Nuvo had been imprisoned for three months. It had NOT been easy.

The meals came at midday and were worse than she imagined prison food could be. The guards would undo her chains just enough to sit her up and shovel the food into her mouth. If she spat it out, the guards would scoop what spittle they could and ram it back into her mouth again. She had to learn to chew and swallow very quickly, for the guards were always in a hurry, and would shove in bite after bite regardless of if you had finished the previous one. After the meal, they would forcefully brush her teeth. She didn't know what the point of it was, some hygiene protocol that the prison had to legally follow, perhaps, but it was dreadful.

The baths were worse. Nuvo had arrived at Impel Down on a Tuesday, and the first had come three days later, and then once weekly after that. Two guards would come down, unchain her, strip her entirely, and use a hose to spray her down. The water had enough pressure to slam her into the wall of her cell on full blast, and the guards seemed to enjoy that setting the most. It wasn't the water pressure or the nudity that bothered her; she wasn't ashamed of her appearance. She'd been called the rose of Harmelude once. What was bothersome was the cold. The water was less than warm when it came out of the hose, but after the guards were finished, her hair, skin, and the cell would be dripping wet, and then it was frigid. The baths came in the evening, so the chill of night only made matters worse.

Luckily, with her gift, Nuvo fared better than the other prisoners with these two tortures. She often gave herself a fresh fruit after prison meals. She daren't give herself more, because it would look suspicious if she didn't lose weight on the prison diet. Bath-days merited a summoning of quiet warm winds to dry her off. She wouldn't summon towels or blankets because there was no place to hide them after she was finished. Vanishing things was much harder than summoning them, and Nuvo had struggled with this part of her ability ever since she could remember. Her mother had joked that her power was like words; once they were out, they couldn't be taken back again.

Her mother would have been proud of her solution to the chain situation though. She had simply added a few extra links to the chain holding her right arm, so instead of being pinned above her head, she could lower her hand to her waist, where the master padlock was. As long as she held her arm in the above-her-head position when the guards came, she was in the clear. Conjuring up a key to unlock the padlock had been child's play, and so she could easily unchain herself to walk freely about her cell or do other exercise. She hid the key in the hole in the floor where the chamber pot was kept. It was disgusting, but how else do you go when you're chained to the floor? The guards switched the used pot for a clean one each day at mealtime, so at least you didn't have to smell it consistently, but being forced to sit in your own mess, some of which usually remained in your clothes after you did your business, until next bath-day when you were hosed down and given a somewhat clean uniform, was extremely unpleasant.

The worst thing about her plight, though, wasn't any of those unpleasantries. It was the quiet. The guards never spoke while they performed their duties and she was in solitary, so the only voice that Nuvo had heard for a quarter year was her own. The loneliness was crushing. She realized that it was the thing that made people go insane here. The lack of conversation and of human touch that didn't involve forcing food into your throat.

Singing helped though. She sang nearly all the time, often for no purpose other than to entertain herself. She didn't even use her gift very frequently; enough to keep it sharp and ready, but not enough to catch any attention. She sang songs that she knew by heart and sometimes she made up new ones. She sang about everything.

Today had been a bath-day, and after the guards had gone, Nuvo started her bath-day ritual of unchaining herself and walking about her cell, using her usual song to bring warmth through the walls and over herself. She'd written it during her teen years, and singing it to herself in a low, sultry voice had been one of her favorite things to do on a cold day in her bedroom in the castle.

"Warm winds please,

your gentle breeze,

rise through the floor

and between my knees.

Slip and slide,

over my thighs.

caress my chest,

then up to my eyes.

Next my hair,

place your warmth there,

then through the room,

let heat fill the air."

She ran through it twice and then began to feel cozy and lazy. She rechained herself on the floor and got as comfortable as she could in such a position. She was just starting to nod off when a voice sliced through her drowsiness.

"That one is my favorite."

She had never become fully awake so quickly. For a moment she thought she'd dreamt it. Then it came again.

"It's longer than so many of your others. I particularly enjoy the middle verse."

She rapidly used her secret key to unchain herself and ran to the left side of her cell, sure that the sound was coming from somewhere in that direction. Who could it be? A guard? No. For their own safety they were never on the floor outside of meal and bath duties, and a guard so close as the voice was would surely have heard her removing her chains and reported it. It had to be another prisoner. Someone else in a solitary cell of his own, close enough to her to hear her singing. And to hear it regularly.

