When Jannali was born, before her story and mistakes and most importantly, her love, the stars foretold a tragedy.
From baby Marrok's window, one had a dismal view - from every other window in the palace, the views were nothing short of breathtaking.
Baby Jannali had laughed, not cried.
Marrok had been so quiet, people often forgot he was there.
Jannali's parents were Artemisian aristocrats held in high regard. They did not care much for their baby daughter.
Marrok was the heir to the throne, his parents royalty. It was well-known that his parents didn't have much use for him, or for small children in general.
The two of them had that in common, at least.
Luna's youngest-ever diplomat hadn't had very much time in her life to make many mistakes, but she figured that with this one, she'd make up for any missed opportunities.
Closing her eyes, she counted to ten in her head to keep from swearing.
She swore anyway.
A lightning-strike of pain swept its way from her right ankle to the nauseous feeling rising in her stomach. Keeping one clammy hand latched onto the gleaming crystal bannister, she fisted the other in the folds of her iridescent evening gown.
Obviously, walking wasn't in the realm of the possible right now.
Executing a clumsy quarter-turn away from the royal balcony which she had so dramatically fled, she leaned her weight on the cool stone railing and assumed the expression of one who was not only unimpressed, but magnificently bored at the same time. Taking care not to drop the expression, Jannali allowed her gaze to wander over the crowd below.
Not for no reason was Artemisia also called the Shining City. True, the outside of the palace was largely the same sleek, obsidian regolith as most other buildings. But when set against the setting sun, the crystalline embellishments and gargantuan windows set the palace afire. Indeed, on the inside, clear, dazzling stones were inset everywhere, lending the palace an otherworldly, ethereal look.
And the people were just as beautiful.
As beautiful as the crystals, Jannali knew, but also as empty and hard and sharp as well.
Seas of silk and chiffon floated within the ballroom, as Artemisian aristocrats swayed along with the music on the floor below, less like humans and more like richly-decorated butterflies. Flashes of colors and jewels she couldn't even name seemed to assault her senses.
Of course, almost none of it would be real. Everything was fake here, all illusions, just like the light refracting through the millions of crystals. Just glamours, albeit whimsical, fantastical ones. Compared to most of the outfits surrounding her, Jannali's was downright simple. She glanced upwards again to the royal balcony, where the glamours were even more richly colored - outlandish, even.
Jannali shook herself out of her trance. She needed a way to get down the stairs without collapsing and making a complete fool of herself.
You've already made a fool of yourself, she chided, now it's time for damage control.
Her gaze snagged on a head of silvery blonde hair almost directly below.
There you are.
The girl was seemingly deep in conversation, holding a wine glass filled with some sort of shimmery pearlescent liquid.
Jannali pondered the ways in which she could notify the girl of the situation at hand. Making a noise of some sort would attract far more attention than necessary, and there was no way to physically move around to capture the girl's attention without extreme pain on Jannali's part.
Her gaze fell thoughtfully on her pearl pinky ring, a delicate affair that had once been her mother's. It wasn't that the ring held any real sentimental value to Jannali because of that, but it was the sort of story that very drunk Artemisian ladies tended to coo at, allowing her to make hasty exits.
Slipping the ring off her finger, she estimated the approximate distance she'd have to toss it and gave a few experimental, and hopefully inconspicuous, wrist flicks.
She just hoped that Iolani stayed still.
With an exhale and a toss, the tiny pearl ring was sent on its way downward.
Jannali attempted to crane her neck while attracting no attention, trying valiantly to see the ring's final landing place.
With an internal shout of victory (and an external violent wobble as her right ankle betrayed her once again), she saw the ring land with an anticlimactic little ploosh, perfectly into the pearl liquid in the wine glass. Jannali sent a thank-you to whichever star had gifted her with wonderful hand-eye coordination.
The girl looked at her wine glass, bemused. Her expression quickly gave way to one of sly understanding, as she fished the ring out with her pinky.
Jannali saw her make a brisk apology and excuse to the nobleman she'd been talking to and turn toward the staircase.
She could tell the exact moment Iolani saw her, partially because of the spark in her violet eyes (striking, whether they were products of glamour or not) at the moment of recognition but also because of the very rude gesture she made in Jannali's direction.
Jannali laughed, glee welling up inside her. Iolani made her way up the staircase, holding her glass in one hand and the pearl ring in the other.
"You looked distressed," Jannali informed her, "so I decided you needed rescuing."
"I was talking to a Dubrovsky, Jannali. I think distressed is the typical reaction." Iolani held out the hand with the ring while lifting the glass to her lips. "Anyway, that was a terrible rescue plan. I'm shocked that you actually made it into the glass."
Slipping the ring (now significantly more shimmery) onto her finger, Jannali laughed. "Did you underestimate me? I'm wounded, Iolani. Our friendship may never recover."
Iolani made a dismissive noise. "Pray tell, why did you tear me away from my scintillating conversation?"
Jannali lifted her skirt just enough so that Iolani could catch a glimpse of her swollen, disfigured ankle. "I may or may not have gotten into a slight accident."
