"...it was him...he killed the Empress...!"

"...her own bodyguard...ironic..."

"...Gods, look at what he's done..."

"...what have you done with Lord Lucian, traitor...?!"

"I'LL SEE YOU BEHEADED FOR THIS, JULIUS!"

The screams from the back of his mind had all but brought him away from the darkness of his nightmare. A startled gasp erupted from his throat, lurching forward with frightened, lucid eyes. His skin was pale, and beads of sweat were falling profusely from his face. The cell, as well as the rest of the prison, was oddly quiet, given the time of day. It was night time, usually when sounds of cries and shouts and curses and screams and bellows could be heard from even the farthest of corridors. It must have been at least a month since he was imprisoned, and the results were already showing. His body was malnourished, as his skeletal frame was nearly showing beneath the layer of trained muscle he had developed underneath Cornelia's command. Once the fever pitch from his nightmare had fallen, he calmed himself, slowing his breath as he looked down at the shackles around his wrists. He frowned slightly in distaste, idly noting the chaffing of his skin due to the metal.

'That damned dream again...' he mused morbidly in his mind as he looked around his cell, barely illuminated by the dim lighting. 'I must have had it so many times now...and it always ends with Saraphine dead at my feet.' His fists clenched tightly at the memory, the sight of a blade plunging deep into her stomach, blood beginning to pour from her body as the life drained away from her eyes. 'I don't understand...why would Irach want her dead? He even confessed to having some hand in the Emperor's death as well... Just what is going on?' He paused for a moment, halting his line of thinking before he let out a mirthless chuckle. "It doesn't matter... The council has already made their decision. I'll be dead by the morning anyway, so what's the use of thinking about it now? In the end, it was all for nothing... I wasn't able to find out who killed mother, nor was I able to protect Saraphine, or Lucian... I'm powerless, just as I was before."

He lowered his head in shame. He felt disgusted with himself, loathing even. He had been Saraphine's guardian and protector for six years, and in that time, he had grown. He had done so many things for her and Britannia, most of them enough to make him sick to his stomach, but this was the best he could do for her sake, and Lucian's. He would grit his teeth to learn whatever he must, and to do whatever it takes to protect them both, to shield them from the horrors of Britannia's true, ruthless nature...but it was all for naught. Lucian was gone, and Saraphine, dead. Even the man who held some clue to his mother's murder was dead as well. Everything he worked for...was for nothing.

Nothing whatsoever. Saraphine was right...everything was coming apart.

"...what a sight you are, Lelouch vi Britannia..."

He felt shock register in him as he snapped his head up, the melodious voice's owner catching him by surprise. He had not been called that name in so long...at least, not by anyone other than Saraphine. He was unable to see their face, as they were shrouded in the shadows. They stood of equal height with him, wearing a leather jacket and dark slacks, their hands at their sides. In spite of the darkness that hid them so well, he was able to see, if only barely, the form of an amused smile present on their face.

"The Empress," the man said, his smirk still present as he walked around the bars to his cell. "Saraphine mi Britannia, is dead, and everyone thinks you're the one who put the blade to her heart." He let loose a scoff. Was this why the man was here? To simply mock him? To put his mistakes in front of him, as if trying to further the pain that already existed in his heart? His thoughts were cut short as the man suddenly vanished, disappeared from his spot the moment he blinked. He became bewildered, rubbing his eyes. Perhaps he was starting to hallucinate from the malnourishment? "But," He jumped, his head looking to his side to see the man now sitting next to him, one leg crossed over the other, and an arm propped over his elbow. "We both know what REALLY happened." For a brief moment, the darkness parted to reveal his face to him. The stranger's face was odd, possessing features unknown to him, neither Caucasian nor Asian, and his dark hair cropped and cut closely to his face. However, what disturbed him dearly was his eyes.

They were black. Completely and utterly black as night, with no signs of the sclera, pupil, or even the iris. It was if he were staring at the black abyss, and the abyss gazing back at him.

"You don't want to stay here and rot away, do you?" the man asked him, though his tone suggested he knew the truth about his mind and what he wished to do. "To give the ignorant masses their satisfaction as your head rolls to their feet?" He turned away, staring at his hands. Did he want to stay here? Did he want to rot away, and give the people, so ignorant and disillusioned by Irach's schemes, what they thought was the right thing? His life cut down by the guillotine? ...No. He wouldn't die here. He COULDN'T die here. Lucian...he must be so scared right now. He must be wailing for Saraphine's name, crying out for her against his captives. He felt the same way. For the first few days, he wailed and grieved for her as well, ignoring the insults and jeers sent his way. He wanted to escape from here, to find Lucian and protect him...and to kill the people responsible for everything that's happened. Irach, who killed the Emperor and Empress in order to crown himself as Lord Regent, and that pompous fool Richards, who dared to usurp Bismarck and name himself as the Knight of One. He wanted to hunt them down, and put them to the blade...he wanted to kill them both.

Upon seeing his resolve, clearly seen by his violet eyes lit aflame with rage and anger, the man grinned. "Here," he placed his hand over his left mandible. It hovered over it, hands outstretched. "To make things interesting." Pain burned in his hand as he clutched it, hissing in discomfort as a searing flame etched itself into his hand. Looking down, he saw something burned into the back of his hand, almost like a sigil of some sort. It glowed for a few moments, but then flickered out, the light dying away to reveal it's black imprint. "My Mark." the man told him. He turned away from his hand to look at the stranger, only to find him gone once again, left in the comfort of the darkness of his own cell. Despite the lack of his presence, the man's voice rung clearly in his mind. "Your fate is intertwined with an immortal witch that has caught my fancy for some time now..." he whispered, his voice reaching the back of his mind, yet also into his ear as if he were still beside him. It was almost like an echo, reverberating in his head. "I look forward to what you will do...Lelouch vi Britannia."

The feeling of a man present was gone. Lelouch, the Eleventh Prince of Britannia, also known as Julius Kingsley, the Royal Protector stared at his hand, glaring at the mark. 'All my life, I've lived a lie...' he thought back on his journey and outlook on the world thus far. 'The lie of living. My name, too, was a lie. My personal history, a lie. Nothing but lies. I was sick to death of a world that couldn't be changed. But even in my lies, I refused to give up in despair. But now, this incredible power...it's mine.'

A dark, unsettling grin formed on his face as he lifted his head up, violet brimming with a cold darkness that would show no mercy to those that had wronged him...none would be safe. Not the High Regent, Irach, who took Saraphine and Lucian away from him. Not the Knight of One, Richards, who showed naught but contempt for him and those he held dear. Not the men who took Saraphine away from him...no. Not a one.

Today...the one known only as the Outsider had given birth to a demon unparalleled.

"...Well then."

"Revenge Solves Everything"

Of Dishonored Souls