"How long have you been there?"

There was no response, and suddenly Nuvo was terrified that perhaps there had been no real voice at all. What if her mind was beginning to slip? What if it was already gone and she just didn't know? Fear gripping her soul, she tried again.

"Please talk to me. Please. I'll give you something!"

"What?"

Relief. Such relief. The voice was real, and definitely belonging to a man.

"I'll sing a song for you!"

"You sing songs for me already. You just didn't know it until now."

His voice was smoked honey; slow and seductive, and spoken with an air of condescending authority that didn't suit an imprisoned man. But to be in this Hell, you had to have committed a profoundly wicked crime. He could be anyone, but whoever he was, he was almost certainly dangerous. Nuvo would not allow herself to forget this, but she was also desperate to keep hearing his voice. She'd never wanted anything so badly. But she wasn't about to let him know that.

"That's not true. I've sung songs to you without knowing, but I've never sang a song for you."

He chuckled, and it sent shivers down her spine, despite the warmth of her cell.

"I suppose you're right. Let's make an agreement, then. Impress me with your song, and we can talk. But-"

"Deal."

"You don't want to know what happens if I'm not impressed?"

"You will be."

He laughed again. Delicious.

"Sing for me, songbird."

Nuvo thought for a moment, then decided on what she felt she was best at summoning: food.

"Have you ever seen,

anything so keen,

as a perfectly ripe

chocolate dipped strawberry?

Once in your lips

your mind takes trips

to lovely summer nights

some place kinder than this."

In the silence that followed, she knew he was chewing. She also knew he was impressed. Nuvo was impressed herself. It had been difficult to conjure the treat precisely at the mouth of someone she couldn't see, had never seen before, and whom she wasn't sure of the exact location of, but she'd done it, and felt very proud. Her ability was still sharp, even after months in this place.

Months. He'd kept himself hidden for MONTHS.

"Well, that is an interesting parlor trick. Hardly seems threatening though. How does a girl who makes fruit appear with lyrics end up in the deepest level of Impel Down?"

He thought she could only conjure food. Good. She still had no clue who he was, and letting a complete stranger know the full extent of her ability didn't seem responsible.

"I used my parlor trick to poison five Celestial Dragons." It was a partial truth. What harm was it to let her new friend think she had simply used food to poison them? "And you?"

"I abused my power as a King."

Hmmm. He wasn't telling her whole truths either. Plenty of Kings abused their power and didn't end up here.

"What's your name?"

"Now, why would you want to know a silly thing like that?"

She laughed this time.

"What may I call you then?"

"You may call me Joker."

Joker. Why does that seem familiar?

"And you?" he asked, mimicking her tone from earlier.

"I think songbird is appropriate."

There was a pause, then he spoke again.

"It's absolutely a pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure's all mine. Shall we speak again tomorrow? Same time same place?"

He laughed again. Nuvo had a new favorite sound.

"Indeed. Goodnight, songbird."

"Goodnight, Joker."

Nuvo fell asleep shortly after that, Joker's voice still singing 'goodnight' in her head. For the first time since she'd been imprisoned, she didn't feel completely alone. Our Joker would never have admitted it, but upon hearing her speak directly to him for the first time, he felt a little less lonely himself.

…

Over the next several months, a strange friendship was born. Strange because they'd never once seen each other and, were it not for the unfortunate circumstances, they would never have met at all. But prison creates strong bonds, and the two spoke daily; beginning in the afternoon and ending deep in the evening. They didn't dare speak before mealtime, lest they be heard and separated, and Nuvo felt that her mornings crept by agonizingly slow.

But eventually the guards would go and the conversation would begin. Neither of them was fond of mundane small talk. Sometimes they would muse together over life's difficult philosophical questions. Other times they would swap lighthearted stories from their lives before Impel Down. They both came from royalty, so politics and current affairs were also hot topics. Through means that she could not begin to understand, Joker had connections, even here. He always knew what was going on outside the prison walls, and kept her up to date.

The fact that he was able to do this made Nuvo realize that before imprisonment, he must have been a person of substantial social significance. It was one of the few clues he had given her about who he really was. Despite all their talking, Joker largely remained a mystery to her. There were topics of conversation that were implied by one or both of them to be too sensitive to discuss, and personal information about their pasts, their crimes, and even their real names fell into this category. But for every secret that Joker kept, Songbird kept one of her own.