To her credit, Iolani only winced and muttered something about 'irresponsible aristocratic nuisances'. Wrapping her arm around Jannali and acting as a crutch, she began leading her down the staircase. "Of course," she shook her head mock-disapprovingly, "I leave you alone for half an hour and you go and get yourself grievously injured. How exactly did you maim yourself this time?"
"Marrok attempted to engage me in," here Jannali let out a sharp exhale, digging her fingers into her friend's shoulder, "conversation, but to tell you the truth, I'd rather - stars, Iolani, why are you moving so quickly?"
They had made a discreet exit through a side hallway that would lead to the palace's Ascella Wing, where the highest-ranking nobles and thaumaturges resided.
Coming to a halt, Iolani bent down, gently prodding the swollen joint with practiced fingers. "You twisted it pretty badly, you know. Did you fall?"
"Apparently running down polished glass steps in heels isn't the best idea I've had. Yes, I fell, in front of the entire royal balcony. I've never seen Theon Mira look so smug."
"All this," Iolani stood up and motioned for Jannali to ride piggyback the rest of the way, "to avoid a simple conversation?"
Jannali frowned at the back Iolani presented, ignoring the question. "I am not riding piggyback."
"It's either this or stay right here. Even using me as a crutch isn't working for you," Iolani made an impatient gesture, "so hurry up before a servant comes along and wonders what on earth we're dong."
Attempting to salvage what dignity remained, Jannali maneuvered herself onto Iolani's back. "Anyway, Marrok is just... disturbing. He gives me the creeps."
"Careful, love, pretty sure that's enough to get you executed for treason."
Jannali scoffed. "Better a cruel truth than a comfortable - ouch, Lani, stop bumping."
Disregarding her rider's complaints, Iolani quickened her steps, bringing them to an abrupt halt in front of the first of a series of doors lining the extravagant hallway: "Face."
With some maneuvering on Iolani's part, Jannali managed to get her face in front of the retinal scanner and open the ornate, crystalline door.
Once inside, Iolani unceremoniously dumped the injured girl on a neatly made bed and disappeared into the adjoining bathroom to hunt for bandages.
Jannali shut her eyes against the throbbing pain of her ankle and determinedly focused on interplanetary policy.
Three spaceships would be on their way to Earth in exactly thirty-six hours - two of which would carry the king's most trusted advisors along with the Earthen diplomats, and one which would carry Emrys and Marrok Blackburn and the highest-ranking thaumaturges.
She herself would be on one of them; Iolani on another.
Not that Lani really fulfilled any of those roles; she was simply a ward of the palace, after her parents had been killed - murdered, the whispers said, by the king himself - when she was a mere child. Emrys, it was said, had taken pity on the girl, allowing her to grow up with the full privileges of an aristocrat, and, perhaps, more freedom, seeing as she answered only to him.
"Found it," Iolani tossed her a bandage and a pressure-activated ice pack.
"Is there pain medication there too?"
"Didn't see any," she began heading out the door. "Want me to look for some on the way?"
"Where are you going?"
"I need a drink," Iolani said wryly. "Should I bring one back for you? Or will your loving parents object?"
"The likelihood of my parents being sober enough to give a rat's bum about me is smaller than Marrok's-"
"I think it'd be in both of our best interests if you stopped right there," Iolani cut her off.
"I might've been about to say sense of compassion, or humanity, or anything like that. Stars, you have a dirty mind, Lani."
Lani remained silent, an expression of extreme disbelief etched onto her face.
"Alright, fine," Jannali sighed, " but remind me, why are we friends? You obviously have no sense of humor."
Ignoring her, Iolani motioned for the bandages. "Let me wrap your ankle before I go."
"Thank you, Lani," Jannali drew the syllable out, tangling her fingers in her friend's hair.
Lani snorted, her fingers deftly drawing the material out and around the limb. "Good timing, too. Right before the - and I quote King Emrys - diplomatic mission that will ensure Luna's prosperity and future? Some diplomat you're shaping up to be."
"You know, I really don't think now is the time for your negativity and judgement," Jannali pursed her lips in a mockery of her father.
"I guess I'll just make a hasty exit then," Iolani gave the ends of the bandage a final tug. "Ice that," she ordered, "and lift your foot up on a pillow or something. I'll be back."
Jannali obediently propped her foot up and leaned back against her headboard, listening to Iolani's retreating footsteps. She whacked the ice pack against the side of her bed a few times to kick-start the process, then wrapped it around her ankle.
Sighing, Jannali shut her eyes again, focusing on what Theon Mira had said only a day ago during the last Diplomatic Council meeting.
Earthens are not like us. They hide behind their self-righteous masks. They will do horrible things and refuse to acknowledge them. They will say that they were justified. They won't trust any of us, because of our gifts. They will fear us, and fear makes them irrational. Be careful.
It was almost too melodramatic to take seriously, Jannali thought. Could none of them see the hypocrisy? It was as if their glamours and gaslighting had worked too well, as if no one could tell what was real anymore, least of all the people in control. Not seeing the forest for the trees, or something. Did that apply?
Jannali didn't feel like going into semantics - banishing all thoughts of trees and forests, she -
Trees.
