Notes at bottom. Thanks!
-Lianne (liannesen@aol.com)
http://www.liannesentar.com

*Blue Planet, White Moon*
Part 11

Rated PG-13 for a tiny bit of language, some drama, and 
romance

	The moon palace was like an endless marble maze. The 
hallways were tall, too tall; when Endymion's gaze traveled up
the walls to the vast, dome, glitter-speckled ceiling his head spun 
and he had to close his eyes. He rested a palm against the cool 
stone, lowered his head, and gripped his temple.
	"Dammit." He was getting nowhere. He'd rested the time
he'd been told to--well beyond that time, in fact--but his vision
still blurred and his stomach still flipped when he wasn't focusing
on keeping his balance. It was better, in a way, that he'd been 
able to leave for Malachite before an escort had arrived; he was
tired of the way the moon people looked at him, and he'd already
fallen down twice. It was bad enough being hated when he didn't
feel like vomiting every step and every few minutes he was landing
on his rear end.
	But he was lost, certainly. He'd never anticipated the sheer
*number* of halls in the palace, let alone the endless doors lined
up neatly along their sides. He'd even had a faint hope that his
father's booming voice would lead him to whatever room the king
was in, but, unfortunately or otherwise, his father seemed to be in
one of his unusually quiet moods.
	"... time. You know ..."
	Endymion's lids lifted. The voice, muted and dreamlike,
sounded vaguely like Zoycite's. He wondered if he was hearing
things.
	"... *telling* you I won't ..."
	The word emphasis had that slight impatience twinge he
*knew* to be Zoycite's. Endymion lifted his head and noticed the
door nearby marked BALCONY. Swallowing against his uneasy 
stomach, he dragged himself over, turned the crystal knob,
and pushed in.
	And froze.
	In the dark, against the pale Earthlight, Zoycite's leaning 
form was silhouetted with his lady's. He was kissing her. Endymion 
could barely see his general's lip movements, soft, slow, against 
Princess Mercury's cheek. Her eyes were closed, her breath was 
shallow, and her hands, by her sides, draped loosely over Zoycite's 
wrists. She murmured something Endymion couldn't hear.
	Endymion's face colored as a sharp pin of guilt bit
into his heart; his foot shuffled backward a step. He suddenly
felt terribly, terribly lonely.
	Zoycite's eyes snapped open. He jerked from Mercury
and turned bright red. "Endymion!" he shouted.
	Mercury jumped at Zoycite's sudden outburst. Clutching
her chest, she looked over at the prince, went slightly pink, then
angrily pushed Zoycite away from her. "Are you trying to give me
heart failure?!" she snapped. "What's wrong with you?!"
	Zoycite scowled at her. Brushing down his somewhat
frazzled ponytail, he quickly stepped to Endymion and took 
him by the arm. "What do you want?" he said through his teeth. 
"I'm busy."
	Endymion shook his head and tried to pull free. 
"I'm ... looking for Malachite," he mumbled, before stumbling
and falling against a wall. He closed his eyes and swallowed
bile as Zoycite's firm grip lifted him back to stand.
	"Endymion?" Zoycite's voice was suddenly soft. Endymion
felt a cool hand slip onto his forehead. "What's wrong?"
	Endymion shook his head again, though the action 
made him dizzy and he quickly ceased it. "The drugs," he 
muttered. "They're still messing me up."
	"Still? It's been hours."
	"I KNOW that." Endymion's frustration suddenly bubbled 
up in him, and anger heated his face. He nudged Zoycite away.
"I *should* be fine, but I still feel like puking my guts out. So 
what ELSE is new?"
	Zoycite frowned. Mercury, after letting out a breath, 
pushed Zoycite aside and gripped Endymion's chin. The prince
found himself staring into a pair of dark, intelligent blue eyes.
	Mercury studied him a moment. "Your vision is clear,"
she said after a pause. "It's not the drugs, it's the transport. 
How long were you sick the first time you came up?"
	He closed his eyes against a new onset of dizziness. 
"Half a day, I think," he answered. "But that was almost two
years ago."
	"Maybe your body isn't getting used to it the way 
everyone hoped." Mercury sucked her teeth and ran a thumb
over his forehead. "Poor thing."
