The Cold, and The Light
sequel to "Rose's House"

Chapter Two: There's no escape now

We're taking one step at a time.
You can't lose your spirit.
Let's live and let's forget and forgive
It's all how you see it and just remember keep it together.
Don't you know you're never alone.
- "Be Strong", by Delta Goodrem

He saw himself taking long, lazy strides down the desolate corridor. A voice beckoned him from the end of his lone course. The voice, velvety and soothing in its own splendour, struck a chord inside his heart. The voice had embraced him a long, long time ago. He knew the owner to whom it belonged.

He quickened his steps in anticipation, almost breaking into a run. Eager to confront his caller, his heart filled will joy as he envisaged their reunion. It had been years. So much had changed since he departed home. He longed to boast the status he had finally earned. He yearned to tell the caller they would now part forever with grief and isolation.

Reaching his destination, he extended his palms to push over the large, elaborately carved oak doors. The wood did not seem to weigh anything despite its impressive height and size. He needn't exercise much strength to get through.

Such is the oddity of dreams. In dreams anything is possible. Even the dead can be woken from his grave.

He stood facing an enormous garden, and exotic colours and perfumes assailed his senses. Roses and daffodils and jasmines and lilies and others that he did not know covered the ground. Reds and yellows and whites and pinks and violets seemed to be the dominant colours in this eccentric but oddly familiar precinct.

Her preferred choices, his brain supplied. He glanced around him, and saw, to his surprise, a willowy woman dancing with a small child at the centre. A dying leafless tree stood idly beside them, creating an absurd contrast to the blooms that surrounded it.

He approached the duo, which didn't seem to recognize his presence as he drew nearer. He was an outsider to them, someone who did not belong to their little world. Stopping five feet away, shock registered on his face as he studied the child tugging on the woman's slender arms.

Large, innocent blue-grey eyes framed by ash-blonde hair that was cropped short below his ears. Rosy cheeks supported a straight nose and rich lips, all settled upon the boyish angular face.

It was himself as a seven-year-old kid.

He studied the frail woman with a grimace. Why now, after all these years, Mother? Why did you return now to torment me?

She had a childlike face that made people want to look at her again. Not at all like the exquisite features of his beloved, but sweet and attractive in her own way. Long curly silvery hair cascaded down her back as she danced her steps. Winged eyebrows set atop gleaming blue-grey eyes. Lips so red and lush as if begging to be kissed. He had been told he inherited his features from his mother. So perfect, the gossips had it, as though it was unreal.

They were right, probably. Everything had seemed illusive where he grew up.

He might have lived in a magnificent mansion before he was summoned into the army, but he had been raised in a single parent household that valued minimalism above all else. He had never known about the man who sired him; his mother had been his only relation and sole companion. She taught him virtues and principles that would otherwise have been termed ludicrous on another planet. Those would eventually come in handy, she had said, considered that he knew values others would never understand. As a child, he had also travelled far and extensively around the galaxy. Unlike his peers, he had never known a normal childhood.

He watched, mesmerized, as the woman lifted the child into her arms and swivelled around in circles… The same scene that constantly haunted his sleep as the years passed.

"Remember, darling, 'to have, but not to hold'. Do not demand to possess it if it does not belong to you."

He felt defiance quickly coursed through his veins at those words. He balled his hands into fists. His nails dug into his palms, almost drawing blood. Why cannot I hold onto it, Mother? Why must I surrender?

"Because it will only drive you mad, my son."

He flinched. The woman and the child were now looking at him with unyielding gazes. Their eyes were devoid of any emotions, their faces a blank sheet of indifference.

He took uncertain steps backwards. Suddenly frightened of the situation he found himself in. You are wrong, Mother. You were always wrong.

He wished to run away, but he couldn't. His feet were rooted firmly to the ground. Everything began to turn black around him. A silent shiver went down his body while cold sweat beaded his forehead. He had never experienced such fear as he did now.

The woman continued to approach him steadily. Her flesh and hair slowly rotted away as she reached out a hand to touch him. He couldn't turn away from her as much as he wanted. Thick vines had wrapped around his neck, his wrists and his ankles. Each struggle only resulted in the plant tightening its deadly hold on him.

