Chocolate cake. It used to be Levana's favorite. She loved the tasty sweetness, the moist, velvet texture. She would make it for Selene all the time, with delicious chocolate icing. Now, she absolutely hates it. She won't eat it. Ever.
(yum yum it tastes so good but it kills me)
It was also the weapon that Channary and Sybil had used to poison her. To make her ill. To scar her for life. It was just a regular meal in the Artemisia palace. The huge table, way too big for the family of four, was laden with exquisite dishes, ranging from succulent meats to fine vegetable soufflés. Sybil had been invited to dinner that night, per Channary's request. Everything was going according to plan. Soon, they would have a new sick, twisted source of entertainment. Soon, they were going to have a sick little girl on their hands.
(she'll cough and cry and it'll be so funny we'll laugh and laugh Sybil you'll see)
After they had all finished their meal, desert was brought out by the servants. Levana's eyes lit up at the plate placed in front of her, holding a piece of luscious chocolate cake. As a belated birthday gift, her parents had a small one made for her. It wasn't much, but it was something. She let out a little squeal of glee before taking a huge bite. After a few chews, however, she stopped, and frowned.
"Papa, this cake tastes weird." Levana said, looking at the king, whose attention was focused on the documents displayed on a giant netscreen hovering above the table.
"How so?" he inquired, raising an eyebrow.
"I don't know. It's just, well, weird."
She crinkled her nose. It even smelled off.
"Don't eat it, then," Marrok said, flicking across the screen once again.
Levana set down her fork, letting out a sigh. She had been looking forward to that cake all day. From the other side of the table, Channary and Sybil shared a quick smirk. Mission accomplished. It only took one bite. The virus was now in the girl's system, wreaking havoc.
(It'll only be a little while then we'll have fun and watch the door would you I don't want to get caught)
Jannali glanced over to her daughter, picking up another piece of chicken. "Would you like anything else?"
"No," Levana mumbled, looking down at her lap. She then lifted her head towards her father. "Papa, may I please leave the table?"
"You may," the king said.
Levana got off her chair and made her way to the grand double doors, trying to be as quiet as possible. She slipped out, silent as a mouse. As she was walking down the halls towards her room, she stumbled over, a sudden dizziness making her head spin. She stayed there, on her hands and knees, waiting for it to pass, watching the floor move beneath her.
(oh no not again I hate falling I hate feeling sick why now why now)
After what seemed like hours, she managed to get back up on her feet, her body trembling. She looked around her: there was no one there, so she couldn't have been glamoured.
So why did she feel so...sick all of a sudden?
Her body felt like a dead weight as she practically dragged herself back to her chambers. Closing the door behind her, she sighed, feeling faint. She was just tired. That's all it was.
Levana took a book off the vast bookshelf, at the end of the room opposite of the door, nestled between her vanity and a netscreen on the wall. She hauled herself up on her bed, plopping her head on the pillow. The sickness made its presence known once again—she only got to the third page before she broke into a coughing fit. Her throat was burning, aching, sore. It went on for hours, until she finally fell asleep, still fully dressed.
Levana was awoken a few hours later by sudden nausea, a tidal wave washing over her. She couldn't breathe, her head started to swim, and the bile rose in her throat. Quick as lightning, she slid off her bed, nearly falling flat on her face. Her hand clamped over her mouth as she ran to the adjoined bathroom. She barely had the time to make it to the toilet before she threw her guts up, tears streaming down her face. It was pure torture. Every time she felt like she was finished, she would gag and throw up some more. She could taste the bloody vomit in her mouth, the acid burning her throat.
(oh eww it's gross and it hurts I hate being sick it's awful)
Once she had finally finished, she got up and wiped the tears from her eyes. A cough escaped her lips, blood staining the pristine white gloves she wore on her hands. She stood there and stared at them, terror and panic overtaking her mind. The red scared her. The red was bad.
(no no no no help me help me)
Afraid, she stumbled out of her chambers, clumsily racing down the halls as fast as her shaking legs could take her. Tears blurred her vision, making her crash into the wall a few times. The corridors were strangely devoid of servants. Finally reaching the entrance to her parents' study, she wrenched the door open and barrelled into the room. Inside, the king was busy signing important documents and the queen was seated on her chaise, peacefully reading a book. They both jumped a little when they heard the door slam and their daughter burst in. Both royals frowned, and Marrok let out an irritated sigh.
"Levana, how many times have we told you to knock before you come in here? What do you want?" he snapped. Levana came closer and held out her hands to him. His eyes widened at the sight of her bloody gloves.
"Papa, I feel really sick," Levana whimpered. She then coughed, a bloody dribble coming out of her mouth. She wiped it away. The king placed the back of his hand on her forehead, flinching as he did so. She was as hot as a coal stove. His eye caught on something—a dark spot below Levana's collarbone, visible just above the collar of her dress.