	It was too much like his mother. He pulled from 
Mercury, despite the way it made his head spin, and blinked
away the hotness he felt building behind his eyes. "I'll get
used to it," he snapped. "Regardless of what my stupid
body says."
	"Yeah, that's the spirit." Zoycite none-too-gently pushed
Endymion toward the door. "So, right, you were leaving?"
	Mercury's hand slapped against the back of Zoycite's head.
"Forget it!" she snarled. "Stop being so inconsiderate. Lead your 
prince to where he needs to go; you're not getting anything else 
tonight."
	The general spun to her, eyes wide. "But darling--"
	"You're lucky I let you get within a yard of me!" She
pointed to the door. "Now go!"
	Zoycite's height shrunk by 25%. Shoulders slumped, he
gripped Endymion's wrist and helped him through the door.
Mercury turned back toward the balcony and brushed a stray
bang behind her ear.
	Endymion knew better than to ask. As he silently 
clumped through the hallway with his general, biting his teeth
against the way his stomach lurched, he kept his eyes to the
floor. He didn't want to look at Zoycite. He didn't want to
look at his profile and remember the profile as he'd leaned
in and kissed his princess. Endymion wanted to clear that
memory as fast from his mind as he could.
	Deep down, he knew he was being unfairly crabby.
	"By the way," Zoycite suddenly said, breaking their
moody silence. He glanced at his prince. "It was only on the cheek."
	Endymion snorted. "Not my business."
	"It's not like I did anything terrible. I only kissed
her on the cheek."
	"Hey." Endymion's dark eyes rolled to Zoycite. "I 
told you, *I* *don't* *care*. As long as you don't go far 
enough to scandalize, you can court whoever you want."
	Zoycite furrowed his eyebrows. "Thanks for the love,"
he snorted. "What, are you mad at me or something?"
	Endymion gritted his teeth. Mad? Mad at Zoycite
for moving in on his girl? He could never get honestly angry 
at Zoycite, let alone for seeking happiness. What got 
Endymion *mad* was his memories of leaving a white
princess with tears in her eyes, his own gaze lowered to the
floor while a pale captain dragged her away. After all the
months he'd dreamed of her and all the times he'd fantasized
about returning to the moon, here he was, screwing things up
again. He'd left his princess without so much as a confession.
He didn't know if that made him a coward, but he certainly 
felt that way.
	"Hey." Zoycite's arm slid around Endymion's waist.
He leaned in close, and his voice went low. "I want to tell
you something."
	Endymion frowned. "What?"
	Zoycite shook his head. When Endymion looked over
and fully recognized the gravity in his general's eyes, his heart
sank. This had nothing to do with girls.
	Zoycite stopped walking. Endymion, halted with him,
suddenly noticed the two of them were in front of a great 
silver door. The sign marked QUEEN'S QUARTERS was 
ornamented with flecks of diamond.
	"Listen to me." Zoycite turned, took his prince's
shoulders. A moment, and his gaze snapped back to the 
door. "The queen is probably going to tell you what she 
just told the rest of us. You've been resting for, what, an
hour and a half?"
	"A-about that." Endymion could feel fear crawl up
his heart. "So I missed the first lecture?"
	"It's not a lecture, it's a warning." Zoycite's fingers 
dug just a touch deeper into his prince's shoulders.
"Endymion, I know you're not feeling well, but it's really
important you listen to everything she says. Don't get too
scared, though, all right? I'm afraid things are looking ... a 
little worse than they were before."
	Worse. Looking *worse.* In the moment when
Endymion felt his heart drop to his stomach, when he
felt cold fear run through his veins, when his general
pushed open the door and gently led him inside to the 
waiting looks of the king, Malachite, Venus, and Queen
Serenity, Endymion wondered how fighting a losing
war, with his mother dead, his princess cut off, his
will failing him, and his enemy defended by an army 
of his people's corpses could possibly look "worse."
	The look Queen Serenity sent him convinced him
that, by God, it most certainly could.
	"Prince Endymion." The Queen nodded her head
at him, then gestured to a large, plush chair in the middle
of the room. Her eyes were grave.
