This part dedicated to Kathy Valdoria for being an excellent fan and inspiring me to get in gear. Extra notes at bottom. Thanks! -Lianne (liannesentar@yahoo.com) http://www.liannesentar.com *Blue Planet, White Moon* Part 14 Rated PG-13 for violence, drama, cursing, and romance He could see his princess standing on the tower of her castle, her image obscured by black and red mist. He called to her. Filling his lungs with air pulled the wound on his back; wincing, her turned his head to check on it. He was surprised to see he was wearing a tuxedo. It was the one his mother had given him; since he'd lost it after his last trip to the moon, he'd always figured he'd just left it up there. "Prince Endymion?" He looked up. She was staring down at him now, her eyes wide. Through the mists he could faintly see the glow of her tears. "Princess!" he shouted. "Serenity! Is that you?" She vanished. In half a moment she appeared before him, her arms wide. "Endymion!" she cried, pulling him into embrace. "I missed you!" Pain seared through the prince and sucked the breath from his lungs. Her arms were so tight, his wound so fresh ... one of her hands slid to his back and pushed directly where his injury was. Stars exploded and Endymion's knees buckled. Falling to the cold marble only jarred his wound again; making a gurgled cry, he crumpled. Serenity gasped and fell to her knees beside him. "Am I hurting you?" she cried. She pressed his wound again. Her fingers were like pokers digging into the fire of his wound. He gasped and tried to pull her free; she only pushed harder. He screamed as his body spasmed. "Am I hurting you?" she asked, pushing again. Through his lashing and the blood roaring in his ears, he barely heard her ask the question once more. Her fingers dug into his torn flesh. Endymion's eyes snapped open. Healers scampered around his room. Some were crying orders, some were running around trying to gather supplies; a loud, low shooting sound, like the moan of a giant beast, penetrated from outside the castle walls. The subsequent crash caused the entire room to rock. Pain seared from Endymion's back and sent red film over his eyes. Gasping against the burn, he frantically tried to roll off it. The bonds hindered him. "Uh-unt-tie me," he gasped. A healer frantically righting bottled jars heard him. The elderly man looked to his prince with wide eyes. "My prince!" the man cried. "The castle is attacked, we're all in danger her--" Another crash, another rocking. Endymion rolled against his wound and screamed as something bit deep into it. There was something *embedded* in his flesh. He barely heard the healers' cries. Pain seared his senses and sent his body convulsing. "Uhhn-tiie!" he shrieked. "Now! NOOOW!" A few moments, and shaking hands loosed his bonds. Endymion rolled to his stomach and grabbed with a convulsing hand at his injury. A small, round ball stuck out from the seared flash of his wound. Screaming against the pain, he dug his fingers into the cut and wrenched the ball out. Flesh and blood bunched under his fingernails. Endymion fainted. ****************** He coughed and shuddered as he woke. Endymion, his eyes blinking falteringly, batted the smelling salts away. The healer before him threw the bottle aside and grabbed his prince's shoulders. "Up!" he ordered as he dragged on the young man. "Out of bed! My prince, you must flee!" The healer's attempt to pull him from bed scraped the wound against the sheets. Endymion cried out and recoiled. His shaking hand cupped the injury. "Wh-what was in there?" he gasped. "There was something round in the wound. What was IN there?!" "You must flee!" the healer insisted, pulling Endymion with one hand whilst reaching for a vial with the other. "We will dull the pain as best we can. Find your father and escape while--" "NO!" Endymion wrenched himself free, though his back screamed with pain. Gritting his teeth, he glared daggers at the healer. "I'm not doing ANYTHING until you tell me what's going on!" Another healer, busily readying something on a nearby tray, looked up. He grabbed a handful of some kind of white powder and threw it in Endymion's face. The prince sneezed. Coughing and spluttering as the dust filled his lungs, his eyes rolled to the back of his head as darkness overcame. ****************** Smelling salts once again punched through his senses. Endymion awoke in a sneezing fit, his body convulsing with the powerful blows. His body at last calmed; looking up through damp bangs, he waited for his vision to