After the Rain: Five Layers of Hell
"You weren't supposed to keep him." Black Lady sneered.
"And you would've rather had me leave my brother for dead?"
The amaranth shawl draped over her forearms swayed as she turned to the decorative window, red orbs gazing out into the infinite dark. "He was not a part of the agreement."
Demando raised his chin to a cautious incline, daring for her further challenge. The earrings that dangled from his lobes scraped the flawless skin of his neck as gravity drew the black shards into the forest of white locks.
"Neither was Endymion. We all make compromises."
He was not oblivious to the way her shoulders stiffened, to the way the skin over her scapula tightened, to the way she suddenly stood erect. The window pane offered him a distorted image of her gnawing on her lower lip.
"It would do you well to keep quiet, rabbit." Demando drawled. "We wouldn't want something to happen to your precious Endymion now, would we?"
She shook her head gently.
"You'll have him soon enough." He chuckled. "But first, we're to attend to more pressing matters."
Red eyes blinked at him lazily as her body relaxed, muscles placated by a promise Demando was sure she wouldn't live to see realized. With each tick of the second hand, his carefully orchestrated future was drawing nearer and nearer. One last push remained; the true watershed. There was no more turning back, nor time for regrets.
You'll get everything you want by destroying the people around you.
She was always the battlefield. His sanity warred against intoxicated desire to the death, and sometime along the way one side had claimed victory.
She drove you to it.
She drove you to this.
"What happens now?" Black Lady's voice mingled with his ruminations.
"We break your mother's heart."
There was only cold darkness.
Usagi stirred, stretching her limbs that creaked and groaned at the joints as if she were waking from an eon's long rest. Caressing her cheek was the cool rigidity of an entity she guessed was a floor. Beyond that was nothing.
She had never gazed into the darkness and truly seen its essence until that moment. The shroud of black that had engulfed the atmosphere around her was unwavering, unwilling to bend to the attempts of her eyes to adjust. Every time she was on the cusp of seeing past shadow, it shifted to become just as unreadable as it had been moments before.
Cold.
What was she wearing?
Her hands sought purchase on whatever fabric encased her torso. Palms fell against the surface of fleece riddled with pilled lumps of material. Her wrist grazed a smooth, round object. She became aware of the softness encasing her legs.
Pajamas. Her pajamas.
As if the eternal night around her would offer sense to be made from her sudden confusion, she sought the counsel of the impassive black. It remained stoic, unyielding, but her own eyes found something lurking in the expanse of shadow.
Something was darker than darkness itself, and its angular silhouette met her gaze.
The recognition of whatever object had bested the black triggered a chain reaction. Around her, the icy winter tempered to a comfortable cool. Saturated black faded into a deep gray haze. The ground beneath her softened, but underneath lingered firm reinforcement.
Usagi blinked, and her surroundings sharpened. She repeated the action, and something began to build itself up from nothing.
And within seconds, she found herself sitting on her bed, in her room, in her home, as if she had never left.
Everything was as she had left it; her desk was cluttered with unfinished assignments and trinkets she had collected over the years, her closet doors still had the remnants of broken outfits draped over them, and her clock still proudly displayed the time.
6:32.
The second hand ticked rather loudly.
She broke out into a grin.
Demando was gone. And most importantly - she reached for her brooch that rested on the nightstand - she had her power back.
The excitement was infectious, spreading to the muscles of her legs, which forced her off the bed. For the first time in ages, her toes met the tufts of fuzzy carpet installed on her bedroom floor. There was no cold crystal, no cold air descending on her scantily-clad form. She was back to being plain old Usagi in her equally as plain house.
And oh did she love that thought.
Her chair's back offered a pleated white skirt and floral print blouse, which she eagerly swiped up. Sliding her legs out of her pajama pants and hastily unbuttoning her top, she abandoned the nightwear in a heap on the floor and donned the new outfit.
Girlish, innocent, chosen by her. In front of the mirror, she twirled happily, giggling as the skirt's pleats swirled around her thighs. Never had she woken up in such good spirits. Her family would've been so pleased to see her up at such an early hour and so cheerful.
Mom. Dad. Shingo.
In seconds, she was flying down the steps, taking them two at a time.
