Author's note: This is not supposed to be historically accurate. At all. And I'm not trying to offend anyone.
Link walks into the saloon with his head held high and a strictness to his shoulders that suggests that he's not nearly as poised on the inside as he appears to be on the outside. All of the resident drunks tilt their heads when they see their sheriff walk in, but as soon as they see the strict set of his jaw they twist back around and carry on with their business.
They know better than anyone that it's best not to mess with Link when his hackles are raised.
The only person in the entire saloon who is willing to speak a word to the raging blonde is the bartender behind the counter who has known him for years; nobody really understands their relationship with each other but they know that they're close.
Link pulls out a bar-stool and slams his fist onto the table, demanding his friend's attention.
"What's wrong?" The bartender, Zelda is her name, asks. The sheriff glances at her warily and she offers a raised eyebrow in response.
They have a strange relationship, those two. Half of the time they're at each other's throats and the other half of the time they're crying in each other's arms. If it weren't for her, the sheriff would probably spend the better part of his days arresting all of the townsfolk for breathing, or something equally as ridiculous.
"You know that farm," Link starts, he's motioning with his hands which means that he's really wound up, "The one just off the edge of town." Zelda nods her head, and pours her friend a glass of lukewarm milk. Nobody in town has ever seen the sheriff drink anything other than water or milk. Not even a little bit of whisky on the Holidays.
"Well, I'm friends with the family that owns it," Link continues, reaching for the milk and sipping at it. Zelda leans back to watch him, and if there's a bit too much fondness in her gaze, nobody dares to mention it.
"They're moving to the city," Link says the word city so bitterly it's almost terrifying. It's no surprise that a man so dedicated to the West has a vengeance out for the city. Link has always hated it; the towering buildings, the smoke, the people.
"And they want me to take over their farm."
Zelda doesn't react, she just pours him another glass of milk and settles back to wait for him to finish.
"They've done a lot for me," The way Link says it makes it almost seem like he regrets it. He's always hated asking for assistance from people. It must have been a fairly desperate situation for him to result to asking others for help.
"I have to do it; I don't have a choice."
Every drunk that was previously pretending not-to-listen is now focusing very intently on every word that leaves the man's mouth. No more overbearing, hard-ass, goodie two shoes for a sheriff? Could it really be true?
Link doesn't turn around and continues to stare down at the bar counter, tracing his finger across the inside of his glass.
"Who are you going to get to replace you?"
Link groans and looks up at her.
"I was thinking about asking you."
There's a pause and then Zelda makes a face and shrugs her shoulders.
"You know I'd do it for you."
Link sighs heavily, as if a large weight has been lifted off of his shoulders. He doesn't want to give up being sheriff, that much is obvious. He's been running the town for so long that he isn't sure he's capable of doing anything else. But his friends have done a lot for him. And if they want him to take care of their farm while they're gone; then he knows that he has to.
"Thanks, Zelda." She looks like she wants to say something else, but she also looks like she's nervous about saying it. Link watches her curiously, unused to seeing her act nervous.
"You know," She starts after a few uncomfortable moments have passed, "It's difficult to manage a ranch on your own. Especially considering you've never had much experience with running one before. Have you thought about getting married?"
Link almost spits out his milk.
Marriage?
Was she interested in him?
No, no way. She just agreed to take over his position as sheriff. She's obviously just genuinely worried about his well–being, but how would marriage help anything? He's never thought of himself as someone who is capable of settling down and sharing a life with someone else. He doesn't have the capacity to love the way a marriage would require him to.
Not to mention, it's not as if the family is never coming back. They'll eventually realize that the city isn't where they need to be and then they'll come back and take the ranch off of his hands.
"You know I'm not interested in love." Zelda sighs and shakes her head at him.
"It doesn't have to be about love," she says, "The only reason I recommended marriage over a ranch-hand is due to the fact that marriage will help you save some money. Legal marriages are a regular thing around here, you know that. Just promise me you'll think about it."
She does have a point. Link can only imagine the extra cost that must come along with running a ranch. But, what if his partner comes to expect too much out of the marriage? What if they're adverse to a divorce when the time comes?
On the other hand, he doesn't have any experience with running a ranch. It wouldn't be a horrible idea to acquire some help, and a ranch-hand costs money that he doesn't have readily available.
He nods his head and pushes his empty cup towards Zelda. He's made his decision.
"I'll visit you tomorrow and teach you the ropes as well as leave you the badge," Link stands up from his stool and kicks his foot against the floorboards, "And I'm going to submit a marriage request to the city newspaper tomorrow. Thanks for the advice Zelda, you always know what's best."
