'Emptiness has its solace in that there's nothing left to take'
-Ani DiFranco

Spotify Playlist: Ammu-Bts4ever https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3YTBOVcTCsrNkfnwCF0UNT

Part I. An Ode of Rivalry to Moonlight& the Sea

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Death, was not a punishment in her world.

But a comfort.

An idea, a trickling thought, that everyone would eventually meet the same end.

At least, that's what they were all told when the planet fell into endless night.

No more religion. No more governments. No more money.

The only thing they could offer in this world was their power.

Magic. شعبده بازي, in her tongue. A language that was dead and forbidden to exist to the rest of the world. Forced to use the common tongue of the unified nation.

The separate nations were allowed to keep bits and pieces of their culture. Slices of the one rich and brilliant diversity they all once had. It connected to their magic, their power in various ways. It was all they could keep, since it became inherent in all nations after the lights went out.

For "United, we are a beacon of light in the darkness. Divided, we will drown in it."

So in order to exchange power, and seek united fronts, marriage became the world's currency. Though little remained of the old marriage bonds of before.

Love was banned.

Love.

It was told to be beautiful.

It's what had turned their world to ashes.

Love turned to pride. Pride turned to hate. And hate bred selfishness.

She was not selfish. And she would never love. She would do everything in her power for her country.

It is what kept her from running, as her mother brushed out her hair for the latheera, the ceremony before she was to be shipped off to her new husband.

The thought itself curdled her blood.

"Stop moving, I'll snag your hair." Her mother spoke gently, gracefully.

The epitome of everything a woman in their era was supposed to be. Quiet, and respectable. Elegant, but not too proud. Shoulders back, but chin level, to not show the men her pride.

She was raised to be the same as her mother.

But she was also raised to be dangerous. When she was quiet, she was cunning. When she was smart, she was manipulative. When she smiled, goddess help everyone else.

She stared blankly at the mirror. At her mother, who shared her long, dark, waving hair, skin that was tan and sun kissed, delicate, high cheekbones, almond eyes lined with kohl, and full lips. So similar in physicality to herself.

They couldn't be anymore different.

It was an honor, what was happening. For their village. For their country, old and new. Their region was referred territory 128, to not stand out from the rest. Like every "state" under the United Tenebris, every territory was simply given a number.

Erasure. It infected them like a sickness. To be denied of their customs.

She would be their savior. And all the glory would belong to hers alone.

She was proud. As was her family.

It still stung that her mother seemed happy to send her away. That her father had carefully made negotiations in order to be sent to the right male. The one born exactly half a year before her during the black sun.

"Are you ready?" Her mother asked, smiling as she stared at her offspring in the mirror.

She wished she could smile back. But children, like everything else in her world, weren't meant to be loved. Every child was meant to be fed, schooled, and kept healthy. Nothing further. Her family took pride in her, but they were happier to see her to fulfill her duty. She was an investment that could finally be used in a transaction.

She didn't know the answer. She didn't want to talk to her mother about it.

"Yes." She said, trained to be respectful. To answer and be perfect and to never fall under pressure.

"Make me proud. Make us proud."

There is no other way.

She looked at herself one more time in the mirror. Took in the black line around her silver irises, colored by the moon. The long silk robe the same color, draped over her body. The small, purple flowers that lay in a crown around the rim if her head. Her hands that lay at her sides, unable to move even if she wanted them too.

The look on her face that told her her life was about to change.

Her and her mother walked down the stairs of their keep, the large stone building she had lived in since she was a child. One that she would not see again after today, at least for a little while.

The air was still warm as she walked outside, another thing she would miss. In the country she was going too, 057, she was told the air changed with seasons.

So she took in one deep breath, sighing at the smell of tulips. The soft breeze. The honey that wafted from the kitchens.

Home.

Her heart ached, only for a moment. A quick, brief moment where she thought she could relate to one of the old stories. Where they spoke of heartbreak.

It was so brief, it was as if she imagined it.

