading across town to retrieve her car. The cabbie was idly chattering at her about the flock of cuccos he and his wife were raising, though by his admission, he was far more attached to the birds than she was. Zelda nodded at the right times so as not to appear rude, but her mind was otherwise occupied, thinking back on the previous night. On Hero.
She bit back a sigh of frustration. It wasn't fair that she'd found such an intense attraction to a stripper, of all people. Strippers definitely fell into the category of people that her father had strongly instructed against fraternizing with when she was a college student, and she was certain that sentiment hadn't changed in the last several years.
A realization struck her as she paid the cabbie and got into her own vehicle. She could picture King's face perfectly, with his mischievous brown eyes. But when she tried to think of Hero, all she got was his naked back, long blond hair, and…. She paused with the key in the ignition. His tattoos. How had she forgotten?
Her mind went back to the dance, to the faint woodsy scent of him. She'd seen the Triforce on the back of his left hand, and some kind of swirled symbol on the inside of his right wrist. Did he have more? Ones hidden under his long hair, perhaps?
She tried to focus on driving herself home. But her train of thought wandered again. She'd always wanted a tattoo. Something small and tasteful, in remembrance for her mother. A Silent Princess. The rare blooms held a fragrance she too enjoyed, despite the memories it often conjured. It didn't matter though. Tasteful or not, tattoos were uncouth in her father's eyes, and in an attempt to keep her relationship with her remaining parent from falling apart, she didn't go through with the impulse that occasionally struck.
She made a brief stop on her way home at her favorite cafe, waving at Daruk as he prepared another cup of tea to pair with the chicken salad croissant she ordered to go. Had she not been fighting a headache, she would've dined in the cafe and enjoyed a chat with the owner who'd known her since before her mother died.
But the afternoon was sunny, and the impulse to spend time in the greenhouse was stronger than even her headache, so Zelda bid farewell to the old man and made a beeline for home.
General upkeep for the greenhouse was taken care of by the same service that Rhoam hired to maintain the immaculate lawns. Being mayor wasn't without its perks, and the funds to ensure their house met expectations were easily allocated from his salary. Zelda didn't care as much about how the house looked from the street. Aesthetics were fine enough, but she craved a place of warmth and relaxation. Her bedroom and the greenhouse were the only locations that fit.
Zelda breathed a soft sigh of relief as she stepped into the greenhouse. This was her second home. Her safe haven from the chaos and stress of the outside world. The closet in the corner held a coverall that she put on to protect the white sundress. Her sandals were discarded, and she flexed her bare toes on the packed dirt floor. It wasn't terribly big, as far as greenhouses went, but it didn't matter. She had space to tend her precious flowers and the couple vegetables she managed to encourage into growing to full maturity.
But her pride and joy was the single, delicate plant at the far end of the row. She'd never managed to make it blossom, not even once. But it didn't matter. To keep a Silent Princess alive in captivity was a feat in and of itself. Zelda had tried and failed countless times. To the point where she was ready to give up. But a small voice inside her whispered to give it one last shot. So she purchased the seeds, and planted three of them. To her great shock and delight, one of them grew.
She had a few more seeds in reserve that she kept looking at. Did she dare try to plant them? No, she needed to wait. See if she could coax a bloom from the one growing first. She would try every trick in her arsenal to do so before planting more seeds.
Hours slipped by unnoticed while Zelda carefully pulled the weeds that sprouted over the previous week and tended to the vegetable beds and flowers. Only when it grew dark overhead did she notice the change in time. Reluctantly, she brushed herself off and tidied up the greenhouse before retreating back to the house, sparing a final glance at the fragile plant in the corner. One day, she promised herself. Someday, she would help see the Silent Princess bloom to its full potential.
Sundays started pretty much the same way for Link every week. He'd sleep until midmorning, hurry through the shower, pull on a tee and cargo pants, then drive his father and himself down to the old church where Deku had grown up. The congregation had changed over the years, and Link was certain he was one of the youngest ones in attendance, but he didn't mind. The devotion to Hylia was present, and he couldn't imagine missing a week.