clear. The infirmary was half destroyed. Nearly every table or freestanding piece of furniture had toppled, bottles and earthenware lay shattered on the floor, still bodies he feared to now be corpses lay heaped beside their once-beds. Chunks of stone had come free from the ceilings and walls, leaving dangerous rocks on the floor and more than one healer or patient crushed beneath them. He could hear screaming coming from the hallway and from outside the castle. Two healers remained at his side. One quickly pushed a vial into his hands while the other picked the prince's armor from its pile on the floor. "Drink," the first healer ordered. He had a thin trail of blood dripping from his forehead and a ghost-pale complexion. Without waiting for Endymion to reply he tipped the contents of the vial into the prince's mouth. It tasted like fire. Endymion choked and coughed on it, but the healer clamped the prince's mouth shut and ordered him to swallow. Endymion barely managed to without retching. "The castle is overrun," the other healer said as he buckled Endymion' chest plate around the shaking prince. "You must find your father and stay with him until the end. I fear there's no hope while you two are separated." "Over...run?" Endymion's head spun and he couldn't quite comprehend. The last thing he remembered before going to sleep was being tied to his bed and denied the moon. "You must go, my prince!" The healers dragged him from the bed and stood him straight. When one of them quickly sprinkled a bit of powder over Endymion's wound, the prince suddenly realized it no longer hurt. He turned his head to look behind him. "I can't feel my injury," he breathed. "Is it ... is it still there?" "You're on the most powerful drugs we have, including the medicinal sphere we implanted in the wound earlier. We didn't use them before for fear of addiction, but we have no other choice." The other healer finished buckling Endymion's belt and handed him his sword. Endymion stared at him as the other healer quickly finished suiting him up. "God speed, Prince Endymion." The healer reached up, touched the prince's forehead, and whispered a prayer. "May your life be prolonged and your final journey be to heaven." "But what about--" Endymion could say no more as he was forcefully shoved from the room. He turned to the hallway, then stopped dead. Blood stained the walls. Corpses of knights and civilians alike lay in piles on the floor or spread out on the stone, Legion warrior bodies mixed in with the dead. Screaming came from both before him and behind him; he could hear doors being ripped from their hinges, bodies flying, swords tearing. Before his eyes he saw a Legion warrior cut down a fleeing woman not twenty yards in front of him. There was an explosive sound from outside the castle, and the walls around him shook. *God in heaven.* Endymion's mouth opened but he could say nothing. Massacre lay before and around him, massacre reflected bloodily in the ocean blue of his eyes. His sword, in his grip, fell from his numb hand to clatter on the floor. A hand grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. Red pupils burned into his own; there was a snarl, a swipe, and a Legion dagger buried deep into Endymion's shoulder. It was what he needed to wake. Endymion sucked in a breath and rammed his good shoulder into the warrior. The creature shrieked and fell to the floor as Endymion grabbed his dropped weapon; without thinking he buried it deep into the warrior's heart. Another scream from behind, and Endymion instinctively turned and rushed toward the sound. He watched another innocent, an old man, die before he could run the Legion fighter through. Endymion ripped the dagger from his shoulder and ran down the hall. His mind was strangely blank as he cut down Legion warriors and checked room after room for survivors ... but there were none. Not a man, not a woman, not a child. There were none he could save. Another explosion, and the castle shook. ****************** Beryl's chest was squeezing just the slightest bit. It was true--as Metallia had promised, the dark mist filled Beryl's body with a sweet ecstasy and an inexplicable energy--but she still had a nagging in her chest. It was small, but present. And frustrating. "I think that's guilt." The young woman didn't realize she had said it out loud until Metallia shot her a look. The queen without a body had taken the form of a thick cloud, red eyes burning as she hovered on an alter beside Beryl's throne. "Beryl," the cloud said lowly. "There is no time for remorse. This is the only way to get your prince." "Oh, I know. It's just..." Beryl trailed off. She had been oddly dream-like the few hours she had joined Metallia's forces. It was almost as if she weren't alive--just in a nightmare, something she could still wake up from. She took a breath. "I just don't think we need to kill *everyone.