However, as soon as she stepped foot on the first level of her home she found herself accompanied by unsettling silence. The kitchen, which normally was the source of the wonderful aromas of her mother's cooking, was empty. A very conspicuous layer of dust had settled on the surface of the breakfast table. Her mother's favorite towels were absent from the pile of linens on the counter. The flowers normally blooming in the vase next to the window were rotting on their stems, petals little more than piles of ash.
Brow furrowed, she rounded the corner and set off down the hallway.
The walls were barren, just as she had suspected from the state of the kitchen. Photographs and artwork had disappeared, in their places were halos of dust.
"Mom? Dad?" She called.
Usagi rapped her knuckles on the closed door of the bathroom, pressed her ear against the wood to listen for the sound of running water, but only received impassive silence. Her hands grasped the doorknob and turned it, but the door wouldn't budge. Ramming her shoulder against it, throwing all of her body weight into pushing it, she was rewarded by the squeak of paint becoming unstuck as the door was forced open.
Inside, everything was as it should've been...if it had been a home for sale. The towel ring hung from the wall with no purpose, and the shower was occupied by no bottles of shampoo or bars of soap. It looked as though no one had used it for months.
Oh god.
She fled from the bathroom into her parent's bedroom.
What she found was even more shocking.
Blood rushed to her ears as she laid eyes on the empty room. Where a bed had once been was only a square of immaculate carpet. The dresser in the corner's former presence was only told of by the dust that drew its boundaries on the yellowing walls.
Gone. Just like that.
Behind her, the door swung shut: something she had grown accustomed to in the recent months. She didn't even need to guess of the man who was to follow.
But much to her surprise, the room did not darken and a certain white haired demon did not appear to taunt her. Instead, her parent's bedroom came to life and revealed its true colors.
Hexagonal panels carved outlines on the walls surrounding her, the floor beneath her, and the ceiling above her. Darkness leaked in through the gaps, striking her with tendrils of night. The panels inverted, as the white walls and cream carpet were replaced by purple and black oceans swimming beneath a film of crystal. She was thrust into the center of a corridor crafted entirely of crystal that stretched for miles on all sides of her.
There were no tears for her to cry; only the numbness of shock dwelled in her breast. What an idiot she had been to believe any of that had been real.
He pulls your strings, even now.
She wanted to collapse, fall to her knees and resign herself to fate, but challenge reared its ugly head at her and she'd grown far too tired of conceding to contrived fate.
She might have been missing powers, but Usagi Tsukino was definitely not missing the spirit of war, the spirit of justice.
One step forward to challenge the nightmarish walls of her labyrinth. In response, the other passageways sealed. Another step forward. The floor behind her began to splinter. She began to jog. The splinters began to crumble and plunge into oblivion.
There comes that moment in life when the underdog realizes that she has nothing left to lose but her dignity if she lays down her weapon and chooses not to fight. Her chances may have been slim, but they were still there all the same. She was going to be her own knight and rise to the challenge of the dragon in order to save the damsel that was herself.
Fracture by fracture, the world behind her fell apart as she charged into the heart of darkness. The sound of her footfalls was the only noise to keep her company in the glass tunnel.
To kidnap her was one thing, to dare make some sort of slave out of her was another, to marry her was also a whole different beast, but to even threaten the safety of her friends and then her family was heresy. She was going to bring an end to his reign over her life by pulling the foundation of his house of cards apart piece by piece.
Savor it, Demando. My hands destroying everything you've dreamed of.
The Black Moon's Prince would meet his match in the woman he thought he could conquer. She would run to danger instead of from it.
Your 'wife' will tear apart the very fabric of your life.
Around her, her own laughter echoed, bouncing off of the crystal walls and shattering the atmosphere of silence. She relished in the sound of her control, until she realized that something was off about it.
It was too joyous and too sadistic all at once, dripping with darkness that she had not pledged herself to. And it was chased with unintelligible comments that became clearer and clearer as she drew closer to the source.
Her voice spoke cruel words fervently, as sincerely dark as she'd ever been. Slowly, the purples of the walls washed away, leaving a new image in their wake. A room painted itself around her; one that was all too familiar.
For the fourth time in her journey through hell, she had arrived in the quintessence of his dark power. The White Prince occupied his throne with the same elegant ferocity as usual, but there was something else that lurked in the air. A stricter confidence had cemented itself within the essence of the room, brutality and sadism radiating off of the walls in piercing waves. The shadows too were different, much more malevolent than they had been prior, whispering threats of last breaths.
But most different of all was the woman poised on the armrest of the throne.