"Hold still," he said, reaching forward. Levana squirmed, trying to evade him.
"I said, hold still!" Marrok snapped. He grabbed his daughter by the wrist, swiped at the spot—and froze. No. It couldn't be. He reached again for Levana's collarbone and pulled the neckline of her dress down, revealing the entire spot in the room's light. A splotch of red, rimmed with bruise purple.
"Letumosis..." Marrok whispered in horror. His features changed, going from horrified to shocked to angry. He grabbed her wrists and started to drag her out of the room, his wife close behind them, looking confused. Levana let out a whimper.
"Damn it, Levana! I told you never to go in my laboratory!" he yelled, making Levana yelp.
"But, Papa, I never—"
"Marrok, what is going on? What's wrong with her?" Jannali asked warily.
"She needs to be quarantined. The letumosis prototype hasn't been proven contagious, but I don't want to risk it."
"Papa, please, what's happening? Where are you taking me?" Levana cried. Her father just growled and continued to pull her through the hallways, her mother following suit. The princess was sobbing and wailing, in obvious pain.
All the commotion had woken up Princess Channary, who was observing the spectacle behind one of the many marble statues that adorned the hallways. She chuckled softly, smiling at her handiwork. The disease had worked even faster than she had anticipated.
"What's with all the yelling?" a voice said, making Channary jump. She turned around and glared at the person behind her, who was none other than Sybil. She pressed a finger to her lips.
"Ssshhh! I'm trying to stay hidden!" Channary snapped.
Sybil lowered her head, apologizing.
Channary's gaze softened. "The disease is spreading faster than I expected. I just thought I'd come out and enjoy the show." Channary said darkly.
A grin spread across Sybil's' face. "Should we pay her a little visit tomorrow?" she mused.
Channary smirked. "That's a great idea. Well, I'm going to bed. Have a good night, Thaumaturge Mira." Channary said, walking away.
Sybil smiled at the title. "And a good night to you, Princess!" she called out, waving.
(really Sybil this makes you happy what's wrong with you)
Once Channary was gone, however, her smile dissipated. She felt a familiar pang in her stomach, an annoying feeling that she was used to stamping down, as if it never existed. She gulped. She would never express this feeling in front of anyone, especially the crown princess. She hated feeling it's hollow pain, but she couldn't possibly deny it's existence.
She couldn't deny that she felt guilty.
Levana was asleep, tangled in a baby blue blanket. It had been four days since her father had put her in a quarantined wing of the hospital ward, and her condition was anything but better. The purplish blotches had spread up her arms to her face and there were bloodstains everywhere, from her hands to the sheets. Though she was shivering, her forehead glistened with sweat. Her fever had only gotten worse over the days. The little girl looked like an old woman, on the brink of death.
She was thrashing and kicking in her sleep, a terrifying nightmare overtaking her mind.
It started with the sobs, which rose up out of the darkness all around her like the gentle strings in an orchestra. They began as hushed moans choked back by the countless musicians that crafted them, merging together to create a fountain of sound that pounded relentlessly in her head. Next came the jeers, the tuneful taunts of 'freak' and 'worthless spare', which punctuated the sobbing like sharp blasts from trumpets. As the callous taunts grew in volume so did the cries, swelling into desperate wails hurled out into the night mixed with calls for help and pleas that were heartbreaking to hear. The insanity, the madness of the disease was claiming her soul, bit by bit.
(no no go away you're not welcome)
Levana let out a harsh and shrill scream, the sound making her jolt awake. She sat there, amongst the sheets crawling with contagion, gasping. She was being punished for something. She had to be. She started to sob.
"I'm sowwy fo' all the things I did... Mama? Papa? Channary? Anybody! Plea-" Levana never got to finish her sentence. She bent over and coughed, blood spurting from her mouth and soaking her filthy nightgown. It dribbled from her lips to her chin. Her throat was sore and raw from all the coughing and screaming.
Outside the glass window of the quarantined room, the king and the queen stood, worried. Not so much for their daughter's safety, but more of the threat of an outbreak. Although the king and both of his daughters were immune, the other Lunars were not, including the queen. They couldn't let the disease escape.
At any cost.
(what idiot would let this escape oh god no)
"Marrok, what have you created?" Jannali gasped. She could no longer bear to see her daughter's pain, to watch her writhe and scream.
"Jannali, this disease is necessary for our mission. It will be our ultimate weapon—the thing that brings Earth to its knees," he muttered darkly. His wife hid her face in his neck, and he rubbed her back soothingly.
"It will bring us glory and power. It will make us the only rulers of the world," he muttered. "It will save us all."