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The Legend of Zelda : Twisted Legacy	By : Gamesplayers Category: Zelda > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 2177 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Legend of Zelda except my own, original characters, and I make no profit out of this fanfiction, nor any other.

Chapter List
- 1-The Legend of Zelda : Twisted Legacy
- 2-I
- 3-II
- 4-III
- 5-IV
- 6-V
- 7-VI
- 8-VII
- 9-VIII
- 10-IX
- 2
- 3
- 4
II
The week-end had finally arrived. Isca didn't work most of the time on the week-ends. The Royal Guards were, probably, the first organization in Hyrule to work with schedules which permitted free time to their members. It had been Gregory's idea to implement such a planning. However, even though the knight commander was supposed to be freed of his functions for two days, he was dressing up slowly, readying himself to leave the mansion.
Behind, Tatl looked at his back absently as she toyed with a strand of her silky hair. Isca was facing a mirror, so even if she was behind him, she could very clearly see his stern, unshaved face. As always, she thought how handsome her husband was. How handsomely unreachable.
They rarely spent time together, now. Maybe that was the reason why they were both falling out of love. Or maybe it was just time which had done so to them.
After their marriage, Tatl had really fallen back in love with the tall, tanned and handsome man that had always been Isca. The first years of their union had been great and beautiful. They had been happy together. With the twins, the knight had been kind and fatherly, even with Kar. For the first years of the blonde child's life, Isca had been present and loving.
She remembered sunny days when her husband would play with the blonde child and his sister. But Kar was so young at that time that he couldn't remember these instants anymore. And maybe it was better this way; he couldn't hurt over the fact that he had been abandoned, but only feel the pain of never having his father's love.
The changes in Isca's behaviour towards Kar happened when Mathias was born. Tatl could still remember, in her mind, the very clear image of her husband's face as he had held his trueborn son into his arms, the blood of his blood. His very own legacy. He hadn't said anything, but the intensity in his eyes spoke for him. The Twili had assumed, however, that it wouldn't take away all of Isca's affection for her son. Maybe it would have happened that way if Kar hadn't started to develop a personality and facial features that would remind anyone of his real father…
Though Isca had said nothing about this matter, Tatl had witnessed the expression of her husband as he had looked down on Kar afterwards, and every single time he did stare at the boy, Tatl knew that it wasn't Kar that he saw…
From then on, their marriage had started to fall apart. She had said nothing about it, for she knew that Isca would not talk about it. Tatl had considered when her husband had stopped touching her that he might have had a mistress. But unless it was Gregory, she couldn't find anyone who the knight would sleep with for her couldn't get close to anyone in town. Isca was feared and wanted to be, after all.
And besides this, she knew how important faithfulness and marriage were for him.
However, Tatl knew that, after what she had done all these years ago, even if Isca did go elsewhere for company, she could not say anything. The guilt of this affair still clung to her throat, some nights, chocking her. She had no rights to criticize her husband.
As for herself, she had also been faithful all these years. In wasn't in her nature to seek other men, anyway. It had never been until she met Link. She had been weak for him, for his smile and his promises that he hadn't held, when she had had Isca all along.
Tatl had screwed up her marriage before it happened for the sake of a handsome, insecure and immature young man whose interest in her had been plainly sexual, she had come to believe. She had hated herself for falling for him. But she had never hated Link.
She couldn't. She still loved him. Like every other women who had met him, probably. The heat of his hands on her skin had remained through the time, the ghost of his lips on hers as well… Link was that kind of man: once you knew him, he was impossible to forget. He was the dangerous kind of man.
Lost in thoughts, she kept messing up a strand of her turquoise hair. Isca was now facing her, staring at her. He knew that expression of hers. He knew what she was thinking about and it lit a fire of hatred into his chest -his heart- each single time. However, he no longer had the strength to be angry. He had accepted his second place long ago. Tatl had taught him love and devotion. She had also taught him violence and bitterness.
He sighed softly, she didn't hear him. No one really heard him anyway. Isca could have scream, cried or sobbed, no one would have known, would have seen. He was used. Too used.
He went towards the door, intending to leave the room and the mansion for, hopefully, most of the day. His heart sank too low into his chest and his mind was too weak for such a long day with his family. They were too demanding, he was too tired.
Tatl sat up straight, looked at him as she came back to reality. Maybe she had heard his steps on the hard, dark wooden floor. Maybe she had remembered to get back to the world in which she had taken Isca's name and honour. "Where are you going, today?" Her voice was soft.
