A sharp knock broke the silence of Levana's concentration. Slightly annoyed, she
turned her head and sighed, gazing at her bedroom door.

"Well, I wonder who that could be," she grumbled. Her metal fist tightened around the extra dark pencil that she held in her hand.

She wasn't in a very good mood at that time—it was one week past her seventh birthday. Although her parents had never celebrated it before, she still clung onto the vain hope that the next birthday would be different. That they would make her a cake, throw her a party. Heck, she would've been happy if they had even acknowledged the fact that it was her birthday.

(happy birthday to me oh thank you very much I love the presents)

Her days were filled with boredom. Having nothing to do, she decided to try and get a hobby. She had taken up drawing, and she was pretty good at it. Quite committed, she was seated at her desk, in the middle of a complicated sketch, one that she had spent hours on. Her metal hand was stiff and covered in graphite.

"If it's you, Channary, go away! I don't want you here!" Levana shouted, pressing harder onto the paper.

Malissa, the head maid and the only person in the palace that Levana really trusted, stepped in without a sound. Her long black hair was tied behind her head in a bun, the fabric of her uniform slightly baggy on her lithe figure. Levana's attention had turned back onto her drawing at that point. Malissa cleared her throat, making her presence known.

The princess blinked, dropping the pencil in her hand. Almost wearily, her gaze turned to the maid. "Oh, Malissa! I'm sorry. I thought you were Channary," she said meekly.

The maid chuckled a bit. "It's no big deal, Princess. I understand how you feel about your sister."

Malissa was Levana's nanny as well as the head maid. This was mostly due to the fact that she had been the only one of her peers who had been willing to take care of the princess. Most of the other maids had refused, after the awful, awful precedent that Channary had set. Ever since her birth, Malissa had taken quite a liking to Levana, loving her as her own daughter. She had always been kind to the girl, cleaning and bandaging the wounds that she would get from Channary's 'games', and would talk to and play with her, if she had the time.

Levana felt Malissa's soft hand on her shoulder. "Princess, your parents are requesting your presence in the main hall," she said sweetly.

Levana sighed. She was in no mood to see them. "Do I have to?"

"I'm afraid so, Your Highness. They also requested that you clean yourself up."

Levana looked down at herself, her eyes widening, taking in how messy she was. She hadn't really noticed before.

"Would you like me to help you get ready?" Malissa asked.

"Yes, please," Levana replied, hopping off her chair and heading over to her closet. Malissa followed her and picked out a nice violet dress, fancy but not too formal. After dressing her, Malissa helped washed her face and hands until they were free of graphite. As a final touch, Levana dug out a pair of cream coloured gloves, looking at them sadly before slipping them on.

Malissa noticed this, feeling a pang of sympathy for the girl. Poor child, she thought. It wasn't her fault, she hadn't chosen to be like that—she knew how much her sister made fun of her for it, how disgusting her parents thought she was. Pushing her thoughts aside, she escorted Levana down the hallways to the great hall, where her parents and sister were waiting. The princess' grip on the maid's hand tightened, growing more worried with every step she took. She moved skittishly, like a spooked deer.

"It'll be alright," Malissa whispered.

Levana gulped. "I'm scared..."

"Don't be."

Levana's lip quivered. Before long, they reached the large and ominous doors of the hall. Her heart sunk, afraid. She wanted to turn around and run back to her room, as fast as she could. Malissa took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze before opening the double doors.

Standing at the end the hall were her parents, looking as regal and majestic as ever. The queen was wearing a tasteful emerald green gown laden with diamonds. Her blonde hair was teased up into an elaborate updo, with a silver crown in her bun. The king was wearing his royal uniform, a coat of crimson red with black navy pants. His auburn hair was sleeked back and his crown straight and in place. His dark brown eyes were cold and unfeeling, like always.

Beside them was her sister, as beautiful as the rising sun. She wore a gold dress with her hair in its signature braid. A silver tiara incrusted with lunar diamonds rested amongst her bangs. Next to her was a girl Levana did not recognize. She was also beautiful, her eyes narrowed, slate grey and catlike. Shiny jet black hair cascaded down her back, and she wore a navy blue dress that fell just above her calves. Although it was simpler than Channary's gown, it still gave off an air of elegance and sophistication. Levana felt an instant distrust of the girl, not liking the way she was staring down at her.

"Levana, this is Sybil Mira. She is training to become a thaumaturge, and will be staying in the palace with us from now on. You are expected to be polite and welcoming towards her. Is that understood?" King Elann said, staring at his youngest daughter with contempt. She squirmed under his glare.

"Yes, father," she said politely, although inside, she wanted to say 'absolutely not'.

"Good. Now if you'll excuse me, your mother and I have some important business to attend to. You may stay here and introduce yourselves," he said, this time addressing both of his daughters.

"Thank you, father," Channary and Levana said in perfect unison. All three girls bowed as the king and queen left the room. Malissa had also excused herself, for she was needed in the royal kitchens.

As soon as the door was shut, Channary and Sybil both turned around to face Levana, and she couldn't help but feel intimidated by their stares. It probably didn't help that they were both way taller than her.