She still refused to show him the full extent of her ability. This frequently caused her guilt, because she was able to move freely about her cell while he was likely bound to the floor, but to make up for it she often sang for him, and sent yummy foods to his mouth at least once a day. One of his favorite pastimes was to challenge her with requests for complicated foods for her to conjure; things with rare ingredients or a tedious cooking process. He sometimes made it very difficult, but Nuvo always bested him, not that he was ever once upset to lose. She'd sent him a small blueberry tart today.

"Delectable. I don't know how I ever managed without your company."

More guilt accompanied his compliment. Nuvo knew it wouldn't be much longer before she made an escape. She had lost count of how many days she'd spent in Impel Down after the first few months, but she knew it must be close to a year. Plenty of time for her name and face to be out of the newspapers. Surely, she was practically forgotten by now. Out of sight, out of mind. She was more than thrilled by the prospect of leaving, of seeing the world outside this room, even if it meant living as a fugitive for the rest of her life. But the idea of leaving Joker behind made her feel sick. She had considered taking him with her, but that would be incredibly risky. Two high security prisoners on the loose would merit a more serious manhunt than only one, and he may be a higher profile criminal than herself. He didn't sound old, but he did sound older than her, and Nuvo had no idea how long he'd been here or what that time may have done to his physical condition. Was he even capable of escaping with her if he wanted too? He may not even want to take the risk of going with her; being caught could mean execution.

There was also a part of Nuvo that didn't allow herself to fully trust Joker, no matter how badly she wished she could. After all, he did something very wrong to end up here. But after being betrayed by Scabor and abused by the Celestial Dragons, she had done something very wrong too, and that was a part of her history that perhaps he alone could understand, if she told him. But she didn't think she'd be able to fully trust anyone ever again. Even him.

"I'm glad you enjoy my gifts. It's the least I can do, really."

"I wish I could give you something worthwhile in return."

"Dear Joker, your company and conversation are more than worthwhile to me."

"If you say so." He drawled. "What shall we discuss today?"

"Don't ask me, it's your turn to choose the first topic."

He thought for a moment.

"What sort of things did you wear before?"

Nuvo was surprised at the personalness of the question, but it didn't faze her for long.

"Nothing. Not a stitch. I came from a kingdom of nudity and hedonism." She deadpanned. He gave a boisterous laugh, and she laughed with him. "But really, I wore simple gowns mostly. Velvets in winter, silks in summer. Dark colors. Green was my favorite. And you?"

"I also enjoyed silks and velvet, but I found myself more drawn to neon colors. I liked standing out. I have a passion for sunglasses. And there was always my pink feather coat, of course."

"I'm sorry, your what?"

"My pink feather coat. Long sleeved and flowing down to my calves. It was glorious. I think I miss it the most."

"I'm sorry, do you mean to tell me that you are a fallen king, imprisoned in the worst level of Impel Down, chained to the floor because you were considered so terrible, but in your previous day to day life you pranced around in a full length, feathered, pink coat?"

"Yep."

"Well, I'm sure you were a very intimidating ostrich man."

"A damn good-looking ostrich man, I'll have you know."

Nuvo was about to retort when the unmistakable sound of the guard's footsteps sounded down the hall. Her pulse quickened. Why were they here? It wasn't bath-day and mealtime had been hours ago. Had they heard them? Nuvo flung herself back on the ground and had just managed to hide her key when three guards walked into her cell. One leaned down and used his own key to unlock her padlock.

"What's going on? Is it bath-day?" she asked, knowing full well that it wasn't.

"You're coming with us." said the unlocker.

"What? Where am I going?"

No response. That couldn't be good. This was the Infinite Hell. The only people who left this place were death row prisoners who were bound for their execution ceremonies. But that didn't make any sense. Nuvo wasn't scheduled to be executed. She tried to think of some other answer, fighting with the panic overwhelming her senses as the guard removed her chains. She had once heard a rumor that there was a medical facility at Impel Down. A cold fear slithered from her heart, pumping through her veins until she felt dizzy. Was she going to be experimented on?

