A/N: Thank you to AidansQueen, Chorus girl 24601, Julie and Lady Moon Dragon for your reviews. It's been a while since I updated this, for some reason I just got suckered back onto my old fanfiction account and began updating stories on there. I will finish this fic however, so here's the newest chapter.

Chapter Twenty Five --- The Queen of Midnight

Violet stood shivering; she had been robbed of most of her clothes, except the undershirt that barely covered her modesty. A bath was being filled for her, and she was going to be forced to wash, whilst surrounded by these old women. They were here to check her health, so that her 'child' could be deemed as healthy and properly formed.

Their methods were crude, they took her temperature, and her bloods, and were going to force her to scrub herself raw to 'avoid infection'. As a rough hand scratched at her scalp as they washed her hair, Violet couldn't help but let the tears run down her face. She had never felt so humiliated, her body laid bare in front of these old uncaring people.

She wondered where they had taken the others, and whether she would ever see them again. She hoped that they hadn't been hurt; it would be her fault if they had. They'd come to help her after all; they hadn't meant to take danger to her door.

With her hair combed until she could have sworn her scalp was bleeding; Violet was forced out of the bath into a robe.

Her hair was then dried with as much care as it had been washed, being pulled and tugged and the jagged comb ripped though it every now and then for good measure.

They dressed her up then like a queen, with satin and silk, and diamonds. Violet closed her eyes; she didn't care what they did anymore. She even stopped crying for her modesty, she had nothing left to hide, Midnight had taken it all.

Suddenly she was abandoned. She opened her eyes, and the old women were standing in a row by the wall, their heads bowed to the ground. They looked like statues of gargoyles, motionless and grey. Violet stared at them. What was she supposed to do? Eventually she turned to leave the room, wondering if one of them would stop her. On her way, she passed a mirror.

She stared.

They'd made her queen; they'd taken the lie and perverted it even more. Violet stared at herself in the queen's dress; they'd given her a mask of beauty to wear, if she chose to hide that worried frightened look on her face. She touched her fingers to her necklace, underneath them she felt the coolness of the perfect diamonds, five, strung round her neck.

She was a make-believe queen. But she had no king.

"From now on you are the Princess of Midnight," a voice said from behind her.

Violet turned to see a small stitchling, looking up at her with the face of a child. She stared back in silence.

"You are requested to join the Queen," the tiny stitchling informed her. "Your Majesty."

"Don't call me that," Violet whispered.

The stitchling bent down on one knee so that she or it was even closer to the ground.

"But you carry the heir of Midnight, you are Royal," it said in earnest.

Violet felt sick as she followed the tiny creature down the hallway. She marvelled that it trusted her to follow, when it was such a tiny unthreatening thing. Even though her escape could have been made by hurting the stitchling child, and running, she couldn't bring herself to act.

She was led to a room with a desk. There didn't appear to be anything else in the room, but it was dark and she couldn't see into the corners. Out of one of the said corners appeared Mater Motley.

"Hello Violet, it seems you cannot escape Midnight, can you?" Motley said, a crooked smile on her face. "I have something for you to sign."

Violet stood frozen. Why was this woman speaking to her like she was an equal? Had her position in the world really been hauled up this high? Something wasn't right, she had the sense that Motley was only behaving this way to get what she wanted.

The document lay on the table. It had appeared as soon as Motley had spoken of it, it was created through magic. That kind of deed was the worst; they were never destroyed, or broken. If she signed that, it would be forever.

"You surprised me, I thought my grandson would have tired of you by now. You must have more brains than I credited you with, but if you ever use them against me, I'll kill you. Do you understand?"

Violet nodded. She couldn't speak. Her eyes were fixated on the parchment.

"You know why I haven't killed you, don't you Violet?" Motley asked, her voice couldn't naturally contain the kindness, it was strained and the cruelty crept through all too plainly.

"Yes, the baby," Violet whispered.

"That's right," Motley said walking to the table, and picking up a pen. "I want that child. Midnight needs an heir, but Christopher's blood is not enough to make that child legitimate…"

The silence hung sinisterly in the air. Motley handed Violet the pen, which she accepted automatically. She felt she was losing her own freewill, her head was swimming, and all she could concentrate on was Motley's words. Her own arguments and cautions were disappearing.

"You need to be Queen on Midnight. Signing your name makes you my grandson's bride."

Violet frightened herself by stepping forwards and leaning over the page. What was she doing? She couldn't bind herself to Lord Carrion without him being any part of it. But the urge to sign was overwhelming.

"But, doesn't Lord Carrion have to be here?" Violet asked in a pathetically small voice.

"No, in his absence from the crown, this power belongs to me," Motley said firmly.

The girl was holding out well to her magicks, her mind was strong, but she would give in eventually. She could see Violet's conflict in her eyes, she was fighting to organise her thoughts and remember why she shouldn't sign.

Eventually the pen touched the paper, and Violet signed her name. There was a pause where Violet felt pleased with herself, then the fog on her mind cleared and she saw the world with unbearable clarity.

"All hail the Queen," Motley said cruelly. "Take her away."

Violet barely had enough time to recover from what she had done, before she was being dragged away. The tiny stitchling was following her closely, and something about the small creature's presence calmed her. She wouldn't scream and make a fuss, there wasn't much point after all; no one was going to save her.

"Here you are your majesty," the large stitchling said, shoving her roughly into the room and slamming the door in her face.

It took only a second before she realised that she wasn't alone in the room. She turned around nervously, frightened about what she might see.

"No freaking way," Violet whispered as she recognised the figure in the room.