Darkness…it was all Euphemia could remember these days.

The numbness that came along with such a scene was extremely blinding, seething with agony and pity. Everything was cold, and not an ounce of feeling was left in her being. Curled in a pathetic, unsightly position, she could only count the seconds, minutes, hours passing by her, aggressively rubbing their uncomfortable dreams against her own dead ones.

But the numbness wasn't always there. No. Sometimes there was the antagonizing facade of light that seductively draped itself across her small frame. Sometimes, there would be whispers of envy and haughtiness, those naive words whispering on how lucky she was, to be enveloped in such a wonderful manner. Sometimes, things were thrown at her, food, if she was lucky. And sometimes again, there would actually be people near her, people that would jab her to make sure she wasn't dead, people that would threaten her if she betrayed the slightest thought of wishing harm to their idols. Those people, those things, would be the ones she was so terrified of.

She didn't hate them. How could she, when they knew little of good or evil, especially if those notions were so misleading? All they saw upon her was refinery; jewels, dresses draped with shadowy crimson, silk, long hair to go with it…she might as well have possessed the luxuries of life most would have wanted. No one was allowed to touch her, and if they did, their heads would be brought to her the next day.

No, she couldn't hate them. Even if they were cruel, they were beautiful in their ignorance. Even if she couldn't muster the tears for their heart breaking end…even if she cried and screamed and shouted for their return in the silence of the numbness.

Ah, that feeling was returning.

She always knew there was something more, something beyond the walls of the fine asylum. She always knew, but she could never bring herself to hope that she could experience those things once again.

Yes, once again. She knew what it was like to love, to fear, to feel prideful in accomplishments, however mundane they may be. She knew of a family, a wonderful one, though it may be small. She even knew of a man, someone slightly older than her, whom carried the desires she lusted after. But it was all gone now.

She shunned those thoughts; they were too painful to think of.

She no longer carried the frightful behavior she had when she first arrived, awaken from some dark nightmare that led her to the fall. Already, she was assaulted, by some unknown man, by a stranger she never knew. He greedily spilled onto her words of empty love and promises, all the while forcing himself into her. She hated the way his hands felt, the way she pleaded for him to stop, while he refused to do so. She hated how she begged for someone, anyone to aid her, and they all ignored her, simply telling her she should be thankful. Many would kill to be in the position you're in, one said to her once.

Where are you?

Another thrust, a disgusting finger stroking her stomach navel.

Cornelia, Suzaku, Lulu…where are you?

She whispered their names, which earned her another forceful intercourse. Her mind wandered to their smiling faves, even as she cried. It was only then, after such a long while, did she realize they weren't coming. Did they give up on her? Was she hidden too well?

Did they even care?

It had gotten to the point where, at last, her rapist decided to strip her of everything; her past, her happiness, were all gone now. Instead, replacing that blank slate was the name 'Guinevere' , as well as a rich life in which he promised she would be made queen, that she would be in the arms of her knight in shining armor. She'll admit, it was a lot more elegant than Britannia could ever imagine, more abundant than a world of illusions could ever pull.

She attended balls, festivals, as well as wandered the halls of the palace she was subjected to. Tall, Gothic windows with no glass standing between the sun and the atmosphere filled her loneliness with a sort of nostalgia of sorts. Paintings of the natural beauty of Avalon displayed itself in the mantels of the room, with battle scenes of Camelot raging forth. (Personally, at first, she didn't enjoy those scenes, but after she imagined herself piercing her "lover" with Excalibur, she contented herself with them, and even enjoyed their company.) Colorful streams of green, brown, and purple were strewn from across the corridors, and in the many bedrooms of the guest hallways there were tiny scented herbs that helped the fairy aristocrats enjoy their stays, however foolish it may be. A locked cathedral rested near the north wing of the palace, one she would visit every day, and if there was no time, then at night, with small, Victorian lanterns that made her reminisce her brief, but lovely time in Japan.

Her 'lover' left, which gave her enough time to put on her clothes. It'd been their nightly ritual, even if it was incredibly troublesome.

There was a knock on her door. She froze, but the voice behind it was small. "Come in," she said forcefully, though guiding the scared maiden into the room. A tiny creak opened, and a woman with bright, orange hair, and green eyes sauntered in. Unlike Euphemia, Shirley was not made to suffer from the rapist every night.

"Hi," she said softly, the black uniform clinging to her skin. "I just came to see if you were doing alright your majesty."

She shakes her head. "No, it's fine. Why don't you sit down? You must be tired of standing and walking all day." she observed affectionately. In a way, the girl reminded her of Suzaku and his rigid, formal ways. Shirley shakes her head. "No, it's alright. His Highness is requesting your presence in the gazebo."

She sighs, sitting up from the large, pink bed. Shirley arrived here, in very much the same way she did. Neither of them had any idea what had happened, nor did they have any idea how long it has since they've been imprisoned here.

And the strangest thing was that it wasn't just Shirley. Hundreds of victims were found in the rapist's care, though all of which were made servants. Why, was what she wanted to ask, though she neglected not to. She looks up at the girl with her plastered, bright smile. "How is your father by the way?"

Immediately, Shirley brightened. "He's fine, though he's still a bit of an airhead at times. The other day, he tried helping me with the laundry, and he ended up staining the entire thing with coal!"

She blinked. "Coal? How did he-?"

The green eyed girl laughed lightly. "I know, right?" And with that, she managed to avoid another regretful thought. Long has heard head-strong nature been destroyed into little more than an obedient doll. His Highness made sure to break her thoroughly, even if he didn't have to touch her to do it. All he had to do was threaten her father, and automatically a dutiful maid ready to die for her master. It saddened the queen greatly, as she herself had experienced these things first hand. She led Shirley by the hand as the two went out to meet Arthur.