Marrok could no longer find it in him to get excited about anything anymore. Although he had forgiven Jannali's violence against him, he still felt uncomfortable around her. She promised that she would never do it again; Marrok knew damn well that she definitely would do it again. When she was angry, there was no way she'd stick to any kind of promise.
Still, it was always easier for him when he was at peace with her, so he went along with it. All that was behind them and life—painful, boring, exhausting life—went on as usual. Marrok could sense that something was going to happen, though—it always did when Jannali was left without something to entertain her. The tension was bubbling closer and closer to the surface like magma beneath terran crust. Marrok was always keeping an eye out at night; years ago, he knew she'd never kill him, but now...he wasn't so sure.
He felt suffocated by his own fear and sadness. He was afraid that Jannali didn't love him. He missed Levana and his mother and James. Marrok felt like he had lost everything in his pursuit of Jannali's exciting pastime. He supposed that now, all he could do is continue pretending to be the king and wait for Jannali's next move. Nothing could've prepared him for what she would do, though. It was even more out of left field than if she had slain him.
"Let's go to Earth," she said, with seemingly no prompting.
Marrok's arm stopped in mid-air, just as he was about to take a sip of his tea. "What are you talking about?"
Her eyes gleamed, as well did her smile. "I want to move to Earth, like Alegria."
"You're insane." Marrok shook his head. "There's no way we're doing that."
"It'll be so fun! We'll never have to see this smelly place ever again," she laughed.
"No."
Jannali's cheery mood suddenly melted into irritation. "And why not?"
"Are you even hearing yourself?!" Marrok brushed his hair back. "We're the head of an entire country. We can't afford to play around like that."
She propped herself up on her elbows. They were both lying on her bed in a spare moment of peace. "What if we weren't the head of this country?"
"We're not abdicating," Marrok muttered in disgust. Not when Channary's next in line.
"Of course not. We're gonna fake our deaths."
Marrok's breath caught in his throat. Eyes full of disbelief, he slowly inched away from her. "You can't be serious."
'It's what Alegria did; she'll even help us pull it off. Her husband is a very good pilot and he has a powerful ship. He'll come and go from here before anyone can notice his presence."
An uncomfortable dryness filled his mouth. Never could he have seen her proposing something so absurd. They were born of nobility, and Cyprus Blackburn's blood ran through both their veins. They had never known anything else. And Marrok swore his life to throne; he spoke the vows, he wore the crown. How could he just...leave?
"Come on, you know you want to..."
"But we'll be leaving Levana behind," he began to breathe heavily, "and if they catch us, we'll be killed for treason—"
Jannali scoffed. "They won't catch us. They never have before and I'll be dead before it would happen." She cupped his face in her hands. "Marrok, I know this place is wearing you down too. If we leave, we'll never have to deal with court again. You'll never have to see Channary anymore." Her gaze softened. "We'll finally be happy."
He finally let up his resistance and melted into her arms, weeping. Jannali smirked, her fingers winding through his hair. She held him like a tender mother. Her words were, slowly but surely, seeping into his mind and her manipulative gestures made the idea stick. She had become a master at this by now, bending him to her will. "I already have a plan," she whispered. "You won't have to worry about any of the details."
Marrok went silent. His shoulders relaxed.
"You're so tired," Jannali continued. "Just come with me, Baby. Say yes."
Hope and despair intertwined in a terrible mix inside of him. He didn't know what kind of life would be waiting for them on Earth. This thought terrified him, while it seemed to excite Jannali to no end. As he imagined the rest of his life in Artemisia, though, it scared him even more. He wanted to refuse, but he couldn't see what he had to live for at home. His children and people hated him, he was just a thing to be used to the court, and he knew that Jannali would never forgive him if he stayed behind.
His lips trembled, his face still coated in tears. "Let's...let's go. Together," he finally ceded.
Jannali's smile shined brighter than a million suns.
The plan was very intricate and complicated, but if played just right, their escape would be flawless and the most hilarious thing that Jannali could ever fathom. They had to fool everyone, from the aristocrats to the peasants, that they were truly dead, without getting caught and actually being killed for their attempted escape. The conditions were perfect: there was an abundance of people who would gladly try and kill the monarchs, and no one alive could remember what they both truly looked like. Alegria and Navid would have a house and earthen identities ready for them.
All that was left was the execution. It took around six months for all the pieces to come together. After scouting around a bit, Jannali found their perfect assassin—a cunning shell who was building a following around the outer sectors for his hatred against the royal family. He was one of the rare few who was brave or stupid enough to be so vocal about his distaste for the Blackburns. Jannali decided that he would be the best option.