* It seems foolish if our plan is to rule." The cloud watched her a moment. "Of course we'll rule," she hissed. "Any dead will be reanimated. Any living will be brainwashed. We will have an empire of subjects devoted to our cause." Beryl frowned. "Oh. Yes." There was a pounding at the large stone door. Beryl looked up as the entrance to her throne room was thrown open and a few of the top Legion warriors (brainwashed Earthians--never dead) dragged in a body. The warriors dropped to their knees. "Queen Beryl. Lord Metallia." They lowered their eyes. "Forgive us. We were unable to turn him to our side, and he died fighting. We were unable to save him." Had there later been a time of freedom for Beryl to reflect she might have been shocked. The body that lay dead on her floor was terribly familiar, in that spine-tingling, awe-inspiring sort of way. She knew him too well. Yet she only looked at him, dream-like and rather uncaring, as the red eyes behind her narrowed and Metallia made a low, contemplative rumbling. ****************** The painkillers were beginning to wear off. When Endymion swung his sword a small stab of pain pulled at his back; at one point the pain was bad enough to jar his swing. The attacked warrior managed to slash Endymion's leg before dying. The dagger wound in the prince's shoulder, too, began to affect him as he felt strength drain from its respective arm. He had to switch sword hands, leaving him fighting lefty when it was certainly his less-skilled hand. *God in heaven.* But he didn't think of that. As Endymion ran, and swung, and killed countless enemies at the tip of his blade, the overpowering thought that ran through his mind was that he had failed. His castle lay in shambles around him, his people dead and crumpled on the floor. There was nothing and no one left. *I failed.* A hand gripped his shoulder and spun him around. Endymion's blade swung up in a defensive arc to kill his attacker; metal clanged on metal, and a sword met his own. He found himself staring into ice blue eyes. Endymion's sword arm dropped. "M-Malachite?" he breathed. There was a death cry behind him, and when Endymion turned he saw a panting Jedite pull a sword from a dying warrior. Zoycite was beside him with a dagger in his non-slung hand. Endymion whipped back to Malachite and suddenly noticed Nephlite as well, a crutch in one hand and a sword in the other. Endymion wanted to say something but his words were slurred. His chest was tight, his mind spinning. "N-n-not dead?" he managed to croak at last. Malachite quickly checked the hall for any more enemies before pulling his prince into a quick embrace. "Not dead," he assured. "And neither are you." Endymion started to cry. He wasn't quite sure why; everything was pressing on him, and his back hurt and his shoulder hurt and his leg hurt and his head hurt. Nausea swirled in the pit of his stomach and his sword fell from his hand. He slid both arms around his brother and held him tightly. "Everyone's dead," Endymion sobbed. "I failed them ... my people are dead, my castle is gone, my kingdom is dead!" Nephlite reached over to touch Endymion's shoulder. "Metallia gained a new warrior of immeasurable strength," he said quietly. "We didn't have much land left; the new power was all she needed to overtake the castle." Endymion sobbed harder. "I need father!" he cried. "He always knows what to do. He wouldn't fail our people like I have! They need their king!" Endymion didn't see the generals exchange glances. Nephlite tilted up Endymion's chin and looked his prince directly in the eyes. He pushed up the prince's drooping eyelids, but Endymion shook his head to brush him off. "What're you doing?" he mumbled. Nephlite's expression didn't change. "You're on first tier drugs. You're going to have trouble controlling your emotions, Endymion--and I think they're wearing off." Endymion blinked tiredly. "Huh?" Zoycite stepped up and took Endymion's face in his hand. "Endymion," he said slowly. "We have to tell you something. It's going to hurt, but you need to hear it, so try to listen to me?" Endymion felt dread settle on his shoulders. His foggy mind and the now-more-than-mild