"Sit over here, Sweetling," Jannali cooed. She had set a grey sheet down over the marble floor so that she wouldn't have a mess to clean up afterwards. Levana crawled to her mother and plopped herself down on her knees. Jannali smiled, pulling one of the small knives from its sheath. "Hold this."
Levana sat frozen. Jannali held the blade out by the handle, impatient. "Hold it, Levana," she repeated.
The princess reached out a hand and gripped the knife as well as she was able. She cooed, staring at it with wide eyes. Her fascination made Jannali chuckle until Levana brought the sharp end of the blade straight to her own face. Jannali was quick to grab the child's wrist and move it away. "You don't point it to yourself, ever." She scooted closer and grabbed a bigger blade. "Now watch me closely." The queen rolled up the loose sleeve of her dress and sliced the flesh right above her wrist. Fresh blood welled from the cut and slowly ran down her arm. "I want you to do that. Can you cut me, Levana?"
Levana waved the knife through the air as if it were a magic wand, laughing. In response, Jannali rolled her eyes. "No, no. You cut me," she admonished. The baby didn't listen and instead continued to play around. Jannali's frown deepened. If Levana wouldn't cooperate on her own, she would have to teach the child by showing her what to do. Levana's bioelectricity glimmered over her skin, ready for the queen's attack. Her heart hammering, her eyes gleaming, Jannali gripped onto Levana and ordered her to come forward, to grip the handle tightly, to dig the blade into her mother's skin. The child seemed perplexed at her sudden loss of control, and she let out a whine.
"If you don't listen to me, Levana, I'll have to keep on making you do it." Jannali hunched. "That's just the way it is."
Levana's arm came up and cut Jannali again. The queen hissed, glaring at the blood that trickled down the blade and onto the sheet. "Not so deep!"
Levana began to cry, but Jannali made her shut her mouth and smile. The queen's face was contorted in sweet, sweet pain—she bandaged her existing wounds as she went, and patted Levana's head when it was time to continue. She ordered the princess to cut lightly, over and over and over, in the crook of her elbow; she left line after line of neat gashes. Blood flowered on Jannali's skin like little blossoms. "Alright, that's enough," the queen cooed. She took the knife from her daughter and wiped it off on the soiled sheet.
Levana blinked, confused. "Mama?"
"We're done for today, Baby Girl. Do you know what Mommy wants you to do now?"
Levana looked down at her hands, that were covered in sticky crimson. She giggled and wiped them all over her pink dress, leaving dirty handprints. "Paint," she laughed.
"Yes, I do suppose it looks like paint." Jannali stood up. She gently tugged the sheet from under the princess, sending the child rolling away on the floor. She continued to laugh merrily. The queen scrunched her nose and bundled the bloody rag up in her arms; then, taking great care not to dirty any of the furniture, disposed of the sheet through the garbage chute in the bathroom. "We'll try that again some other time, won't we?"
Levana got on her knees and crawled over to the queen. She slowly stood up on her shaking legs; wobbling, she gripped on Jannali's skirts. She began to whine again in the hopes of being scooped into her mother's arms. "Mama..."
"Why are you so needy today?" Jannali picked her up, gently tapping her back. Levana buried her head in the crook of Jannali's neck. Her chest rose and fell slowly, and for a moment, Jannali suspected that she had fallen asleep. "Levana," she cooed, rubbing the baby's neck. "It's not nap time, Sweetling...you have to wake up..."
Levana clutched Jannali's sleeve and yawned. She glanced at the queen, her eyes distant and slightly unfocused. She had a lost look to her, as if she were hallucinating. Jannali watched her—curiosity made her smile and take in the child's disorientation. It wasn't the first time that Jannali had seen Levana so out of it—she had a tendency to act like this when she spent the afternoon with her sister, and it didn't surprise the queen that Channary still glamoured the girl in secret. Maybe this meant that Levana was very sensitive to manipulation. Perhaps Jannali could form her this way; over the years, she'll be raised to think not like a prospect, but a killer, like her mother. Not superficially, but deep within Levana's psyche, Jannali planned to plant the seeds of bloodlust.
And as Levana grew, she would happily watch them grow into something absolutely spectacular.
Jannali couldn't remember the last time she had worn such a light dress. It was strapless, sheer and pink, pooling around her feet in a graceful train. It made the wait for Lord Mavelin's arrival a bit more tolerable, with her excitement and impatience. She sat on the divan in one of the company rooms, fiddling with her hair and biting her lip. On the nearby table sat a plate of luxury chocolates and several bottles of the finest champagne. The two crystal glasses beside them shone in the low light.
She had whispered it in Nolan's ear that morning—Meet me in the company room closest to the king's study at nine fifteen. Don't tell anyone. I'll be eagerly awaiting you, Milord...
