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Description
Ah, finally it's done! It's done it's done! Even though I had some problems near the end of it, this picture made me a tad artistically happy again.

This was a collab with . She did the line art, and I did the coloring job. I'm hoping I got everything right here... as for the background, don't ask. I'm nt sure what I was doing, but I will say it kind of looks like clouds... dreamy Renaissance clouds or something. I don't know but that's my opinion so there. XD

This is Link and Zelda, obviously depicted with their attitudes in 's The Legend of Zelda the Return. They are quite enjoyable to read when they're like this... in fact, when luna posted her line work, Rose was gracious enough to write a little snippet for fun... I'll put it right down here.. enjoy and please comment on the artwork. Link and Zelda belong to nintendo. The fan story belongs to Rose.

Anyway, enjoy! :

-----------------------

"Zelda."

She ignores me. And I don't just mean 'retends to not hear me.'. I'm talking a full-blown, all-out, did-somebody-hear-something-just-there-because-I-certainly-didn't pretending I don't exist. I scowl.

"Zelda!" Louder this time. Obnoxiously so.

"Hmm?" she says peacefully, without looking at me. She raises an eyebrow primly as she pretends to be interested in the parchment spread on the table in front of her and I fantasize, briefly, about setting it on fire.

"You're mad at me," I accuse her flatly, crossing my arms and glaring.

"No I'm not," she counters helpfully, but she still refuses to look at me and her mouth remains just SLIGHTLY too pursed to mean anything positive.

I give her a dull look, unconvinced. "Yes, you are," I return rebelliously, and her eye twitches – it actually TWITCHES – because no matter how much I may do it, she's STILL not used to the concept that someone might actually DARE to correct her.

"No," she says firmly, an undercurrent of building irritation in her voice, "I'm not.” I am deeply, unfortunately encouraged by that subtle note in her voice, having long been a student of the School of Negative-Attention-is-Still-Attention. Hell, I made the honour roll.

"Then why are you ignoring me?" I demand, staring stubbornly at her, refusing to so much as blink until she looks at me.

"Because I'm busy, and you're annoying," she answers, tucking a renegade lock of long, blonde behind her pointed ear. I watch the gesture despite myself, sparing a thought for how much I like her hair, no matter how badly I want to strangle her, before I turn my attention back to her pretty, entirely-too-neutral-to-be-real face.

It’s her Princess face.

I HATE her Princess face, and I react to it as I usually do. I scoff – openly. "You're only busy because you want an excuse to ignore me,” I say belligerently, “and I'm only annoying because you're mad at me. Any other day you’d think I was charming or endearing or some other word for I-like-you-today."

She shakes her head, visibly fighting with the urge to scowl, but doesn’t answer.

“What did I do?!” I demand angrily, getting to my feet abruptly and storming over to her. “It’s not fair to sit there and be mad without at LEAST telling me what I did!”

"You didn’t do anything,” she says looking up at me at last, eyebrows drawn down, a single line creasing her otherwise perfect forehead. “And I’m not mad.” That’s what her mouth says. Her mouth says ‘I’m not mad’ but her eyes say ‘You know damn well what you did and I intend to NEVER tell you EVER and I will just stew and be unhappy FOREVER and you can live with the GUILT you HEARTLESS BASTARD.’ That’s what her eyes say.

“Zelda!” I whine, drawing the ‘a’ out into a frustrated moan. “This isn’t fair!”

“Mmm,” she says pertly, with the slightest shrug as she moves to turn back to her parchment, “I’m a Princess, I don’t have to be fair.”

But I’ve had enough.

I stomp around the desk and she looks up in surprise as I come around to her side. “What are you—LINK!” I grab the back of the chair and tip it, dumping its haughty, startled contents right onto her pretty little backside. That done, I soundly place the chair back onto the floor and drop myself into it.

“Ignore me now,” I say, and throw her a little grin that I reserve for her, Nabooru, Dad, and the few other people on this planet foolish enough to think I’m actually capable of listening to anyone in a position of authority.