burning of his injuries made it difficult to concentrate, but he carefully locked with Zoycite's emerald eyes. "Endymion ..." Zoycite took a breath. "Your father's been killed. Metallia's new warrior is Beryl, and we think she's after you." Endymion froze. Darkness seeped in around his eyes. "F-father's dead?" he breathed. Inhuman screaming echoed down the hall. Malachite whipped around as a half dozen Legion warriors swarmed into the hallway. They trampled over the bodies of the dead as they charged and shrieked their war cries. Malachite gripped his blood-stained sword hilt with white knuckles. "Take him to the transporter," he ordered. "Nephlite, with me." Malachite pulled a dagger from the corpse of a child nearby, aimed, and threw it at the warriors. One of the creatures fell shrieking with the dagger in its throat. Nephlite dropped his crutch. He pulled another sword from the hilt strapped to his back and took a double-blade stance. "I can't walk or pivot well," he murmured to his older brother. "I know. Let them come to you." Endymion blinked as Jedite and Zoycite began pulling him away. "Wait!" he called. "But ... but I don't want to leave you!" The gentle look Malachite sent him would haunt Endymion for the rest of his lives. The general softly, sadly, his eyes the color of melting ice, smiled. "You never will," he whispered. Malachite ran into the fray. He slew a warrior before the others even formed an attack; Nephlite locked eyes with Endymion once and then turned to meet the Legions. Zoycite and Jedite forcefully dragged the prince down the hall as the elders fought. Endymion screamed. "NO!" he shrieked, reaching out. "*NO!*" The last thing he heard as he was pulled around the corner was the sound of dying. ****************** The ten minutes it took to reach the transport room were the longest in the history of time. The first minute or two Endymion fought Zoycite and Jedite in order to run back to his older brothers; a lucky jab to Jedite's face set the prince free, but the two generals tackled him before he got far. Before long the way they had come filled with Legion warriors and the three of them had no choice but to run to the destination Endymion feared. His father was dead. Beryl was dark ... how could she have joined the enemy? Endymion searched his bleary memory for any signs he might have missed from her, but all he remembered was her kindness and love. The drugs and the increasing pain from his injuries made it difficult for him to think straight--and every time he thought of his father's death he felt strength drain from him. His father was gone. His father was gone. It was like a dream. The pain as his boots pounded on the floor and the agony as his body strained to sword-thrust were like clock ticking, repetitive, systematic, unending. His brain swirled into a mass of fear and shock and flashback. His vision blurred. His body screamed with pain as he buried his sword in an attacker's chest. His father was gone. He heard murder around him, felt it on the end of his blade, but the images in his brain of childhood filled his eyes. He blocked a sword automatically. The too-smooth sinking of his blade into a belly was overridden with visions of fields. *You can't ride, Endymion? The girls are gonna make fun of you.* *They should make fun of the stupid horse. He's the jerk, not me.* Vision blurred. He could smell flowers and dirt and his mother's perfume as soft earth squished beneath his boots. His mother was laughing, the silk of her dress sliding against his cheek. "Endymion, WATCH OUT!" The prince barely swung his body before a warrior attacked from behind. Jedite tackled the creature, swiftly drove his sword into its heart, then stumbled to his feet and ran after his prince. He gripped his side, blood spilling from between his fingers. *Stop it, Endymion. She doesn't like me.* *She totally does. Look, can you see her? Over there! Look, she's looking at you now!* Endymion could barely comprehend the tears in Jedite's eyes. He reached out, dazedly, to touch his brother's cheek, but the general shook his head and pushed Endymion's hand away. "Not now. Keep running, Endymion." *Stop it, Endy! She doesn't LIKE me!