"You were always a tough one, my dear," said the skeleton of his mother. "Why won't you give up?"

The scene changed.

He saw his beloved rocking slowly on a rosewood grandfather chair. She had to be around six months pregnant. Her belly was showing and her flowing dress accentuated her slightly plump figure. When he should have felt love, anxiety was in the air.

Something was not right.

The incongruous tranquillity in the picture seized his nerves. It prickled the delicate hairs on his neck, making him ill at ease. He knew a terrible thing was about to happen. And he was unable to stop it.

He saw her picked up the silver dagger on the small table beside her, slowly turning it over as though it was an innocent plaything. Running her slim fingers along the sharp edge, she drew blood. She stared in morbid fascination as the scarlet drop landed on her dress and stained the immaculate garment.

A second drop.

The tiniest of smiles graced her face.

A third one.

A frown.

Another.

She broke down in tears.

With both hands, she lifted the weapon high above her head. Her face twisted in distress, muttering some inaudible prayer under her breath. He watched, horror-struck, as a whispered "I am sorry, my love" sounded loud and clear in his ears before she directed the silver dagger at her bosom in a flash…

Adonis woke up with a start.

He sat up in bed, resting his elbows against his knees. Touching a hand to his forehead, he slowly recalled the details of his dream. It had been so vivid it made his respiration jagged. He had not thought of his dead mother for years. Her body had been found months after Adonis began his service in the army. Some said she had poisoned herself to death, while others spoke of tales of madness. Adonis had not believed any of them. Being a nihilism advocate, she had probably perished by some malady of the head.

Think no more of the dead woman, he instructed himself.

It had been the latter half of his dream that disconcerted him. Adonis sprang out of bed in an instant. He took a quick shower, slipped on the robes that the servants had prepared, stalked out to look for his wife. The qualms collecting in his stomach could not be eased unless he had seen her with his own eyes. Though he knew he worried himself for nothing, Adonis considered the option apt to make double sure.


The amount of gaiety going on the Moon Kingdom was deafening.

Everywhere on the satellite, people celebrated, danced, sent their good wishes. The announcement that their 'Queen' was pregnant had made them rapturous. But Minako wanted to scream.

For Heavens' sake, she wasn't carrying the child of the man she loved! This child inside her womb wasn't of Lunarian descent yet the people should 'rejoice' with the utmost happiness! Had they gone mad? Were they all under the influence of the entity that had corrupted her world? Minako wished for Kunzite to be around to give her an answer. She needed him to tell her this was only a nightmare. That everything would return to normal when she woke up.

She looked out of the window as another firecracker was shot into the dark sky. A distraught sigh escaped her mouth when the myriad of colours that had been the pattern dissipated. She glanced briefly at her reflection and looked away, feeling like a caged bird. Trapped in the castle that had been her home for many years. With dilapidated wings on her back, an aching desire to soar into the sky, but unable to live to the day of her release.

Pensively, Minako ran a hand over her stomach. As young as her child was, she could feel its energy glowing inside of her. It was vivacious and strong, much like her aura. It seemed to whisper to her there was still hope and so she must not give in to misery.

A whitewashed smile formed across her lips. Hope? Where was it? She had not dared to have any after she had been stripped of her powers, brought to live in Rose's House, rescued by the shitennou, cared for and hidden by them, simply to be caught in a trap when she had reunited with her friends. Hope had long become a luxury she could only lust to have, but would never enjoy again.

Anger and confusion rushed through her body simultaneously. Minako berated herself for her mistakes. For not protesting against Selenity when her own mother had taught her to defend herself, for hurting those that she loved and loved her back. She had had a choice. She had thrown it away.

Feeling light-headed, she grasped the curtains for support. Blurred images of the past flickered before her eyes in a flash. Serenity, her friends, the shitennou, Kunzite, Adonis… but Minako could not see a thing. Her breathing becoming laboured, she leant against the wall when she felt that her legs could not bear her weight anymore.

And she fainted.


"Tell me again why we are scrubbing the floor like servants." asked Rei displeasingly as she twisted the dirty piece of cloth dry and dumped it into the nearest basin. She brushed away a fray lock of hair from her eyes, washed her hands with the jasmine-flavoured soap, and plopped a biscuit into her mouth.