The afternoons were free to do as he pleased, after the two men finished lunch. Deku would retire to the living room to watch whatever sport happened to be in season, but it was just a cover for him dozing off in his favorite recliner.
Link was restless this afternoon though, and after a brief text exchange, he headed back into town. He parked downtown and headed into a familiar shop. The scent of cleaner and faint buzzing filled his ears as he walked inside, bringing a slight smile to his face. He didn't expect to enjoy getting tattooed as much as he did, but here he was, nonetheless.
The two artists working in the shop glanced up when the bell on the door chimed. Sayge returned to his work with a grunt that might have been a greeting. The balding redhead hunched forward, concentrating on inking a tribal tattoo onto a tanned young man's upper arm.
"Ah, Link! Right on time. Come take a seat!" The other man gestured for him to join him in front of the mirror at the far end of the shop. He was in his late forties, with bleached-white hair pulled into a high ponytail atop his head. Tattoos covered his arms and the skin on his neck, but it didn't detract from the bright smile on his face. A black denim apron covered his gray shirt and faded jeans. "What are we doing for you this time? Got an idea in mind already?"
Link nodded. "Yes." He pulled up a picture on his phone and held it out toward the artist. "Think you can do something like that, but a bit softer?"
Pikango took the offered piece of technology and slid his glasses down from his head to study it. "Oh, that's definitely doable. Where are you wanting it?"
"Side of my ribcage, on the right." Link accepted the phone and with a couple quick strokes had the image sent to Pikango. "If we're not doing heavy linework, can it be completed today?"
"For a design like that? Should be doable. Might take a couple hours, so best get comfortable." Pikango disappeared into the back room to print off the stamp he'd use as the template.
Link gazed around the room. There were more art designs on the wall than the last time he was here. How long had it been since he'd gotten a tattoo? The last one was the fairy behind his left ear, and that had been an impulse decision.
He glanced down at his hands resting in his lap. The three intertwined dragons on the inside of his right wrist had been the first. He and Aryll had gotten matching ones in honor of their parents and each other. The Triforce on the back of his left hand with the 'Courage' triangle highlighted was one he got after the hundredth performance of the "Hero and Demon King" routine, a decision Urbosa heartily approved of.
And all of Urbosa's Champions had a lightning bolt tattooed on their left hip. They'd gone together to get them done, as a team building exercise. Link didn't mind though. The symbol was discreet, yet fitting for each of the champions in their own unique way. They got to choose their color and add any additional aesthetics they wanted to it. He'd kept his simple, while Fae chose to color his red. Midna's was a pretty shade of teal that required more regular touch-ups than she expected, but the vivacious woman shrugged it off, claiming she didn't care, as long as it still looked good.
Pikango returned and had Link remove his shirt so he could place the stamp. Link pulled the blue tee he had been wearing over his head and set it on the table. He exhaled and turned toward the artist, peeking over his shoulder at the door in hopes nobody would recognize him.
Sayge glanced over and let out a whistle when he caught sight of the blond's physique. "Damn. How much upkeep does that take?"
Link flashed a faint, wry smile. "A bit. Running daily, and strenuous strength training."
"I ain't gay, but I can sure appreciate looking at certain other people. I couldn't do it, even if my wife wanted me to." Sayge shook his head and wiped away the excess ink off the skin of the man he was tattooing. "You're good to go here, buddy."
Pikango applied the stamp and stood back to admire it. "Check the mirror and make sure you like the placement."
Link turned to look. "Little lower. Having it balanced between my shoulder and hip would be preferred."
The artist clicked his tongue. "Right." He grabbed the alcohol and some paper towels and cleansed the stamp from Link's skin before going to print a second stamp.
"Just Dance" echoed through the quiet shop, and Link quickly answered the call. "Hello?"
"Twi's been puking all morning so you're on for his slots tonight if you want them." Urbosa said by way of greeting. "Before you ask, it's not a hangover. He gave himself food poisoning."
The blond winced. "I'm getting fresh ink at the moment but I should be able to make it there by 8."