His hand was on the knob. He looked just enough above his shoulder to see the outlines of her body in the sunlight. He felt ripped apart to see her so beautiful in the pale day light. "Zelda. She asked me to go to her today." His voice was remarkably devoid of emotions. He congratulated himself in silence. Isca was made of silences.
Talt didn't answer. She nodded. "You'll come back for dinner? We have guests tonight…"
"I know." He had sent the invitations himself. "I'll be there. Make sure the children are presentable."
"Of course."
Tatl turned towards the window and the silence fell between them. Isca's grip tightened around the knob for a moment as he thought that if she had asked for him to stay with her, he would have. Gladly.
Bitter, he left the room, leaving a trail of unknown and unsaid thoughts behind him.

Isca didn't even bother to knock. He simply entered the chamber in which he knew that Zelda would be, waiting for him. When she received Isca, she didn't use the usual meeting room of the castle: she waited in a personal boudoir of hers, in which a rich, heavy sofa of dark cherry wood and red velvet was installed, facing the large window. Yet, she never sat on it.
She stood by the window instead, like she usually did, her back to her visitor. She seemed to always wear her hair in a tight, gold bun, high behind her head, now that she was a queen. It showed her pale, beautiful, and smooth feminine features and her big, yet slightly almond-shaped violet eyes well. That day, she was wearing a white and pale blue, simple gown that showed her shoulders.
When Zelda heard the door behind her open and close softly, she waited until she was sure that Isca was not far behind her. Then, she turned around. It was her little ceremony, which she always did, hoping to someday impress him.
Yet, she raised her eyes to meet Isca's, and they were as cold as always.
"I heard the criminality rate isn't going down in the city." She said, voice commanding. "Nor in the rest of our territory." It hurt and irritated her to see him so hardened and icy. It made her lose her temper, lose her discretion and suddenly, she wanted nothing but to provoke him.
"My Queen." He wasn't happy, her irritation had reached Isca. "I can scarcely make miracles happen when half of the rights I once held have disappeared in thin air with the new era that you've announced we've entered." The words were poisonous as he pronounced each sound with insistence.
"Hyrule is evolving." Her stare hardened. "We cannot adhere to an age of unexplainable brutality anymore."
"I'm not angry that we can't kill civilians uselessly." He barked. "I'm angry that all I can do is giving tickets that they won't even look at."
"I haven't ordered you to stop arresting the criminals, Isca."
"Indeed, but you've ordered that we cannot punish the civilians like we used to and must emit tickets as often as we could. Detentions and force mustn't be used unless it's the only possibility. That is what you ordered." His jaws tightened as he stared hard at her. "And, on all respect, my Queen, most criminals know and love your new laws. They can harm us, they can insult us, they can spit at us and all we can do is giving them a piece of paper."
"It is more civil than to beat up the people at the first provocation."
"And it surely is more civil for your guardsmen to be spat and hit at without means to defend themselves?"
Zelda's lips became a thin line of reddish-pink on her lower face as she glared at her knight-commander.
"Do your job, Zelda, and I'll do mine." He finally said, crossing his arms over his broad chest.
A violent fire started into her eyes. "I am doing my job Isca. And my job is to make this kingdom prosper and profitable to everyone!" She hissed.
"Under soft laws that allow the bastards of the slums to rise and burn the city? You're too soft, you know it."
"We've seen kingdoms rise like we, then fall because of brutality and barbarian actions. I will not see Hyrule destroyed by riots."
Isca chuckled bitterly. "There would be no riots, your Grace, if my men had the right to stop them."
Zelda's fists clenched beside her. "You think you know how to rule a kingdom such as Hyrule, Isca?"
"I think I do." He stared at her as she boiled before him. "And I wouldn't be as soft as you."
She glared darkly at him, unable to answer. Zelda could not believe what he had just said. Had he just really affirmed that he would be a better ruler? "I demand your pardon, Isca?" She was boiling with anger. "What have you dared to say?"
The knight stared at her, his own anger slowly subsiding into amusement. "You have heard well, your Majesty."
Zelda pointed the door. "Get out of here!"
Isca chuckled. "So be it." He turned around and left, smiling lightly.
The blonde stared at him, waited until he disappeared before she dared to move. Recently, her captain had become insolent, but never had he been this much. She had known the noble man for years, he had been a close friend and she had never seen this coming.
Into her royal boudoir, speechless, the Queen of Hyrule turned around to look out her window again and wondered what to do with the man who led her armies.