She gets to her feet with surprising speed and grace – years of Sheikhan practice – and her fists are clenched so tightly I can actually hear her gloves creak in protest. Her face is a riot of colour – red and purple and white – with embarrassment and rage and shock. The Princess face is gone. This is her Zelda face. This is her I’m-Going-To-Make-You-Wish-You’d-Never-Been-Born face. This is the face of the woman I love.

“You ARROGANT—LINK!” She screams my name in horror and frustration for the second time in as many minutes as I lean forward unexpectedly and grab her, spinning her around forcibly and dragging her roughly down onto my lap. “Honestly!” she cries, trying uselessly to pry my hands from around her waist, and I chuckle into her pale hair.

“Sorry darling,” I say, “I wore the gold bracers to—FARORE!” Unable to make me release my grip with her hands, she lifts her foot and slams it down hard onto my own. Stars explode in front of my eyes and I hiss in pain, but manage to stubbornly maintain my grip. “I didn’t deserve that,” I manage, my voice filled with pain, my toes throbbing.

“You SO deserved that,” she returns angrily, crossing her arms in a huff and turning her face away from me with a derisive sniff.

“Listen,” I snap, glaring up at the back of her head from so close it kind of makes me cross-eyed, “you know what I think? I think you’re crazy, that’s what I think. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again – You are one CRAZY princess, but you know what? I love you anyway. Don’t ask me why, because sometimes? Sometimes I wish I’d left you to the moblins at Lon Lon.” That last bit slips out before I can stop it, my own ire reacting to hers. She stiffens and I wince and my face softens as I tip it forward until my forehead touches the base of her skull, pausing a moment to reign in my temper. She remains silent, face still turned away from me, but her ears twitch and I know she’s listening. “I’m sorry for whatever it was, all right?” I say finally, figuring that maybe I can afford the apology, since I’m technically winning the argument by virtue of the fact she’s still on my lap and didn’t hit me anywhere worse than my foot. “Though I still hold that it’s not fair to be mad at me for something I don’t know about. So you can just keep being mad if you want, but I don’t care. You’re going to sit right here – on me – until you decide that you like me again.” I roll my eyes. “Hell, maybe even until you love me again. Who knows? Stranger things have happened. Okay?” She doesn’t respond. I tighten my grip and bite her neck, just enough to make her yip. “Okay?!”

She makes a sound that is part huff, part sigh, and relaxes spontaneously in my grip. “Fine,” she says, weary resignation in her voice. “Whatever.”

“Awesome,” I say, and bite her again just for fun. She elbows me in the stomach and I grunt and let her go, grinning. She gets to her feet and pauses a moment before she turns around, a slight smile on her face. At this point alarm bells should be going off in my head, but they don’t, because my brain’s sort of still stuck on that part where I totally got her to sit on my lap for like thirty seconds without actually trying to kill me.

“Oh, and Link,” she says, leaning in close to me so that our noses are almost touching. I smile foolishly at her as she rests one hand on the back of the chair beside my ear and puts the other on her hip. “For the record—,” my smile fades as too late I realize that absolutely none of her irritation has left her eyes and she is about to wreak holy vengeance on my sorry excuse for an ass. I hiss and try to stand but I’m too late. Her eyes flash and purple light explodes from the hand resting on my chair. It flies backward as though it was rocket-propelled, with me in it. I smash off the nearby wall and tumble to the floor, in an addled heap at her feet. Zelda stands above me, her nose once more in the air, eyes blazing, and as usual I remember belatedly why it’s usually a bad idea to provoke her. “—I’m still mad at you.”

I watch her pale shoes cross the floor away from me, long skirts brushing the ground as she walks, and wait until I hear the door slam behind her before I let myself grin wolfishly at the cold stone floor.

Maybe I SHOULD have left her to the moblins, but…

…DAMN I love that crazy princess.