Now, it was ten after nine, and Jannali could hardly contain herself. She had been waiting so long for this. It will be so much fun. Jannali could feel herself jittering, and she let out a sigh as Marrok's hand came to rest on her shoulder. He squeezed it gently, imploring her to calm herself. From where he sat in the dark corner, she could only see the gleam of his ring and sheen of his hair. Beside him sat the bag of various weapons they would be using in a moment. Jannali eyed the small bottle of poison at her side, as well as the needle with which she would inject the substance into Nolan's blood.
Anytime now...anytime...
There was a knock at the door. Jannali let out a long breath and wrung her hands. Gently, she opened the bottle of poison and dipped the needle in, filling the reservoir with the clear substance. Her heart pounding, a smile on her crimson lips, she stood and let Nolan into the room. He took her in, his eyes analyzing every part of her body, every inch of exposed skin. He licked his lips. "Your Majesty..."
Jannali closed the door behind them. Quietly, she put a hand on his shoulder and kissed the back of his neck. "Thank you for coming," she whispered. "We'll have plenty of fun, I promise you."
"I don't doubt it, My Queen." He tried to turn to look at her, but found her holding his neck in place. "Pardon, what are you—"
He yelped as the sharp needle was plunged into his skin, and let out a cry of pain as the poison was injected into his bloodstream. "Marrok, pull out a chair," she ordered, disposing of the now-dirty needle in a nearby plastic bag. The king did as he was told, forcing Nolan down on a lush chair as the lord spasmed and sobbed.
"I hope you don't mind that I invited my husband along," Jannali cooed, drawing a finger along Nolan's jaw. The lord tried to open his mouth, but he found his entire body paralyzed. His eyes darted back and forth in his skull, tears running down his cheeks. Marrok produced Jannali's dagger, and the queen took it with a toothy grin. "I'm sorry that I had to give you such a strong concoction—I didn't feel like bothering with restraints."
"Milord, do you still mean all the jests that you've thrown at me?" Marrok inquired, filing his own blade on a sharpener. The sound was deafening. If it weren't for the fact that the company rooms were purposefully soundproof, the entire palace would've heard the loud shlings of the knife.
Jannali forced Nolan's arms away from his chest and slowly drove the dagger into his abdomen, blood spurting all over her dress as she did so. Nolan watched this in horror—he couldn't feel a thing, save for the agonizing fear of his inevitable death. Wounds like those were impossible to heal. Once the dagger was completely sheathed, all the way to the hilt, Jannali stood back and wiped her bloody hands on her skirt. "Now, you will watch yourself bleed until you die," she cooed. Her preening turned into laughter as Marrok swept in and began pecking her neck; his hands ran over her hips and his body pressed closer to hers.
"Did you really think that you could take her from me?" Marrok laughed, kissing Jannali's neck. "You can't have her."
The queen moaned, bringing his hands up to fondle her breasts. Nolan's eyes had glassed over, and he stared straight at them with a blank expression. His blood ran down the chair to the floor like a red river. The two watched him with enjoyment; Jannali, who cared for nothing but entertainment, simply found it funny. Marrok, on the other hand, relished in his wrath; intense satisfaction coursed through him at the sight of the man who had tried to take his Ugly J. "You can't have her," he repeated.
Jannali grinned and let out a squeal as Marrok pulled them both down on the couch; there, they made passionate love as the life left Lord Mavelin, whose body had crumpled off the chair. They didn't even care that he was dead at that point—all that mattered was the intense desire that made them both lose any control they might have had. They were animals, filthy animals, that killed and fucked when they pleased. There was no one to stop them. No one to accuse them. They were the masters of this sad noble world, rife with selfishness and discord. Somehow, through a strange twist of fate, it was only the most heinous of them all that stuck together.
Oh, I love you, Jannali...
...what?
N-nothing, come here, closer...A-ah...
...
Marrok, stop saying things like that.
Like what?
Like terrible poetry.
...
(Laughter)
The two of us are alone, and I quietly lock the door...
Let's dance, My Queen, and lose ourselves in this playful moment...
...
That was awful. Don't do it again.
Nolan's blood was still warm once they were finished. They both lay panting on the couch, admiring their handiwork. On the floor, Nolan stared up at them with dead eyes and a mouth sealed with dried blood. Marrok wound an arm around Jannali's waist, smoothing out her wrinkled skirt. "Did you have fun?"
Jannali let out a sigh, buttoning up the king's shirt. "Of course." She sat up and poured two glasses of sparkling champagne; one was handed to Marrok and the other was brought to her own lips. She sipped the fiery liquor happily, enjoying the way it burned down her throat. "You'll sleep easy tonight, won't you? Your little enemy is vanquished."
Marrok downed his own glass. "I...suppose," he said playfully, running a hand through his hair.
