Blood.
It was everywhere. Sticky, crimson liquid dripping down the walls of the throne room, tainting the floor red. It pooled around Levana's ankles, staining her white shoes.
Or at least it did, in her imagination.
In reality, the blood had only spread around the guillotine, Malissa's severed head mostly covered with it, rendering her blank, dead eyes invisible. A pained scream escaped Levana's lips, and she silenced herself instantly by clapping a hand over mouth.
(oh god no so red so much red)
Channary's head snapped around, meeting her sister's gaze. Her pink lips curled into a demonic grin, twisted and grotesque, and her hips swayed in a seductive manner as she sauntered over to the horrified girl. "Why, Levana! How nice of you to join us. What took you so long?" Her playful voice echoed through the throne room, sending a chill down Levana's spine.
The princess didn't say a word. She was too shocked, too horrified.
"Why so silent, little sister? You don't have an insolent comeback?"
Levana pointed a finger to the guillotine. "M-Malissa..."
Channary lilted her head. "What about her?"
"W-why?" she breathed, her entire body trembling. Tears of fear and shock were pooling in her eyes, threatening to overflow at any given moment.
(how could you no Malissa didn't deserve this how could you)
"Oh, she was executed for treason," Channary said sweetly, holding her arms behind her back in a manner that nearly seemed bashful. "Didn't you know that she was married to the vermin who murdered Mother and Father? That she sheltered him while he was on the run from the law?"
"Why kill her, though?" Levana hiccuped. "How can you be so cruel?"
Channary sighed in mock hurt, placing a hand to her chest. "Cruel? Why, I was simply carrying out justice."
"How is this justice?" Levana spat.
The queen-to-be narrowed her eyes. "What you don't seem to understand, sister, is that when a queen threatens repercussions against someone who has wronged her, she must follow through on those threats. If she does not, she is inviting anarchy to her doorstep," Channary snapped, as if speaking to an annoying child. "Do you want anarchy, Princess?"
Levana lowered her head. "No," she said softly, her voice barely more than a whisper.
"Precisely." Channary turned and sauntered back onto the platform, her silk dress whispering around her hips. She stopped right in front of the throne, her back to Levana. With grace fit for a queen, she waved a careless hand. "Go. I do not wish to see you again before dinner."
"But Channary—"
Levana's tongue iced over, and her eyes widened. She placed a hand on her jaw, but found it to be limp.
Channary clasped her hands in front of her. "I thought I told you to leave, not talk back." She turned to face her sister. "I'd be careful if I were you—because remember, Levana, that Mother and Father aren't here to protect you anymore. I could do anything I want to you." She smirked." Keep that in mind."
Levana felt sensation returning to her jaw, and she flashed a thankless smile at Channary.
(but why should I listen to you you're the worst and I hate you I hate you)
Channary pointed a finger to the door. "Leave."
When Levana didn't move, Channary sneered and grabbed hold of her mind, twisting her bioelectricity, making her legs move for her.
You will leave immediately.
Like a soulless vessel, Levana spun around and left the throne room, closing the door softly behind her.
Levana wandered aimlessly around the halls, like a lonely, lonely ghost. Her hand brushed the sleek wall, and only the faint tap of her shoe against the floor could be heard in the empty space. The faint twinkling of stars could be seen outside the glass ceiling of the corridor, the gleaming regolith arches blocking out most of the light.
The clock struck noon.
Ding. Dong.
She watched as the pendulum on the ancient grandfather clock that adorned the entrance to the library swung back and forth, lulling her into a hypnotic trance.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
"Hickory Dickory Dock..."
She brushed her pale, human fingers on the clock's hands, her index on the minute and her pinkie on the hour. "The mouse ran up the clock..." she continued to hum.
"The clock struck one and the mouse ran down..."
Her hand slid down the clock and fell to her side, making the blue skirt of her dress ripple a bit.
"Hickory Dickory Dock."
Levana just paced around the palace for a while.
She knew no other way of coping with her grief. How wonderful that day had started out, with Saito's call and his life-saving words, and then it all came crashing down with Malissa's horrific, gruesome murder.