Midna was sitting in front of her vanity, staring at her reflection. Tonight was somewhat special. They had guests for dinner. She looked at her face, at her hair and body, wondered if she should let her hair down or do something fancy with it.
Then she thought about him, and remembered that he always liked more simple things. She decided that she'd let her hair down. It was more natural, simpler.
Now, what kind of dress? When they had guests, she would usually hide her body as much as possible so she wouldn't draw masculine attention. How she hated all these young women who had her age and who walked around showing their ankles and their cleavages to the first male who came by! It lacked dignity. It lacked elegance. It lacked everything a lady should be. No wonder these girls always ended up with children before the time came.
But she wanted to be seducing, to get his attention. She wanted to show him that she wasn't a little girl anymore, but a grown-up woman, mature and aware of her charms, a woman who controlled herself and her emotions. A dignified, elegant woman. She would not show her ankles.
Midna went through her wardrobe. And she thought that in the word "wardrobe" was hidden the word "war". And it was a constant war to hunt the perfect outfit for an important evening. She scurried through the velvet and silk folds of her dresses, unable to choose something right.
Until she brushed with the tip of her finger a silky skirt. She pulled on it, making it appear out of the field of dresses and she smiled. It was a long, purple dress made of silk with very few details made of darker lace. The cut of the dress was made to reveal the shoulders and neck without giving out too much. It was sophisticated and very ladylike. She had never worn it.
Midna put it on, tightened the dress around her waist with a black satin corset. It fell on her body with grace, showing just enough skin and a very small portion of her cleavage. Her curves were apparent, though well hidden. She wanted him to long for her, after all, and this was the right way to do it.
She hummed softly as she stood in front of her mirror. She smiled, and then took a more severe expression. She giggled, thought she looked stupid and stopped.
No, giggling was totally out of the question if she wanted to draw the attention of a man. And she hated giggling anyway, it made her look stupid. She frowned, tried to smile sexily. Her pale blue eyes glittered with her hopes.
Her bedroom door flew open, Midna jumped, bringing her hands up over her breasts in a defensive position. A tall, yet thin silhouette appeared. The door closed harshly behind the newcomer as he walked into the room, grinning. She relaxed as she saw Kar coming in.
"What do you want?" She asked her blonde brother.
"What? I need permission to come and see you, now?" Kar crossed his arms over his chest, glaring lightly at his sister, though the playfulness of his mind pierced through his fake anger.
She rolled her icy-blue eyes. "No. I'm sorry."
Kar nodded and Midna returned to her mirror again. She stared at her reflection as her brother came to stand behind her. She looked at his deep green eyes from their reflection, he gazed back at her.
"What do you think?" She asked him.
Kar's eyes slowly followed her body, seemingly inspecting her. "You look great, but stressed. You should smile."
She laughed softly, smiled to him through the mirror. "Is it so apparent?"
"That you're trying to seduce someone?"
She kept smiling, feeling somewhat embarrassed though she knew that he had no idea who she was really trying to seduce. She looked away, slightly. "What do you mean, dear brother?"
"Gregory is coming over with his son. I take it that you want to make a good impression to him."
She stared at him with intensity through the silvery glass. "Of course." She turned around, her hair flowing behind her as she neared her vanity and sat down to start the long and difficult process of putting make-up on, still smiling. Her plan was perfect, so far.
With the reflection of the mirror, she saw Kar shrug. He watched her for a moment before losing his smile. He sighed, then he sat down in a chair near the window. He looked outside, lost in thoughts.
Gregory and his son weren't the only guests, that night. A local lady was bringing her two daughters also. The twins weren't stupid; it was a futile attempt at marrying them, again. Midna opposed herself to forced marriage roughly, but her reasons were these of a woman: she rejected the idea of commitment without love.
For Kar, it was slightly different. The blonde rejected marriage so far not because he minded to be wed to some random female; he could always cheat on her, which was totally accepted and normal amongst noble couples. No, he didn't want to marry because he perfectly knew that the only goal of such a union was to send him away from the mansion.
And he had no intention to do that, to leave his mother and siblings alone.
Nevertheless, he was elegant for the evening. He had to and though he was not going to marry with any of the girls that would be presented to him, he could clearly take advantage of them. Midna knew her brother well enough to read his mind.
The boy wore knee-high brown boots, black and tight pants with a white button-up shirt and a ruby-colored tie. Over this, he wore a very deep emerald coat, with gold details and rims, which descended down to his knees, on the back, while the front was open from his lap and downwards to reveal his rather athletic thighs. His hair was messy as always, falling all round his face, complimenting his masculine jaws.
