"Justice" from Hyades

Hopefully all of the mistakes in grammar have been corrected, here...


And such was the law; one must certainly always pay his dues. If not he himself, then perhaps another who is ill of fortune and least likely to question authorities. Another, another...
A less fortunate other.

Poor young man. Confounded by his alleged crimes, he struggled with great effort to know remorse for his unlawful, unfamiliar deeds--which were recounted in great detail by the public court--though he himself remembered none of it.

This humble guest to Castleton from the surrounding Hylian country, was condemned to die by the hands of justice.

Palsied with instinctual, mortal fear, he rattled his shackles at the stand.

The near-destitute spectators from above, removed from the misfortune below by barred windows, trembled with a similar intensity.

Hyades

By late evening, her mind could settle to no more comfort than the nettlesome conflicts she would be confronted with the following day. Her councilmen tended to provide little aid in dispersing whatever animosities found their way into the royal court, and the beau monde of Hyrule had always been simply mad with senseless self-indulgence. This disorderly conduct on both ends, Zelda mused, was conducive to the aristocracy's boundless pride--and boundless pride, she found, was the most stubborn of all obstacles to overcome in negotiation.

All worthless, the help her father had left her. The entire kingdom--tragedy-bound!

The queen's rampant thoughts could not be quelled. Slow deterioration had already commenced long before she was born, but was only beginning to administer its fell poison.

"...when the core is spoiled, its fruit is soiled..."

And a soiled kingdom is demise unto its subjects.

Zelda's stomach churned with qualms of disgust, and she retched at the memories of last night's gala.

Dirty

"I am unclean."

"Pardon?"

"I am unclean," she stated again, apathetically.

The boy remained aloof as he groped for her hand.
She swatted his away.

"You didn't hear me," she turned to him.

"I did hear you," he said unwaveringly, "you think that you are unclean."

She paused and accepted his hand.
Perhaps too readily, she thought, wondering at what had driven her to find a filthy girl in her image.

She was simply naive when it came to love, though she never wished to be. It was irksome that the ardor-deprived furrows of her mind should spite her by refusing to fulfill themselves 'til passion is cloyed!

She would not lead a sepulchral existance, and she will deny a premature death...

...but never will she become bereft of sensibility.