	"You'd better sit down."

**************

	"Stop it! Stop!" Princess Serenity twisted her wrist 
around in Steven's grip; her long nails dug into his fingers,
her body writhed, her teeth clenched as thin tendrils of hair 
pulled free of her buns and spilled over her jerking face. 
"Captain, Steven, STOP IT!"	
	Still he didn't turn to her, despite the 20 minutes of 
silence as he dragged her through the hallways of the marble
palace. His pale eyes were blank and set unwaveringly forward 
despite the bruises welling up under the princess' fingernails.
	"Steven! STEVEN!" Princess Serenity, at her wit's end,
finally grabbed his arm with her free hand and, in a most 
unprincessly manner, sank her teeth deep into his flesh.
	He hissed and jerked his arm away. Serenity was freed
so suddenly that she stumbled; marble banged into her
knees just as it slapped beneath her palms. Panting, she 
blinked away the liquid in her eyes and looked up.
	Captain Steven gripped his arm and glared at the
blood welling up from her teeth marks. His gaze snapped 
up to his princess, and before she knew what was happening 
he had grabbed her elbow and dragged her to her feet.
She cried out as his face was suddenly right up to hers.
	"*Stop it.*" His voice came out as a hiss, cold on
cheeks. "Stop acting like a complete child. Don't you
realize the danger you're in?"
	Serenity's eyes widened. She bit her lip as tears 
welled up. "I don't know anything," she breathed. "Because 
you don't TELL me anything!"
	The ice in Steven's eyes melted the slightest touch.
A moment, and his fingers loosened from her shoulder.
He turned from her.
	"I know why the prince was summoned." Steven's voice
was thin. "The queen, putting her trust in the idea that
it's not too late, told the Earth representatives what they
have to be prepared for in this war."
	Serenity froze. "Wh-what?" She clutched her
hands into fists, weakly. "What do you mean? About 
the ... Legions being dead Earthians?" The thought still made 
her stomach lurch. She'd only had that truth revealed to her 
a little over an hour before--there was more to it than that? 
There was *more*?
	Steven took a breath. "Princess," he began,
unreadably, "the moon kingdom is deeply set in a 
tradition of white magic. Our royalty is born into it,
our palace burns with it; the Earth kingdom, as you 
know, knows no such power or burden. Their ways are
far more primitive and simplistic than our own."
	Serenity pressed her lips together tightly. The
Earth was *not* primitive, nor simplistic. She
remembered Zoycite with his tearful prince's head in 
his lap--did all people of the moon think magic made 
so much of a difference?
	"We hold no power in black magic, nor have
we ever, but that doesn't mean we have no knowledge
of it." Steven glanced back at her. "Your mother is
as well-educated as a moon queen must be. She's read
of the black arts and the capabilities of those who wield
it. She thinks she understands the technique the Legions of
Metallia are utilizing."
	He paused. "Princess," he said at last, his voice
a bit quieter, "they can use more than corpses for their
armies."
	Serenity kept her silence. Her heart beat had
quickened, and the look her captain sent her set her blood
cold. "Y-yes?" she breathed at last.
	Steven glanced around. Verifying no one was in
the deserted marble hall, he continued, "The black magic
being used is efficient at animating dead bodies. It heals 
the death wound inflicted on a soldier, then controls the 
soulless husk to whatever end the wielder desires. It can 
be used quickly and easily on countless dead. The only 
limitation it holds is that the undead warrior can't
reach a strength higher than it had in life."
	"Yet, the first attack on the Earth palace, all those
months ago, featured far stronger warriors that left an attack
on the palace and barely a death of their own. From all accounts, 
that first attack was also launched with Earthian soldiers, but 
quite possibly not the same as the undead armies. Many 
villagers had reported missing persons the months before
it happened."
	Serenity could feel icy fear claw her heart. "And?"
she croaked.
	Steven closed his eyes a moment. "There's a ...
there's a way to take live soldiers and turn them evil. The
Legions of Metallia, in the past and in the future, can
capture living Earthians and turn their loyalties with the
memory-erasing capabilities of dark magic."