He was handsome and he knew it.
Midna observed his reflection; she felt irritated to know that he intended to hurt a girl's virtue, but she also felt that something wasn't right from the way he kept still in the sofa, staring out the window. "What are you thinking about?" She asked, somewhat knowing the answer.
The blonde scarcely moved his head as he was disturbed from his thoughts. "Nothing much." He said dismissively, without turning to look at her.
"Who are you trying to convince?"
The boy chuckled. He had to admit that she was right. Kar turned around in his chair, resting his arm on the backrest, and installed his chin on his hand. "Same thing as always." He said with a sad smile.
She sighed. She understood his plea.
"I've just been wondering, again… Why the hell doesn't he like me? I haven't done anything wrong… I have good grades at everything I'm forced to study, I'm skilled with a sword, I am an elegant, charismatic young man… Don't I make a good heir? A good son?" His voice, usually filled with such energy and wrath was now soft and sad. It broke her heart to see him like this.
Midna stared at him as Kar lowered his eyes. Her brother craved their father's affection, everyone knew it. Yet, Isca was as cold as a stone with him and no one knew why.
"He's just cold with everyone, Kar." Replied Midna, trying to protect her brother from harming himself with his own thoughts.
The blonde looked up, glared at the mirror, at his sister. "No. He's not cold with Mathias nor with you."
The light-brunette sighed softly as she held her brother's stare. "I know, but we aren't his heir." She turned around to look at him without interference. "He's doing for your good."
Kar snorted, then casted his gaze away before turning his back again to his sister. She felt his despair, his irritation, his lack of understanding. She understood everything about it.
"He wants to marry me so he'll get rid of me." He added.
She couldn't reply, couldn't protect their father. She had the same feeling concerning them both. So she lowered her eyes to her hands.
Kar slammed his fists on the sides of the chair.
"And why the Hell am I blonde!"

Isca sat at the same extremity of the large, dark wooden dining table as every evening, dominating his family and guests. To his right, Tatl sat, like she always did. Across from her was Gregory. Beside the lieutenant was Lord Michael and his wife faced him. Midna was beside her, Nicolas –Gregory's son- faced her, while Kar faced the eldest daughter of Lord Michael, and Mathias had to endure the loud-mouthed, younger girl in front of him.
The men were installed on the left side of the table, and the women to the right, from eldest to youngest on both sides.
Kar was well-installed on his chair, smiling charmingly to the girl facing him. She wasn't ugly: long, straight and thick brown hair with wide, hazelnut eyes. She giggled to almost everything Kar said and, frankly, wasn't exactly bright. The blonde didn't mind: she was not going to become his wife anyway, but perhaps a nightly adventure. And judging by her reactions to his words, she would be an easy one.
Mathias listened, with a shy smile, as the loud-mouthed, fourteen years old brunette in front of him talked endlessly. He pressed his lips together, wondering how so much air could be pumped out of someone's lungs as he stared at her unaligned teeth.
As for Midna, she sighed, bored out of her mind. Nicolas, though a handsome young man with thick, light brown hair, was unable to mumble something to her without shaking. He was blushing furiously as she did all she could to intimidate him.
She was dominating him by her simple presence, by her attitude and beauty. He wasn't worthy of her, she thought, if he couldn't handle the iciness of her stare. He had succeeded to whisper that she was beautiful, yet he hadn't been able to say anything else, hadn't been able to hold a conversation with the gorgeous young woman. So Midna had shown her boredom and had looked away, resting her chin into her hand, and her elbow on the table.
She studied the adults beside her. The five of them were chatting, drinking and enjoying the evening, leaving the children to talk to each other. Isca, Gregory and Lord Michael were, apparently, discussing some kind of business, the value of money and the fabrication of fake coins in the city.
Midna looked at Gregory, lost in thoughts. He had always been a close friend to her father and to the family. She had called him 'uncle' and could remember what he looked like when she was a child, when his hair was more gold than silver. She remembered all these times she had sat on his lap and he had told her stories, played with her, smiled and laugh with her.
He had been her crush when she was a child, when she was a teenager… And he still was. She was aware that he was more than twenty years older than her. She was aware that he was like family, like an uncle.
She remembered, when she was about nine years old, an evening he came over. She had played with him, under the soft gaze of Isca –he used to watch the three children play altogether, smiling- when she had suddenly hugged Gregory and whispered "I love you".
It had been taken as child play. The older man had laughed and shuffled her hair, saying that he liked her a lot too. Even Isca had thought this had been cute.