"Because servants are what you are now?" The scathing voice of Beryl entered her ears.

Rei froze at the intruding presence. She turned around to find the older woman standing beside the refrigerator. The basket of biscuits she had helped Makoto prepare was in the queen's arms and she was eating a piece from it. Rei felt as if she had been stabbed when Beryl threw the basket onto the floor. Her heels crushed against the fallen pieces, smearing the floor that had only been cleaned.

"What the hell did you do that for?" she yelled, insulted to see her efforts had been wasted. It had been her first success, and Minako had often teased her for not learning how to cook.

Beryl did not care about treading on dangerous grounds. She enjoyed the attention she had. Marvelled at the fact that such a trivial matter had sent the fiery Martian over the edge. "You will clean up this mess now than questioning your queen."

"I answer to no one but my princess and my leader," remarked Rei coolly, the hatred in her stomach almost reaching boiling point. She wished she had her powers to show Beryl she was not the senshi of Mars for nothing. Had she the ability to call her power upon her planet, she would have been more than willing to blast the witch to the heated core of Earth.

Beryl glared at Rei. Her blue irises narrowed into slits, her face morphed into an abominable scowl. It was an expression that promised instant brutal death.

"Don't you dare use that tone with me, you servant girl! Your survival depends on my mood, and that means I can order your immediate execution should I desire it." She paused, her lips curved into a malevolent sneer. "You will do better than to anger me. For I will not tolerate any impudence coming from you petty Lunarians."

It was Rei's time to smirk. "You will excuse me, your highness, but if memory serves me right, it is the wish of Her Majesty on the Moon that the lives of my friends and myself should be spared. You also forget that she is in possession of the Ginzuishou, which happens to have the power to annihilate this palace or the entirety of the Silver Millennium as she wishes."

Beryl's claw-like nails made sharp contact with Rei's alabaster skin, which now spotted three nasty looking gashes on her once unmarred cheek. The raven-haired beauty would have attacked the redhead had it not been Makoto and Ami's combined efforts that held her back from releasing her anger. Beryl chose that moment to leave the kitchen, stopping only at the threshold to taunt the girls some more.

"Tsk, tsk. Respect, girl, you need to learn to show respect to your superiors. Your friend, the Moon Queen, possesses the Ginzuishou, you say? So what if she does? Let's hope that when she uses it, its overwhelming power won't harm her currently very delicate condition."

She billowed a very unpleasant laughter and disappeared into the confines of the palace, leaving three bewildered ex-senshi behind.

Rei struggled free of her friends' firm grip on her forcibly. Massaging her biceps, she glared at them as though she could nail them to death with the flames licking her eyes. "I swear, Makoto, one of these days you are going to break my arms. If I should live the remainder of my life with these useless broken limps, I will personally make sure that you won't ever see that auburn haired shitennou Nephrite again."

Makoto blushed crimson and looked away. "Sorry about that, Rei." Then, in an undertone, "It's not like I would be able to see him soon anyway. Much less seeing Minako-san again."

Rei regretted her barb. She knew it saddened Makoto and Ami just as much that Minako was stranded on the Moon and kept as a pet by the man she did not love. She put a hand on the taller girl's shoulder, and gave her a hug of comfort and reassurance. "We will meet her again. I just know we will."

Ami sighed. "I wonder why Beryl said Minako's condition is 'delicate', though."

"I'll answer that question, Ami-chan."

Three heads turned collectively towards the source of the voice. Standing there was Endymion, flanked by Usagi, and he had a glum expression on his face. The petite blonde looked at him briefly before making her way to join her friends. Her abnormally solemn expression sent a silent alarm down their spines.

With her psychic power and the apprehension that hung thick in the air, Rei knew something had happened behind closed doors. She grew impatient, her face changing into a scowl that was very similar to Beryl's. "Well? What is it?"

Endymion looked at her, contemplating how to say it; his face a mask of unsuccessful calmness. He chewed out the words one at a time very slowly. "Minako is pregnant… and Adonis is the father."