	He turned to her fully then, his pale eyes grave and
his mouth set tightly. He leaned over and took her by the
shoulders. "Princess," he said quietly, "when living 
soldiers are converted with black magic, their strength
can be double or triple what it was beforehand. An army
like that could decimate the Earth kingdom with barely a
thought."
	Serenity's eyes were wide. It took her a moment to
form words. "A-are you ..." She broke off, tried again.
"A-are you saying ... the Earth representatives, the prince ...
may be evil?"
	"Your mother believes it isn't too late." Steven
glanced away. "After assessing the situation, I agree with
her. She's currently informing the royalty of the Legions'
capabilities in the hopes it will help them defend more
effectively. The only positive note on the whole concept
is converting living hostages to black magic is a very
draining and time-consuming process; the first
attack wave may have featured a number of
living Legion warriors, but the forces of Metallia
will probably save their memory-erasing resources on a 
select number of officers in their army. Leaders,
heads of attacks, will likely not be undead soldiers but
kidnapped, brainwashed Earthian leaders."
	Serenity could feel hot tears well up in the 
corners of her eyes. She wasn't a child--she knew what
her captain was implying. She shook her head, shakily,
but determined. "No." She clenched her fists. "Prince
Endymion would never fight his own people."
	Steven's fingers tightened on her shoulders.
"If he was brainwashed, it wouldn't be his choice. Don't
you see? There's no protecting him from being a 
target of the enemy. According to research, living
humans converted to the Dark wouldn't even have the
red eyes of the undead soldiers. The prince could be
the head of Metallia's ranks and you wouldn't be
able to tell--"
	"NO!" Serenity ripped free of her captain's
hold. Her eyes flared. "Endymion would NEVER turn 
evil!"
	"It's not UP to him, princess!"
	"NO!" Serenity tried to run. Steven's fingers
clutched her wrist and dragged her back; she shrieked
as he pulled her into his arms.
	"LISTEN to me!" He bit his teeth. "Don't you
see why our people don't want to help the war? We
can't trust Earthians anymore! Regardless of their
intentions, if the Legions aren't stopped they could
convert the king and his son--"
	Serenity's palm cracked against Steven's cheek.
Surprised, his grip on her loosened; she slipped from 
his hold and bolted down the hall. He watched, dazed,
as the young princess flew down the marble corridor, her 
sobs echoing long after she disappeared around a
corner.	
	Steven, captain of the Moon Guard and head
of Queen Serenity's magical warriors, touched his
cheek, closed his eyes, and slumped his shoulders
just the barest touch. The teeth marks on his arm
still squeezed out tiny scarlet drops.
	With her reaction, he didn't know how much
more he could tell her. She'd hardly listened to the
danger warnings. He knew he might never get the
chance to explain to her the limitless power if an
Earthian, even just one, were to join Metallia's
forces because he or she *chose* to.

**************

	Endymion had requested he be left alone.
Since the news hadn't helped his condition any, he
returned to the empty, dark infirmary; he turned down 
the elbow Malachite offered, both because he refused to
let his body win to that extent and because he knew
Malachite was anxious to speak with Venus. 
Endymion didn't blame him, like he didn't blame
Zoycite for kissing Mercury on that balcony or Jedite,
Nephlite, and their respective princesses to be
nowhere to be found. There was no telling when, or
if, they would have the chance to return to the moon
and be given privacy. Even the fact he was allowed to
visit the infirmary alone was a courtesy--a few 
minutes of silence, and he knew he'd hear the moon 
guards shuffle into their old places outside the door.
Queen Serenity was a kind woman to give him 
even those few moments unwatched.
	Letting out a breath, he dropped himself onto
the clean medical bed. Fully clothed in stiff, princely
attire, the pillow under his face felt unusually soft.
He closed his eyes and pulled his shoes off with his 
toes.
	The door banged open. Tiredly, he tilted his
head to see it--and froze. His eyes widened.
	A panting princess Serenity, the pale light of
the hall bleeding in from behind her, gazed at him 
with tear-filled crystal blue. Before he had time to
think she was running at him with her arms thrown
apart.
	"Endymion!" she sobbed.
