"Tis a bitter thing to stand in awe of coming doom," quoth Dunyazad to Scheherazade the evening next. "Oh, dear my sister," quoth Scheherazade, "my tales are tokens of life prolonged," and she began her next tale..."
The tinny melody of the harp was one of the most beautiful things Danya had ever heard. The delicate strings were more difficult to handle with her cyborg hand, but it was well worth it. Each note clung to another in a careful harmony, and as Danya played, she felt as if she could be lifted up and taken away on the evening air.
It was fleeting, that sense of joy and peace. It never lasted long. There was always something that caught her attention; a soft, tugging reminder that she might never be able to play again, or a sinking dread as she wondered if she'd live through another day.
But their plan had been working. It had been three years, and Shahira thought that, perhaps, King Jay's heart had been softening, thanks to her way with words. Danya seriously doubted this to be true, since she'd determined the king's heart to be empty of empathy or love - but she had to admit, he had seemed kinder of late, if only a little.
She sighed. That was a thought borne on flimsy hope and assumption. Danya had only to remember that he'd been responsible for the deaths of countless young women, and the wistful illusion would flit away.
She stood from her spot by the window and turned to the door, barely ajar. It was approaching that hour once more - the time for the nightly tale. Danya always spoke with Shahira for a moment before she was called to the king's side.
Entering the vacant hallway, Danya adjusted her gloves to ensure that her metal parts were safely concealed. Though it was painful to be reminded of her eccentricities, the worst kind of pain was the memory of how they'd came to be. She blinked away the image of that fateful night and the searing pain as the gate slammed closed and severed her hand. It wouldn't do to dwell on past mistakes.
She walked the stretch between her own room and her sister's, meaning to ask how her day had gone. She didn't expect a very interesting answer - nothing had changed for a long time. The thing she wanted most was her sister's company. The only thing keeping her here.
That, and the king's looming shadow.
"...far too long."
Danya froze. She was passing the king's office, nearing Shahira's room. It appeared - or rather, sounded - occupied.
An instinctual shiver of fear ran through her body, warnings of rising adrenaline and hormones flashing across her retinas. She wasn't supposed to be here. If she was caught listening, she'd be dead in an instant. And yet, she made no move to continue on her path. Curiosity outweighed caution.
"What did you have in mind?" This voice was unfamiliar to Danya, though a hint of recognition nagged at her.
"She's been bewitching me with her stories." This voice was the king's. "It's time for it to end."
Danya's muscles turned icy, her whole body seizing up. She knew all sorts of pain would befall her if she stayed by the door, but she needed to know the specifics of his plan. If he was implying what she suspected he was... that would mean a lot of unpleasant things for Shahira. For both of them.
"The wisest thing would be to marry her sister. She's come of age. She'll be the first of many," Jay said.
Marry her. He was planning to marry Danya. To kill her that very night, like he had done to dozens of girls before her. But first, he was going to kill Shahira. Both sisters in efficient succession, used as examples, as stepping stones for an age of murder.
Danya found her drive, running down the hall and flinging open Shahira's door. She closed it once more, securing her safety - for now - and letting her heart still and her eyes settle on Shahira. Danya had always marveled at her ever-present beauty. She looked radiant and graceful as she sat and stared at the window. Much the same as Danya had been a few minutes ago; peaceful and composed. Danya often wondered how she kept it together under so much stress.
"Hi, Danny!" said Shahira, smiling. "Come sit."
Danya shook her head. "I just heard King Jay talking."
Shahira's deep brown eyes widened. "And?"
"He's planning to kill you and marry me. He's starting his cycle again." The words came quick and sharp. Danya had been trying to conceal her hatred for the king for years now, but she never bothered in her sister's presence. She knew she was safe when it was just the two of them.
Shahira shook her head, unbelieving. "I thought... I thought it was working," she said.
"Me too," said Danya, her panic mounting once more. "What do we do?"