But the little girl had meant it. She had fallen in love with Gregory, and the young woman that she had become still felt that affection towards him.
However, the crush had changed over the years as she had matured. As her body had matured. She was craving for much more than a gentle hug, now, as she examined him, his features, his body. Nicolas might have looked like his father, but he wasn't Gregory. He was too young and immature for the half-Twili girl.
And the dinner went by. Midna listened to her brother making suggestive advances to the girls in front of him. She did not look at Nicolas more than needed.

Isca and Gregory were outside, in the gardens. The evening was fresh, though enjoyable. Isca had dragged his glass of wine with him and Gregory smoked his pipe as both men talked together, trying not to be too loud. Up above them, a large balcony was giving into a large living room in which all the children had been forced together.
"There's an acquaintance of mine that I'd like you to meet." Said Gregory, after a short while. He lit the tobacco in his pipe and took in a puff of the bitter substance.
"What for?"
The lieutenant looked around, suspiciously. "We… share the same view about some things, let's say."
Isca stared at his friend a moment, then nodded. "Who is that acquaintance of yours?"
"Her name is Kira."
"A woman?" Isca seemed perplexed. It was rare to find a woman interested in local politics in Hyrule…
Gregory nodded and laughed lowly. "Not your average woman, though." He tapped his pipe. "She'll be in town soon enough, I'll get you two in touch."
"That's fine with me."
There was a loud noise from inside the mansion that made both men turn around quickly.
"Kar!" Came the muffled scream of Tatl.
Isca sighed with irritation. "I'll be back…" He entered the mansion, leaving Gregory all alone outside.
He closed his eyes a moment, enjoying the smoke into his mouth, into his lungs, and the soft wind on his skin. He felt relaxed and calm for the first time in weeks.
Ever since he and Isca had started talking about their plan, things had become stressing for Gregory. He was a nervous man, though he always seemed calm, and any disturbance could affect him greatly. But that night, he decided that he would stop worrying and simply enjoy the weather, the atmosphere and the small party.
Even Isca was in a good mood, that evening.
He heard the door open softly and opened his eyes, thinking he'd see Isca coming back, but it wasn't him: it was Midna. Gregory smiled to her, remarked how gorgeous she was becoming with time. "Good evening, Midna. You are beautiful tonight." It was courtesy to inform a woman, whatever her age might be, that she was pretty.
She smiled back, her eyes were luminous. "Thank you… You are charming yourself, Gregory."
"Have you spent an agreeable moment with Nicolas?" Asked the silver-blonde man as smoke escaped his lips.
Midna cleared her throat. She leaned against the wall, beside the door. "He is a nice boy." Her hair fell over her shoulders.
He nodded, smiling still. "I know he is shy, but once he gets used to someone, he start talking more and becomes less stiff. You should give him a chance. He is a sweet boy."
She nodded lightly, looking away. Her heart beat madly into her chest. "Maybe…" She took a deep breath and swallowed. "Maybe I should, but there's someone else on my mind."
Gregory's brows furrowed. "You do?" He didn't think that they should force the children to marry together, but he wasn't necessarily pleased at the idea that the young woman would discard his son at the profit of a stranger. He hoped that the lad was worthy of her, alas.
Midna nodded. "He is…" She looked back at him. "Older than me."
The lieutenant nodded. It was normal for a young woman her age to prefer slightly older boys.
She bit her lower lip and looked down. "I have, in fact, known him for years."
The silvery-blonde man tried to remember whom she used to play with when she was a child. He couldn't recall any boy, though. "Your father knows him?"
Midna paused a moment, then she nodded. "Yes…"
He nodded. "That is good, then. Do I know him also?"
She laughed nervously. "I hope so." Midna looked back up at him. "I've been attracted to him since I was a child."
"He must have been a handsome lad, then."
"I don't know how he was when a lad… I only remember him as a man. He was grown man with hair like a lion's."
The blood from Gregory's face slowly faded away as he froze on place. He did not even blink as he understood what she was saying. So many times, when she was a child, she had said that he had hair like a lion's mane…
She saw his reaction, stared back at him, her eyes piercing him. She examined him, the way he reacted, the way he froze as he looked at her. Then she casted her steely eyes down and hair fell around her face, hiding her expression. "You've always been attractive to me… The only difference is that now, I'm looking at you like a woman looks at a man… I'm not a child anymore: I don't want you to consider me like one." She straightened herself, pushed her shoulders slightly back so her chest would be fuller. He scarcely breathed as he stared at her face, so shocked he found himself paralysed. And Midna stared at him, her blue eyes piercing as she waited for an answer, for something.