* The only thing that got him running again was Jedite grabbing him by the arm and pulling him along. He'd gotten strong, that Jedite. Endymion could feel the younger man's muscles tighten as they dragged. Strong. Endymion, as he jogged, reached out and squeezed Jedite's bicep. "Please, Endymion." Jedite didn't turn to him. "Not now." The transport room was a large chamber at the far end of a great hall. It was quite possibly the deepest region of the castle; its expanse was empty and untouched save for the chunks of stone and ceiling littered across the floor. The Legion warriors had yet to plague the hall with their death. Jedite pushed Endymion at Zoycite. Grabbing one of the huge iron doors, the young blond grit his teeth and pulled. The huge mass of metal moaned. "Jedite?" Endymion blinked dizzily, absently cupping the burning wound in his back. "What're you doing?" "Closing ... the hall," he gasped. The door slowly began to scrape against the stone. Jedite's eyes squeezed shut tight as his body shook under the pressure. "Dammit." Zoycite ordered Endymion to stay put, then grabbed his younger brother and pulled him from the door. Gasping, Jedite shot him a glare. "What?" "You can't pull that. You'll tear yourself apart." "No I won't. Stay with Endymion." "Like *hell*, you little ass. Let me do it." "You only have one working arm." "You're bleeding all over the place!" "Look, I can do it, all right?!" Jedite grabbed the door with both hands and pulled with all his might. Zoycite slapped him across the face. In a sudden snap, Jedite whipped to Zoycite and socked him in the jaw. Zoycite cursed darkly and grabbed Jedite by his collar. The small blond, sweat and blood dripping from his brow, focused burning eyes on the older general. Endymion laughed. They both looked at him. Upon seeing their faces, the laughter died in Endymion's throat and was replaced by a low, sinking sensation. The prince felt some sick feeling well up from the pit of his stomach. *Don't make fun of me!* Zoycite released his brother. He gripped the door with his good hand. "On three." Endymion felt bad. He felt bad as he watched Jedite grab the door himself, he felt bad as the two boys counted off and then strained at the door together. The moaning metal mass scraped slowly but purposefully shut. The two of them ran to the second double door and grabbed ahold. "Guys?" Endymion, frowning, walked over to them. The screaming pain throughout his body shrieked at the effort; he faltered, gripped his back wound, tried again. "Guys, what's wrong?" War cries neared from the outside hallway. Jedite and Zoycite grunted as they shoved the door in unison; with the force of their resolve and the fuel of approaching attack, it shut faster than the first. Endymion barely noticed the muffled sounds of warriors from outside as he gripped Zoycite's sleeve. "Are you mad at me?" Zoycite pulled free of his prince and helped Jedite quickly loose the lock. The huge metal bar fell across the double doors with a thud that vibrated the entire hall. Endymion blinked back pain. "Are you?" he asked, again. He gripped Zoycite's arm, despite the fact that his own muscles tore with the effort. He blinked it back again. "Are you?" Zoycite didn't move. He was trembling a little, Endymion could see that; worried like a child, the prince dizzily thought it was rage. He didn't want Zoycite and Jedite to be mad at him. They looked really upset. He must've done something *really* nasty. *Don't make fun of me!* Endymion's blurred sight was rimmed with blue skies and white clouds. He slid his arms around Zoycite's waist from behind and rested his head on the general's shoulder. Zoycite was usually so happy. Endymion hated it when Zoycite was mad. "I'm sorry," Endymion said, honestly. "Are you mad? I'm sorry--I shouldn't've made fun of you." He squeezed Zoycite gently despite the protest of his pain. "Don't be mad." Zoycite didn't turn to him, nor stop shaking. There was screaming from outside the door now, the pounding of fists and weapons against the metal doors, a muffled din so heavy Endymion could feel it resonating through his body. He ignored it. He breathed in his brother's collar and shoulder plate; Zoycite smelled like wildflowers and soil and blood. Jedite was crying. Endymion could hear it above the noise because he knew the sound so well--Jedite got hurt a lot, in weapons practice and horse riding usually, because he was so small. He always got stuck with the bad horse. Endymion knew Jedite usually went to Malachite when he cried, but for some reason Malachite wasn't there. Was Malachite with father? With mother? No ... mother was dead. She died. Mother died. Was father dead? Endymion turned to Jedite. The young man's shoulders were curled inward, his sword on the floor, his fists in balls rubbing at his cheeks like he'd always done. There was dirt smeared on