Murder. Not execution. Malissa had done nothing wrong, nothing to deserve death. It had nothing to do with 'justice'. Channary just wanted someone to take out her anger on, and Levana was apparently no longer enough.
She had killed her in cold blood.
Her childhood nanny. The woman that she trusted more than anyone else in all the world. When Levana had a problem, she always went to Malissa. When she first bled, she didn't even go to her own mother, knowing that she would just send her away before she could even get a word in, and Channary was out of the question. Instead, she went to tell Malissa about it, who simply smiled and told her everything she had to know. She didn't make fun of her, or call her ignorant or immature. Malissa had helped cultivate her love for technology, and had told her about the brand-new android that her father had thrown away. She had helped her find her best friend, and for that she was forever grateful.
(I'll miss you forever I promise your death hasn't been in vain I will avenge you someday I promise I swear)
Endless tears ran down Levana's cheeks, a stream never stopping, leaving small puddles on the floor as she walked along. She didn't sob or scream, but she cried. She cried a lot.
Her drone-like movements ceased as she passed by a veiled portrait, an artistic masterpiece swathed in sheer, dark cloth.
A painting of her parents.
In respect and mourning for the late king and queen, the servants and thaumaturges had placed vases of exquisite bouquets around their official court portrait, and by tradition, the painting was draped in black, to make their deaths seem a bit more bearable, as if hiding their faces could make them come back somehow.
(no one wants you back here don't think for a moment that they do)
Levana wanted to take it down and spit on it. Or throw it in the fire. Or doodle vulgar, hairy moustaches on her dead parents' faces.
Before she could indulge in her dream of vandalism, though, she stormed down the halls to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
"Levana?" s small, slightly metallic voice rose from the middle of the room.
The princess pinched the bridge of her nose with her metal fingers. "What is it, Akiho?"
Akiho clicked her prongs together. "Aren't you supposed to be at the funeral?"
Levana's head snapped up, her brow creased in confusion. "What funeral?"
"Their Majesties'. Didn't you know that it was today?"
Levana paled. "No. No one told me."
"Oh. I assumed that you knew," Akiho said.
Levana brushed past the android, her hands on her hips. "Why did no one tell me about this?!" She spun around, surprise flooding her face.
"Well..." Akiho held her hands behind her back. "Maybe Channary didn't want you to know. So that you wouldn't be there."
Levana's hands fell to her sides. "Of course," she sneered. "Why does that not surprise me?"
She went over to her closet and pulled out a black dress, inlaid with onyx shards the color of her eyes. Without stopping to think about it, she flung off her blue dress and slipped on the black one, tossing it somewhere in the room. She didn't even care where it went. Her hair was a bit of a mess, but didn't have time to brush and restyle it. Quickly, she conjured up a glamour of herself with immaculate hair, sleeked back in fluffy curls like a renaissance princess. She sighed as she slipped into the illusion and let it settle in her mind.
For the finishing touch, she grabbed some black gloves from her massive collection and flew out the door, saying 'goodbye' to Akiho over her shoulder. As she marched down the hall to the courtyard, Levana slipped her gloves on, letting each one snap on her wrist.
She was ready.
But, of course, she wasn't going to the funeral because she wanted to. Who in their right mind would go to a long, boring ceremony held for people who just cast you aside your whole life? Rather, she was just going to spite Channary.
Levana wanted to show her that no matter how low she stooped, she would always stand tall, would never cower and hide.
As soon as Levana entered the lavish palace chapel, her nostrils were attacked by the sickly sweet smell of midnight black roses. The many, many flowers adorned the chapel to commemorate Luna's dead sovereigns, unable to conceal the iron tang of dried blood.
Levana barely held back a gag. She absolutely despised roses.
She silently slipped beside Channary just as the priest came up to the altar, the congregation rising and the choir picking up with the entrance hymn. Channary's lips curled into a frown as she noticed her sister's presence.
"What are you doing here?" she hissed between her teeth, her brown eyes sharp as needles.