What could they? Running away was out of the question. It wouldn't stop his plan, and they hadn't the resources to pull it off. There was no reasoning with him either; his resolve was immovable. All Danya knew was that they needed to do something. She would not succumb to this murderous man; she could not.
Shahira pinched her lips together. "I'll try my best tonight. I don't think he'll give me a chance to speak before he kills me, though."
Danya felt as if the walls were closing in. All her fears, spilling down on top of her like sheets of thick water. It wouldn't be long before she would drown in it all.
If only this Selection hadn't happened. Would that the king had thought of another way to find a bride; or better still, would that President Vargas had not been taken from his seat of power. Then the country would still be a republic, and Danya could live happily and freely with her sister, and...
The Selection. Danya had heard news of Prince Obsidian holding one of his own. The form had been sent through a comm that very morning, and she imagined millions of girls had received it as well.
If she entered and was chosen, the king couldn't do anything to stop her. She'd be off to Luna. She'd be away from the suffocating palace and the impending threats and the ghosts of the past...
But then, she'd be leaving her sister. Her other half. Shahira would be alone with the king, forced to hold him back, to make him see reason, and with only a pretty face and a well-chosen tale.
Her sister was witty and gifted, but what if she couldn't? What if she died, and Danya's escape would be all in vain, because she hadn't stopped anything at all? If Shahira was killed, King Jay would find someone else to marry, and his cruel reign would continue as if the sisters had never existed.
Danya would still be at the Lunar palace, living in comfort as maidens died for nothing. Nothing but a king's bitterness over his misfortune. Over love, of all silly things.
Danya pushed the offending worries away. This was a golden chance. She wouldn't pass it by, especially when her own death lingered so close. If she made it in, she'd be able to live for at least another week.
That was worth the sacrifice. Wasn't it?
"Danya, whatever you're thinking-"
"The Selection. I could enter. If I made it in and became queen, I might be able to save you."
Shahira sucked in a contemplative breath. "You'd go to Luna. And you'd be free. Oh, Danny, you must!"
Danya eyed her sister. "But I'd be leaving you."
Shahira shook her head, fierce as a tiger. "If I denied you this chance, I'd be worse than the king. Fill out a form; it doesn't hurt."
Danya clutched her sister's hand. "Be careful. I know you can do it, your stories are so powerful, but... for all the stars, don't do anything stupid."
Shahira laughed, a frail, halfhearted sound. "When have I ever done something stupid?"
"Oh, let's see..." said Danya. "You made an outrageous plan to come to the palace and change the king's heart-"
"And I'm still alive."
"You somehow convinced me into it-"
"Your fault, not mine."
"And now... now we're probably going to die, and all because of a stupid girl who cheated on him."
Shahira squeezed her hand. "Entering the Selection is a good choice. I'll be fine."
Danya took a breath. It was hard to keep her bravery intact, hard to believe her sister. But she did. Shahira had sustained the king for all this time; she could do it for longer. Right?
"If I fail, you have to take care of the boys," said Shahira, looking deep into her sister's eyes. Those dark, alluring, endless eyes were so extraordinary, so intriguing, and Danya found herself trapped in them as she held onto her sister. They were at odds with the world, two lone islands in a roiling sea. They needed to stay together, if only in spirit.
"I will," said Danya, squeezing her sister's hand back. "Of course I will."
"I suppose we should thank the king," said Shahira, a faint sparkle of mirth in her eyes. "Without him, you wouldn't have this chance."
Danya's eyes narrowed. "I wouldn't thank him if my life depended on it."
...
Snezhana Mitrofanovna Sokolova was told many things about her name. From her babushka, she knew it was a 'good, strong, Russian name' meaning 'snowy,' 'appear or shine,' and 'small bird of prey.' Her best friend Lyudmila always said her name sounded like a sneeze; hence the nickname Sneezy. Other people laughed at her name and commented that it matched perfectly with her odd personality.
