AN: Next chappie! Woo!

Also, Marquis tells me to tell you folks that if there was any doubt as to his reasoning behind creating the Empire, then you should read his profile. Please, however, no PM or reviews telling us how dumb you think we are for being "anachronistic" or "old-fashioned." I'll just erase them before he gets to them. That, and you just prove our point.

Cheers,

The Little Duke (woo! an actual nom de plume! No more "Marquis' Assistant" for me!)

Darkness.

All-encompassing, absolute darkness.

That was all that had ever prevailed in the girl's life. Her first memory involved the darkness of the night. Her last memory, before having been brought to this dark cell, had also involved darkness. She remembered voices pleading for unseen aggressors not to take her away, to take them instead.

At age ten, however, she couldn't truly understand why someone would want to take away what was hers. It was her turn, after all, wasn't it?

But still, the men took her from her small hut, grabbing her roughly by the arms and dragging her outside as her companions screamed for her to be brave. She couldn't understand why they looked so scared. It was just a ride, wasn't it?

But soon, after being thrown into a train compartment with other folk, who were moaning in some unseen pain, she began to understand that she wouldn't be returning again, and so she began to cry. Those with her, however, did not act like her former companions, and she was left unattended.

The girl was now sixteen. She'd spent five years in this new, dark cell. The air felt dry, and so she knew she was in the desert. She'd sought out the aid of a fellow prisoner, who'd agreed to teach her all the knowledge she was missing. She learned to do advanced math, learned Latin, Biology, Chemistry, and Physics (although only in theory, as there was no way to actually practice her knowledge). Unfortunately, by the fourth year of such lessons, the guards put a stop to them by taking away her mentor, leaving her, once again, alone in the darkness.

She'd often go to sleep crying, wondering why she was being punished this way. She'd done nothing wrong, by her reckoning. All she knew was that one day, she was taken from her home while her parents were sleeping (or so she thought. The Death Eaters had killed them in their beds). Those men had been mean, and rough, calling her names as they dragged her away from her home.

They'd also raped her, she realized years later, upon bringing her to her previous camp. They'd taken turns at deflowering her, though she hadn't had the slightest idea about what was happening to her at the time, only that it hurt and made her cry.

Even now, those guards with silver masks would occasionally enter her cell and get their jollies off her, much to her disgust. She also noticed that while the other, normal-looking guards seemed horrified by the silver masked men's actions, they didn't do anything to stop them, making her resent them as much as she did her rapists.

BOOM

'Speaking of which,' she thought wryly. She guessed they were drunk again, probably flinging spells around (One wasn't raped for over five years without learning a thing or two from your captors). She sighed. That meant they'd want their evening 'entertainment' later on.

Still, she wouldn't just lie down and accept her fate. She never had. Last time, about five days ago, she'd kicked her would-be rapist in the crotch, causing the man to stumble out in pain. He, of course, returned later while she was sleeping, beating her severely before eventually defiling her.

This time, she swore to at least leave one bleeding, so she hid in the corner, wielding a chunk of cement she'd managed to carve out of the wall over the year. Not for the first time, she cursed her red hair, since it would automatically give her away.

As the minutes went by and the explosions continued, however, she began worrying. What was taking them so long? Usually, they'd be lining up at her cell door by now, trying to pin her to the ground or the wall, depending on which position they preferred that day.

Her thoughts drifted back to the commotion she'd heard earlier in the day. Her very cell had shaken a few times, with dust and small chunks of cement dropping from the ceiling every time. She hadn't heard much, but the dulled sound of explosions kept taunting her ears. She'd briefly entertained the fantasy that someone had come to save her, but quickly shot that down. Why would she be special enough to be saved? And if she was, where had her saviours been for the past five years, when she needed them most?

Another explosion reached her ears, this one nearer. The girl grimaced as she began to hear voices shouting. Maybe the silver masks and the normal guards had gotten into a fight? Oh, she smiled wistfully at the idea. Maybe she'd get lucky and they'd kill each other.

Her curiosity, however, got the best of her when another explosion resonated through the dark hallway leading to her cell. She cautiously approached her cell door and peeked through the bars towards the entrance, where a single, rectangular slit provided the only light in the entire corridor. She found that if she really strained her hearing, she could actually make out some of the shouting.

"Hold them back!"

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Matthews! NO!"

"Explodra!"

"Push them back, men! Hurry!"

Soon, however, she began to hear what she thought was…

The girl blinked. It couldn't be.

Drums?

Yet, despite her incredulity, she reasoned that there were indeed some drums being beaten behind the door. Tapped to a march, she soon heard numerous new voices join the cacophony of explosions, spells, and something else.

"At'em, lads!" she heard a man call out over the noise. "Bring them down! Wahai Mohammed!"

