Set and Match
"You're quite noisy when you walk, not exactly what you call stealth."
Mars shrugged and sat down next to him, edging in a bit closer (making him uncomfortable—she was too, too good). Gently she ran her fingers up and down his back and kneaded expertly into the hard muscles—
"Tense," she said.
"You're just making it worse."
—she stopped (he looked up, surprised and a bit disappointed)—
"Not my fault, you were the one who wanted to fight."
"Duel," Jadeite corrected.
She shrugged again, this time frowning slightly too. She had grown tired of this incessant petty game between them. She takes, he shirks. She could never catch up (and he never relented either).
Maybe she was losing her nerve (or maybe he was growing a spine). She laughed at that. No matter what, Mars never came out second-best. Especially to him.
"Fine. If you want, I'll leave."
"Wait."
He grasped for her wrist as she stood to leave (closing in). Jadeite stared straight into her unwavering, assured eyes. Now, they were even: on ground zero, she (princess whatever she created for herself) relinquished all her trite advantages.
And they were equal, for now. Jadeite stepped forward to score a point. He cupped her face (careful and discreet) and tried to kiss her.
She turned her head, smiled daringly back (you don't know who you're dealing with) and pushed him down into the seat. Agitated and perplexed, he growled (settled this, if only for a while).
"That was unnecessary."
She smirked (he was starting to think it charming—horrible). "You tried to kiss me. I had every right."
"Do what you like. I don't care."
"Of course not."
(Mars was not one to mince the words or conceal them for his purpose. She liked to hold herself up and impenetrable with a thousand witty replies at hand. But sometimes—often—they failed and left her with nothing for support.)
Not looking back, at his sighs and frustrations, she exited the door. Serene and calm, she kept her composure stiff and pale.
-
Mars for fire, Mars for blood. Mars for all the he could not have (told himself he did not want to have).
Mars rose every morning like a star dying. In a brilliant display of crimson showers and light, she resurrected herself like a phoenix king.
Only to fade into oblivion and elapsed haunts at night.
In a pool of ashes and gossamer silk, Jadeite placed a memento for him to read daily. Memorize and recite. On the paper, he wrote the words sealing his pledge and heart (aversion and diversion, ignorance was best).
And on the rare occasion, he was clever enough to materialize his delusions into reality and call on them for secret strength.
This one he discarded hearts. This one he bit the chain. This one turned fickle and—
-
"I wish you would scream."
"Why?"
"So I would know I've won."
"But you haven't."
-
It was so unfair, so hard, so repulsively hideous that he was always stranded behind watching her run (find solace, burn and crash) into someone else. Always by accident (she told him later, not meeting his gaze).
And if—
Jadeite brushed her hair back and thought of what he had promised a long time ago to her. And of what he vowed to her now. And how Queen Beryl would be a nasty opponent to face.
King Endymion was a fool, and Queen Serenity was a Queen's Fool.
(And Mars was an idiot for believing in them. She deserved to die. He was right. And that was so all along.)
But when she opened her eyes and begged him for answers, he felt a stab (seizure) in his chest and an odd feeling of guilt. Nothing.
He could hear her laughing, mocking, even millennia into the future. She never let him forget.