	He jumped to his feet just as she threw herself 
at him. Dumbfounded by the polite princess' sudden
behavior, he could do no more than let her curl against
his chest and cry as his heart thudded in his chest.
	"P-Princess?" He tried to keep his voice steady.
Her tiny tears were soaking through his shirt. "Wh-what's 
wrong?"
	She hiccuped and slid her arms around his waist.
"I don't care what they say," she sobbed. "I KNOW you'll
never go over to the enemy! I won't let them say that about
you!"
	Realization hit him like a battering ram. He'd been
so preoccupied with thinking how he or his father 
could be captured on the field and dragged to Metallia's
black magic he'd never thought of the princess' feelings.
What faith could she have in him if he was losing faith
in himself? How could she ever look at him again when
she knew he could be lost to her forever?
	Slowly, hesitantly, he let his arms circle her. She
was tiny and white and shaking, and just letting his hands
close on her sides made color flood to his face. He was
acutely aware of her face in his chest.
	"D-don't cry," he said after a moment. Watching 
the top of her head tremble against him, he rested one
large hand on her blond locks. "It'll be all right, 
Serenity."
	She shook her head. "I'm sorry," she mumbled.
"I'm sorry my people treat you so poorly. When I'm 
queen, I'll love Earthians and let you stay here as long
as you want. I'll never let anyone speak against you again."
	He felt like he was drowning. This tiny girl,
not yet 13 years old, spoke of changing a kingdom's 
views for him. Her hands gripping the back of his jacket, 
her nose and lips pressing through his damp shirt ... 
he suddenly felt strong, dizzying warmth spread through 
his limbs. His heart began to pound as he reached down and
cupped her chin in his hand.
	"You ... you're such a brave girl," he 
murmured, lifting her face up to him. Her eyes
were so crystalline his own vision fogged a touch.
"You won't let anyone tell you what to do, huh?"
	To his extreme surprise, she titled her
face in his palm and rubbed her cheek against
his calloused skin. "I won't let anyone speak
badly of you," she breathed. "You're different
and you're strong and you're beautiful. Please
don't be sad." She covered his hand with hers.
"When I'm queen, I'll make you happy, Endymion."
	Strength and male hormones flooded his
system. Barely realizing what he was doing, like a 
dream, he tilted her back to him. "A-and when 
I'm king," he breathed, leaning his face in, "I'll ... 
um ..."
	He was close. He was *so* close, his face but 
inches from hers. He could feel his eyes closing, could 
hear the way her breaths came shorter and quicker and 
slightly higher in pitch. He tilted his head. Closer.
Eyelids falling.
	"Endymion?" she whispered, barely. "What?
What will you do when you're king?"
	He could feel her breath on his lips. "I'll ...
I'll ..." He wanted this. He wanted this so badly every
inch of him screamed for it. Now was his chance, now
was his time to stop regretting letting her go without
his promise! She didn't move, so he leaned his lips in 
to take it from her. "I'll--"
	The sound of the door banging open made
him jerk back. Two moon guards, their hands on
the hilts of their swords, glared at him from the 
open doorway. 
	"Prince Endymion," one of them called, quite
rudely. "You've been summoned by your general Nephlite 
to prepare for departure. We're here to accompany you."	
	Endymion could feel how red his face was,
could see how the princess was a tingling shade of
pink. But he wasn't going to miss again. Not now, when
he didn't know when next he'd see her or if he'd die the
next day and when male hormones had a vice-like grip 
on his entire body. Foolishly confident as the teenage 
boy he was, he pulled Serenity back into his arms, turned 
her face to him, and smiled like a fool.
	"Don't worry," he said, loud enough so 
only she, and not the guards, could hear him.
"I'll never go over to the enemy. And when I'm king, 
I'll bring you to Earth and give you the biggest cheesecake 
in the entire universe."
	He kissed her. It was long, and deep, and perfect.
She tasted like honey and smelled like spring; her arms
slid around his neck, her tiny fingers buried in his
midnight hair. He could hear shouts, the pounding of
footsteps, the drawing of swords, but he couldn't've 
cared less. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders
and squeezed so tightly he was afraid he would crush
her. He loved her. Good God in heaven, he was completely
and hopelessly in love with Princess Serenity of the moon
kingdom.