It was beyond easy to convince him that she too was a disgruntled citizen who wanted the royals destroyed. She made a deal with him, that he'd sneak into the palace and murder the king; she would get him past the guards and help him escape after the job was done. She herself would 'deal with the queen,' she told him.
He heartily agreed, and they set a date. Now, Jannali had to set the decoys. She decided that she would kill one of her maids and plant her in her bed, dressed in her nightclothes. No one would ever know the difference. It was one of the key advantages of having no one know what she truly looked like. To make it better, though, the maid she had in mind held an eerie resemblance to the queen—Jannali suspected that this woman was one of her father's bastards. This would eliminate any suspicion.
With Marrok, it would be a bit more complicated. For the past few months, there was a young lady from court named Zaria who had been following him around everywhere—she insisted that she was madly in love with him and was obviously very intent on spending the night with the king. Coincidentally, a young nobleman by the name of Octavian Moirier had his sights set on this Zaria for years now. Marrok decided that he would take advantage of this. He offered, much to Octavian's delight, to switch places with him on the night of the escape. All Octavian had to do was convince Zaria that he was the king, and he could have all that he wanted. Marrok would pretend to be the boy until it was time to leave. It didn't bother him at all that Octavian wouldn't live to see the next sunrise.
It was an agonizing wait until the night of the escape. At around two-thirty, when most of the palace was asleep, Jannali called the maid to her rooms and made some small talk. The woman was obviously uncomfortable, but she didn't dare say anything to the queen. Jannali had her change into one of her fine nightgowns.
"It looks so pretty on you," she laughed.
The maid fidgeted. "My Queen, are you alright?"
"Oh, I'm just peachy." She pulled out a knife. "Now hold still while I cut your throat open."
The woman didn't even have time to scream before Jannali pulled her by the hair and drove the blade into her neck. Blood spurted everywhere, and the knife went in so deep that it severed part of the maid's spine. Jannali shuddered with pleasure and lapped up some of the stray blood. It was so delicious, all warm and thick. Laughing softly, she placed the corpse in her bed, arranged in such a way that it looked like she had been killed there. She then gathered up the few possessions that she would taking with her: the notebook that she had kept throughout the years, a photo album, some weapons, and her necklace. She wouldn't need any of her clothes or trophies; she'd find new ones on Earth. The bulk of her other things had already been packed away and were to be brought onto the ship by Alegria and Marrok. If all had gone according to plan, he would've been finished by then and on his way to the ship.
Navid was waiting for them beneath the palace in the abandoned port. It was a struggle to get there unnoticed, but she eventually found the sleek spacecraft and was let onboard. Navid greeted her at the helm, the widest grin on his face. "Hey, J. It's okay if I call you that, right?"
"Knock yourself out."
Navid held out a hand, and Jannali shook it roughly. "You look awesome," he sighed. "You've gotta teach me how you do it."
"What, my makeup?"
He laughed, "That, and your technique."
"Were you watching me?"
"Alegria planted a camera so we could help you if something went wrong," he admitted sheepishly. "Sorry about that."
"Impressive. I didn't even know it was there."
His playful air faded, and he was suddenly serious. "Can I ask you something?"
Jannali set her bag down on the floor. "Shoot."
"Is Sybil doing well?"
"Yeah. She's a second tier thaumaturge now. She seems really happy."
Navid smiled. He seemed really sad, which was odd. He was usually infantile and cheerful—it wasn't hard to see why Alegria would be enamoured with him. "That's good. I was afraid that she wouldn't fit in, that she'd be like me..." He shook his head. "But she's powerful. I'm so glad."
"I bet she wouldn't be happy to learn that she isn't fully lunar," Jannali tittered.
"That's why she never will learn. I made sure of that."
Jannali bit her lip and fixed her gaze on the ship's controls. She no longer felt like talking about children. It made her feel...disappointed, somehow.
She wished that Marrok would hurry up.
He had his gun at the ready, mounted with a silencer. He had already killed two guards on his way to the docks, and he was sure that he would encounter another one soon enough. His heart raced with both fear and excitement. The halls were silent, dark save for the pale glow of the nightlights embedded in the walls. They lit up the statues and portraits in an unsettling aura. The halls were swarmed with motionless marble ghosts, watching Marrok's every move.
He wasn't too far away now. Alegria had gone ahead and would've already been back at the ship—Marrok, however, was taking a little detour. He was certain that a five minute delay wouldn't make much of a difference. Leaving Levana forever without saying any form of goodbye would be unforgivable. He knew that he was risking it all, straying off-course, and that she wouldn't even say goodbye herself; but it was something he felt necessary.
