A/N: Hey everyone! I'm back with a story I've been working on for ages and have now finally finished! This first chapter is pretty long, so please give it a chance. I'd love to hear what you guys think so please review!

(EDIT 02/04/08: Thanks Kay for pointing out a mistake! I've edited the line so it makes sense now.)

Silverpistola

Chapter 1 - Baby's First Words

Zelda twirled in front of her mirror and beamed at her reflection.

"Who'd of thought Saria knew anything about fashion?" She said to herself, laughing lightly.

The pleated skirt went perfectly with the black turtleneck. But it was really the knee high socks and cute clogs that finished off the look. Zelda gave a wink before turning and clattering downstairs into the dining room.

"Good morning, Princess," Her Father greeted her, pleasantly, stooping to kiss the crown of her head.

Zelda smiled up at her Father, hugging him quickly.

"Morning Daddy."

Zelda turned her attention to the table and her eyes widened.

"Pancakes!" She cried, scrambling into her seat.

"Well, you have a tough day," he replied, reaching for the lemon juice.

Zelda groaned. "Don't even remind me."

"Do you think these things have any real food in them?"

Kafei looked up. "No. That's why they taste so good."

Link wrinkled his nose, dropping the pop tart back on his plate. "That's debatable."

"Link," Kafei drawled, "you're seventeen. You're supposed to eat crap, sleep in late, do assignments the night before their due. And have a girlfriend."

Link rolled his eyes. "At least that's what society would have me believe."

Kafei shook his head. "You think too much."

"I don't want a girlfriend," Link answered, pulling a book out of his satchel. The cover was dog-eared and the pages had yellowed slightly. It seemed to fall open, as if it could read Link's mind.

"Communists can have girlfriends," Kafei reasoned.

"I'm not a communist," Link answered, automatically, without even looking up from his book.

"You read that damn book all the time."

Anju laughed as she wandered into the kitchen. "Shut up Kaf."

"It's not normal," Kafei told her, waving a spatula at her.

She kissed his cheek en route to the refrigerator. "Link's not normal."

Link turned a page. This conversation was as worn out as his copy of the Communist Manifesto.

"He's gonna go to Hyrule University and become President one day, you just wait," Anju told Kafei as she tossed him a jar of deku spread.

This was Anju's vision for Link and had been so ever since he told Kafei he would rather read a book than go fishing. Or watch sport. Or play poker. Or… do anything that Kafei considered an acceptable activity. In truth, Anju's vision wasn't far off Link's, though she might have been a little more optimistic than him.

"Don't give me nightmares," Kafei grumbled, turning back to his eggs.

"Hey, Link could do a way better job than Harkinian," Anju insisted.

"Amen to that," Link agreed, grabbing his backpack and bolting.

"You have social studies first period, right?"

Saria slammed her locker before looking down at her timetable.

"Uh-uh. Environmental studies," Saria answered.

Zelda sighed. "I hate the first day of school."

Saria smiled, sympathetically. "Only a year to go."

Zelda forced a smile as Cremia sprinted down the corridor towards them, her plaits streaming behind her like red blurs.

"You're not late," Saria assured her, mildly, as she stopped, panting heavily, in front of them.

"I had to drop Romani off."

"Tell me you have social studies now," Zelda pleaded.

Cremia shook her head. "History of the Goddesses. Lucky me."

The three of them began to slowly descend the corridor of Hyrule Academy.

"I think this will be our best year yet," Saria announced, brightly.

Cremia rolled her eyes and looked down at her timetable, but Zelda smiled. Saria's enthusiasm was quite contagious.

"Absolutely."

Sheik was slumped on the front steps, his head in his hands. As Link got closer, Sheik suddenly looked up and nodded.

"Hey Link."

Link slapped him on the back. "We're gonna be late."

"Don't start."

Sheik slowly got to his feet, running a hand through his dirty blonde hair and causing a group of freshers nearby to giggle and smile at him. He didn't smile back.

"This is the last year, man. Our future's depend upon it," Link told him.

"You sound like Aunt Impa," Sheik told him.

Link took a deep breath. "I love the first day of school."

Sheik looked about and clocked a few more appreciative glances from another group of girls. Cute sophomores.

"Yeah. The first day rocks."

Link consulted his timetable, critically.

"Social studies. You?"

Sheik glanced down at his hand upon which he'd scrawled his first class.

"History," he answered, waving his hand in front of Link's face.

"I'll switch," Link muttered. "Social studies is the biggest waste of time."

And if there was anything Link couldn't stand it was wasted time.

"Link, I think you may have missed the beauty of social studies," Sheik informed him.

Link was too busy casting his gaze over the hall to answer.

"One more year, Sheik."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

Link would never admit it, but secretly, that was exactly what he meant.

Zelda tapped her pen against her pad, waiting for the teacher to show up. The class was in high spirits, despite it being the first day back at school, and everyone around her was chattering. Well, almost everyone.