	The hands that clamped on his arms and forcefully
pried him free were the only things that stopped him.
He opened his eyes to see Serenity, red-faced and
glassy-eyed, stare at him in blank shock as another
guard pulled her back. Endymion was shoved down 
on the bed as a naked blade pressed against his
throat.
	"Dirty Earthian," the guard snarled. "Don't you
DARE touch our princess!"
	The prince heard a crack. He lifted his head a touch 
(not too far--the sword at his throat was a hindrance, to say 
the least) to see the guard by Serenity reeling back and
clutching his cheek.
	"Don't you dare call him that!" she cried. "When
I'm queen, both of you are fired!"
	It was too much. Seeing his tiny princess there,
blushing from his kiss, heaving with her fists ready ... he 
burst into laughter. He laughed and he laughed and he 
laughed and he felt all the pain of months bleed out of 
him as if his skin were the only thing holding it in. He 
laughed as his guard cursed and pressed the sword tighter, 
he laughed as Serenity shrieked against the other man 
grabbing her wrists, he laughed as tears built up in his 
eyes and his princess called to him as she was forcefully 
dragged away. She caught the door frame and met his gaze.
	"Endymion!" The smile on her face was flustered,
but true, and the crystal blue of her eyes sparkled. "Have
a good trip home!"
	Pinned via sword to the bed, he still managed to lift
his hand. Through his tears he grinned, foolishly, and waved 
to his lady.
	"I will!" he called back. And he meant it. For the first 
time since he'd met her, he honestly meant it.

**************

	"The king and prince will be back in the wee 
hours." The head cook dipped her ladle into the massive
kettle of stew, sipped, and frowned. "There's no
reason for you to be up," she added as she reached for
her pepper grinder.
	Beryl shrugged her shoulders slightly and
placed her dish on the drying tray. In the middle of the
night, the kitchen was nearly deserted save the few chief 
servants who worked by lamp and the yawning child 
assistants. Beryl knew the boy who usually washed 
dishes had lost his mother in the palace attack, so she 
had volunteered to take his shift that night.
	"I'm up already," was her quiet reply. "I might
as well greet them when they come in."
	"The dishes we need are washed already. Go to
sleep, Beryl."
	"It's all right. I don't mind."
	The cook cocked an eyebrow at the tall redhead.
"Are you still gone on the prince?" she asked. "Come
now, Beryl. He's not for you."
	Color flooded to Beryl's cheeks. "I owe him 
my life," she said sharply as she snatched another
dirty plate. "Please don't say things like that."
	The cook rolled her eyes. "Whatever," she muttered
as she threw salt into the pot. "Not my business. If you're 
gonna stay up, though, be a dear and get more wood
for the stove? You're a strong one."
	"Fine." Beryl quickly dried her hands and 
lifted her apron over her head. She exited the kitchen's
rear door without so much as looking back.
	It was cool outside in the moonlight, cool and 
blessedly silent. Beryl let the slight breeze run through 
her hair and cool the heat she felt radiating from her skin.
Swallowing, she found a large burlap sack resting by
the castle's brick wall nearby. She flipped it over her
shoulder and brought it with her as she traveled into the
yard.
	Prince Endymion had saved her life, so she owed
him even deeper allegiance than his other subjects did. It
was a concept she had repeated to herself over and over
since he'd passed out in her arms, the rationalization she
used for following him and caring to him in the dark
times since his mother's death. Whether or not she 
enjoyed being with him was an entirely different matter,
and she didn't link it to her catering. The prince was still
growing into a man--his mother was gone, he was 
continuously surrounded by males and war, and she knew
he needed a woman in his life. If a palace servant whose
life he had saved didn't offer him such a simple comfort,
what did that say about the citizens of Earth under his
rule? It was her duty as an Earthian and as a human being 
to care for her troubled prince.
	But she wouldn't lie about her attraction to him.