His footsteps were light and quick as he snuck up behind the guard watching over the princess' chambers. The man died quickly and painlessly. Tossing the corpse aside, Marrok silently opened the door and slipped into the room. Everything was immaculately tidy—books lined the shelves, notes were stacked neatly on the desk, a couple of teddy bears sat on top of a dresser. There were no clothes or trinkets lying around. Levana was sound asleep in her bed, blankets cocooning her protectively.
The king placed a gentle hand on her cheek, praying that she wouldn't wake. He brushed back her hair, matted from tossing and turning. Her face was slightly scrunched up in pain or discomfort—she must've been having a nightmare.
"It's okay, Sweetling. I'm here. Daddy will protect you," he whispered.
Levana let out a groggy whine.
"I'm sorry that I'm leaving you..." He wiped his eyes. "It's what she wants. I know you'd understand."
She rolled around, now facing him. She was lying on her scarred side, so all he saw was her unblemished face. She had freckles all over, like him. He fell to his knees. "Forgive me," he sobbed. "I love you so much. Never forget that."
It was so painful, to back away. As he did, he noticed Levana relaxing. He hoped, with all his heart, that meant she was having pleasant dreams.
"That took you way too long," Jannali grumbled.
Marrok climbed aboard the ship, nearly out of breath. "There was something I had to do first."
"Alright, alright! No bickering on my ship!" Navid settled in the pilot's loft. "Everyone take a seat; we're taking off in T-minus three minutes!"
Alegria, Jannali and Marrok complied. The engines rumbled in preparation for takeoff. The port was abandoned and decrepit; outside, Jannali could see rusted walls and jagged rock. One had to be an excellent pilot to navigate through there. After a bit, she could feel the ship lifting up off of the ground. It hovered off of the ancient landing pad and inched toward the exit tunnel. The end, an opening outside of the Artemisian dome, would let them out free into space without ever being detected. It was normally locked by an indestructible hatch, and it was lucky that Marrok could get his hands on the passcode to open it.
They flew off into the dark night with the gleam of the white city behind them. Jannali stared at Artemisia as it grew smaller, smaller, smaller. She felt nothing but cold detachment at the sight of it fading away, the place where she had been born and raised. It had never been home to her, and it never would. She didn't think she would ever miss it either.
Jannali settled down on a cushioned seat and got comfortable; it would be several hours until they reached the outskirts of Earth's atmosphere. Throughout the voyage, she couldn't help but rile herself up for all the things to come. They were no longer king and queen, but just regular everyday people. They would have new jobs, new hobbies, a new house all to themselves...
She smiled at her next thought. Her hand slowly came over her belly. Not a soul knew that she was pregnant...not even Marrok. She conceived this new child with the sole intent of reattempting her earlier experiment. This time, there would be no interference. She would have a perfect prodigée who killed along with her, like a dream come true.
When Navid woke the sleeping passengers, he cheerfully announced that they had entered the Earth's atmosphere and would be landing within an hour. Groggily, Jannali rose and gazed through the window of the ship, leaning against her husband. His arm was wound around her waist. Outside, a spectacular sunrise bathed the scenery. The entire sky was painted in orange and pink and blue. She smiled, her heart bursting with excitement. Land stretched out as far as she could see, villages and cities littering the surface. All full of prospects.
She pictured all the things that she would try: abduction, mutilation, perhaps even being a guest on The Monkey House. She turned towards Marrok. "Excited?"
He bit the inside of his cheek. "I'm terrified."
"Of course, of course." She gave him a sly look. "Are you afraid of blood, My Prince?"
The anxiety seemed to ease. He managed to faintly return her smile. "Not at all, Milady."
Jannali laughed. It did make sense that he would be afraid—this was a new life, a new adventure. But she knew that she was ready; she had been ready for a long time. At last, she would move on to greater things. Queen Jannali Blackburn-Delacourt had most definitely died that night, in her cold and lonely bed.
But Ugly J, with all that blood on her hands, had never felt more alive. Her reign over the streets of Earth was just about to begin.
—END—
First of all, I just wanted to say thank you thank you thank you to all those who reviewed, f&f and also just read my story. It feels so great to be able to share this with you guys. Now that it's over, what did you think? Please don't hesitate to leave a review! I appreciate all comments, negative and positive. What do you think I can improve on? What do you think I did well?
Again, all my thanks for coming along for the ride. If you enjoy my writing, be sure to check out the rest of my profile...and who knows? I might continue this one day ;)
-Alanah
