She stood naked in front of her mirror, alone in the silence of her chambers. All was still, nearly frighteningly so, but Jannali paid no mind to her surroundings; only her reflection was what held her attention. Over and over, she ran her hand over the scar on her middle, right below her belly button. It was an ugly thing, of course, having barely healed since Levana was cut out of her. Long, deep, crimson, scabbed over—it marred the rest of the queen's flawless skin. It was not for this reason that she hated it, though. Jannali liked ugly things; she always had, and she sometimes wished that she wasn't given such a beautiful face. The court's manic obsession with beauty was both confusing and stupid to her. Grotesqueness was just so much more...interesting.

She pinched at the faint traces of fat that clung onto her belly and hips. She had lost most of her baby weight during her recovery from the surgery, but a little still remained, and would until Jannali went out and burned it off. It wouldn't be hard; she was still young, barely twenty-four, and she promised herself that after a couple outings, she would be as lithe as she was just a year ago.

Her reflection stared back at her with a hollow expression. With a sigh, she was suddenly tired. The baby had been brought back from the hospital all but a week ago, and every night she woke up her parents with her high-pitched wails, demanding food and other nonsense. Levana didn't yet have a wet nurse, because Marrok still foolishly insisted that they could care for her at night themselves. It was obviously exhausting the both of them, yet the king refused to listen to Jannali's complaints. His insolence beckoned her fury and it was very well ready to blow. If Marrok noticed this, it did nothing to tame him into submission. He made it very clear that he had every intention of letting Levana live.

The baby began to bawl again, for what seemed like the hundredth time that morning, from somewhere down the hallway. Jannali hissed and hastily slipped back into her gown, all as she called up her regal glamour. The cries came from Channary's playroom, where the queen suggested that Levana's nanny take her for the day. As she stalked closer, Jannali could hear the nanny admonishing Channary for something or other.

"What seems to be the matter, Mila?" Jannali snapped as she entered the room with a flourish.

Channary stomped back from the rocking chair where the nanny sat. Angry, she pointed a finger at her bawling sister, who was squirming in Mila's arms, red-faced and hysterical. "She yelled at me because I used my glamour on Levana," she shouted. "I just wanted to make her stop crying!"

"Princess, she began crying because you were manipulating her," said Mila, exasperated. "It's the fifth time today that I've told you to leave Her Highness alone."

"But—"

"Channary, give me your netscreen."

The princess turned to Jannali, her eyes wide. "Why?"

"I'm confiscating it until you learn to listen to directions; this is unacceptable behaviour and I will not have you disobey Mila or I." Jannali held out a hand. "Give it to me."

Channary let out a whine and stomped her foot. "No! It's not fair!"

"There are plenty of things in life that aren't fair." Jannali brushed past her daughter and picked up the netscreen herself. "There will be no more games today. Find something else to do."

"Mother!" Channary wailed, along with the baby that had not quieted once. "Please, don't! I won't do it again!"

"I don't believe you," said Jannali. "You also say that you'll do the assignments that Thaumaturge Kunis gives you, and yet he's still telling me that you don't know how to spell 'refrigerator'. It's what you get for lying; there is no reason for me to trust you."

"I hate you!" Channary cried.

The queen smiled. Oh, I hate you too. Jannali barely managed to bite back the words. Glancing at Mila, who tried in vain to appease Levana, she let out a sigh. "Mila, take this and don't let her have it. Give Levana to me—I'll calm her down."

Mila dipped her head, grateful. Now she would only have one screaming child to deal with. Jannali was handed the baby, bundled in her blanket, and she gave the netscreen to the nanny. "I'm so sorry for this inconvenience, Your Majesty. I promise it won't happen—"

"It's my fault for charging you with both of them at the same time," the queen interrupted. "I swear, Channary's more childish than she is."

"I am not!" Channary shrieked, gripping one of her dolls so hard that it seemed like the head would pop right off.

"This is why you don't have many friends, darling," Jannali said mockingly. "You are much too loud and much too mean."

"I have friends!" The princess huffed. "You're the one who doesn't. That's why you're always alone. Why people say that Father doesn't love you."

Mila stood back, absolutely horrified at the exchange. Instead of getting angry, though, like was expected, Jannali simply laughed and held Levana closer to her chest. The baby had quieted somewhat, but she still whimpered annoyingly. "I don't love your Father either. He has his friends, and I have mine." She laughed again. "They just don't live around here. Now, Channary, I suggest that you start learning to think about what you say." The queen winked. "Because while I may find your insolence funny, others will not, and it will be a very bad day for you when they decide that they've had enough of your rudeness."