"Um..." Levana held her arms behind her back, swaying back on her feet. "Hello. It's...very nice to meet you," she said shyly, extending her hand towards the girl. Sybil hesitated for a moment, glancing at Channary. The crown princess nodded.

Sybil stepped forward, but before she did anything else, the slightly-too-big glove slipped off Levana's right hand, exposing her metal and bolts. Sybil staggered back a bit, a look of disgust smeared on her face. Channary looked mortified, her cheeks flaming as she held a hand over her mouth.

(oh ew what a freak what a monster)

Levana backed away, fumbling with her glove—quickly covering up her metal monstrosity. "I-I'm sorry, they, um, are a bit too big for big for me..." she stuttered, lowering her head in shame.

"A cyborg. How quaint," Sybil spat.

Levana didn't dare offer her hand again. She was too afraid.

"Don't pay the freak any mind, Sybil. Let's go, I'll show you around the menagerie," Channary sneered, her braid swaying with her movements. She shot Levana a look, as if to say 'don't move, or else...'.

Sybil nodded, following Channary, and both girls snickered like little witches as they walked together towards the exit.

"Freak," Sybil sneered, barely holding back giggles. Channary then pulled her out of the room. The door shut with a dull click, and then they were gone.

Levana released a breath that she didn't know she was holding. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her stomach tied up in knots. Another potential friendship lost. Another name to add to her list of enemies. Another person who hated her.

(come on what did you expect you know better you stupid girl)

But really, she shouldn't have been surprised. If no one in the palace thought that she was worth anything, why would anyone else from the outside think otherwise? All she wanted was a friend, but maybe people like her weren't meant to be loved or appreciated. Maybe Channary was right. Maybe all she would ever be is a worthless spare, doomed to forever be a slave.

(never get your hopes up you'll just get hurt)

"Am I so wrong to wish that they would see things like I do?" she mumbled the soft words of an old poem, one that the shunned moon writes to the exalted sun. A poem that she had read in one of her storybooks.

She tried to stay as composed as she could, standing there, wallowing in her own sadness. But she couldn't hold it back anymore, the familiar tears pricking the back of her eyes. She ran out of the hall, as if she were running from her nightmares, her life—and raced down the halls to her bedroom. Once there, she entered and slammed the door shut. Levana leaned against it, feeling empty, hollow.

(oh god stop crying you crybaby you want your bottle and blankie you crybaby)

The tears ran freely, soaking her gloved hands that were held over her eyes. She slid down the door, tucking her knees against her chest. Her voice cracked on her last words as she started sobbing uncontrollably.

"And am I so wrong to think that they might love me too?"

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"You commed me, Princess?" Sybil asked Channary as she entered her bedroom. It had been nearly a week since she had arrived, already getting quite close to the crown princess. They went everywhere together, only separating to either go to training or studies.

"Just come here. I need to talk to you about something really important," Channary whispered.

Sybil, although confused, closed the door and came closer. Channary slid over to her desk and carefully pulled out a glass test tube from the top drawer, filled with some sort of liquid.

Sybil arched a slender eyebrow, eyeing it with curiosity. The liquid was dark blue, nearly black in colour and had a pretty thin consistency. As she got closer, she could smell it. It smelled horrible, reeking of death. Sybil gagged. "What the—"

"Don't get too close!" Channary warned, pulling the tube a bit farther away.

Sybil gagged again, sure that her breakfast was about to make a reappearance. "Stars, what is that stuff?!" she asked, eyes watering from the smell.

"I swiped this from Father's laboratory. It's a prototype for some disease that he's developing."

Sybil quirked an eyebrow. "What...disease?" she asked wearily, taking a step back.

"According to the reports," Channary waved an arm through the air, "The symptoms are really painful, and the disease is super-deadly. You get bruises, spots, fever, the whole works! It's called 'Letumosis'," she said, her voice oddly cheerful and excited.

"What in the world would you need this for?" Sybil asked, shocked. "Why are you playing around with such potent poison?!"

Channary smirked. "I have a plan for how deal with our little...freak," she said, putting the tube in a plastic box.

Sybil shook her head. "What does this disease have to do with anything?" Her eyes widened. "Wait...are we going to—"

"—poison her? Yes." Channary smiled. "Well, sort of. Just think of it as a fun little prank," she said with an air of innocence.

"But you said that this disease is extremely potent!" Sybil stepped back even more, her eyes wide as saucers. Her better judgement was telling her that it was a terrible idea.

Channary rolled her eyes. "Don't worry, she won't die from it. Well, it's complicated. Basically, Father created the disease by mutating a common virus with his own DNA. Since both she and I share his DNA, we can produce the right antibodies to kill the virus. The recovery process is just very, very painful."

Sybil stayed silent for a moment.

"You don't look too conviced," Channary accused, placing a hand on her hip.

"This seems really cruel, Channary. Even for you."

The princess' smile turned into a playful pout. "Cruel? Hardly." She sniffed. "Are you really going to wimp out on me, Sybil? I thought that we were partners in crime..."

Sybil sighed in abandon. "Well..." She ran a hand through her black hair, "Okay. I guess this one time is fine...how are we going to carry out this plan?"

Channary put her mouth to Sybil's ear. "Here's what we're going to do..."

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