Time was no punishment, Prince Phobos had found in experience. It would be his own mind, which created a prison - far more devoid and barren of hope than the mere chastity created, in clean-cut limestone which was far more finished than any true prison ought to look. Perhaps an irony, that a Queen so filthy was as set on everything being so...placed.

Unlike the other prisoners, conscience was no guard; for the Prince Phobos had found an ability to reprimand such feelings that might have strayed to almost fraternal, the moment that his blood had confessed herself.

You were never my brother. No doubt, there were other confessions. The prison had gone silent over time. Today, though the first in a good weeks, was no novelty of being exposed to such as gaudy a costume, in which Prince Phobos' sister attempted subtlety; frowning, or with features placid, as she stood to ignore adolescence, with her gently conspicuous bust. Even, many confessions - many costumes - might've been bolder, than those words quietly uttered in a virginal blush of pink chosen as her dress for her coronation.. In general, many confessions might be bolder; her touches; her looks. But now, her unnatural attempt at daintily fingering a precious stone, around her neck by a simple gold chain, in a far too obvious plight to draw attention to her chest. Anyone would be a half-wit, not to see her monumental words: You were never my brother.

Perhaps implied as a joke; one final desperation for attention.. It was her, standing at his cell, admitting - on the day of his betrayal - that if he'd whispered something else, he might've been free'd. She probably would've let him drag a blade up her spine, as long as he'd got her orgasming first. But nobody need know their Queen was a dirty welt on their culture.

Prince Phobos, for too long now, had not carried the care for the 'love' of affection. Even on the power trip he'd once been certained - Prince Phobos, at the very least, had more pride than to kiss Her Majesty goodnight. No matter how she foolishly wound the gold of her neck piece around her fingers. "It's our mothers.. One of the women hid it from you.."

He only returned expectant, cold, grey eyes with a smirk he knew to rattle her, perhaps in a far more carnal way as it was not the most bashful, nor humble of dresses. And when she'd arrived, her guard certainly blushed. Toying with a pale blue pendant - which had never been their mother's - it was almost impressive for her to be so forward as to actually gloat. Almost. It might have helped her, did he not know exactly how long she'd had to plan this - from a previous and bitter-ended visit - and it couldn't hurt her to pick up a piece of jewellery that he'd actually seen in his life; a humour told him that she truly believed one of the women though. With a yoke-chest so low that her collar was not the only thing revealed, though he didn't even have to have looked at her to assume. It was in so many ways refined - in that she carried herself, almost like a woman as she walked, that he'd like to inform her that the only, single, woman who might honestly cause any arousal, was a Goddess apparently, and a clumsy child as much as that, so she might have to work on it a little. But he remained silent. And Elyon remained impatient.

She bit her lip, before she dropped the silly jewel and turned away once more. Pacing - if not in this prison, then in her mind. It couldn't have been a few weeks, maybe a month, and she was here for the third time, just to flaunt something she was too naive to know fake. Someone was getting cocky, though the Prince knew himself to be damned if he could figure quickly which of them it was. "She wanted me to wear it. Trill. S-she wanted me to wear it, because our mother would want it."

He highly doubted that, drawling cooly, "Our mother would want you to be less of an inbreed."

He'd done it there. The little Aldarn stepping forward, because boy didn't know his own place; not that his Queen knew it either. Another guard dragging his shoulder back, because the poor boy didn't know when to stop. For Queen and for country, he supposed it might've been nobility, except that the boy spoke more names than a spy would to him, and he knew by well that Caleb had only found his way out of bed that very morning. Phobos smirked. At least someone knew what an error they'd made in such a Queen. Such a Queen with such a petulant scowl. Prince Phobos nodded his head in the faintest of bows. "Apologies."

"I should hope so."

"I'm sure that you are wrong though." It was a tragic looking stone; a droplet of colour with a gold chain, though he couldn't deny that his mother might admire it's simplicity. Whatever it was for, Queen Elyon would not be listening to his word, but at the very least he'd have a clear conscience. "That's not our mother's."

"No." No? Phobos held a smile as the young Queen stood tall.. What a close proximity she took, also; Prince Phobos could almost smell the rotten stench of her. "It was my mother's."

"Whatever you say.." He sighed as he spoke and she tried to sneer, but at her close proximity he caught her with a mere raising brow. Prince Phobos might've chosen prison sooner, had he known he would have such an entertainment.. "Don't say that I didn't warn you.."

...

"..You know, this happened months ago, why the sudden interest?" Tom Lair frowned slightly, at the image being held in front of him, of his daughter and the five other girls; an Agent McTiennan's finger pressing above his own daughter's face to point at Elyon Brown. It was a funny case; the Browns', and he supposed that they'd thought nothing was being done, but in truth he felt the same. It had been a lost case, as far as he'd assumed - months had gone by since it had been handed over officially to missing persons, and he'd assumed that that would be it. He had been glad that Irma didn't ask questions, but questions were arising now; the man having had inquired his own daughter's friendship. It was neither a sign to good or bad, but he couldn't help taking offence, his frown only creasing as the man pocketed the photograph he'd brought out.

"There are developments in the Brown case, requiring that we return for a more thorough inspection." He frowned at that, realizing now exactly why only one of his force had been called. An insult, really, to infer that they had missed something, but Tom only bit his tongue. It wasn't unnatural - for city inspectors to assume a higher ground, and he only cocked a brow slightly, in concerns of the developments. "The Browns do not exist."

"-We have records that-"

"-have been further examined by experts. We are well informed, Agent Lair, and the records are false." Tom frowned as the woman behind him continued to shuffle through items methodically - a Maria Medina, who turned from her work after interrupting him, and Mr Lair had decided in that moment he would regret agreeing to the case. "Now it's more about finding them, than considering what exactly happened. We need to check again, I hope you understand, because this is now an entirely new case."