Throughout her childhood, there were many things that Princess Levana didn't notice. She wasn't particularly observant, never taking the time to really scrutinize her life, her home or her surroundings. She was too carefree for that. It was her nonchalance that prevented her from noticing the form in the shadows, the eyes that would watch her every move. It may have also been the way he hid, the way that he would avoid being seen. His speed, agility and finesse were impressive, and his glamour had also helped him keep a low profile. She never saw nor noticed him, although he was always watching.
(who are you little boy why are you following me)
He was a smug little six year old boy, the son of the most powerful man in the Lunar court. Training to become the captain of the royal guard, he resided at the Artemisia Palace, where he spent his days learning and working hard under the watchful eye of his mentors. Although he lived in the opposite side of the palace, in the guard's wing, he sometimes saw the two princesses going about their daily business.
The elder one, with her brown hair always tied in a braid, would usually carry around books and net screens. She spent most of her days studying in her private library, preparing for the day that she would take over Luna and become queen. She was snobby, arrogant and hard to stand, with her glamour so blinding that it could kill you on the spot.
(never shall you speak to the princess stay away from her stay away)
The younger girl, with her wavy auburn hair always kept down, was the one that he would see more often. She was bubbly, quirky and warm, hardly ever using her glamour on anyone. The four year old princess didn't really have any duties or obligations. It was one of the few perks of being a spare, she would tell herself. She never went anywhere without her stuffed bear named Astram, which was given to her for her first birthday by Malissa, the head maid.
He had never actually spoken to her, always opting to stay hidden, to watch her from a safe distance. He knew that her glamour wasn't nearly as strong as the crown princess', but he didn't want to risk getting punished. It was made quite clear from the beginning that he was to stay away from the royal family, to never interact with or bother them. How he desperately wanted to, though. The young princess, to be frank, intrigued him. He heard rumours about the way she was treated by her family, things that he had heard from the maids, whispered over laundry in the deep confines of the castle. Stories passed on behind gritted teeth by his fellow guards in training and the thaumaturges. It was a complete mystery to him, how she could be so bubbly and optimistic when she was always treated so badly. He wanted so much to talk to her, to get to know her.
(oh yes how cute you are thank you for the flowers)
Unfortunately, Levana was a royal and he was just another shadow, another spectator to the failure that was the young princess. Princess Channary would tell her that frequently, just to make her cry, to make her suffer. She would hit her and insult her whenever she messed up or tried to stand up for herself. She would make fun of her in front of her friends, to make sure that no one wanted anything to do with the girl. She used her as a test subject, a dummy to practice her glamour on. Levana was so alone. So utterly alone. Channary loathed her with every inch of her being, but the poor, miserable little girl always tried her best to please. Although she didn't know why her sister hated her so much, she would often dream about the day that Channary would tell her that she loved her, the day that she would give her a hug, the day that she would let her play with her and her friends. She never talked back, ever constantly helping, always obedient. Always trying to understand, to find her own place.
(I'm going mad I want to be with you Levana you're beautiful wonderful I want you)
He would watch her from the shadows as she ran down the halls, talking and giggling to herself. He would gaze at her portrait for hours, daydreaming about her face, wondering what it would be like to be with her, to have her for himself. What first started as simple curiosity would eventually become a haunting, painful infatuation. What was once a harmless little crush would, with time, turn into a strong, overwhelming, destructive lust. She became his obsession, his pastime, his greatest desire. Although she never knew he was there, he still watched, still fantasized, still yearned for her attention.
(I made you these chocolates I know how much you like them)
As he got older, it became even more than that. He began to crave more than her attention, more than her time. He began to desire her touch. He watched as she grew from a stubby toddler to a beautiful young woman. Sure, she may not have been as gorgeous as her sister, but she was so attractive in her own way. All her awkward quirks and imperfections just made her all the more appealing to him. Eventually, she was all he could think about.