Yet, the door beside her clicked open and Isca appeared. The knight felt the heavy ambiance that had installed itself between his friend and his daughter. He looked at the girl as she casted her gaze to the paved ground. She was blushing lightly.
She turned towards Isca, fled his stare as she mumbled that she was going to her bedroom, that she was tired.
Isca looked up at Gregory. The man was paler than usual, his pipe on the ground beside him.
"What happened?"
Gregory looked up as if he had seen Isca for the first time. "Nothing."
Isca laughed softly. "Is that so? Then maybe you should tell your face, because you're making me believe that my daughter told you something horrible."
Gregory swallowed his saliva. "She… Did." He sighed. "She isn't interested in Nicolas."
Isca shrugged after a short moment of consideration. "It isn't hers to choose."
The blonde knight made a low noise in his throat that seemed like approval to Isca.
But in reality, Gregory was chocking.

Pale as a ghost and shaking madly, Midna retired herself to her bedroom and locked the door. She couldn't believe what she had just done, couldn't believe that she had found the guts to admit to Gregory what she had kept secrets over the years.
However, his reaction had scared her: he had frozen in surprise and apparently fear. Now, the last thing she wished for was that he'd tell Isca. She wouldn't be scolded: she'd get locked up in her room for ages and would end up joining the temple as a revered sister.
But Midna had been decent in her confession; she had used the right words and the right attitude. She hadn't gotten close to him, hadn't touched Gregory or tried to force herself into his arms. But his reaction had scared her off and now, she wouldn't be able to look at him anymore. She knew it.
And he certainly wouldn't come and get her, he couldn't even if he wanted: he was her father's best friend and second in-command! It would be irresponsible of him to come and collect a young woman –a girl- who was not even twenty years old to become his mistress, or even his wife…
Maybe she had freed her mind from that attraction, but Midna had now enslaved her heart into this incertitude and stress of not knowing what would happen… Everything was into Gregory's hands, now. At the best, he would carry this to the grave with him. At the worst, he would tell Isca.
Still completely dressed, she lied down on her bed, rolled on her side and stared out the window.
No, Gregory wouldn't answer her calls, she was certain.
But her hopes that he would were higher than the moon in the dark sky…

It was past midnight, the celebrations had reached an end and, technically, the children had to go to sleep. Mathias never acted against the idea of being alone in his bedroom, mostly at night: no one came to see why he was locked-up in there or for any other reason. He was alone by himself with his books, with his papers and his feather.
Mathias was a poet, a writer, an artist. He painted in his free time, he draw also. But what he craved for was to write. Would it be fiction or his personal journal, he needed it. He needed to put his thoughts and emotions down onto something so he wouldn't explode under the pressure he was going through.
He had, with time, developed tics about order, mainly. In his bedroom, his belongings were maniacally ordered and placed –installed- always at the same location. To bug him, sometimes Kar went in and put disorder into his younger brother's bedroom. It always angered the boy and made him deeply anxious until he had rebuilt his order.
But that night, he was calm as he sat on his bed and wrote into his journal under the relaxing light of a lantern. With a fine handwriting, he explained with words his brother wouldn't understand what had happened on that day, what he had felt and how Kar and Midna wouldn't abide by their father's decision.
He respected Isca, feared him so much that he would never be such a rebel himself. It was unthinkable for the young man to go against the knight's order, even once and-
He heard whispers outside his window. Mathias growled as he put his paper and feather down harshly. His bedroom gave right into the large gardens, right in the bushes where, sometimes, interesting scenes would take place. But he was in no mood to hear the servants flirt amongst or tell low tavern stories.
So he reached the window and peeked out.
Kar stood there, illuminated by the moon, along with the older of the two visiting girls. He could see the youngest one walking away. She had been hurried to bed, apparently.
The oldest girl, now in Kar's arms, giggled as the blonde boy whispered too lowly for Mathias to hear anything. The young man killed the lantern's flame and hid in the darkness of his bedroom while staring out the window.
The girl seemed to resist Kar, though she did with little efforts as she didn't pull away more than a few inches from him. He whispered things to her lowly. Mathias couldn't hear, but by the tone the blonde used, the younger man understood that the content was sexual.
The girl kept giggling; it irritated Mathias as he focused on his brother. He rested his hands on her derrière, then went upwards slowly. She quieted down, raising her own hands –shaking- to the blonde's shirt. She undid his tie as he kept talking to her. Mathias decided that he was reassuring her.