"Good. See you tonight." She hung up before Pikango returned with the new stamp.
"Hot date?" the artist teased, catching the tail end of the conversation.
"Not exactly. Another work shift," Link replied casually. He peeked at the window again, thankful the street outside wasn't particularly busy.
"Eight isn't a bad start time. Of course, we get to set our own start time, and I ain't a morning person," Sayge chuckled as he cleaned up his work station after his client's departure.
Link didn't correct him. It was simpler to just let the men make their assumptions rather than letting them know the truth.
"Better?" Pikango asked, stepping back to check the stampwork.
The blond nodded. "Perfect. I like that a lot."
"Good. It'll look great on you too. Let's get you inked properly, shall we?"
Link smiled and took a seat on the table while Pikango prepared the tattoo gun and the colors he'd be using.
"Lay on your left side," he instructed.
He complied, getting a good view of the art lower on the wall, hidden under the desk. "Whoa, didn't know you had naughty pieces too, Pikango. What other secrets are you hiding?" he teased.
Pikango followed his field of vision and snorted. "That's nothing. Showing a little tit or ass action on a tattoo is normal. You should see some of the weird shit people have actually gotten on their bodies."
"What was the strangest one you've done?" Link asked curiously.
The artist settled onto his stool and started the tattoo before he explained. "Guy came in wanting a coverup of an ex's name."
Sayge started to chuckle behind them. "Oh, shit. Are you telling him about THAT guy?"
"This one started out fairly straightforward. Guy wanted a design to cover up the name, as many of them do. I asked him what kind of design he wanted. He proceeds to pull up a furry porn site on his phone and points to a Bokoblin riding a Lynel in the lewdest way possible." Pikango paused while Sayge made gagging noises in the background. "Would you care to guess the placement of this tattoo?"
Link winced. "Do I really want to?"
"Not on his genitals, thank the Goddess. But no. He insisted on getting this over his heart. In full color. Took two separate three-hour sessions to get that name covered and give him what he wanted. I charged him extra because of what the design was. Wish I'd done more because the asshole wouldn't shut up about monsters the ENTIRE time he was in here getting it done." Pikango shook his head. "Monster man hasn't been back since, and I hope I never see him again. He was a freak."
"I'll say. We're still talking about him like two years later!" Sayge cackled. "And I made this sign!" He pointed to a wall hanging in traditional tattoo script that read: Anyone who speaks of furries and porn while on the table will be subject to a fee at the rate of 5 rupees per sentence. And yes, we will be counting.
Link shook his head slightly and chuckled. "He left quite an impression then."
Chatter continued with Sayge and Pikango playing off each other, swapping stories of the odd choices people had chosen to mark their bodies with over the years. Link listened in silence, focusing on the sensation of the tattoo gun doing its work. He closed his eyes and let his mind wander.
Unsurprisingly, it went back to the previous night. Of course, it had to have been Mipha's bachelorette party. Link attended school with her from the time they were children, and had even considered dating her for a time, until she admitted that she had her eye on someone else.
They'd kept in casual contact during college, thanks in part to her closeness with Link's sister, Aryll. It was thanks to her that Link found out Mipha was engaged, and that both of the Forrest siblings were invited to the wedding. He got the sense that she didn't want awkwardness any more than he did when she immediately recognized him the night before. Thus he was only too happy when she volunteered to have Fae dance for her instead.
He shuddered internally. He'd heard of worse things, but Mipha was like a sister now and the thought of dancing like he did for her repulsed him much the same as dancing for Aryll's pleasure would.
Besides, it gave him the opportunity to dance for her blonde friend. Link was sure the woman, Zelda, hadn't gone to school with them. He would've remembered her long, blonde hair and keen blue-green eyes. Something about her felt familiar, yet he couldn't place it. She was beautiful, and Link couldn't help but steal glances at her every chance he got.
She was shy too, at least around him, and caught off guard by the performance he and Fae gave initially. He couldn't explain how, but he heard as much as saw the faint gasp when she was given a view of all of him, even though the sound was quieter than the other reactions from the women at the party. That sound sent heat to his groin, taking him from half-hard to full erection in a matter of seconds.