Usagi's aged mirror image was undoubtedly one of the most striking women she had ever laid eyes on. Molten gold ran the length of her spine, pooling wherever it might find a receptive surface in a sea of precious blood. Ocean blue eyes were rimmed with lashes as dark and delicate as raven's wing. Peach skin glistened with minuscule beads of perspiration and a life that had been absent from Usagi herself for a long time.
The dress she wore was full-length, hugging her curves masterfully as a river would its bank, deep navy with a sprinkle of crystals, appearing as though she'd stolen the night sky and wove fabric from it. Its neckline sliced a straight path across her chest just a breath below her collarbones and hung on the sharp points of her shoulder bones. Sleeves encased her arms, begrudgingly ending at her wrists.
Her long nails flirted with Demando's bangs, fingers sweeping the hairs out of his eyes while her own assessed her handiwork with a half-lidded gaze. She whispered something to him, every word marked by a growing smile on her lips of rose.
"Let me finish it."
Usagi didn't hear the words. She felt them. Every syllable rumbled in her throat as if she'd spoken the words herself.
Sliding off the throne, she smirked at the center of the room and began to stalk whatever prey was held out in offering as if she were a lioness in search of her next meal. Hips swaying, one bare foot out in front of the other, she paraded towards her prize, popping her neck as if to say that she was warming up.
"We like to play games, don't we?"
She stopped walking and knelt in front of empty air.
"But there can only be one winner."
Whomever she was hoping to antagonize was not there corporeally, but Usagi knew, and Demando knew, and she knew very well the identity of the prey. But as always, knowledge was not enough; fate had to remind her.
One moment she was a bystander, observing the impending slaughter of a lamb. The next she was sprawled out on the altar as the sacrifice herself.
"You are everything that I hope to be rid of." Her reflection's hand seized the underside of her chin, turning her head to the side for assessment.
Over her reflection's shoulder, Demando loomed as the entity of extinction who observed his pet champion his legacy.
"We'll be finished soon enough." Nails began to root themselves in the skin of her cheeks.
Power leaked in through the crescent shaped wounds, all vibrant lavender and smitten with demise. She could feel it permeate the outer wall of her vessels, entering her bloodstream in slow spurts. Life and death chose her body as the battlefield, her blood as the battlefield. The power that had been injected in her veins warred against blood, lashing out at her cells while sending the essence of destruction coursing towards her heart. It was liquid ember entrapped in a tunnel of frost, burning her insides from the ravaging heat and the obstinate cold. A weak moan escaped her throat, earning her a pat on the shoulder.
The emotions she felt as she watched her own features dominated by darkness and satisfaction at her pain was inexplicable; no words could accurately convey how it felt to be murdered by hands that eventually would have been her own while a man who professed his love for her countless times casually observed in the backdrop.
Muscles began to freeze, her quivering legs begged for release and threatened to crumble beneath her, the mind that had served as her only company for months began to slow to a crawl.
Faintly, Usagi was aware that her tormentor had retracted her hands as her work slowly came to a close. She rose to her full height, towering above the heap of fracturing bone and contracting muscle that lie at her feet.
Steps backwards. Blue eyes dancing with the scene of death before her. The White Prince at her side. His arms encircling her waist. Her fingers rooted in his mane of white. Their kiss: so passionate and blasphemous.
And then she began to taste death on the back of her tongue.
The world collapsed around her.
She was screaming and covered in a sticky film of sweat.
Rocketing up, hands darting to her head, breath escaping her lungs only to momentarily be reclaimed, she stared at the covers that had pooled around her waist.
Her tongue still tasted of metallic blood and her body was still cold and aching with unreleased tension. Images of herself embracing Demando ran rampant in her mind.
She'd died. There was no uncertainty, no doubts that it had all been some sort of well-crafted illusion. The sensations that had wracked her form were unable to be replicated, unable to be faked.
So why was she sitting up in a foreign bed without a scratch on her body?
Turning her head to the right, she consulted the open window for answers. Moonlight showered her body in rays of silver, dusting her skin with the elixir of her life. The stars remained stationary in the night sky, suspended in the heavens high above, watching, never interfering. Dark masses - clouds - rolled by, eclipsing the light of the moon momentarily before passing on. The gentle hum of nature silenced the storm of insecurity within her.
Her death had been real, but this was too. Just as there was no way to mimic the taste of blood and the feeling of it rising in her throat, there was no way to imitate the shadowy craters of the moon and its benevolent light.