Soon, the blonde's athletic torso appeared to the moonlight and the girl's shoulders as well. Mathias stared, interested. Kar caressed her jaws, her lips. He chuckled, then pulled her dress further down, revealing her immature breasts. They weren't as round, big and heavy as Midna's or their mother's. They were small, pointy, yet they seemed to satisfy Kar as he started to massage them.
The girl sighed in delight, caressed the blonde's pectorals, and went downwards until she reached his pants. Mathias observed attentively as she started teasing his older brother. He groan softly, licked her ear. She moaned and pushed her hand into the blonde's pants, finally.
Mathias' breathing increased, his heart beat faster as he watched.
Kar put a hand on the girl's shoulder. She looked up, said something. He answered and pushed down on her. She kneeled before him, reluctantly, her head aligned with his crotch. Kar caressed her dark hair as she undid his pants clumsily. He stood there, smirking, his wavy golden locks hiding his eyes, as he looked down. Soon, he was exposed to the night, and he didn't seem to be shy at all.
Mathias stared.
The girl looked up, uncertain. Kar nodded. She lowered her head, opened her mouth and took him in. The blonde boy sighed heavily as he let his head fall backward, eyes closed. Mathias examined the smiled that played on his lips, the muscles of his neck as he grabbed a handful of the girl's hair.
Mathias watched how powerful Kar seemed to be over that uncertain, nameless girl as he held her head in place, forcing her to please him. Into the younger man's head, it was almost a rape. He found out he liked the idea of his brother breaking the virtue of that girl.
Kar started moving his hips, groaning lightly once in a while. Mathias' found his own erection without thinking much, and he stroked himself, as he stared at the scene. At his brother.
The blonde, after a moment, growled. He moved his hips quicker, harder. The girl's small breasts bounced with each thrust, her head, her mouth, her body was a mere accessory to Kar's enjoyment. He came shortly after, she moved away, surprised and the blonde's semen ended up onto her face and her breasts. She seemed horrified. Kar was smiling. He said something, she didn't answer.
She had stopped giggling, finally!
Mathias followed his brother shortly after, though it was a handkerchief that received his load, not some random whore.
The girl got up, wiped herself clean as she showed her back to Kar, who replaced his clothing. She turned around, barked something at him. Kar shrugged, staring at her, smiling still. Insulted, apparently, she stormed away while learning a harsh lesson about men and life.
Kar, seemingly unmoved by her reaction and ended up walking away, whistling. He never raised his eyes to his brother's window, but Mathias' gaze had been on him all along…
The images had been burned into the young man's eyes and mind forever. Slowly, he went to his bed, losing all interest into his journal. He sat down, ran his hands through his hair as he went through the scene again in his mind.
He was not going to sleep.

Tatl brushed her hair, humming softly, as Isca entered their bedroom. She seemed happy. It took an immense weight off his shoulders. He sat down on his side of the bed, she turned and smiled to him. They hadn't talked much during the evening.
"Midna refuses Nicolas, apparently." Said Isca.
"Did you think she would really agree this quickly?" Asked the Twili.
Isca stared at the wall a few seconds. "No, but the decision won't be hers anyway."
Tatl rolled her eyes. "And why couldn't she? No one forced me to marry you."
Sure, but if you hadn't, you'd be down in the slums with your hooligan son and prostitute daughter. He thought. "That was probably the only good decision you took." His voice was mocking, playful.
"A woman can live without a man, Isca." Tatl, however, seemed irritated by his comment.
"Show me one."
She stared at him. "The Gerudos."
"They are a bunch of barbaric women who keep mating so a man can be born and become their king. They live without men because they do not get any."
Tatl's stare hardened. "Then I could have lived without you."
He glared at her. "You could have?"
"Yes." She turned around, staring out the window at the dark night. "I would have managed it."
For a moment, they were both quiet. "Have you ever been happy for what I gave you, Tatl?" Isca asked, bluntly. She had hurt him; it showed in his voice.
The Twili stared at her husband, wide-eyed. "Why are you asking this? Of course I'm happy!" She stared at him, perceived his pain. It touched her; it made something quiver into her soul as she saw the emotion flashing through his usually cold eyes.
He looked away after a moment, now cold and tense.
Tatl let go of her brush, she turned around fully and stared at Isca's profile. She hadn't seen his reaction coming. For a moment, on that bed, he was the young, sensitive man that she had wed, with whom she had fallen in love twice. Slowly, she crawled up to him.