"Men," Jannali scoffed. "If I didn't find it cute, I swear, no man would be left in this miserable kingdom..." She popped a cream-filled chocolate in her mouth.
"Surely that doesn't include me."
"Oh, we can't have me thinking that you are anything like a prospect, now can we?" The queen shook her head.
"No." Marrok pulled her back down against him and brushed away her hair. "May I have a chocolate?"
Jannali passed a truffle over her shoulder and Marrok ate it eagerly. They kissed again before rising; they then gathered up all their weapons, the champagne, the chocolates, the poison...no evidence bearing their fingerprints could be left at the scene. The glasses clinked around in the bag, nearly shattering. Sneaking past the congealed blood pooled on the floor without stepping in it proved to be a great challenge—they eventually managed to slip out of the door unnoticed. They were to leave Nolan's body there, at the bottom of that chair, to be discovered by the servants.
The king and queen then pretended to stumble back to their separate chambers drunk, laughing and cursing like sailors. The guards simply eyed them warily as they skipped along; this was nothing short of usual behaviour to be expected from hammered aristocrats. That night, they slept in peace—Levana didn't cry once, and they woke up the next morning with a contagious sense of satisfaction. Every head at court was turned at the sight of their monarchs, swathed in their white glamours, holding each other's hand and sitting side by side with their two children at their side.
Channary, standing tall in a green robe, eyed her parents warily. "Is there something going on today, Father?"
Marrok shook his head. "Isn't there always something going on?"
"I don't know. Why are you so happy, Father?"
"Stop asking so many questions," said Jannali, all while trying to keep Levana still on her lap. The child squirmed and whined.
"But Mother—"
"Be quiet. There's enough noise as it is." Jannali sighed and let Levana go on the ground. The princess crawled around merrily, under the careful watch of the guards and the nanny. Elsewhere in the large hall, there was much commotion as many nobles spent the morning comforting Lady Rachel Mavelin and her young son, who just played with the other children, as blissful and ignorant as could be. Rachel sat bent over on a chair, sobbing quietly into her hands. Jannali cocked her head and tried to listen in.
"I just don't..." Rachel struggled to breathe, "I don't know why anyone would do this..."
"It's alright, Darling. It'll all work out..."
Rachel cried harder. "What will I do? All the estate and company is under his name. I don't know if he even left any of it to me...I might have to leave court if I can't get any of the money back from the bank. His brother has his eyes on everything!"
Lady Stephanie, a frail old thing, waved her fan and put a hand to her forehead. "Can't you make a case against him? Surely Mason is next in line for the company."
"I don't know! Nolan never said anything about it. He never spoke to me about any of the finances."
The boy, young Mason Mavelin, ran over to his mother with a big grin. "Why are you sad, Mama? Where is Papa?"
All the ladies surrounding Rachel frowned. "You haven't told him?"
"I've tried," she sighed, wiping her eyes. "Mason, honey, your father isn't coming back. He's gone."
"For how long?" The boy put a hand to his face.
"Forever," Queen Jannali smiled, and everyone jumped at her sudden presence. Lady Mavelin blinked, her face contorting in discomfort. Her glamour shined.
"Your Majesty," she managed to say, getting up on her feet and bowing. Her long blonde hair curled around her waist, and Jannali felt the sudden urge to tear it off. Perhaps it was this woman's pathetic crying or her irrational reaction to her husband's death. Either way, it was incredibly annoying.
"I wanted to express my condolences on Lord Mavelin's death," the queen said, dipping her head. "I'm sorry that this has happened to you; if there is anything His Majesty or I can do for you and your family, please, let us know."
Rachel took in the sight of Jannali, her eyes glistening. "I am grateful for your concern, Majesty, but be assured that I do not require your assistance."
Jannali cocked her head. "Oh? Are you not having financial troubles?"
"Again, you do not need to be concerned, My Queen. But I do...I do have a question."
"Yes?"
The lady took a deep breath. "My husband told me that you were to give him an audience last night." The mistrust in Rachel's eyes made Jannali want to laugh. "Do you know who might have done this to him?"
Jannali plastered on a look of confusion. "I do beg your pardon? His Lordship has never requested an audience from me. We haven't even spoken at all in the past year."
Rachel let out a cry of despair, shaking her head. "Oh, I knew it was true...I knew that someone was deceiving him. I never should've let him leave the house..." She began to sob again. A tinge of anger made Jannali's eye twitch. The fool had gone and told someone when she specifically told him not to. She forced a calm breath and put her hand to her chest. It didn't matter, anyway. He was dead. No one could ever accuse the queen of murder...not if they wanted to walk away with their head on their shoulders.
The funeral was held two days later, and after the three days of mourning were over, the king and queen would never see Lady Mavelin or her son again.
For that's what she did, Cynthia's darling daughter; she tore families apart.
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