It was so close too. She was sure that if she reached a hand out her fingers would scrape its surface.
"Mommy?"
A door opened directly across from the bed. A yellow glow slid into the room alongside a small silhouette and a young girl's voice.
"Mommy?" She called again.
Maternal instinct spoke for Usagi. "Yes?"
Soothed by the response, the child gently closed the door behind her and scampered towards the bed. As she approached, Usagi could make out a tousled bed-head and features that still hid beneath a layer of baby fat. Soft footsteps not unlike rain echoed amongst the quiet of the bedroom, accompanied by only light whimpers and Usagi's own raging breath.
"I had a bad dream." The girl squeaked as she crawled onto the bed.
As if she had done it a thousand times before, Usagi wrapped her arms around the child as she snuggled up against her chest. She hoped the girl could not hear her pounding heart.
"What was it about?" She felt like she was lying by asking the question, but did her best to maintain the facade of motherhood.
"Where's Daddy?" The girl murmured.
That word triggered her to examine the girl closely. Platinum blonde hair, a distinct pallor, something dark lingering in wake of her voice...but she needn't think hard about the clues, for the girl's father was entering the room right on cue as if summoned by her words.
The click of his shoes against the floor was an omen as dreadful as the bitter winds heralding a hurricane. He too closed the door behind him, forcing the moon to act as the only source of light giving her a clue as to his whereabouts. But Usagi's eyes had adjusted well enough to the low lighting, finding his face even in the darkness.
Demando's features had gained precious weight, transforming his face from that of a slightly sick man into one who possessed enough physical strength to crush any adversary. He was still lean, but not in a way that made him appear starved and withered; he'd adopted the toned musculature women and men alike craved. The way he took up the space he passed through was not lost on Usagi; age had served him well. She didn't dare admit aloud that he had grown rather handsome.
A couple of strides later and he was perching himself on the edge of the bed, coaxing the young girl out of her arms. Without protest, the child let him pull her onto this lap.
"I had a bad dream." She whimpered.
He smoothed a hand over her unruly head of hair, stroking the tangle of platinum blonde.
"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked.
His voice was low and smooth, soft and tender, more honey than lead. Where seduction normally dominated his tone was compassion.
The girl curled up against him hurriedly shook her head, clutching the fabric of his jacket in her tiny balled fists.
"You can go back to sleep if you want."
Usagi didn't notice that he was speaking to her until she found herself subject to a violet gaze. Guileless his eyes were. There was no game to be played, no threats kindling in his eyes.
He doesn't need to play anymore, not when he already has what he wants.
That was true, wasn't it? There as undeniable proof was a daughter of his and her blood, frightened by something so simple as a nightmare. And she wanted to bet that there was a ring lying around somewhere too.
"I'll handle her from here."
A light kiss brushed the corner of her mouth.
Dazed, she watched Demando carry their daughter out of the bedroom.
Her breath slammed back into her lungs as a lifetime of experiences flooded her thoughts.
Death. Life. She skimmed her fingertips across the skin of her lips. Another future.
Another curveball had been thrown into their deadly game.
He had looked at her so sincerely, spoken to their child so tenderly. How was that the same man who was willing to systematically destroy her?
The ghost of his kiss pulsed against her lips once more, and she scrubbed it away with the back of her hand. It was a contrived future, she was sure. Simply another trick designed to lull her into submission. She was a fool if she let that get to her.
But, on the other hand, how could she not? She'd just seen a whole other side of the White Prince. And their daughter. Even in low lighting, she was gorgeous.
What was even real anymore? In the span of hours (minutes? seconds? She truly did not know) Usagi had returned to her home to find no trace that her family had ever existed, she had been slaughtered by her own hands, and she had woken to find herself married and the mother to another child. And now, she was to add another confounding event to the ever growing list.
The hall she stood in was home to five elaborate stained-glass windows, which, when struck by light in just the right way, scattered a spectrum of colors on the white marble floors. One was posted on the wall directly across from her, while the others occupied the left and right in pairs. Each presided over an open coffin.
Though dread began to pool in her stomach, she still walked towards the nearest casket. Her bare feet were silent as she approached the first one on the left as was her breath when she drew close enough to have a look at its contents.
Rei.
Her corpse floated on a sea of blood-red velvet, hands folded and resting on her navel, wrapped in a dress of ruby ruffles.