Zhana didn't really mind what people thought of her name. Yes; it had Russian origins. Yes; it sounded like a sneeze. And triple yes; it matched her personality ⠝⠊⠉⠑⠇⠽⠲
She knew people thought she was odd. She was aware of their perception of her; a superstitious, morbid old lady in the skin of a seventeen-year-old who stayed in a cabin and liked to read palms for fun. And she didn't mind in the slightest. It was just the way she was. She liked to read palms; who cared if it was an unusual career choice?
Her portscreen chimed, reminding her that it was time to go to the nursing home. Zhana smiled, standing and walking to the window. Her cabin was in a secluded little area of the forest, surrounded by trees and birds and the open air. She wouldn't move for the world, especially since everything she knew and loved was around her. Chickens and comfort and an open sky... what more could she want?
Zhana checked to ensure her glamour was in place - she only used it to hide her tattoos, since she liked to appear innocent - and flung open the door.
Zhana adored working at the nursing home. Her babushka had been moved there two years ago, and Zhana loved to spend time with her wise, quirky guardian. Not only that, but she liked hearing gossip from the old ladies, and they were the only people she really fit in with.
Zhana made her way through the trees, simultaneously calling up a hover. She'd have to walk the short distance out of the thick woods and into civilization, since there were no magnetic roads in the forest - unfortunately. She didn't mind that she had to walk. She liked being among the woodland things; silent and welcoming and vibrant all at once. She only wished she didn't have to undergo the laborious task of making her way through the crowd.
Slicing through particularly aggressive underbrush had become a rudimentary task for Zhana, and it only took a few moments before she was among society again. Hawkers vied for notice, mothers struggled to wrangle their children, and androids pushed through the crowd on some errand or another. The drums and guitars of street performers added to the cacophony, and the smell of hot breads and meat from food trucks dizzied her. Zhana became one with the insistent throng, wondering if it might be better to just walk instead of trying to find a spot where the hover's sensors could discern her. She despised crowds of this proportion, but she knew it'd be worth it once she was in the company of her favorite people.
She found a spot by a seamstress's booth, leaning against the fabric-strewn counter. The young woman glanced up at her, looking more than a little hopeful, but Zhana shook her head.
"Just waiting for a hover. I like that bolt though." She pointed at a roll of scarlet cloth, criss-crossed with deep blue. "Those stripes remind me of veins."
The seller raised her eyebrows, obviously apprehensive. Zhana caught sight of the hover approaching and waved - both to alert the computerized vehicle of her presence and to bid the seamstress goodbye. She swiped her wrist, allowing the hover to scan her ID, and climbed up into the lush interior, listening to the telltale hum of the magbelt engine.
"What is your destination?" a pleasant voice inquired.
"St. Petersburg Nursing Home," said Zhana.
The hover lifted, spurred by magnetic levitation, and went gliding forward. Zhana watched as buildings blurred by, passing close and fading from view quicker than she could take them in. The rush of busy movement slowed to a pulse, and before she knew it, the hover was touching down in front of the building. Zhana scanned her wrist once more, paying the standard fee of univs before exiting.
The nursing home was a cheery building with potted flowers in the windows and warmth spilling out through the open doors. Zhana smiled as she walked inside and fully immersed herself in the welcoming entryway. The smell of candles and clean floors greeted her, right along with the young lady at the desk who gave her a cheery smile. Zhana checked in using her ID chip and entered the main area. Her grandmother was nowhere to be seen, but other familiar faces dotted the cozy room.
Netscreens dominated the walls, being fought over by old men and women, sporadically switching channels as they responded to countless voice commands. Others were reading or knitting in corners, chatting leisurely on sofas, accepting massages from med-droids or dealing cards. Zhana made her way to a corner of the room where a thick cluster of senior citizens were chatting away and settled herself beside them. She thrived off the news she heard here, and she was eager to see what they had to say today.
"How has everyone's day been?" asked Zhana, getting comfortable among the sofa pillows.
"Good," said Adelaida. "Did you hear about the Selection?"
Zhana tilted her head. "No. What kind of Selection?"
