Author's note: The following story depicts a sexual assault, although it focuses on the emotions of the victim and not the act itself. It isn't mandatory to read this in order to understand a continuity for "Bad Blood".

Once upon a time, there was a young and beautiful damsel in the city of London. Her beauty wasn’t hid by the simple clothes she always liked to wear that covered her body, nor by the eyepatch on her left eye. What also gave her that aura of elegance was her own confidence, born by the love of her own body and acceptance of her flaws, something that most people unknowingly run away from, but still attracts them. One night, her friends convinced her to go to party, even though she didn’t liked it much, and went to a popular night club. The place was filled with human bodies crashing against each other, with little room left for movement, dancing to obnoxiously loud music, composed only by four sounds repeating themselves over and over. The Damsel couldn’t take it more and left through the first exit she found to get some fresh air, ending in an empty alley. She leaned against the wall and took deep breaths until she could finally calm. After a few minutes alone, a tall and handsome man appeared through the same door she had crossed before and looked her in the eyes.

- Hello there. I thought I would be alone here.

The man dressed in expensive clothes, with rings and a hair full of grease to match. The Damsel saluted back and returned to her thoughts, yet the man, who by some reason was familiar, insisted in starting a conversation, with the woman eventually giving in, asking who he was, to which he responded with a bow.

- I’m just your humble Prince, beautiful damsel.

Now she remembered the reason he was so familiar. According to the news he was a prince from another country that was visiting the city, with a rather bad fame, consisting in seducing women and partying, abusing his privileges like other people with blue blood. The conversation lasted a bit longer, until the young lady didn’t stand more his presence, completely uncomfortable with the individual being close to her and slowly approaching more, and attempted to enter back with her friends the most polite way she could, only to be grabbed by the arm.

- I’m sorry, did I told you that you could leave?

- What?

- You’re deaf?

The expression on the Prince’s face changed into a grimace of anger, showing his teeth to the damsel, who fought against his grasp and freed her arm, distancing herself from the man and pointing him with her finger.

- Stay away from me, you creep!

The son of royalty walked towards her and slapped her in the face so strong that she fell to the ground.

- I’m a Prince, and you’ll do as I say.

The brave young woman looked at him and spat at his face.

- Go fuck yourself.

The man hit her again and proceeded to take his pants off and immobilize the woman, who after seeing his intentions fought with all her strength, just to be hit at again.

- I’ll show you manners.

One of his hands wrapped her neck before he removed her clothes and commenced to force himself into her. The damsel felt a profound pain when the act began, but the physical damage wasn’t the worse about it, it was the emotional hell she was living. She felt as if she had lost the property of her own body and the right to choose, breaking something that she felt should be sacred, and turning something that could bring joy into an abomination, not even her preferences were respected. Every second felt like an eternity, and when it finally was over, her body was shaking and she felt disgust, sadness, emptiness and that something was lost, but then that bastard smiled, and when she saw it all that disappeared and was replaced by a deep anger and a desire for vengeance. That bastard had just killed a part of her, and she was going to make him pay, not matter how much it would cost.

The next day, a pair of men in black suits carrying briefcases came to her house. They where lawyers of the Prince’s Royal Family, that came to hide the young member’s “activities”, offering an amount of money that most people wouldn’t refuse in exchange of her silence. They offered her a pen and left the papers on the living room’s table. The Damsel stared at the papers for a long time and proceeded to sign them. She wasn’t going to reject her desires of vengeance, but she needed to use that money to achieve them. And so she began investigating about the Prince, learning from his active social media, the news in which he appeared, newspapers and even online debates, knowing his routine and the weaknesses that she could exploit. She took acting classes, created a fake identity and developed a disguise that made her look a different person, with lens to hide her natural eye colour, an expensive wig that looked like natural hair, a crystal eye, new clothes solely for that purpose and make up to change her skin’s tone and lips. After months of stalking the subject of her hate, the opportunity finally arose. He had posted that he would go to an expensive ski resort, so the Damsel prepared herself to follow him. She bought the tickets for the travel, made her baggage and parted with her disguise on.

Although it was a popular season, the expensive hotel wasn’t crowded, and thus one could walk without finding someone through the wooden halls, and even discover some quiet spaces to relax. The first two days the Damsel avoided the Prince has much as she could, setting her plan into motion and getting his attention from away, while on the third day she got close to the prey, skiing near him, sitting on a near table and, finally, assuring that they would have to use the same ride on the chairlift, bribing an employee so that it would stop for a few minutes, bringing the Prince to start a conversation. When the moment came, she played her carefully constructed character, interesting and seducer, yet unable to been perceived as a menace, something accentuated just by being a woman. Every word that came from her mouth was previously chosen against most outcomes, and her improvisation skills could easily take care of anything that wasn’t predicted. The time they spent talking was a real test of endurance for the woman, who had to resist the need to strangle him right there, but what she had prepared since the last time they saw each other was far worse than that, and it came closer to reality when he asked her out for dinner.

When the night came, she wore a long red dress that showed her breasts, not scandalously, just enough to excite the male. She ate without appetite, standing the Prince’s glare to the previously mentioned part of her body, engaging in the conversation, and daydreaming of her imminent vengeance. When they had finished the dessert, a prohibitable expensive fondue, she proposed him to go to her room. As she expected, the Prince didn’t refuse, and even told his bodyguard that he could take the night off when they got out.

Once they got upstairs and the door closed, they began to kiss, with passion from him and the desire to bite his tongue and puke from her. She then laid him on the bed and handcuffed him to the bed with a pair of pink and soft, but still, handcuffs and put a gag made of leather and a red ball on his mouth. She then went to the bathroom while the disgusting creature had an erection covered by his red underwear. Inside, she took off the fake eye and the wig, with no need to fake more now that she had the bastard where she wanted. Before exiting she could handle it longer and leaned towards the toilet and puke, expulsing everything that was inside her stomach.

Once she opened the door she was no longer in character, and the Prince noticed that something wasn’t right.

- Do you remember me, you piece of shit? I’m sure you don’t.

The man began to fight against the handcuffs with no use while the Damsel took a video camera that patiently waited on a desk and a poker from the fireplace after it was red. She was going to get revenge for herself and all the others he had done the same.

- You’re going to admit that you’re a goddamn rapist in camera, and if you try to tell something else I’ll put the gag back and melt your balls with the poker.

The Prince had little choice, yet he couldn’t avoid refusing to do the confession, so the Damsel burned one of his legs, with the screams muffled by the gag. The woman repeated the sentence, and this time the man nodded his head.

- I want to confess that I’m a…a… I’m a rapist. I’ve… I’ve raped women, many women, and I’ve used my position to get away with it, sending my family’s lawyers to make them shut up. I’m… I’m a disgusting piece of worthless shit.

Just after finishing his confession, alongside the self-degradation the Damsel had forced him to say, the Prince asked her if he could go now, and she put the gag on again and took his weapon from him, preventing that he could carry on with his activities again. While the man screamed she felt a sense of fulfilment. After finishing with him, she put her disguise on again, took her things with her, making sure that she didn’t leave anything important behind, and left the hotel.

Once she had connection to the internet she uploaded the video and sent the link to every major news network and some minor ones. During the following weeks, the confession had turned viral, appearing in every news broadcast, and many women confessed the Prince’s abuse. The Royal Family was the subject of heavy criticism, and eventually they cut every tie with the Prince, throwing him to the angry masses and hungry reporters, fulfilling The Damsel’s revenge.

“This is justice”.