Four coffins. Four guardians. One coffin. One Princess.
She abandoned Rei's hollow body and rushed past the others, unwilling to see the rest of her sisters absent of life. Her sights were set on the crown jewel of death, which stood alone at the back of the room. There was no reason for her to need to see her own dead body, but curiosity compelled her to seek answers from the solitary casket. It would tell her what this all meant. Somehow her own corpse would act as her counsel and marry her to the truth.
There was no hesitation as she all but flung herself at the coffin, eyes eagerly searching for the answers she craved.
And she might've found them if the body would have been her own.
Locks of night and flawless alabaster skin defined the man she had somehow grown to forget in the recent days, though his love had transcended the mortal lifetime and his blood had been shed in her honor. As always, he was dressed to the nines in a tuxedo, every detail down to the bow tie absolutely perfect.
"Mamoru..." Mesmerized, she reached out to touch his face.
His skin didn't feel right; it was frigid, papery, and...wet?
She examined her fingers, which were covered in red liquid. Blood. Frantically, her eyes darted back towards his corpse and found a rose of red blooming on the white of his shirt.
A single crystal blade sprouted from the wound.
The sight of that weapon brought her back to their initial encounter with the White Prince and the arsenal of blades that had rained down on her beloved, robbing him of his life. It put everything back into perspective; it-
Sharp, stinging pain manifested in her abdomen. She looked down. A matching blade punctured the flower-print fabric and the underlying flesh. Pain radiated from the wound, but was quickly assuaged by something cold and very, very hard.
Her body was crystalizing right before her eyes. Supple skin turned to black glass right before her eyes, and she felt the substance crawl up her insides, coating whatever hopeless organs lie in its path.
Over her shoulder, she looked to the entrance, knowing very well who she would find there. Her assumptions were rewarded with the image of Demando leaning against the door-frame, arms folded, ankles crossed, smug smirk plastered on his face.
Crystal began to eat at her peripheral vision, swallowing the world. She tried to say something, but her lips were frozen together.
Flesh became statue.
To die once was horrifying.
To wake after that was confounding.
To die again was frightening.
To wake a second time...well...she was pissed.
This time, there was no bed for her to wake in and no daughter to come scampering in. There was only darkness and the cold; her full circle ending.
Gingerly, she rubbed her sore spine as she peeled herself off of the floor, hissing in pain as the backlash of two deaths in a single day tore through her nervous system.
"You...have...got...to...be...kidding...me." She forced the words out even as her body screamed in agony.
Her anger and frustration were well deserved, for though her bands clouded her vision, she could still see her least favorite man in the world enjoying his drink of choice.
"Did you enjoy our game?" He taunted. "Our daughter is beautiful, isn't she?"
"G-Gorgeous." She bit back a scream, but still maintained a scowl as she stood on shaking legs.
A haze had settled on the surface of the violet seas staring back at her. "Just like her mother."
Her knees quivered, wobbling dangerously as if they would give out on her at any moment. "She's not real. You said so yourself. It was all a game."
"Oh she's real alright." His smirk was superseded by a smile that was near tender. "And this was not merely a game. Remember what I told you before?"
She needn't implore, for he was too excited to reveal the latest step in his master plan. The shadows to his left receded as frost would at the first kiss of spring. Only, instead of reborn earth, they revealed the last thing she wanted to see.
"A valiant effort," he stepped towards the wounded Senshi. "Only one managed to slip past you. But you were set on killing him, weren't you?"
And when you are on your knees begging for their lives...
Her legs chose that time to give out, sending her crashing to the floor. There was no more strength left in her body to fight; it had been stolen by the unfolding events. She was too numb to feel anything, too blind to see anything but the girls in front of her who had died for her once and would do it again.
"Shall they go out in a rain of blood and crystal? Or do you offer a better suggestion?" He grinned at her.
"No." She pinned her wide eyes on the floor. "Don't...don't touch them."
A painful swallow couldn't expel the growing lump in her throat.
"You win. I'll go with you."
He was in front of her in seconds, picking her up off of the floor, and anchoring her to a world that was slowly falling apart around her. She stared at him blankly.
"I always do." Warm breath on her cheeks. "And this time, I will leave no room for error."
As soon as the third eye on his forehead began to awaken, it was over.
She'd lost the war.
End
I might be a little evil. Or a lot. Your choice.
I'd love to hear what everyone thought.