his cheek, maybe dirt from the horse, and streaks of blood on his face from where he rubbed. He was really crying. Sobbing, like he rarely did. Endymion frowned. "Why are you crying?" he asked. He wondered when Jedite had gotten so tall. Jedite gritted his teeth. "Damn ... drugs," he spat from between them, between his hiccups. "This is worse than..." Endymion rested a hand on Jedite's curls. Jedite pulled it to his cheek, pressed his own fingers against the back of Endymion's hand. He kissed the inside of Endymion's palm and clutched the prince's wrist. "Why are you crying?" Endymion asked again. Jedite hiccuped. "Because I'll never see you again," he breathed. "And you're not here." Endymion didn't understand. He turned to Zoycite, but saw that his eyes were filled with tears, too. That's why his shoulders had been shaking. They weren't mad at him? But Endymion felt worse, seeing them cry, knowing that it was somehow his fault even if he didn't understand. The door was thudded once, very loudly, and Zoycite looked to Jedite. Jedite nodded shakily as he wiped his tears, then bent to his knees and sadly retrieved his sword. "They have a battering ram. We have five minutes, at most." He stood again, took a breath. "Put Endymion in the transport. Destroy it behind him to buy the moon time." Endymion didn't understand. Zoycite took him by the arm and pulled him to the end of the hall; Jedite followed, slowly, staring at the floor as his shaking fist gripped his hilt. Right before Zoycite pulled Endymion into the transport chamber the two of them stopped and turned, but Jedite's back was to them. He watched as the door to the hall thudded with the battering ram again. Zoycite locked the chamber door behind himself. He pushed Endymion into the ring of transportation crystals--Endymion's wounds gripped him, and he fell, and Zoycite had to quickly help him to his feet--and began pulling switches at the technician station. Endymion watched him, puzzled. When had Zoycite learned to use those things? This was the transport room, right? To the moon? He hadn't ... he hadn't gone to the moon before. Had he? No. No, wait. He was forbidden from the moon? He wasn't forbidden from the moon. He was forbidden from the moon ... but by the healers, who were dead. Or by father, who was ... who was dead, too. Father was dead. Serenity was on the moon. She was alive. Serenity was ... Everything started to spin. Endymion felt sick; he fell to his knees, clutching his back wound with one hand and his mouth with the other. He didn't want to vomit. Not here. Not when he'd ... he'd done that, the last time he'd gone to the moon. Vomited in a bag in front of all those people. He'd seen Serenity. He'd kissed Serenity. Father was dead. Spinning, spinning, he couldn't think straight. The pain started polishing his senses and clearing his mind. He didn't smell grass--he smelled guts, and body fluid, and whatever else was staining his armor. He felt each wound's unique burn and remembered how he'd gotten them. He couldn't put his thoughts in order, but flashbacks fogged in comparison to the look in Malachite's eyes when he'd turned away. The look in Jedite's eyes. Jedite's words but a minute before. *...I'll never see you again...* Endymion's head snapped up. The crystals began to glow. Endymion tried to scream but felt bile fill his throat; he curled up to keep from vomiting and felt his body shriek at the effort. Pain sent a red film over his eyes as his body shook. "Endymion!" Zoycite was calling from outside the crystal ring. Endymion fought his head up and caught eyes with his brother; those emerald eyes, glassy but dark with purpose. "Endymion, stay with the moon people! There's nothing left on Earth!" "NOgckt--" Endymion vomited. It hurt worse than anything he'd ever experienced. He vomited again and fell to the floor, convulsing with pain ... he pushed his eyes up, even as his vision began to fade. The crystals were alight and spinning and prepared to send him away from death. Zoycite was smiling. It was very wane, yes, and laced with pain--but it was still a smile. A hint of his unshakable positivity was still there, fueled by the single fact that his prince, his brother, was still escaping their fallen kingdom alive. "I love you," Zoycite said. It all went black. ****************** There were voices. More than a few--many, yes, many. Men and women but mostly men. They were muted in a way, perhaps reflective of an unwavering practice of keeping one's voice down. He could hear them better now. He