Levana didn't flinch, although she should have. "I'm here for my parents' funeral, thank you very much."
Channary would have said more, had the priest not cleared his throat and addressed the people. The two sisters glared at each other before looking straight ahead, not paying the other any mind.
The funeral rites began, and Levana nearly yawned, but caught herself as soon as her hand left her side. She was to remain fully poised and composed. The prayers were in Latin, and they were long and boring, and Levana didn't understand a word of it.
It was a blast.
Channary didn't cry, her face stoic, but it was evident that she was trying to hold back tears. Her hands were clenched into fists and she bit her lip so hard that she drew a bit of blood.
Levana was, simply put, bored out of her skull. Her hands were clasped in front of her, her face emotionless and indifferent. Her black dress billowed around her ankles with the artificial breeze, and the pleasant coolness tittered down her spine.
Good, because it was getting hot in there.
As Levana stared at the caskets, she couldn't help but imagine that it was Malissa's body in one of them, that the fancy, over-the-top ceremony was for her. She deserved it a hell of a lot more than her parents did. Malissa was more of a mother to her than Queen Jannali could've ever been.
Levana hadn't even shed a tear for either of her parents. But she spent hours crying for Malissa. She would always miss her.
"Heaven got another angel the night,"
Finally, a single tear broke through Levana's stony facade, running down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away.
"You left this world behind…"
The guard stood tall and proud, in a straight line with all his comrades beside him. They lined the aisle running down the middle of the chapel, their hands on the hilt of their swords, their heads lowered in respect for the late King Marrok and Queen Jannali.
The whole country was in mourning for their lost monarchs. He remembered the sickly sweet scent of the midnight black roses, that made him feel dizzy, and that didn't do much to help conceal the scent of blood that wafted throughout the chapel. Although he was not at the gala himself, he had heard rumors that the late king and queen were murdered so viciously that their blood painted the walls of the ballroom red. So much blood had drained out that it took hours to wash and ready their bodies in preparation for the funeral.
Even then, the funeral was exclusively closed casket. He wasn't even sure he wanted to see their dead bodies anyway. They had always freaked him out.
There was no noise save for the rustle of pressed suits and stiff high collared black dresses and the drone of eulogies. Everyone was eerily silent and he remembered being slightly afraid, clutching the hilt of his sword much tighter than he should have. The congregation was a sea of blank white faces. There were no cries, no wails, not even from the king's two daughters. Princess Channary, however, still looked in agonizing pain, sadness contorting her perfect features in odd ways.
Princess Levana just stared stonily in the distance, as if she were just at some boring old event. It shook him a bit, her indifference to her own parents' deaths.
"Is something troubling you, Sir Hayle?"
He jumped a little as Sybil approached him and eyed him with scrutiny, as she did with all the guards. He quickly composed himself, staring ahead as he was taught to do when addressing royal thaumaturges. "No, Thaumaturge Mira. I am simply shaken up by the ceremony, as we all are."
She nodded, her grey eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Good. Now stay focused."
The guard lowered his head, like everyone else, but he never tore his gaze from Levana, the object of his obsession.
She was so beautiful.
(my princess you're the fairest in all the land I wish I could tell you that I would whisper it in your ear)
The little girl that he once knew was no more. She had grown up nicely, her small curves feminine and fragile, of average height, her skin clear and luscious. He wanted nothing more than to wrap his arm around her slim waist, to kiss her soft lips until the end of time. He wanted to hug her body, to feel her warmth close to him.
A persistent heat rose up in his cheeks, and his grip on his sword tightened even more.
(oh why must she do this to me this isn't fair look away look away for your own sanity)
Unbeknownst to him, the crown princess had noticed him staring at her sister. She recognized the way he looked at her, with the same primal hunger as her many lovers had in their eyes as they would be tangled together in lust and passion.
A nearly invisible smile pulled at her lips, and a plan started to form in her mind.
It was brilliant. The perfect thing to break Levana down for good, to hit her where it really hurt.
And her plan involved Evret Hayle, captain of the royal guard.