Ravio is looking up at his apartment ceiling, counting the tiny dots of paint splattered across the white plaster when his doorbell rings. Ravio's doorbell doesn't normally ring; he doesn't exactly have a wide circle of friends and he hasn't spoken to his family in a number of years.
He's too curious about the visitor to be angry about the lateness of their visit, and he wanders over to the door with a bit of a skip in his step. There's only a single candle lit in his apartment at the moment and he stumbles a bit on his way there.
Ravio wrenches the door open and, after blinking a few times, smiles giddily at the sight in front of him.
"Stop smiling like an idiot and let me inside," Hilda murmurs, but she's smiling too and Ravio knows she's happy to see him. Her hair is loosely curled and flowing down her back and her clothes are rumpled in a way that suggests she's had a rough night. He knows better than to ask her about it.
Hilda is the only real friend he has; the only person who has stuck with him even as he stumbled through life and made more enemies than acquaintances. He has an intense sort of affection for Hilda and a strong sense of responsibility when it comes to her.
Ravio lets her inside and takes her coat, hanging it on the coat rack beside the front door. Hilda glances anxiously around Ravio's apartment and her foot taps a nervous rhythm on the floor.
So, she has something on her mind, Ravio concludes.
They move into the living room and they both settle down on the small pile of quilts and pillows that Ravio has set up to sleep on. His apartment is unbearably small, and it's part of a run-down apartment building that was built in the city years ago. It's a low budget establishment and he has barely enough square footage to accommodate a single room. He has a tiny cove off to the left that harbors a decent sized kitchen, but a bedroom has never been a luxury he has been able to afford.
Ravio has spent the previous few months searching and searching for a job, but to no avail. If he stops kidding himself, Ravio will realize that the chances of him finding a job in the city are verging on impossible.
But he's too afraid to live somewhere else. What if messes up there too?
"I've been researching jobs for you," Hilda informs him. He looks at her curiously and wonders for a moment what he's done to deserve such a great friend.
"Have you found anything?" Ravio asks. Hilda nods and pulls out a piece of paper that she must have been holding onto since she arrived. How had Ravio not noticed?
It's a newspaper article that has been roughly ripped apart, but the words are still legible. Ravio squints due to the lack of lighting in the room, and he struggles to read the words on the page.
It's a job offer, but it's a job that's outside of the city. Very far away from the city, actually.
The article is for a job in the west. Apparently there's a farmer looking for a temporary (there's an emphasis on temporary) mail-order-bride and Ravio's heart drops as he reads it. Are mail-order-brides real? He always just assumed they were an act of fiction.
"I didn't even know mail-order-brides were real," Ravio murmurs finally, still holding the article away from him as if it will burn him if he lets it get too close. Hilda laughs and he can see her flip her hair behind her shoulder through his peripheral vision. Or maybe he's just known her for so long that her actions are predictable. Who knows.
"You've been looking for a job in the city for how long?" Hilda asks, "Two months? And you haven't found one. I'm sorry, sweetheart, but you're going to have to start looking elsewhere; You can't keep living in this dump."
Ravio doesn't respond immediately. The idea of leaving his home is a terrifying and foreign thought. He's never lived outside of the city and his experience with farming is nothing outside of what he's read in books.
But, on the other hand, Hilda has never steered him wrong. She's always told him the truth and he knows that if there's one person he can believe in, it's her. The idea of being married to man that he's never met before terrifies Ravio but if it can give him the break he needs, and introduce him to a life where he can start over and start living again, then maybe it's a risk he needs to take.
"I'll have to leave you," Ravio looks up to glance at Hilda. She stares back at him fondly, all previous harshness leaving her eyes, and Ravio feels a warm burst of affection at the sight.
"You can come visit," She answers. He frowns. He doesn't want to have to visit; he doesn't want to leave. But the way she's looking at him speaks volumes for how she feels.
She wants a better life for him. A life where he isn't constantly running from everyone – a life where he can finally be at peace.
And he thinks that maybe that's what he wants to.
Even if it means he has to leave his friend, journey halfway across the nation, and settle into a new life as the bride of a complete stranger, he needs a new start – a second chance, and this might be his only opportunity.
"I think you're right," Ravio stares at Hilda, and when she stares back at him, her expression is bittersweet.
"I'm going to leave the city."
Real Author's Note:
I don't know if anyone will like this. I'm kind of on edge about it, but I'll probably keep writing it if someone tells me they're interested. I've always wanted to write a western AU, and since I've hit a bit of a dead-end with trouble, I've decided to start writing this. (I'm still continuing Trouble, I swear. It'll just take time) Plus, I already promised a Ravio/Link story... even though I didn't quite expect it to turn out like this. (I have a separate RavioLi one shot already written; I just need to edit it).
Anyway, thanks for reading! I love all of you!