Disclaimer: Don't own a bloody thing... Yeah, but I did write the story. so don't take that It's happened before and I don't like it.

I love Daniella. My favorite animated character ever. I love how much emotion she brings out as a character who is suppose to be nothingness. For this, she fasinates me, and I really sympathize with her. I do NOT believe she is 'emotionless'. Otherwise why would she become so determined to kill Fiona? So my goal is to try to describe what I feel was going on in the mind of our favorite psychotic maid. Hope you like it and please Review. :) I'll be happy to read your stories as well.

Also I'm not sure if I might end up changing a few things along the line, but I'll probably try to stick to the game's storyline as much as possible.

This Empty Feeling, is Only Temporary

(An Introduction)

"Every shadow is nailed down to the feet of a mortal. Forced to accompany a mobile corpse for a master. It is the one thing that shall never abandon its duty to its master... even if it desired too."

And so, there she stood. A distant doll, a cold clay figure of a fantasy made real. A statue that moved, yet was not alive nor dead. An empty shell perhaps some might say. Skin pulled over artificially assembled bones. Is this as true as it would appear to the eye? To say that one is emotionless, void in the stare. Still so beautiful, so unobtainable. One could argue though, that emotionless was but another word for lonely. And is lonely not an emotion? You'd be surprised how much one, who is supportively so lifeless, has so many thoughts. So many questions. So many that sometimes it would seem she really could feel something. That aching deep within her frame that she could not understand or define. Can you imagine what it is like to have the compulsion to cry out and your body is unable to react to the urge? Can you feel the distance between yourself and your soul? To feel, to feel anything at all. She wouldn't complain. Pain, hatred, hope. But she was told that she couldn't, so she believed it, but that doesn't mean she wouldn't try.

Man-made and godless. Who was to love the one that was named Daniella. Her name was all she owned, but in truth she didn't even have title to that. It could be changed on a whim if her Masters so wanted it to be so. All she had to herself was that insignificant tag, and her perfect body. She would be grateful, if she knew how. She might say thank you as well, but she was only allow to speak when spoken to. And as she stood alone in one of many deserted hallways of Belli Castle, Daniella felt so... desuetude. But sometimes, when she was all alone, she would concentrate so deeply and would be as still as a corpse itself, she would get this movement of sorts deep inside. Other times it would come on all of a sudden, a rush of sorts. Compared to perhaps the feeling of getting gooseflesh for no apparent reason. Often they would come and go too fast for her to enjoy them. All that would linger behind was a memory, a memory she couldn't even mourn for. Sometimes she wasn't sure if she merely imagined these 'rushes' or perhaps, somehow, her Masters were toying with her. Either way, she didn't have the mind, nor time, to care.

She had no instructions on what to do with herself. Usually when there was no specific duty to be done, she would simply clean the already spotless rooms. At least the ones she was allowed in. Her policy had become the mindset that there was always something covered in a new layer of filth and it was her job, her purpose, to find it and erase that grime from existence. But her mind was in a trance, trying to make sense of what she had accidently heard her two Masters talking about earlier when they had been eating what she had prepared for them. It must have been important, for one of her Masters didn't usually eat with the other, nor did he usually come to eat at all. At least not without striking out at her in some form. They had spoken in harsh whispers, insults. The food was thrown across the room, she cleaned it up as always once the dust had settled.

Was it about that girl? The one she had seen being carried into the castle by one of her Masters? She had observed from a window, as he disappeared with her in his arms under the castle, into the dungeon. Something had been boiling then, a low simmer within her. Was it curiosity, was it joy, was it fury? She couldn't tell. Without a second thought she'd turned her back to the window and strolled away in her oh so synchronized way.

Later she would receive orders by one of her Masters to go to her when she would 'escape' her prison and enter a whole new one. But that was later, this was now. So she stood motionless, drowning in the thick silence that wrapped her tight in an attempt to choke her. She was straining inside, though it did not show. Trying to feel the slightest twinge of anything, but there was nothing. What was merely a few moments of imperious time to her, had really been over four whole hours. Time meant nothing to her anyway, so it was no loss. Time was like an insect coming to suck you dry. It is so tiny and purposeless at first, paying no notice, but once it leaves its disgraceful mark it can be rather annoying as it flies by you out of your grasp. It only comes back to take away more and more of you. Bit by bit, never all at once. What fun would that be to dismember something in one shot? You can't watch it suffer that way.