'Muslim, then,' she gathered from that as she heard other voices repeat the Arabic sentence. Right then and there, she thanked her old mentor for his lessons.

She then began to notice something. Beyond the shouting and explosions, another sort of noise was quickly overpowering the former: gunshots.

The girl frowned. That wasn't right. Though she'd heard gunshots before, none of her current guards had any firearms. So who was…?

"Platoon, make ready!"

The girl's head snapped up at this. Army men? What the hell was going on?

"FIRE!"

The girl winced as she briefly saw the door fly off its hinges. Turning away, she heard the unfiltered screams of the dying and wounded, though she couldn't bring herself to care about her rapists' condition.

Not that she knew what the invaders would do to the prisoners here. For all she knew, they could be worse. With that in mind, the redheaded girl retreated to her corner with her jagged piece of cement, ready to strike at any who dared try to touch her. The idea that she could be shot through the bars never even struck her.

Still, she remained in her corner, defiantly glaring at the bars as she heard the tell-tale sound of boots marching down the steps that led to her corridor.

"Fan out!" she heard a powerful male voice call out. He was the leader, no doubt. "The heir must be here, somewhere! Find the heir!"

'The heir?' wondered the girl. 'Who is the heir?'

"Your Majesty!" she heard the soldiers call out as they moved down the hallway. "Your Majesty, are you in here?"

The girl sucked in her breath. She'd been sharing a prison with royalty? How come none of the other prisoners had told her?

She soon saw a dark-skinned soldier wearing a beige uniform rush by her cell, barely giving hers a glance as he saw no one in it. Desperate to get out, the girl quickly got out of her corner and went up against the bars, shouting, "Wait! Please! Don't leave me here!"

The man she'd seen rush by stopped dead in his tracks before turning and rushing back to her cell. The man looked at her through the bars with wide eyes, and she noticed he seemed to be sporting several scars on the right side of his face.

"Your Majesty, is that you?" he asked softly.

The girl looked at him hesitantly. "I…I don't know what you're talking about," she admitted. At the man's disappointed look, she quickly continued. "But please, don't leave me here! Those…m-men, they'll just keep raping me if you do!"

The man seemed about to leave when he stopped at these words. His eyes narrowed with fury at her pleading. "They raped you more than once, my child?" he asked dangerously.

The girl fearfully nodded. She was struck by how enraged the man now looked. Turning towards the other soldiers, who were milling by, the man grabbed one of them by the uniform and drew him close.

"I want every guard left alive put under arrest. NOW!" he ordered harshly. To her amazement the man didn't seem fazed by his superior's harshness, and quickly trotted off to relay the order. Meanwhile, the man turned back to her. "Don't you worry none, miss. We'll take care of those disgusting maggots."

The girl nodded nervously, but remained true to her questions. "But what about setting me free?" she asked. The man seemed reluctant to answer that.

"I…" the man started, before swallowing guiltily and dropping his head. "I'm sorry, miss…but we can't."

The girl looked outraged. "Why not? Please! Take me with you!"

The man looked crushed with guilt as he dropped his gaze further. "We came here just to get one person, miss. The transports we have don't allow us to take everyone with us."

"Please!" pleaded the girl as the man started to leave. "Please, I can't handle another five years!"

That stopped the man. Slowly turning, the soldier looked at her in shock. "Five…years?" he asked, slowly.

The girl nodded, confused.

Suddenly, the man was right against the cell bars. "What's your name?" he demanded. When she didn't answer, probably from fear of his new brash attitude, he repeated his demand, even louder.

"E-Elizabeth…Elizabeth Black," she answered fearfully.

"Who were your parents?" asked the soldier, his face becoming more and more joyful by the second.

"George Black and Christina—"

"McAllister?" finished the soldier. Elizabeth nodded with wide eyes, surprised that he knew them.

"You knew my parents?" she asked, awed. The man, however, seemed taken over by euphoria as he disbelievingly laughed, backing away several steps in the process. Several soldiers around them quickly gathered to their superior and asked him what was wrong, only to be waved away.

"I can't believe it," murmured the man, "After all these years…"

Suddenly, he seemed to snap out of it, and realized who he was talking to previously. Immediately, he went to his knees in front of Elizabeth.

"Your Majesty, forgive me, I had no idea," he apologized profusely. Looking to his stunned men, the man then barked harshly, "Well? Do you not know how to properly greet the Imperial Heir?"

Just as quickly as the enormity of the statement hit the other soldiers, they were speedy about kneeling before Elizabeth, who seemed overwhelmed and confused.

"What is going on?" she asked shrilly as she backed away from the bars. "Why are you kneeling? Who are you people?"

"Your Imperial Highness," started the man, looking up slightly, "you are the one and only heir to the Blessed Imperial Throne of the British Empire."

Elizabeth fainted.