"Isca… I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm sorry."
He sighed softly. "Never mind."
She raised an uncertain hand. He didn't move. She caressed his jaws, felt the clenched muscles. "Forgive me, I've been a bad wife."
Isca sighed, closing his eyes a moment. "Never mind, Tatl." He whispered to her.
She shook her head, getting closer. He was giving in, she felt it. It was an occasion that he did not offer often. "No, I mean it, Isca. I should be by your side more often, take care of you."
"I'm a grown man."
"Yes, but my role as your wife is to support you."
He finally looked up at her. He seemed calm and relaxed. For the hundredth time since they had married, she remarked how dark his blue eyes were… So dark that you wouldn't see, at first, that they were blue and not black.
She lay down beside him, her head on his shoulder. Tatl looked up at him as he locked eyes with her. Softly, she caressed his chest. He sighed, closing his eyes, leaning into her touch. Tatl felt like she was taming a wild, dangerous animal –a dragon- each time she touched his body. It was like playing with fire; he could destroy her in the blink of an eye, could rip her apart with the mere strength of his hands. Yet, he lay there, on the bed, under her touch, under her tiny hands. Tatl felt powerful, as if she held the reins of a large, wild, untameable stallion.
He turned around, collected her in his arms and brought her close to him. He stared at her a moment, didn't say anything. She brought her fingers to his beard, to his full-lips. Softly, he kissed the tips of them. She smiled. He stared.
Tatl circled his neck, pulled herself closer and kissed him. He kissed her back.
"It's been a while…" She whispered.
He didn't answer. He seemed to wait. Isca was patient, too patient. Slowly, Tatl sat up. He followed her with his eyes. Staring at him, she started to undo her nightgown. It fell off her shoulders, held around her breasts. She pulled the cloth down, revealing herself to her husband.
Isca watched, waited.
She pulled her nightgown further down, as she stared right at him. Slowly, she got up, pushed her dress to her hips, then all the way down until it hit the ground. Naked, she challenged him with no words to come and collect her, make her his. To punish her.
His eyes inspected her, he seemed to think, seemed to consider if he wanted her or not. Like a cat would consider an easy prey.
Then, with the grace of a lion, he got up, walked up to her. He stood in front of Tatl, stared down at her, dominating her with his presence. She took a step closer, brought her hands up to his shirt, to his chest. Slowly, she started to undress him.
And he stared down, waited.
When she was down to his pants, Tatl lowered herself so she could get on her knees. He grabbed her wrist, she looked up.
"No." He whispered.
She seemed puzzled for a moment. Isca caressed her arm, then took her by the waist. He pushed her to the bed, softly. She let him lead, let him decide. He finished undressing, he did so slowly.
She watched, and waited.
He crawled up to her on the bed. He got on top of his wife, she wrapped her legs around his waist. His skin was hot against hers. Isca was always warm.
She kissed him.
He took her.
In silence, they made love.

Mathias lay on his bed. The sheets were on the ground, he couldn't endure their contact anymore. He was naked, something he rarely did. The night was not hot and his window stayed open, the wind blowing in. He had abused of his body over the last hours and yet, he was afraid that the fire in his groin would start again.
Eyes opened, he replayed in his mind the images over and over again of his brother and the girl. His mind seemed to focus, though, on that single scene in which Kar had let his head fall backward and had exposed the muscles of his neck and torso to the moon. Mathias had this moment burnt into his eyes, his head. The way he smiled, the way he grabbed the girl's hair and took her for an accessory, a toy.
Since puberty, he had spied many times at night on his parents. He had seen the strength of his father and the submission of his mother more than once. He had seen that combat, that dance many times. He had spotted total strangers in backstreets or opportunistic couples in places they shouldn't have committed such actions.
He had watched Midna, on a beautiful sunny afternoon as the sun illuminated her gorgeous, naked body while she caressed herself.
Mathias was a voyeur, he knew it. He felt no excitation towards the people he stared at. He felt excitation for what was forbidden, for the violation of these people's privacy.
But that night had been different, he felt it through every part of his body, of his mind. He hadn't felt arousal because it had been forbidden to watch his brother and that girl. He had felt arousal not for the situation… But for the actor…
It was twisted, he knew it well. However, he might have known how wrong the situation was, he understood nothing of it, of what he felt...
Yet, he had to admit to himself the unsettling truth: what had aroused him to the point of exhaustion was that damn image which was burnt into his brain forever, the image of his brother sullying a nameless girl.
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The Legend of Zelda : Twisted Legacy