Channary blinked. "What's insolence?"

Jannali simply shook her head. "Have a good afternoon, Mila. Be sure she stays out of trouble." The queen didn't stay to hear the nanny's response. After a short trip down the hallway, she once again found herself in her empty chambers, with the baby in her arms. The rooms weren't empty of furniture, of course, but rather of personality and charm. They were obviously the queen's suites, full of priceless glass adornments and paintings from Luna's earliest days.

While the rooms themselves were as impersonal as anyone could imagine, all of Jannali's personal effects were hidden in a small basement of sorts that lay under the floor, accessible only by a locked hatch that she had covered with a rug. There were several rooms in the palace that had those bunkers of sorts, and Marrok told her it was for storage back when the palace was first being built. The hatch was clear and blended in well with the tiled floor, so not many people were still aware of its existence. It was there that she kept her weapons and various poisons, accumulated over the years of tinkering in the labs with her tutors. She also hid many parts of her victims, like skulls and fingers and eyes, among other things. She liked to keep collections.

But the outside was as blank and lifeless as Jannali's persona, and no one ever suspected a thing. She sank down on her divan and pulled a thick fleece blanket around her shoulders. Levana was still fussy, and she showed this by pulling at Jannali's hair with her tiny fists. The queen suspected that she was hungry, and although she could've called for a maid to bring her a warm bottle, she didn't feel going through the hassle of coaxing Levana to eat. It was always an ordeal; Jannali thought that Levana simply didn't like formula. Instead, she glanced around to be absolutely sure that she was alone, before lowering the neckline of her gown. Madame Etiquette would've had a heart attack had she known what Jannali was doing; apparently, feeding the child herself would be reckless as a woman in her position. Jannali resolved to have the old coot fired.

It took a few seconds for Levana to stop whimpering and realize what her mother was showing her. Although she had never been fed by Jannali once, she seemed to act by instinct and latched onto the queen's breast. After a moment, she was completely silent as she suckled merrily. Jannali smiled, securing the baby's head with her fingers. "That's much better than the icky formula, isn't it?"

The infant continued to gnash happily at her mother's breast. As she sat there, in warmth and comfort, Jannali was surprised at the subtle pleasure she took in doing something so...maternal. Levana was only a month old—vulnerable, malleable...she could become anything, if Jannali let her live. And suddenly, like a blind man seeing the sun for the first time, it dawned on her. This baby could grow up to be just like her, if Jannali raised her right. After all, the child was born of the two greatest killers Luna had ever known. She watched Levana suckle in her hunger, and she knew what she would do. Her anger dripped away, with the sands of time, and she became enamoured with the idea of living on through her youngest daughter. By then, Channary was too old to groom properly. It had to be Levana.

Jannali closed her eyes and laid her head down on a pillow. Marrok was right. It would be a waste to kill the girl. All remnants of the obsession that had plagued her for years vanished, replaced by the promise of something greater, and infinitely more entertaining. Instead of slaughtering the baby, Jannali began to fantasize about teaching Levana the proper ways to cut, to stalk, to disembowel. She would bring her along on hunts and they would kill together, the three of them. A happy little family.

And Marrok couldn't possibly oppose. She would leave his beloved little girl alive. It was an unfortunate truth, but Jannali knew that someday she and her husband would die. When that happened, Levana would carry on their gruesome hobby and teach the art of murder to her children, and so on, and so on. There would always be someone to replace Ugly J.

Levana let go of the queen's nipple with a faint pop. Sated, she began to look around herself with big eyes and a wonderstruck expression. Although still a little underdeveloped, she was a lot more appealing to look at now that her eyes were open, compared to when she was born. Again, Jannali was slightly disappointed to see that Levana was nearly a clone of her, with thin brown hair and the same eyes, like molten tar. Hopefully she would have some of her father in her, when she was older.

"Oh, you poor little girl," Jannali cooed, kissing the crown of her head. "Your sister doesn't like you very much, does she?" The queen rocked her back and forth, like a ship on the sea. "It doesn't matter. I don't care about Channary; she belongs to the state. But you, my little Levana..." she kissed the baby again, "shall be mine."


It's officially Christmas break for me! Woo! I hope everyone spends the holidays with those they love. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!