She blinked.
She would be going to Earth for the first time.
She would see trees for the first time.
Trees. And oceans. And animals, beautiful ones, not the disease-ridden scavengers that infested the streets of the outer sectors. Everything like she'd seen in the pictures that her eyes feasted on greedily, hungry for color and life.
She shivered, at once excited and frightened by the thought of being surrounded by - being encased in, absorbed by- all that beauty.
Quiet, she told herself, sleep.
And so she did.
Jannali was rudely awakened not an hour later by a faceful of cat hair. Groaning unintelligibly, she lifted the intruder off her head and glared at it balefully.
Mibs, being a cat, glared balefully back at her.
"Iolani," she muttered, "why would you let Mibs in the room? You know she sits on my face when I'm asleep."
"Excuse you, Moira Hildegard Bartleby VII does not wait for permission from peasants like you and I," Iolani triumphantly brandished two glasses of a glowing, golden liquid, handing one to Jannali.
"What even is this?" Jannali asked. The liquid seemed to pulse of its own accord, sloshing in tiny ripples up against the sides of the cup, but never spilling. "Are you trying to give me drugs? Is that why you took so long?"
"No, idiot. Your mom roped me into an insanely long conversation and then gave these to me when I said you weren't feeling well."
Jannali snorted. "I would bet money that whatever this happens to be is also what everyone else in that ballroom is drunk out of their minds on right now."
"Good point. We probably shouldn't try it out after last time."
They shuddered in unison. Artemisian drinks were not for those who wished to retain their sanity, faith in humanity, or for the generally faint of heart.
They placed the glasses on the bedside table, treating them with the caution one gives to a sleeping, possibly dangerous animal.
Of course, the most dangerous animal they'd been around had been Mibs, as Luna had a dearth of animals to begin with, although Mibs was not to be taken lightly. (In fact, Mibs was single handedly - or perhaps, single pawedly? - responsible for the now strictly enforced rule regarding rubber objects and Cheezey Whingers™ during ceremonial rites.)
Regardless, neither Iolani nor Jannali wanted to test their luck, and so the glasses stayed well outside of Accidentally-Knocking-Over-With-Flailing-Arms distance.
"Your ice pack must be completely warm by now," Iolani picked it up and tossed it onto the ground, very nearly missing a hissing Mibs, who sprung up onto the bed.
Jannali sighed. "I should probably change out of this dress if I want to actually get any sleep."
"Probably," agreed Iolani. "That and the fact that the dress probably worth more than your entire life now has cat hair all over it."
Swearing, Jannali pushed herself to a seated position. Indeed, Mibs' distinctive calico hairs were scattered over the gown, probably already permanently sealed to it using whatever illegal magic graces the fur of all felines (except sphynx cats, of course, but they are less 'contemptuous, chaotic neutral multidimensional beings' and more 'goblin forms of possibly malevolent but most likely just overworked shapeshifters').
Mibs purred contentedly from her perch on the pillows like an overcharged electric razor on steroids.
Jannali scowled.
Iolani laughed. "Alrighty, I think we'll all feel better once we change into pajamas. What about you, Mibs? Would you like your fuzzy blanket?"
There was a silence as the two girls turned around just in time to see Mibs dip her face in Iolani's glass and lick the last drops of the questionable drink from her whiskers.
In the end, they took turns changing so that they could watch over Mibs, "just in case something strange happens". After all, neither of them knew the effects of the drink on humans, whether it would affect a small, eight pound cat similarly, or how to deal with said drunken cat.
Mibs did not, however, seem to be experiencing any adverse effects. Indeed, she attempted to drink the liquid still shimmering in Jannali's glass twice before Iolani picked it up and in a single motion, flung it bodily from the window.
This, as it would later be discovered, wasn't perhaps the best of choices. The fluid, a powerful hallucinogen (one which didn't work on cats, whom one can only imagine resist the effects by sheer force of will and obstinacy) fell into a small reflecting pond in which lived a small school of ornamental fish. Unfortunately, this had a very big effect on such very small organisms; they decided they needed a system of self-government and several short lived civil wars followed while they argued over whether an aristocratic government truly had the good of the people in mind when making decisions. Many casualties were incurred and the caretakers of the grounds were puzzled by the newly-developed cannibalism of their once-peaceful fish.
Of course, neither Iolani nor Jannali knew this at the time. They had simply managed to drowse off next to each other in Jannali's bed, a disgruntled Mibs between them and the jittery anticipation of days to come filling their thoughts and dreams.
A/N: Oooooooof. I know I said I'd write this over the summer, but I'm obviously a total liar. What else is new? Anyway, I wanted to get back into writing, so I decided to finally get this started, even though school has been ramping up. I may actually be motivated enough to actually post a second full length chapter by the end of this month, which would be a miracle. But please review and give me feedback! I've always thought that Jannali's story had to have more to it, and I wanted to give her more depth than she had. This will be canon-compliant (although I may forget some details/change a couple things? idk, we'll see), and it's looking to be somewhere between ten to twenty chapters! It may get a little dark toward the end - we all know how her story ends up. Alrighty then... on with the show!