Then she heard a faint noise that awoke her from the deep chambers inside herself. It was hard to place what is was, even with her inhumanly keen senses. She knew the castle better than she understood herself after all. The sound had come from the direction of the southern wing she thought, it wasn't far off. The next thing she knew, she was there, with no memory of the walk to the destination. But there was no time to try to ponder on it. She stared at the old wheelchair before her, barely seeing the man that was occupying it. She was told what she would do, and when. Then the wheelchair rolled off in the darkness, the man in toll. Once more, Daniella was reminded of her reason for being created. The only thing she 'lived' for, and that was to serve. So she made a point to be the very best at it, no matter how it would end for her. Just a maid, just a machine.

Now she stood alone yet again in a different place with no recollection of how she got there once again. This was a frequent occurrence. But soon she would be joined by something she had never laid her glass eyes on before. Woman, a real woman. Inside she was roaring with anticipation, but she knew not how to communicate that to her exterior. She stood absolutely still, and waited. It was more likely that the whole house would tumbled down around her in ruins before she'd be moved. Nothing, except an order from her Master would shake her now. To see this... woman... she wanted it.

Unfortunately, this girl was a little slow it would seem. A good half hour must have passed. Anyone else would have been frustrated and bored, but not Daniella. Instead she stared blankly at the door, every now and then her eyes would flicker to the clothes that she was instructed to lay out for the guest. She wandered if she'd actually put them there herself or not. She didn't remember doing it if she had.

She studied the shape of the woman through the attire, even before she was in them. These clothes were made special, this girl might have been expected. Whatever lie ahead for her, was unknown to Daniella. That was not her business, it was not her place to know, she didn't have the right.

The slowly ticking of the clock kept the maid company as she burnt a hole into the door with her pale, silver coated, eyes. She wondered if all real women were this rude to keep those who strived so hard to be punctual waiting. She tried to envision the knob turning and the girl coming in. Perhaps if she thought hard enough it would come true. She imagined what the girl might look like, but only came up with deformed mixes of herself and her Masters. She didn't have a wide range of faces in her human appearances mental photobook. She would most likely be a goddess of sorts. Like her, perfect in every way. That is what a woman had to be, to be here. It was law.

Below the surface, just behind the handmade heart that ticked in time with the clock, came a spark. Not quite a rush. It was so small, Daniella wouldn't have noticed it, if she would not have standing so still in her mind. It was certainly something. Perhaps it was worry. Maybe this girl would not come. She would be denied seeing the idol of all that is woman. Wouldn't be able to feel the feminine breath that she lacked. It was all she was aloud to feel. She was instructed not to touch her godly form under any circumstances unless something was extremely important. She had been going over in her mind what an extremely important circumstance might be and how she could possibly 'accidentally' cause one to occur. Maybe if she 'accidentally' became dusty, Daniella could comply to her duties and tided her up. No one likes a filthy woman. Surely though, the woman would not be dirty in anyway, she'd be much to pure to be coated in anything but the finest of cleaning-based products. Or so she imagined in her time of waiting. But after awhile her instincts to be a tall glass of nothingness grew too great and it was too hard to concentrate on the thought. She willingly let it die. But somehow the 'worry' resurfaced time and time again in the long waiting period. Maybe her other master... had other plans for her. This was not uncommon for the two to have different ways of dealing with things. In fact, them getting along would be just as likely as a real woman coming to the castle... But if THAT was to come true (although it had not yet, and very well might not ever), then perhaps there is a first time for everything. Or maybe she was worried for another, more darker reason.

Somewhere inside, admittedly, somewhere very deep and buried inside, Daniella wanted to be needed. The compliments from her one master on how well she cooked and cleaned seemed to be the most pleasing thing she could do for herself. Over time though this had started to grow a tad bit old to her and no tiny enjoyment pricks inside came very often anymore. But she still strived to try for just the most microscopic of them. Anymore she apparently would feel more of a reaction from letting the other master relieve his fury on her. It was not the same kind of feeling as the one master with compliments was. It was something that made her body want to convulse. Like there was something she was suppose to fulfill. Something walled up in her that was fighting to get out. An urge perhaps to do the same to the offender who'd hurt her. But this unidentified 'rage' as it was called, never lasted long enough for her to even think about acting on it.

Daniella's ears suddenly picked up a light, slow, and even paced thumping. It was like footsteps of someone with only socks on. But that's not what the sound was. No. She did not come to the realization that the girl was on the other side of the door by her feet padding the ground. Rather the timed beating of the woman's breathing heart. She was hesitating outside. The girl's mind was going over all the possible outcomes of entering (all negative) and comparing them to the opinion of remaining outside (also all horrible to think about). Then at last she shallowed all the fear down her skinny throat and pressed against the door. Finally... she came.