(Oh I love you I want to touch you I want to be inside you please Levana)
Her face haunted his dreams, and he saw her silhouette every time he closed his eyes. Although she was never as scandalous or as daring as Channary, the tasteful gowns and dresses that she wore for special occasions would always make her look like a goddess in his eyes. Whenever he caught even a glimpse of her, he let his eyes devour her form, always yearning for more. He would imagine what it would be like to have her, to see her completely, to take her. To make her his.
"You'll see, Astram. I'm sure that Channary and I will have so much fun! Maybe we'll play dress up, or have a tea party, or even go out in the city!" Levana chirped, her teddy bear bouncing against her hip as she skipped along down the hallway.
She stopped in front of a majestic golden door. Patterns of stars, crescent moons, and ancient Lunar runes were engraved into the shimmering metal, another reminder of the crown princess' superiority. Levana's bedroom door was the same as all the others in the palace: mahogany wood with a simple brass doorknob. It seemed that everything Channary had was better than what she had. She tried not to let it bother her, however, as she tapped a short but sharp knock on the splendid gold. She heard a few rustling sounds before the door opened, revealing the princess in all her beauty. Levana had always looked up to her older sister, mystified and enchanted by her apparent perfection.
"Good Day, Channary!"
Channary rolled her eyes. "Hello, Levana," she replied, her voice flat and dull. Her indifference was apparent.
Levana, however, was too excited to notice her sister's boredom. "So, what do you want to do? Play dress up? Explore the palace? I've always wanted to go to the catacombs. It seems so spooky down there."
The crown princess just sighed, tucking a loose strand of her chestnut hair behind her ear in one graceful gesture. Where Levana would most likely trip on everything, Channary seemed to have been carved out of the finest marble, a perfect statue. She was always poised, graceful and charming. The very image of perfection.
"I guess we could play dress up if you want. Come on, let's go in my room," Channary said, stepping back through the door into her magnificent chambers. Levana just stood there, mouth agape. She had never been in Channary's room since her sister made it quite clear that she was never to go in there without her permission.
The younger sister let out a giggle, skipping in merrily.
"If you trip and break something though, I swear, you won't live to see tomorrow," Channary spat, crossing her arms over her chest.
"No problem!" Levana bumped the door closed with her leg. "I won't have any accidents, I promise!"
Channary grit her teeth. "Could you stop being so loud? You're like a chipmunk on helium," she grumbled.
Levana ignored her, instead opting to just stand and gaze at the architectural masterpiece. The room was at least twice as big as her own, with the walls painted various hues of gold, white and sky blue. On the ceiling hung a gorgeous crystal chandelier, and there was a fire burning calmly in the golden fireplace. The huge window was draped with beautiful velvet curtains and the clear double doors opened up to a glass balcony overlooking Artemisia, Luna's capital.
"Wow, this place is so nice!" Levana said in awe.
"I guess." Channary walked up next to her sister and eyed the object she had in her hands. "What is that?" She warily pointed a dainty finger to the stuffed bear.
"Oh, this? This is Astram, my teddy bear. I named him that 'cause his fur looks like the sky I learn about in my astronomy books. Don't you think?"
"I think," Channary said, plucking the bear out of her sister's hand, "that you should get rid of it. You're too old for these dumb toys, Levana."
"Hey! Give him back!" Levana whined, trying to match her sister's height. Channary just stood there, holding the toy above her head, way out of Levana's reach. She stared down at her younger sister with a mocking smile, clearly enjoying the teasing.
"What? Oh, you mean this?" Channary gestured to the bear, feigning innocence.
Levana clenched her fists and her teeth, in an unconscious battle stance, fuming. Her already low patience had drained away to nothing. She should have known that it had been a trap, that Channary was lying. She felt so stupid for falling for it.
"Give. It. Back!" she yelled, charging at the older girl. Channary simply laughed.
"Not so fast, Levana," she sneered, prancing over to the fireplace. She dangled the bear by it's arm over the flames, the smell of charred fabric already starting to fill the room.
Levana began to sob. "No, please..." she hiccuped. "No! Please, Channary, don't!" Her voice rose to a scream, desperate.
With one final mocking laugh, Channary let go and dropped the beloved toy into the fire. Levana reacted immediately, pushing her sister aside and sticking her right arm in the flames, trying to rescue Astram.
