They called me the weakest of my kind. The smallest. The frailest.
I learned early that being born half-Anunnaki on Nibiru was a curse draped in silk. My mother—Ereshkigal, daughter of Anu and Antu—kept me close like a prized pet rather than a daughter. My biological mother, the female Gibillu who bore me, had been discarded shortly after my birth. I never knew her name.
Sometimes I wondered if that was mercy.
I stood now at the edge of the Grand Observatory, staring out at the vast darkness of space punctuated by distant stars. From here, one could see Earth, third planet from its sun, suspended in the void like a teardrop. My small frame—an embarrassing 5'5" compared to the towering Anunnaki nobles who typically stood between ten and thirteen feet tall—cast barely any shadow on the crystalline floor.
"Scurrying around alone again, little woodlouse?"
The voice came from behind me, dripping with false sweetness. I didn't need to turn to know it was Ninlil, daughter of one of my mother's senior advisors. I kept my gaze fixed on Earth, my fingers tightening almost imperceptibly on the railing.
"I prefer the quiet," I replied softly.
Ninlil moved closer, her reflection appearing in the great window beside mine. The comparison was almost comical. Her 8'3" frame towering over my diminutive stature, her golden skin gleaming with the nanite-enhanced cosmetics that were fashionable in the upper echelons of Anunnaki society. My own platinum blonde hair and fair skin, traits inherited from my Gibillu mother, marked me as different, deficient.
"How fortunate for the rest of us," she smirked. "Your voice is hardly worth hearing anyway." She leaned down, her perfect lips almost brushing my ear. "Did you know they're calling you the Scrapped Princess in the lower courts? Even the Gibillu servants laugh about it."
I felt the familiar burn of shame crawling up my neck but kept my expression carefully blank. This was merely another day for me.
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"Fascinating," I murmured. "Is that why you've sought me out? To deliver court gossip?"
Her perfect features twisted momentarily before smoothing back into practiced beauty. "Lord Enzu has requested all royal progeny attend the ceremonial preparation feast tonight. Even the..." she paused deliberately, "...mongrels."
Ah. The true purpose of her visit. Not content to simply deliver the message, she needed to ensure I understood my place in the hierarchy.
"I'll be sure to attend," I said, turning back to the window. Dismissal clear in my tone.
Rather than leave, she gripped my shoulder, her long fingers digging in with calculated precision—just painful enough to make her point without leaving visible bruises.
"Wear the formal black attire. Your mother insists. And try to look less..." she waved her hand vaguely at my entire being, "pathetic."
Only after she departed in a swirl of shimmering robes did I allow my shoulders to slump. The attire she mentioned—a complex, multi-layered robe made from a living fabric that responded to the wearer's bioelectric field—would be heavy on my frame. Another way to highlight my weakness.
I pressed my forehead against the cool glass, focusing on Earth. Somewhere down there, a Vampire prince had done the unthinkable by challenging the system and killing my grandparents. That act had sent tremors through our entire society. Mother had been in a cold rage for days, Nergal had destroyed an entire wing of his palace, and Enzu...
Enzu, father of my closest friend Enrosha, was about to become the new Supreme Ruler.
I felt a slight vibration against my wrist—a message on the subdermal communication implant all royal children received upon reaching maturity.
Ophelia. BS Lab. Twenty minutes. Bring your codex. -E
Enrosha. One of the three reasons I had survived this long on Nibiru.
I pushed away from the railing, composing myself. The Black Sun Laboratory was one of the few places we could speak freely, thanks to Qali's technical expertise in creating signal dampeners. Whatever Enrosha wanted to discuss, it was important enough to risk meeting before the ceremonial feast.
As I moved through the sickening corridors, Anunnaki nobles and servants alike stepped aside, their eyes sliding past me as if I were invisible. Some whispered behind jeweled hands. Others simply pretended I didn't exist.
None of them knew that I had been collecting their secrets for years. That while they dismissed the ‘quiet, fragile half-blood princess’, I had been building a weapon out of knowledge. That the extensive trauma they had so casually inflicted had not broken me but crystallized something harder than diamond within my soul.
I may have been the smallest Anunnaki hybrid on Nibiru, but soon they would learn what my mother had always feared—that sometimes the most dangerous predator in the room is the one you chose to ignore.