Gods, had he ever desperately wanted a woman he'd barely met? He couldn't think of another occurrence, ever. All of Urbosa's male champions had tricks they used to get themselves hard at the appropriate times, but Link had never been one to fantasize about the clients they were performing for. It felt disrespectful to him, as odd as that mindset was within the business.
Then he was given the opportunity to dance for her and time slowed. Fae chose the song, and for once, Link wasn't upset that he chose a slow ballad. Fae's perceptions were fairly spot-on when it came to sensing the moods and desires of their clients. Zelda was shy, but not so shy that she buried her head or simply got up and walked away like some clients had in the past. No, she sat and watched while he began to move.
Link had been aroused since the music started. But he was nothing if not a gentleman, a notion that was drilled into his head from the time he was a teenager. He refused to sacrifice his identity and morality simply because he was a stripper. He had multiple facets to his personality, and being respectful to the people he danced for was his top priority. If they weren't enjoying it, he wouldn't enjoy it either. In the end, everything that he did was to bring a smile to the faces of his clients.
Still, that did nothing to detract from how much Link wanted the blonde in front of him. Wanted to see her biting her lip like she did when she thought he wasn't looking. Her face when she was blushing. Or laughing. Or twisted in pleasure while he made love to her. He had to focus, concentrate on his breathing and the deliberate, sultry moves of his body for the sake of her arousal. It was almost a shame when he turned his back towards her and did his drop before rolling slowly back to his feet.
Electricity shot down his spine. Her fingers had just brushed the skin on his back and were moving over the ends of her hair. Link couldn't let the opportunity slip by. He didn't make the offer to just anyone. Why would he when most people would do so of their own volition, or be repulsed by the idea of touching the skin of someone who was so 'openly promiscuous' as the stereotype went.
"You can touch me if you'd like." That was all he said as he peeked over his shoulder at her. Nothing more needed to be said, and the shock that he'd spoken at all was written on her face. So, he had turned and slowly brought attention where he wanted her, without being crass about it. He knew far too many dancers that were willing to openly grope themselves or have their clients palm them through their thong. Often this left more awkwardness than it was worth, so Link preferred to keep the touches on his chest.
He guided her hand onto his chest, and fought the urge to shudder. He felt every part the bit of a blushing virgin though he'd done this a thousand times. Somehow, her touch set a flame inside him unlike any other. Even the attraction he'd had towards Midna paled in comparison. He was going to be daydreaming about this moment for months, if not years to come.
It took all of his self-control to move towards finishing the dance like he usually did. Turn back around, let her touch his right hip (the one without the lightning) and give her a view of his toned asscheeks and muscular back before the song ends. But a faint gasp from behind him broke his concentration, and he quickly peeked over his shoulder at her before he could stop himself.
Physically, nothing had changed, though her cheeks were rosy and her chest heaved as if she'd just run down the block. He caught her eye for half a second before he looked away. Goddess, was this how she looked when she was aroused? He was mesmerized and wanted to see more. Mercifully, the music ended, and Link was able to walk away before he embarrassed himself by breaking character further.
"Did you fall asleep or something?" Pikango asked, bringing Link back to the present. "I know you don't react to the pain of it, but you've been quiet for a long time there, buddy."
Link blinked, disoriented for a moment. "Not asleep. Just zoning out." His underwear was uncomfortably tight with his erection thanks to the flashback he'd been reliving, but fortunately for him, his cargo pants were loose enough to hide it from the other two men.
"Well, come back to us. I've finished it." Pikango sat back and let Link stand so he could look in the mirror.
The watercolor shades of the Silent Princess were accented by the reddened skin around the fresh tattoo, but Link didn't care. The design was perfect. If anyone asked, it was another reminder of his late mother, since it had been her favorite flower. But Link knew the truth. It was the reminder of the beautiful blonde he'd danced for the previous night. Zelda, with the Silent Princess necklace. The girl he would give anything to see again.
