Chapter Text
Ravio sighed, resolution firming his voice. "I'm sorry, Mr. Hero. I can't lower my prices, and I can't give you back any of the rupees you've spent already." Lifting his head, he continued in a chipper tone, "It's all going to a very good cause, I assure you.
"I may not have much, but I can repay you in my own way, I promise! Give me a little time to think about it, say by the next time you come home-"
"So you do remember this is my home?!" Link shot back.
"Of course, buddy," he soothed, patting the air in front of him. "Nothing could be clearer in my mind than the boundary between you, the homeowner, and me, the renter of said house. But like I was saying, when you come back from defeating the next dungeon or whatever it is you'll be doing, I'll have a new proposition for us to think about. So don't worry about it, Mr. Hero."
"Whether I'm worrying about it or not doesn't change the fact that you aren’t actually renting from me! You’re a squatter! And I can’t take it anymore, so you better come up with something that convinces me not to throw you out of my house!” Link hated to say those words, and hated to see the the effect those words had on Ravio, from the ears on his hood folding over its stylized eyes, to the slump of his shoulders and the dejected way he kicked at a lump in the rug. He sincerely hoped it would not come to kicking out the merchant, uninvited though he may have been. Although he would never confess to it, he had gotten used to having a roommate and actually enjoyed having Ravio around, at least some of the time. It was just that this arrangement wasn’t working anymore, and he didn’t know how to fix it.
Later on, after Link had taken his leave, assuring him he'd be back inside a week, Ravio paced around the house, racking his brain for ideas to submit to his landlord and sometime friend. "Well," he muttered, "I thought we were friends, but clearly Link sees this as just a business relationship. One that I am not holding up on my end, apparently." Sheerow tweeted sympathetically from his perch on top of a shelf. "I know! And after all the great weapons I've sold him! He couldn't get through a single dungeon without me!" He looked around at all the makeshift displays filling the room, empty save for the sold out signs strewn about on the tabletops, and the two lone and most expensive items, ice and fire rods, glittering at opposite ends of the room. "Well, I guess it's hard to justify being a merchant if I don't have any merchandise...maybe I can rearrange the sales floor a little." He pushed up his sleeves and got to work, Sheerow looping about his head in enthusiastic circles.
Link jumped down from Irene's broom with an almighty crash, his shield knocking into his sword, which then clocked him in the back of the head. He might be the chosen hero, but he'd never be a graceful one. The witch's broom zoomed away, ghostly laughter trailing in its wake. Link frowned as he rubbed the back of his head. He made no move to enter the house. Maybe he should come back when he had the Triforce of Courage. Walking into his own damn house ought to be simple. And yet, here he was, hand hovering over the doorknob, butterflies in his stomach, anticipating the talk he was going to have with that freeloading, bunny-hooded, charming, honey-voiced...well, that was the problem. He never knew where he stood when he was around Ravio. He'd start out annoyed or fed up, then after a little back-and-forth he'd be agreeing with whatever the merchant said. He'd lost his house and the vast majority of his rupees to him, he was tired of being on the losing end of the deal, and it was his own damn fault. Why was he so easily manipulated? Whatever it was that Ravio had schemed up this time, Link would just have to refuse. Stick to his principles. Simple as that.
Ravio had to have heard the commotion from his place inside the house, but he made no mention of it when Link finally opened the door. "Hey Ravio, I know what you're going to say, so let me assure you I'm not going to try out for the Royal Hyrule Ballet anytime soon -" He realized, once his eyes adjusted to the dim interior light, that Ravio had a very good reason for not making a remark like usual. He was perched on top of a table, which had been moved against the wall. The other pieces of furniture had been put back in their old places, the places Link had them in before he had acquired the world's most frustrating roommate.
His eyes flitted around the house, increasingly amazed at the changes, or rather the return to normalcy, he saw. He stepped forward and stuttered, "T-this is amazing!" There was his bed! There were chairs gathered around the kitchen table! There was a kitchen table! With dishes and a floral centerpiece on it! The air didn't have that faint tang of musty feathers and bird droppings! His rug was back on the floor! Link's eyes grew wide as he took it all in, and wider yet as he took a second look at the man in the corner.
A few stray beams of light filtered past the tightly drawn curtains of the window above the table. They illuminated the magic rods placed on either end of the table, making a sparkling tableau with Ravio sitting cross-legged in the center.
"Welcome back, Mr. Hero!" He had heard these words spoken to him nearly every time he stepped through the door, but never with that note of longing in it before, and his heart jumped to hear it. His familiar hood remained in its usual place, preventing Link from seeing his face, but there was nothing usual about the rest of his outfit. Or rather, his lack of an outfit. Instead of wearing a robe, and scarf, and belt, and boots, he had slung a "For Rent" sign around his neck.