She was 19; she was still able to recollect vaguely when he'd
been born. She'd watched him grow, from an infant to a 
boy to a youth, and she'd seen him blossom into an awkward 
but beautiful flower. At her age she held desire she knew he 
couldn't have experienced yet. He was still young, and his
experience with girls was probably limited to his chaste 
relationship with the princess of the moon ... she doubted he
knew of the true fierceness of hunger, nor that she held it
deep in her chest when she watched him pass by or when 
he visited in her dreams. She knew of the dangers of lust,
especially the dangers of lusting after a younger man who
was also her prince, so she steadily practiced discretion.
She would probably never have him and she was all
right with that.
	The firewood was piled sloppily at the far edge
of the yard. Sighing, Beryl crouched and went through the pile; 
it was hard to tell which logs would fit the stove in the dark.
She found one that would suffice and slid it into her sack.
	All the thoughts of the prince had set her blood stirring 
again. Shaking her head against the burning in her cheeks,
she grabbed another log and shoved it into her bag. She
had desires, but she also had restraint. Now, when she knew
he'd be returning in a few hours, was not the time to grow
hungry over thoughts of him. She sometimes feared herself
when longing clutched her. 	
	She grabbed another log, then jerked her hand away
and hissed. Tiny pain burned in her skin. A splinter? Now? 
Cursing her wandering mind, she pushed her finger into her 
mouth and sought the tiny piece of wood with her tongue. 
It wasn't deep; she gripped the splinter with her teeth and 
yanked, pulling it free of her flesh. She spat it aside and 
tried to examine her finger in the dark.
	A hand suddenly clapped over her mouth. She made
a choked cry, only to have it gurgle away when a knife's
edge pressed tightly against her throat. Her heart thundered
in her chest as frighteningly familiar hack-breathing rasped
in her ear. Her wide eyes rolled to catch sight of her
captor; freezing fear shot through her veins as she barely
caught sight of glowing red near her cheek. Eyes. That
was where his eyes would be.
	*Good God!*
	Her mind raced for ideas as panic set her shaking.
The knife was too close; she couldn't maneuver at all. One
hand clawed over her wrists and pulled them tight behind
her--she was helpless to stop it. She squeezed shut her
eyes and prayed, prayed dearly, that death was the worst
she could expect.
	"You're hungry, Beryl."
	Beryl's eyes snapped open. The voice had certainly
not come from the demon who held her; on the contrary,
she wasn't sure the creatures could speak anything but
snarls and cries. The voice was lilting, and feminine, 
and chilled her deep within her bones.
	A dark mist swirled around Beryl's ankles. The 
maid made a muffled gasp as the darkness pulled
warmth from her skin.
	"You *radiate* your desire," the freezing voice,
the woman's voice, purred. Beryl swore it came from the
mist. "My my, child. All this heat for that teenage fool?"
	Beryl blinked. *What?* She barely dared to 
breathe as the mist swirled around her knees, her waist,
her throat. She closed her eyes and trembled as a tendril
of darkness brushed tenderly over her cheek.
	"Don't be afraid, sweet Beryl," the voice, the darkness, 
said softly. "I only want to talk to you."

To be continued ...

-IF YOU EVER RECEIVED A BLANK OR GARBLED 
E-MAIL FROM ME, ESPECIALLY WITH AN 
ATTACHMENT, FROM ANY OF MY E-MAIL ADDRESSES, 
DON'T DOWNLOAD OR SAVE IT TO YOUR COMPUTER 
BY ANY MEANS! I never send blank or garbled messages as 
I take the e-mails I write very seriously, and I rarely send 
attachments (if I ever send an attachment to anyone, I'll write 
out a comprehensive e-mail with it saying exactly what the 
attachment is). If you get a blank or garbled message or an 
unexplained attachment from me you may be getting a virus 
(there is either a hacker or a virus or both in my account 
still causing trouble ...).

I got e-mailed complaints about not enough romance
in this fic, so I hope those people are satiated at least 
somewhat now. Just remember to keep your lips in control
in real life, kiddies. ^_^ Next part will be up sometime in Sept 
or Nov; check liannesentar.com for details. Love!
-Lianne (liannesen@aol.com)
http://www.liannesentar.com
*Sailor Moon and all its characters copyright © Naoko 
Takeuchi/Kodansha Ltd./Toei Animation, Co., Ltd. This story 
part copyright © Lianne Sentar, August 2002.ØØ