The first thing that she felt was the heat. It was strange, feeling like an unwelcome pest on her skin. A few seconds later, she felt the searing burn. Through it all, let out a shrill, horrified, and tortured scream—the pain was blinding, unlike anything that she had ever felt before. It felt like someone was sawing her arm off with the dullest knife in the world. Every nerve was burning, breaking. Every muscle tensed to the point of tearing. She pulled her arm away, trying to douse the flames on her sleeve.
"Levana...your...your arm is actually on fire!" Channary laughed, standing by with her hands over her mouth. Levana continued to cry, waving her burning limb about, anything to stop the pain.
Once the flames were finally out, she tried to look at her arm, her vision blurred by the steady flow of tears that were running down her cheeks. After what seemed like forever, she finally managed to sneak a glance, nearly fainting at what she saw. The once-healthy skin was now black and charred, with welts the size of tennis balls. She fell on her back, white spots clouding her vision.
She could hear faint voices in the distance, people shouting and shoving. A sharp pinch came sudden and unwanted in her left arm. Levana tried to fight, but she was quickly held down by unknown hands. After a moment, a pleasant coolness rushed through her veins. The pain vanished, leaving her tired and weak. The darkness crept up on her, and, hoping that she'll wake again, she let it embrace her, going willingly to dreamland in its arms.
No matter how much she groaned internally, the annoying beeping sound would not stop. She tried to open her eyes, but they felt like they were glued shut. After much whimpering and mental complaining, she managed to pry them open, the bright light nearly blinding her. Levana attempted to sit up, but her head pounded, sending her back onto the pillow each time. Eventually, though, she was able to get herself into a seated position, taking in her surroundings.
(stop making noise it hurts)
She was in a white, sterile room, void of any charm or personality. There were IV drips connected to the crook of her left arm, feeding a bag of clear fluid into her veins. The little girl sat there, dazed, unable to understand why she was in such a lifeless room. Her chapped lips trembled. Where was her purple canopy? Why were there needles? What was that unknown weight at the end of her arm?
(Ouch it's hot please make it stop mommy daddy)
Suddenly, the memories came flooding back, unbidden—way too much for the four-year old to fully comprehend. Through all the confusion, she managed to pull the pristine white sheets off of her body. A little whimper of fear and shock escaped her at the sight of her right arm. The strain of the weight made her cringe—for instead of soft white skin and a small, human hand, there was nothing but metal. Wires and screws and bolts that went from the crook of her elbow to the tips of her fingers.
(what is this oh no what have I done no why)
Only one word came to mind—cyborg. Part human, part machine. Put together with metal instead of flesh. Before, they were only the product of stories that Channary would tell to terrify her. Like vampires, or monsters, or wicked witches. A few tears rolled down her pale cheeks. Was she a witch now?
(green soup witch's brew yucky yucky yucky)
"Ah, Princess. It's good to see you awake," a soft voice said, effectively snapping her out of her thoughts.
Levana looked up at the voice: a man of about twenty or so with sunshine blonde hair and gentle sky blue eyes. He was sitting in a chair next to her bed. She stared at him, her fear visible in her eyes. Her small body quaked.
The doctor smiled softly and put a hand on her shoulder. It felt strangely comforting. "My name is Dr. Sage Darnel. Is there anything that you need? Water? Painkillers?" he asked, concerned.
Levana simply shook her head, wanting to curl up in a ball and go back to sleep.
"Well, alright. Just comm me or any of my assistants should you need anything at all," he said. He then got up and left the room, leaving the sad and broken princess alone.
Levana laid her head back down on the pillow, tucking her knees into the fetal position. Why did this have to happen? She thought to herself. She was already ignored, shunned and hated, and now she could throw 'cyborg' onto her list of flaws. Machine. Freak.
(Oh eww look at you freak monster you disgust me)
Her nose soon became stuffy and runny, soaking her face along with the salt of her tears. Crying. Levana was tired of crying. Tired of being a 'crybaby', as Channary was fond of calling her.
After all, monsters don't cry...