A/N: God knows when this is gonna be finished… but I started it on Sunday. I mean.,…. Monday. Heh heh heh. Today…. Was interesting. I have no real reasons for torturing people, but hey, it's fun, so… ah yes, and there will be bourbon. Because I really like saying bourbon. Yes, it's all good. Hehehehe.
Audrey A- yup! ^^ that's exactly what he says. (bithc, just like that) *takes sip of hershey's chocolate drink* you get a cookie! And thank you so much, I feel speshul! *skips away to read your stuff* *comes back to finish posting*
Kit- yay! thank you! we love compliments *smiles annoyingly* we we we us us us! Ahahahaha
White Striped Skittle- hope you had fun at DQ ^___^ actually, I get something like 6 hours of hw a night, so… anywho, otaku can be bad when you're writing fanfics in history class (like the last half of this) or when you find quotes about the twins in completely unrelated places (like in the amber spyglass) or when you and your friend are glared at for being "cross dressers" whilst costume-shopping in the mall or when … But there's not really much to the punishment… it's just, there…

PS: minor edits, not necessary to reread.

Pandora the Brave:
Chapter 7 (wow…)

Pandora sat on a small wooden chair that was so uncomfortable it had to have been purposefully made that way. Pacing only feet in front of her was the Merovingian, pissed off, as usual. He was shouting at her in French, a language she only barely understood, but it sounded like cursing or damning or something of the sort. Every time that the man turned towards her, spittle flew at her, causing her to flinch almost unnoticeably. Pandora decided that she really hated French.

"Inexcusable! Impardonnable! Atroce! Espèce de vache! Je te déteste! Peux-tu pourrir dans enfer! Damnes-tu!" he was screaming. Pandora barely understood him, but that was probably because some French sounds almost like English. Eventually, he began to ask her questions, and she was forced to tell the whole story…
~@~
The Twins sat in chairs, each holding a small glass of bourbon and plotting against Pandora; they had both completely forgotten that she was being questioned by the Merovingian. Persephone sat close to them, biting her lip and looking worriedly over to the door at the end of the bookcase. She, too, held a glass of liquor, and she sipped at her brandy as she chewed on her perfect bottom lip, worried to pieces about the fate of her young daughter. Occasionally, she overheard one of the Twins mutter about a random weapon or way of causing death. At any other time, it would have been funny to her, but right now, her daughter was in real danger.
~@~

"Again, WHY were you snooping around in the first place?" he demanded for the seventh time.

Pandora retorted defensively, "I told you already! I just was!"

The Merovingian whipped a small silver dagger out of nowhere and was quite suddenly standing with it in Pandora's shocked face. "You see zhis?" he cried. "You 'zee zhis! Ahy may have bodyguards, but zhat does not mean that I cannot kill you wisth zis very knife!" He brandished it directly in front of her eyes, nearly blinding her as he waved it recklessly close to her corneas. "Ahy want zhe' trusce or you shahll find zhis thorugh your 'eart!"

"You wouldn't!" Pandora challenged in a high voice, the voice of a child.

The Merovingian's eyes flashed dangerously, and quietly he said, "Oh really?"

Pandora saw a flash a silver before she scrunched her eyes shut, and she felt searing pain race across her left cheek. Her hand flew to her face as she yelped. The Merovingian held the knife to her throat before she could react, and she felt the warmth of her own blood on her hand as she whimpered helplessly.
~@~
Persephone's neck nearly snapped as her head flew up at the sound of Pandora's cry. A terrible fear clutched her heart, it's grasp digging deep into her emotions, causing tears to choke up in her throat. She knew that something horrible had happened. She just knew it.
~@~
Let's throttle her. That way we can watch her eyes glaze over… Her small body struggling for air…
Ugh, that's horrible. We didn't know we were that sadistic.
Are we still defending her? We do realize that we are probably as good as fired now? All because of that brat.
No… He wouldn't dare fire us. We're too valuable.
Oh. Sure. Especially after being outdone by a six-year-old!
It was a fluke. How often does that happen? It was just luck.
That's hard to prove.
It happens to the best of us. Take Disney for example-
Disney. Does. Not. Count.
Fine.
We could always tie her to a tree.
What?!
We didn't let us finish. We could use her for target practice. It'd scare the shit out of her and she'd still die.
We like the strangling better..
What was that we had suggested earlier? Boiling oil?
Tar and feathering.
Hahaha… that's painful.
Pins under the fingernails.
Now who's sadistic?
Yeah, yeah—

Pandora's muffled yelp interrupted them, and they both looked up, their murderous plans forgotten in the realization of how much danger Pandora really was in. Two nearly flew out of his chair, switchblade in hand, but One stopped him.