"Are you telling me, Zoisite, that Minako is carrying the child of that bastard's?" Kunzite asked evenly. The lack of emotion in his tone made the men in the same room tremble in trepidation. He had lifted his friend two feet off the ground by his collar. The younger man dangled in mid-air like a helpless doll. Nephrite and Jadeite had tried to reason with their leader, but to no avail.

In his anger, Kunzite had unknowingly created an invisible shield around himself. Anyone who dared to try reaching within the four feet radius of him find themselves thrown off unceremoniously to the walls in a messy heap.

Zoisite choked on his breath. He tried to survey the damage that Kunzite had done, praying silently that he would not meet the same end. Broken china vases scattered about the room. Thick curtains had been ripped off their hooks and torn into shreds. Different pieces of furniture had been thrown upside down or with their legs shattered. The common room the shitennou shared was now barely recognizable.

Zoisite clawed at the hand holding his throat. His hand touching the back of Kunzite's calloused one, he sent a mild electric current through his own fingertips. It did the trick and Kunzite immediately released his death-like grip. Rubbing his paralysed hand, he glared at the strawberry blonde with incredulity as Zoisite plummeted onto the floor.

Jadeite and Nephrite rose from where they had hidden to help put Zoisite back on his feet. They each put a hand under his arms before pulling him onto a standing position. Nephrite regarded his leader with a critical eye.

"What is going on with you, Kunzite?" he demanded. Clearly disapproved of what the silver-haired man had done. "This is not the right moment to lose your temper. We have no time for that. There are more important matters to consider now. You must keep your head cool."

Kunzite shot him a murderous look. "Don't tell me what to do, Nephrite. How would you know what I feel?" The angry, tortured edge in his baritone was not mistaken.

The brunette frowned. He knew their leader was downright upset he could not do anything to help his beloved. However, time was no longer on their side. They had to grasp every available minute to plan their next step before things turn from bad to worse.

"Oh stop being so ridiculous, Kunzite. What could you do now? Kill Adonis?" Jadeite questioned sarcastically.

"I might just as well do it."

Zoisite threw his arms into the air in total surrender. A low growl of annoyance emanated from his throat and he marched up to face Kunzite directly. Smoke was practically rising from his scalp when he forced his comrade down a chair.

"Listen to me, Kunzite. We cannot afford to have you do anything that may endanger our chances of escape. Endymion will not want to know Adonis distrusts your. Minako won't."

Kunzite tensed his muscles. "I can't -"

"Don't argue with me, Kunzite!" Zoisite told him, his tone firm and resolute. "Besides, the test I did for your princess was only a preliminary testing. I could have been wrong." He lied smoothly. He wished he wasn't saying it to reassure Kunzite, also to convince himself that there had been mistakes.

Jadeite grinned, in hopes of loosening the tension. "Aw… c'mon, Kunkun. How do you know Zoisite here hadn't panicked and mixed up the blood samples?" He dodged a vase that the strawberry blonde had aimed for his head, gave him the finger, before slipping out of the room to save his bottom.

Kunzite shrugged off Zoisite's piercing gaze and walked towards the window. He slammed his fist against the glass, caring not if he drew blood. He was distressed and he wanted to see Adonis dead.

But his comrades were right. He couldn't lose control of himself. Time did not favour it.

He schooled himself into his trademark "Ice King exterior" and healed his wound. Turning around, he looked at his stunned shitennou with a new gleam in his eyes. Determination shone brightly in their cloudy depths.

"Find Jadeite, Zoisite. We have business to discuss."


Hope you guys liked how the Wheels of Fate are currently turning in this chapter. smiles nervously

I know a lot of you are probably wondering 'What the hell is this girl doing with all her shitty ideas and atrocious writing! This isn't supposed to be her story to begin with!' when you clicked on "The Cold and the Light". However, before you throw your bricks at me, allow me to defend myself that because I loved minako's "Rose's House" too much, and as her friend, I don't want to see her sequel to die in the belly, I asked her if I could finish the story. I dearly wished to know how the story would eventually end for our beloved characters, and since there wasn't any news that someone else had already asked to complete it, I therefore assumed it is all right to continue it. If, unfortunately, any of you happened to be doing the same thing as I do, please contact me immediately and we should sort this out as soon as possible. I don't want a flame war to start because of my recklessness in this.