Link Hero had slunk in last and narrowed his eyes as he saw that the only desk left was next to Zelda. Without a word he had taken his seat and proceeded to pointedly ignore Zelda. She wasn't sure why, but Link Hero had always shown a dislike for her throughout their few classes together.

What a jerk.

"Alright!" A voice boomed from the doorway. Zelda didn't need to look up to know who was striding toward the front of the class. "Settle down now!"

Mr. Darunia was a stocky man with a large scarred face and warm, brown eyes. It was widely known that he was the Hyrule weight-lifting champion and Hyrule Academy's strictest teacher.

He smiled, widely. Being strict didn't mean that he wasn't good natured, after all.

"Another year, another compulsory semester of social studies," He announced as hush quickly fell across the classroom. "Now, you are a year away from being considered adults. And with adulthood, comes responsibility! And this semester focuses on preparing you for the various responsibilities you will soon encounter."

Link rolled his eyes as Zelda nodded, enthusiastically.

"Responsibilities such as money, jobs and university. However, today we start with a very different responsibility, one that you've no doubt been thinking about for a while."

Mr. Darunia turned and picked up a marker before scrawling 'SEX' across the board. Instantly, Zelda blushed crimson.

"Yes, sex!" Darunia bellowed, ignoring the nervous giggles and few crude remarks. Zelda glanced at Link who was still not paying attention. What sort of boy didn't listen to something involving sex?!

"With sex comes consequence. For both parties. Does anyone know what that consequence might be?"

Zelda glanced around. No one dared raise a hand.

"Pregnancy," Link muttered from beside her.

"Correct Hero!" Darunia roared. "Pregnancy! Oh yes, you do the crime and you must suffer the time! And babies are not dolls, oh ho, no, no, no! Babies require constant vigilance!"

Darunia's eyes suddenly glinted and Zelda's stomach twisted slightly. A sadistic smile stretched across his mouth.

"Look at the closest member of the opposite sex sitting nearby you," he instructed.

Zelda's stomach twisted even more. She turned to Link who was watching her out of the corner of his eye.

"You'll be seeing a lot of each other for the next ten days. Because after all," Darunia moved behind his desk and lifted something white from behind it, which he promptly hurled at Link.

Only excellent reflexes saved him from getting pummelled in the face by a sack of flour.

"Parenting is a two member task."

"You have got to be yanking my chain!"

Link scowled, pushing the bag of flour aside. "Sheik, you know I have no sense of humour. Besides, I don't understand why you think this is so funny. You have to do the assignment too."

Sheik flashed his famous grin, causing a gaggle of girls passing by with lunch trays to giggle and swoon. "Just another opportunity to hang with a hottie. Who did you get for a partner?"

Link grit his teeth and did not look up from "The Division of Labor". He was still furious over being partnered with Zelda Harkinian, let alone the fact that he would have to spend every afternoon with her until the stupid assignment was complete.

"C'mon Link," Sheik whined.

But Sheik didn't have to wait long for an answer since Zelda zeroed in on their table at that exact moment.

"Hi," she greeted, nervously. Sheik eyed her, suspiciously, but didn't speak.

Link glanced up and arched a brow by means of greeting.

"So, we have to work together after school, right?" She continued biting her lip.

"Right."

"So… so do you want to come over to my place? Or-"

"Fine," Link agreed, sharply.

"Oh," she forced a smile. "Well, I'll meet you near the gates."

"Okay."

She glanced at the bag of flour. "Do you want me to take the baby?"

Link could feel his temper waning already. "I can handle a sack of flour."

"Oh. Okay. See you later, then."

She backed away to the safety of her crowd of followers and Sheik let loose.

"Zelda! Zelda Harkinian!" He let out a low whistle. "Geez, no wonder you're so grumpy. So how'd that happen?"

"Bad luck. I was late to class, because of you, and ended up sitting near her."

Sheik promptly ignored the accusing tone of Link's voice and glanced over at Zelda. "Don't you think that was a bit harsh? It's not her fault her Daddy's the President, after all."

Link glanced at her, darkly. Sheik was right, after all, it wasn't her fault. He really had no justifiable reason to hate her.

But plenty of reasons to dislike her Father.

"It's difficult to break the habit of a lifetime."

Sheik shook his head. "Link, how the hell are you supposed to parent a child-"

"-Bag of flour-"

"-without speaking to one another. She's just made the effort to come over here, maybe you should make a similar effort."

Link frowned. He hated it when Sheik was right.

"Plus, she's p-retty cute." Sheik added, eyeing Zelda appreciatively.

Link rolled his eyes. Like that made a difference.

The fleeting summer sun bathed Zelda in golden light as she waited, anxiously, by the gates. She couldn't help raising her eyebrows in surprise as she looked around and saw Link approaching with Sheik and Cremia?

"Hey Zellie," Cremia greeted, cheerfully.

"Hi," Zelda answered, cautiously. "What are you doing here?"

Sheik pointed to his bag of flour that Zelda hadn't noticed before. "We're partners, ain't that right, honey?"

Cremia took the flour from him. "Don't get too chummy, partner."

Sheik grinned.