opened his eyes. White marble filled his vision. He was on a floor somewhere, somewhere that smelled of cleanliness and sterility. Not like an infirmary--like a place untouched by death or pain. He tried to move. His body shrieked with such shocking, unmatched pain that his vision blinked out; he gasped, he was left panting, shaking, tears in his eyes. *Everything* hurt. The marble was cold against his cheek as he closed his eyes. His stomach lurched. "Good God." The voice sounded oddly familiar. He was fighting with all the strength he had to keep from vomiting, but it was a losing battle. He gritted his teeth. He didn't want to vomit. It would hurt, it would so terribly he wouldn't be able to ... his stomach lurched, and every fiber in his being prayed. *Please. Please, please, God save me.* Lurched. Hot tears squeezed out of his closed eyes. Someone touched him. A long, cool hand, draped across his forehead ... there was a soft warmth that spread from it, a faint glow of white light. He felt his tight, convulsing body relax. His stomach gurgled, then stirred, then calmed. The burning of his wounds muted. Carefully, frightened, he relaxed his muscles. He felt better. The hand removed from his forehead and the tip of a blade pressed against his throat. "Prince Endymion." That was voice was familiar, too. It was a man this time, his sound clear and authoritative. Endymion chanced opening his eyes. His vision was still blurred, and it took a moment to clear, but at last he was able to raise his gaze up and see who stood before him. Dozens of moon people filled the transport room, nervous and murmuring and, in some cases, shaking. He could see a few of the princesses there--Venus and Mars, to be exact--mixed in with the people of the moon. The tip of the blade pressed harder into his throat. Wincing against it, he followed the length of the blade up to a gloved hand, a finely-suited moon guard, his pale gaze hard and unreadable in his fair face. Queen Serenity raised from her knees beside Endymion and stood by the guard's side. "Prince Endymion." Captain Steven's voice rang clear. "What are you doing here?" Endymion, exhausted, shaking, still hurting, still managed to shake his head. He tried to pull from the tip of the blade but it only pressed harder. "Prince Endym--" "No," Endymion said bluntly, his spinning mind and worn body forgetting formality. He took a deep breath. "No," he repeated. "I'm not Prince Endymion." The murmurs grew loud. The sword pressed harder; cursing, Endymion carefully gripped the blade and eased it just the slightest touch from his throat. Steven--for whatever reason--didn't protest. "Then who are you?" Father was dead. It was strange. Those moments, those eternities he'd fought through memories of the past had been barely ten minutes. The remembrances of his father were just blurred images now, pushed far behind the clarity of the present. His generals were gone. Dead, probably, or brainwashed--but gone, completely gone and out of his life forever. As was his kingdom. As was his people, his home, his planet. Father was dead. "Who are you?" Steven's voice rose in volume. The sword pressed tightly once more. Whatever pride, or strength, was left in the prince swelled. It was all he had left in his staggering despair. Endymion gripped the blade, pushed it aside, and locked his ocean eyes with the pale blue orbs of Steven. "I am Prince Endymion no longer, captain," he answered flatly. His voice was loud and clear and rang throughout the room. It rang throughout his heart. "My father is dead. I am now King." To be concluded... -ALMOST done. God, this story is a lingering one ... final part will be up January 30th, I PROMISE. I've been so bad at self-deadlines that I'm turning that puppy into a full-blown promise. I take my promises very, very seriously, so be sure to come back the 30th. Complete page update will probably wait until February. Don't forget my new e-mail is liannesentar@yahoo.com and is the ONLY e-mail address I will write from from now on. If you receive an e-mail from any other address of mine, DO NOT OPEN IT and delete it immediately (it's a virus). Please write to me at liannesentar@yahoo.com from now on. I'll still be checking my aol and hotmail accounts until March 31st, 2003, but after that they'll be shut down forever. Sorry for the inconvenience. 8-hour shift coming up today. Haven't gone to bed yet. 4 am. Good night. *passes out* -Lianne (liannesentar@yahoo.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, January 2003.