Her mother ushered her a bit faster, and soon they made it to the mouth of their ceremonial cave. And while the world was always painted in blacks, purples, and navy blues, it was now alight.

A large fire was stoked in the middle of the cave. The moonlight a direct path towards it. She saw the mat she was supposed to kneel on.

The women of her village kneeled, smiling. Sitting in a circle around her. Looking expectantly as they waited for her to move.

Her latheera would be a little different. Only a little.

She stared up at their faces, held a notch higher than was acceptable. And she walked forward. It was silent, so silent, the crickets outside were like thunder.

Her mother walked behind her, and waited as she kneeled on the mat.

Slowly, surely, she undid the robe. The silken material dropped off her body, allowing herself to be bare to all eyes. Necessary for the god of the moon, Mah, to see her soul. To see if she was truly who was meant to do his bidding.

"Ladies, let's begin."

She waited expectantly, keeping her eyes level above the heat of the fire. The warmth that singed at her exposed breast and hands, but provided her with more memories of the heat of her home.

Women from her village swayed around her. Soft voices chanting into the fire. Voices echoing, blanketing her in strength and resilience. Her sisters, her mother, her aunts, her cousins, her teachers, her peers. Speaking in the language they were not allowed to speak, to teach, and had anyways. Once kept away from her, but now closer than ever.

After 322 years of erasure.

They repeated the same mantra, one that had been spoken to her since she was born on the day of the black moon.

"One with the flame, the other night
Entangle themselves in this world,
We will never see light"

She made no movements as she felt jahartha, oil mixed with gold flakes, poured over her head. Her mother moved the pitcher over her in small circular motions, the substance dripping down her. Her body alight and golden under the fire and the jahartha looked molten.

Worry filled her, as she felt the same. The oil usually coaxed the spirit of magic into the body. Those of marrying age experienced at 21.

She glanced slyly at her mother, who sent her an encouraging smile. One that told her "in time, all is right."

The women around her continued the chant, their voices getting louder around her. Moving in and out like the tides.

"The sun cannot rise, if the moon does not call
Blade against blood, only one will survive the fall"

As they repeated the final lines of the prophecy, she felt as if each being in the cave had transferred their energy to her. Electric in her veins she lifted her arms up, head falling back as she looked towards the sky, at the full moon filling the hole at the top of the cavern.

Light itself, smiling down upon her. Blessing her for her devine mission that she had been prepared for since her childhood. Her birthright, as the bringer of light to this planet.

As she felt شعبده بازي in her chest. A soft silver glow emitting from where her heart beat. A smile lifted on her face, as she was given the power her people could wield.

The power of the moon.

She was ready.

She would never lose sight of her duty.

My name is Leila Mahnaz Anvari.

I was born 300 years after the sun died.

And I must kill my betrothed, Kim Taehyung.

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(A/N: YALL CANNOT EVEN FATHOM THE THINGS I HAVE PLANNED FOR THIS BOOK. Yanno what, NOVEL I am about to write for you.

Also this is some backstory, the narration won't be as abstract as this first chapter the entire book.

I haven't read a lot of royalty fanfics in a while to prepare to write this one. If you notice any similarities it is

1) a coincidence
2) if it is too similar let me know so I can change it
3) if it's not similar, stop comparing books to other books and authors to other authors

Moving on

Our lovely MC is middle eastern (Iranian to be exact) or what would be considered that despite the lack of clear geography in the book so far. That's why a lot of the words are Persian (Farsi) and if I get anything wrong or misrepresent anything LET ME KNOW BECAUSE this is all research based for me, not lived experience. I want to give you a character that is good representation, not just a white girl with middle eastern features. Correct me by all and any means!

Medalion Rahimi (younger than her current age) the real actress does not have silver eyes, those are edited by myself

Or more so this unarmed girl from Pinterest

Or if you don't like imagining real people, you can imagine this imagine I made from art breeder. Her eyes are silver but that is because it pertains to the storyline.