That must be it. Someone had heard her singing and knew that she had lied about having a gift, and now they were going to study her. They were going to slit her throat to see her vocal cords. Amputate and dissect her tongue. Look at bloody cells from her palate under a microscope to see if they could determine the cause of her ability.

As the guard finished releasing her and began to stand her up, she began to twist her body in an attempt to wriggle away. "NO!" she screamed. "I DON'T WANT TO GO! LEAVE ME HERE! LEAVE ME ALOOOONE!" But his grip was tight, and the other guards were coming to help him. I have no choice, she thought. I must make my escape right now. There's no alternative. I'm sorry, dear Joker, that I couldn't say goodbye.

She took in a breath and opened her mouth, but before she was able to cry out a single syllable, incredible pain exploded from the back of her head. By the time she realized that she'd been hit, the guard's armored fist was coming down again, cracking against the same spot as before, and Nuvo felt her consciousness start to slip. The room blurred. Imaginary pink feathers danced in front of her eyes as the fist came down once more, and then there was only black.

…

When she awoke, there was still only blackness before her eyes. Someone had blindfolded her. Her ears were still ringing from the blows to her head, but she could make out a sound that reminded her of the roar of the ocean. No, she realized, not the ocean…people. Lots and lots of them. Shouting people. An arena?' Her arms were tied together above her head and secured to something holding her up. She could still smell the ammonia and lavender from the smelling salts that had been used to rouse her. She was still trying to get her bearings when a voice came over a loudspeaker, quieting the crowd.

"Everyone, please calm yourselves. Now I know everyone is excited to get on with today's event, but first we must take a somber moment to remember why we are here. A year ago, today, the woman you see before you committed one of the most dastardly, no, THE dastardliest crime in the history of the known world. I know you all remember…"

The audience, of whom there must have been hundreds, booed from every direction.

"Yes, that's right! Princess Nuvovniya of the kingdom of Harmelude is considered to be responsible for the murder of five of our esteemed brothers in supremacy! No one has dared to commit a more insufferable crime in our lifetime, and we are here today to ensure that no one ever will! A permanent imprisonment is not punishment enough! So, on this anniversary of the loss of our brothers, one lash of the whip will be bestowed on this criminal for each of the lives she has destroyed! What do you think of that, praised citizens of Mariejois?!"

Cheers. A cacophony of demonic cheers.

Someone from the side removed Nuvo's blindfold, and she was temporarily dazed by the light reflected from all the white clothing surrounding the post she was tied to. It was a small coliseum, and there were Celestial Dragons everywhere, whole families of them, and the sight of children younger than five pointing at her and cheering like their parents made her nauseous. The sound of footsteps approaching from behind, and a crack of a whip, made her even sicker.

I only killed five. That's five lashes. It'll be quick.

As the whipper continued to practice, two large screens were lowered over an area of the coliseum where no people were sitting. Projector den-den mushi showed an image that she recognized. It was the slimy politician one, the one who'd shot her parents in Harmelude.

"Let the first lash be for Saint Marlettow!"

The whip slid through the skin on her back like a sword through butter. The burn was excruciating. She felt blood trickle over her buttocks and then down the back of her right leg, seeping into her striped prisoner's pants. Through tear-blurred eyes, Nuvo saw another image appear on the screens. Another Dragon.

"Let the second lash be for Saint Relairmond!"

Again, the whip came. Nuvo could no longer stand, and was kept upright only by her bound wrists. The ropes rubbed painfully against her skin. Another image.

"Let the third lash be for Saint Weatherford!"

Again. She refused to scream or cry out, lest she accidentally summon something.

"Let the fourth lash be for Saint Rupel!

Again.

"Let the fifth lash be for Saint Carmilan!

Her shirt was in tatters. She could barely see. Flashes erupted before her eyes. Cameras… she realized slowly. Reporters… That truth stung more than any of the lashes had. Of course there would be reporters here. Of course this would be a major scoop. Of course she would be on the front page of every newspaper in the world all over again. All her careful planning, all the waiting, all the disgusting meals and freezing baths and heavy chains and soul crushing isolation in Hell; it had all been for nothing.

"Now there is a line of blood on her back for every brother whose blood is on her hands! But this is not the equivalent of every life she is responsible for having destroyed! She will now receive a lash for every spouse whom she made a widow!"

Five more…

"And one for every child she has orphaned!"

I don't know…how many…

After another three lashes, Nuvo mercifully passed out.