Description
Ah, finally it's done! It's done it's done! Even though I had some problems near the end of it, this picture made me a tad artistically happy again.

This was a collab with . She did the line art, and I did the coloring job. I'm hoping I got everything right here... as for the background, don't ask. I'm nt sure what I was doing, but I will say it kind of looks like clouds... dreamy Renaissance clouds or something. I don't know but that's my opinion so there. XD

This is Link and Zelda, obviously depicted with their attitudes in 's The Legend of Zelda the Return. They are quite enjoyable to read when they're like this... in fact, when luna posted her line work, Rose was gracious enough to write a little snippet for fun... I'll put it right down here.. enjoy and please comment on the artwork. Link and Zelda belong to nintendo. The fan story belongs to Rose.

Anyway, enjoy! :

-----------------------

"Zelda."

She ignores me. And I don't just mean 'retends to not hear me.'. I'm talking a full-blown, all-out, did-somebody-hear-something-just-there-because-I-certainly-didn't pretending I don't exist. I scowl.

"Zelda!" Louder this time. Obnoxiously so.

"Hmm?" she says peacefully, without looking at me. She raises an eyebrow primly as she pretends to be interested in the parchment spread on the table in front of her and I fantasize, briefly, about setting it on fire.

"You're mad at me," I accuse her flatly, crossing my arms and glaring.

"No I'm not," she counters helpfully, but she still refuses to look at me and her mouth remains just SLIGHTLY too pursed to mean anything positive.

I give her a dull look, unconvinced. "Yes, you are," I return rebelliously, and her eye twitches – it actually TWITCHES – because no matter how much I may do it, she's STILL not used to the concept that someone might actually DARE to correct her.

"No," she says firmly, an undercurrent of building irritation in her voice, "I'm not.” I am deeply, unfortunately encouraged by that subtle note in her voice, having long been a student of the School of Negative-Attention-is-Still-Attention. Hell, I made the honour roll.

"Then why are you ignoring me?" I demand, staring stubbornly at her, refusing to so much as blink until she looks at me.

"Because I'm busy, and you're annoying," she answers, tucking a renegade lock of long, blonde behind her pointed ear. I watch the gesture despite myself, sparing a thought for how much I like her hair, no matter how badly I want to strangle her, before I turn my attention back to her pretty, entirely-too-neutral-to-be-real face.

It’s her Princess face.

I HATE her Princess face, and I react to it as I usually do. I scoff – openly. "You're only busy because you want an excuse to ignore me,” I say belligerently, “and I'm only annoying because you're mad at me. Any other day you’d think I was charming or endearing or some other word for I-like-you-today."

She shakes her head, visibly fighting with the urge to scowl, but doesn’t answer.

“What did I do?!” I demand angrily, getting to my feet abruptly and storming over to her. “It’s not fair to sit there and be mad without at LEAST telling me what I did!”

"You didn’t do anything,” she says looking up at me at last, eyebrows drawn down, a single line creasing her otherwise perfect forehead. “And I’m not mad.” That’s what her mouth says. Her mouth says ‘I’m not mad’ but her eyes say ‘You know damn well what you did and I intend to NEVER tell you EVER and I will just stew and be unhappy FOREVER and you can live with the GUILT you HEARTLESS BASTARD.’ That’s what her eyes say.

“Zelda!” I whine, drawing the ‘a’ out into a frustrated moan. “This isn’t fair!”

“Mmm,” she says pertly, with the slightest shrug as she moves to turn back to her parchment, “I’m a Princess, I don’t have to be fair.”

But I’ve had enough.

I stomp around the desk and she looks up in surprise as I come around to her side. “What are you—LINK!” I grab the back of the chair and tip it, dumping its haughty, startled contents right onto her pretty little backside. That done, I soundly place the chair back onto the floor and drop myself into it.

“Ignore me now,” I say, and throw her a little grin that I reserve for her, Nabooru, Dad, and the few other people on this planet foolish enough to think I’m actually capable of listening to anyone in a position of authority.

