Hopelessly Hopeful

Rated; M for language, violence, and mature content.

Description; According to Greek Mythology, Hope was the last item released from Pandora's box... and some believed Hope was one of the most destructive things man-kind has ever known. But yet, throughout centuries, Hope has been the one thing we all have come to rely on. What if Hope was a tangled web of secrets, romance, adultery, and fate? Is it possible for Hope to survive? (A/R)

Consider yourself warned; This story contains a same-sex relationship. If that bothers you in any way, I recommend you either exit your browser or click on the back button.

Disclaimer; I only own what's unrecognized, the iPod I typed this story on, and the laptop I used to clean up as many errors I could find.

The sound of footsteps reverberated off of golden walls, penetrating the ears of the lone man walking down the corridor. His heart was racing and his senses were on high alert; he knew the consequences if he were to get caught, but he would be damned if he did not do this. He knew that he would spend the rest of his life regretting it.

As he turned the corner, his hand grabbed one of the torches that lined the wall and gripped it in his fist. His steps turned silent as he descended a set of stone stairs, stopping now and then to hold his breath and just listen. When silence was confirmed, he continued his way down. After his foot left the last step, his nose was immediately assaulted by a mix of scents; mainly musk, vomit, urine, and rotting flesh. He swallowed the bile that rose to his throat and felt his stomach turn in disgust.

With a shiver he slipped past the guard sleeping against the wall, and shook his head, making his way to the end of the stone room. He placed the torch into a holder near rusted metal bars and looked curiously at the figure caged in the cell. His eyes traveled from the top of their head; hair as black as a raven's wing that reached mid-back; down to a tattered and torn dress that he suspected might have once been an off-white color - now a dingy brown from mud and dark maroon in various spots, which he knew was from whipping. If there was a window within the cell, he knew the dawn's light would feel as sorrowful as he did.

"Endymion." She spoke, voice barely above a whisper. He suspected she had an inkling of the consequences as well.

The Prince's gaze caught a slight shift of movement from her, and he exhaled softly. "Your execution is in a few hours."

"You needn't remind me. Those who have kept watch over me have already rejoiced in that fact."

"You have not been eating," he stated when his eyes caught a glimpse of porcelain flesh pulled taut against bone.

Her head turned to the side quickly and her eyes glanced down at her shoulder, noticing the jutting bone. "What you call subsistence is nowhere near equivalent to what I have seen the rats feast upon."

His fingers curled around the bars in front of him and he silently wished he could unlock the damn thing so he could knock some sense into her. "She will not be pleased to hear that," he whispered gruffly, and then watched as she slowly tilted her head up toward the ceiling.

"You're still in contact with her?"

"Yes," he replied curtly, fingers loosening their grip on the bars. "She has inquired about you quite a bit. Though she never told me if she was there when you were caught."

"She left a few moments before that, though I suspect she was still in the area… I could feel her watching me." She slowly stood up and swayed a bit, her knees wobbly and body weak. "Tell her…" she inhaled deeply, clenching her fingers into fists at her sides. "Tell her that I… love her, that I am in love with her."

The Prince barely heard her last words for they were spoken in a shaky whisper. He bowed his head; his black hair covered his midnight eyes. "I am sure she already knows."

"No," her voice was rough with emotion, and she spun around to face him but did not look at him. "No, she doesn't. I never got the chance to tell her. Please, Endymion."

"Alright," he lifted his head and looked at the fragile woman, "I will." He turned on his heel and took a few steps away.

She sank back down onto the cold stone floor. "And keep an eye on her for me."

Endymion's eyes roamed over the crowd in disbelief. There must have been a few hundred gathered to witness the execution— the murder of a woman who most of them knew, and perhaps were friendly with before the incident. A woman who loved someone deeply and dearly. And that someone he knew was watching from a distance, for he could feel her eyes glaring in his direction.

The sound of a twig snapping behind him caused him to spin around, his hands gripping the hilt of the sword that was encased in a sheath on his hip. Instant relief flooded through him as he took note of the person's stature, greying hair, red eyes, and he released the hold on his sword. "I presume it's time." It was more of a statement than a question, and he watched the person nod.

"There she is," the person replied, pointing an index finger toward the East.

The Prince turned slightly, eyes glancing in the direction the person had pointed, and he saw the young woman, now bound in chains, being pulled by members of the Palace's guard. A lump formed in his throat that he tried desperately to swallow as he listened to the crowd murmur amongst one another, and he watched the woman get knocked onto her knees.

"Do you have any final words, sorceress?" The person standing next to Endymion shouted.

Silence was her response as she kept her gaze down onto the soil she knelt upon.

"May you rot in Hell."

The woman snapped her head up in Endymion's direction and opened her eyes…

Mamoru Chiba woke up with a start, chest heaving as he attempted to fill his lungs with oxygen he felt he was severely lacking. Goosebumps formed on the naked flesh of his upper body as the slight sheen of sweat met with the chill of the air. He placed a hand on his chest in a vain attempt to regulate his breathing.

He felt the person beside him shift in the bed, and soft, slender fingers run up and down his arm in a soothing gesture. "Mamo-chan, are you alright?" A voice laced with sleep questioned.

The man looked down at the young woman; her blue eyes gazing up at him worriedly, and he gave her a weak smile. "Yeah. It was just a dream…"

She yawned softly, and then frowned a bit. "What happened?"

His gaze left hers as he glanced at the clock on the end table behind her. Realizing that his alarm would be going off soon, he pulled the covers off of the lower half of his body then leaned down, placing a soft kiss on her cheek. "It's a little early for you to be awake," he reached over her and turned off the alarm. "So go back to sleep. We'll discuss it later."

Usagi Tsukino snuggled against the sheets of her fiancée's bed and closed her eyes. "Promise?" She mumbled, feeling the waves of sleep washing over her and pulling her under once more.

"Of course," he replied, brushing her bangs away from her forehead before placing a kiss there. With a soft sigh, he got out of bed, grabbed the clothes he had laid out the night before, and silently left the room.