She has to be fine. He wouldn't kill her in there. If we stand up, we'll be a traitor.
But—
No. We can't!
~@~
"I know what you said to him. I know what you heard. I know why you've done it. Now tell me: what do you know about the box?" he commanded quietly. "And think very . carefully before you answer me. Hm?" he said as he pushed the blade painfully against her small neck.

"Ite. I don't know. What box?" Pandora asked, the knife pressing against her windpipe.

"You know damn well what I mean, gerl."

"I don't, I swear!"

He moved the knife sideways slightly, creating a thin red line across her throat.

She whimpered softly, "Ite… I don't know. I swear. The only box I know of was destroyed!"

"Was it zhe box? Zhe box from zhe legends?"

"What legends?" Pandora demanded. "How many legends are there including boxes!"

"Enough to convince me zhat zhe box existed!" the Merovingian retorted.

"Which box!"

"So you know about more than one?"

"I didn't say that!"

"Oh.. but you did."

"I did not!"

"Fine. You are of no uhse to me," he said, stepping back and releasing her from his knife. He turned, and sheathed his blade by the sound of it. The Merovingian then led Pandora from the room and out into the open space of the library.
~@~
As little Pandora stepped into the room, the Twins glanced up in unison, Two struggling to keep his composure and nearly losing it when he saw Pandora's face.

The bastard slashed her face.
Stay calm. We can take care of it later.

Persephone felt three thousand times better at the sight of her daughter, but she hesitated  and did not go to her.
Pandora stood alone in the middle of the room, directly in front of the Merovingian's desk, where he sat haughtily in his great leather chair like an emperor on his throne room. She wished that someone would come stand close to her and offer her small comfort, but no-one came. The Merovingian laughed and ridiculed her in French, occasionally demanding something from her, but all she could do was sniffle and stand in silence and solitude. After several minutes, he began to speak in English, and he said, "It iz my understanding zhat Pandora did not fully realize what she wazz doing."

"Not so! I was saving that guy!"

"And in herr moment of 'eroizm, she did not think about what consehquencez she would incur for her ahctions. Therefore, Pandora vill be grounded."

The Twins looked at each other nervously, each knowing with full certainty who would be left to guard her; Persephone released an audible sigh of relief.

"Grounded in zhe dungeons for zhree weeks and wizth only bread and water for two. In addition, Ahy vill personally phone zhe man in question with all here to bear witness to it."
~@~

Pandora sat up slowly, trying to ease the crick in her back. Three days… she thought to herself. Only three more days of this torture. A vampire she had never met before stood guard at the door. Sleeping on a metal bed had certainly not done Pandora any good, and she found herself barely rested and the victim of a severe and constant pain in her lower back. After pacing uselessly for an hour, stretching in a futile attempt to relieve her back, and finishing off her meager breakfast, Pandora lay back down on the steel table that was her bunk. She stared blankly into the ceiling in the same manner as she watched the tv. (Pandora had never really watched a tv show; she had only allowed the flashing pictures to carry her away to her own thoughts.) Vicious and malicious ideas plowed through her mind, filling her with anger and regret, but mostly hate.

Pandora felt that she had been betrayed by those she loved most: her family. Her beloved Twins had not fought for her, her own mother had not cared for her wound. Pandora had been left alone in a dungeon for three weeks, without so much as a consoling word from those she had considered closest to her heart. They had abandoned her before the Merovingian.

She thought back to nearly three weeks before, when the Merovingian had called Loki to "apologize." He had forced Pandora to stand there, with yet another knife in her face; if she had so much as made a sound, the vampire holding it would have slit her throat.
~@~

The key turned loudly in the lock with a high-pitched scream of metal on metal as the bolt slid back into the door; the handle turned even more stubbornly, making an equally horrible noise. But neither sound could compare to the truly ear shattering shriek as the door opened. It didn't bother Pandora very much, but she knew that it would have hurt other people's ears.

"You're free to go," the vampire grunted.

She stepped out of the little room, her white gloved hands sitting gracefully on her white, wire framed skirt. She was dressed in an early Victorian style, simply because she felt like being dainty. The vampire did not hold the door open, nor did he attempt to show the little girl any form of respect. Pandora growled at him, a seemingly childish thing to do, but when one has had nothing to do for three straight weeks, one will find methods of entertainment. It was obviously a good one, for it seemed to frighten the vampire just enough to make him move back an extra step and treat the girl with a fraction of gentlemanliness. He was also surprised at her clothes. She had been wearing black three weeks ago…

~MnI~
And here, dear readers, the story ends…

Gotcha. I'm not that mean. Life in the Chateaux is about to return to normal—well, as normal as it can get with a six-year-old tyrant. Especially one who's about to turn nine… (oh. foreshadowing. oh.)