She gets to her feet with surprising speed and grace – years of Sheikhan practice – and her fists are clenched so tightly I can actually hear her gloves creak in protest. Her face is a riot of colour – red and purple and white – with embarrassment and rage and shock. The Princess face is gone. This is her Zelda face. This is her I’m-Going-To-Make-You-Wish-You’d-Never-Been-Born face. This is the face of the woman I love.

“You ARROGANT—LINK!” She screams my name in horror and frustration for the second time in as many minutes as I lean forward unexpectedly and grab her, spinning her around forcibly and dragging her roughly down onto my lap. “Honestly!” she cries, trying uselessly to pry my hands from around her waist, and I chuckle into her pale hair.

“Sorry darling,” I say, “I wore the gold bracers to—FARORE!” Unable to make me release my grip with her hands, she lifts her foot and slams it down hard onto my own. Stars explode in front of my eyes and I hiss in pain, but manage to stubbornly maintain my grip. “I didn’t deserve that,” I manage, my voice filled with pain, my toes throbbing.

“You SO deserved that,” she returns angrily, crossing her arms in a huff and turning her face away from me with a derisive sniff.

“Listen,” I snap, glaring up at the back of her head from so close it kind of makes me cross-eyed, “you know what I think? I think you’re crazy, that’s what I think. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again – You are one CRAZY princess, but you know what? I love you anyway. Don’t ask me why, because sometimes? Sometimes I wish I’d left you to the moblins at Lon Lon.” That last bit slips out before I can stop it, my own ire reacting to hers. She stiffens and I wince and my face softens as I tip it forward until my forehead touches the base of her skull, pausing a moment to reign in my temper. She remains silent, face still turned away from me, but her ears twitch and I know she’s listening. “I’m sorry for whatever it was, all right?” I say finally, figuring that maybe I can afford the apology, since I’m technically winning the argument by virtue of the fact she’s still on my lap and didn’t hit me anywhere worse than my foot. “Though I still hold that it’s not fair to be mad at me for something I don’t know about. So you can just keep being mad if you want, but I don’t care. You’re going to sit right here – on me – until you decide that you like me again.” I roll my eyes. “Hell, maybe even until you love me again. Who knows? Stranger things have happened. Okay?” She doesn’t respond. I tighten my grip and bite her neck, just enough to make her yip. “Okay?!”

She makes a sound that is part huff, part sigh, and relaxes spontaneously in my grip. “Fine,” she says, weary resignation in her voice. “Whatever.”

“Awesome,” I say, and bite her again just for fun. She elbows me in the stomach and I grunt and let her go, grinning. She gets to her feet and pauses a moment before she turns around, a slight smile on her face. At this point alarm bells should be going off in my head, but they don’t, because my brain’s sort of still stuck on that part where I totally got her to sit on my lap for like thirty seconds without actually trying to kill me.

“Oh, and Link,” she says, leaning in close to me so that our noses are almost touching. I smile foolishly at her as she rests one hand on the back of the chair beside my ear and puts the other on her hip. “For the record—,” my smile fades as too late I realize that absolutely none of her irritation has left her eyes and she is about to wreak holy vengeance on my sorry excuse for an ass. I hiss and try to stand but I’m too late. Her eyes flash and purple light explodes from the hand resting on my chair. It flies backward as though it was rocket-propelled, with me in it. I smash off the nearby wall and tumble to the floor, in an addled heap at her feet. Zelda stands above me, her nose once more in the air, eyes blazing, and as usual I remember belatedly why it’s usually a bad idea to provoke her. “—I’m still mad at you.”

I watch her pale shoes cross the floor away from me, long skirts brushing the ground as she walks, and wait until I hear the door slam behind her before I let myself grin wolfishly at the cold stone floor.

Maybe I SHOULD have left her to the moblins, but…

…DAMN I love that crazy princess.