"We thought we should maybe work together today, you know, since Sheik is Link's friend and I'm yours. Break the ice, so to speak," Cremia explained, glancing at Sheik for verification.

"Yeah, if you don't mind," Sheik added, quickly.

Zelda looked at Link who, she suddenly noticed, was not holding their flour baby.

"It's up to you," he told her, trying to keep his hostility to a minimum.

"Okay," she answered, brightly.

She smiled at Link who looked away from her.

"Should I carry the baby?" She asked, hintingly.

"Got it covered," he answered, cryptically, falling into step beside Sheik.

Cremia glanced at Zelda, who smiled appreciatively. Cremia relaxed. Zelda was unbelievably relieved that she didn't have to spend the afternoon alone with Link. Cremia getting partnered with Sheik certainly was a godsend. Who knew, maybe Cremia could find out why Link detested her so vehemently.

"Holy crap, Zelda, this house is huge."

Link had rolled his eyes a record amount of times during the short walk to Zelda's house. Sheik had flirted shamelessly with Cremia, which was nothing out of the ordinary. What had surprised Link was how unreceptive she seemed to his charms, which was definitely new.

The redhead laughed, already tugging Sheik through a door on their immediate left.

As Link looked around he felt Zelda watching him and turned his gaze upon her. Now that he really looked at her, he realised Sheik was right; Zelda was pretty. Not that it mattered anyway. People who consciously put so much effort into their appearance had too much time, according to Link.

"Where do you live Link?" She asked.

"Woodside."

"Near Saria?"

He nodded. He'd seen Zelda there sometimes with his neighbour. When he was young, he'd even been friends with Saria. But while he was gone he'd lost touch with her. When he came back she was different. Everything was different.

He lifted the flour from his backpack and held it out to her. She smiled, her eyes sparkling. This, interestingly, made Link desperately want to look away from her, but he focused, determinedly, upon her face.

"Thanks," she said, taking the flour and holding it under one arm, securely.

He followed her through into the kitchen where Sheik was already sat at the island and Cremia was inspecting the contents of the fridge.

"You guys want a drink?" Zelda asked.

Link shook his head, but Zelda took out four glasses anyway, reaching into the fridge for a bottle of Choco Lon Milk.

"Okay," Cremia spoke up, hopping onto the stool beside Sheik, "according to the list, the first day is assigned to sexing and naming the baby, drawing up an equal timetable of duties between partners and deciding where our baby budget should be spent."

Zelda sat down next to Link, the flour baby in her lap.

"It's a boy," Sheik declared.

Cremia arched a brow. "That's odd because I distinctly remember giving birth to a girl."

"Hey, I was there too," Sheik argued. "I saw his birth."

Zelda looked at Link. "Girl or boy?"

"I don't have a preference."

"Girls cry less," Zelda mused, "but they're more trouble in their teens."

"You know this from first hand experience, I assume," Link said before he could stop himself.

She smiled, coyly. "Oh no, I'm perfect."

And that was why he couldn't stand her, Link reminded himself. Little Miss Perfect President's Daughter Zelda.

"I cannot live in a household dominated by females!" Sheik was arguing, passionately.

"Tough. I've dealt with it. I will not appease my Father by giving him a Grandson. So get over it." And the decision was made.

"Maybe we should have a boy, to even things out," Zelda suggested.

"Whatever."

Sheik drank his milk, sulkily. Cremia, who was used to this with her younger sister, pointedly ignored him.

"You choose a name, Link," Zelda said, "since I picked the sex."

Link looked thoughtfully at the bag of flour that was supposedly his son.

"Fine. Marx."

Zelda's eyes widened. "Marx?"

Sheik sniggered. "Dude, you can't name your baby after freaking Karl Marx."

"No," Zelda spoke up, "name him whatever you want."

Link's brow furrowed. He'd said Marx to spark an argument with her. Why did she have to be so nice to him? Had he not treated her with nothing but dislike? Perhaps it was all a plan to piss him off. Either way it was working.

"I don't care what the sack of flour is called."

"Oh." Zelda sounded hurt. "Well, perhaps you could name him after someone in your family?"

Link stared at his hands as Sheik suddenly sparked up another argument with Cremia.

"I don't have a family," Link murmured, intending to say it louder than he did. "They're dead."

"Oh…"

"You don't have to tell me you're sorry. Let's just name the flour."

"Okay," she answered, uncertainly.

In the end, Sheik gave into Cremia's demands, only after a massive amount of pouting and unsubtle flirting, whilst Zelda insisted the baby, ahem, bag of flour, be named Marx, as Link had initially suggested. After a couple of hours, they decided to call it a day.

As Cremia and Sheik walked away, still bickering, Link hung back. Zelda watched him, patiently, waiting for him to speak.

"So tomorrow, maybe we should just work on our own," Link suggested.

Zelda nodded, amusedly. "Good idea."

"So if we meet outside the gates?"

Zelda nodded. "Sure."

Link backed away, his head awash with confusion. At least he knew one thing for sure. He didn't hate Zelda Harkinian. Because that was just impossible.