"For the Lunar prince, I heard. Gianna changed the channel, so I didn't get to see the whole announcement." Aleander shot a meaningful glance across the room, where the netscreens were still flipping madly through various scenes. Snippets of reality shows and theorists and star-crossed lovers flashed by, and Zhana had to laugh.
But something he had said earlier stole her attention away from the screens.
"The Lunar prince?" she asked. "And what is he Selecting from?"
"They're letting Earthens come to Luna, and the person who wins will be the queen. I've heard that only thirty-five girls come to the palace. The prince gets to pick his bride among them." He shook his head. "Don't know why he can't just marry some Lunar noble."
Zhana's eyebrows shot up. The prospect was interesting, although she didn't know why he would want to pick a wife from some random girls. Shouldn't he get more of a choice than that?
If she were the prince, she'd ask to marry her best friend or her next door neighbor or Miss Artemisia (was that a thing?) Anything but some sick lottery where she was forced to chose from such a limited pool. There were crazy hermits out there, after all.
Her grandmother had told her countless stories of the protective biodomes and the lavish parties and the sparkling capitol that never slept. How the Earth filled the sky instead of the moon, and how the stars glimmered brightest of all. She'd always wanted to see the homeland of those who shared her gift. She'd never really had a friend besides Lyuda - everyone else thought she was strange. What were her kind like?
She smiled, standing up. "Let me know if you need anything. Have fun," she called before hurrying out of the bustling living room and into a side hallway.
Babushka's room was just around the corner, and Zhana had a sneaking suspicion her grandmother was there now, though she couldn't fathom what she was doing. Katerina was a fortuneteller - Zhana had learned from her - so she could be reading the future in her afternoon tea or checking her lifeline. Or maybe she was catching up on a different kind of tea - the Lunar kind. She knocked on the door and let herself in.
Sure enough, her grandma was sitting on her rocking chair, watching a newsfeed. A representative from the African Union was speaking. Zhana smiled.
"Hi, Babushka," she said. "How has your day been?"
"Fine," she said, smiling fondly up at her granddaughter. "Did you hear the news?"
"About the Selection? I heard it from some of the people out there," said Zhana, pointing. "I was thinking about entering."
Katerina leaned forward. "Why?"
"Because I want to see what the royals are like," she said simply. "And it would be nice to find love."
Katerina narrowed her eyes. "Strange place to find it."
"I'm a strange person," she said dismissively.
Babushka smirked. "True. But if you do enter, be careful."
"Why?"
She sighed. "There's a reason I left Luna." She cleared her throat. "Who will take care of the chickens and Ivan?"
"Lyuda," said Zhana, though the more pressing matter was the offhand comment her grandma had just brushed off. She knew she'd left Luna because her husband wasn't faithful - such was the commonality in Artemisia, so she'd heard - but was there something else? "I'm bringing Ivan, though."
Her milk snake was a dear friend, and if she got Selected, there was no question about his tagging along to Artemisia. The nobles would just have to deal with it.
Babushka smiled. "There's no swaying you, so I guess I should wish you good luck."
"Thank you," said Zhana, laughing. "I'll miss you. Have fun with the others."
She scoffed. "I'll try my best."
...
Howdy! Again, thank you all so much for reviewing and showing interest, you're all so kind and your support helps me so much.
So, what did you think of our Selected? I know the majority of you know who these girls were inspired by, but for those who don't, do you have any theories?
These intros were a little trial run for me, because I know they can get boring, but it is fun to get to know a few of our Selected. Did you enjoy them, or should I try something else? I won't write more if y'all find them boring, but I'd love to do them if you liked them. Thank you so much to the betas, you rock! See you... on Friday? I might be able to keep up this schedule; we'll see. Tata for now!
P.s. I'm so sorry about the plot inconsistency. It was actually King Jay who had the Selection a few years ago. That was a part of Danya's story, and was recently changed. I'll do my best to avoid those in the future. Thank you!
