After the Rain: The King Falls
Sickly gold devoured her, ravenously descending on the victor's spoils, cramming the sharpness of her senses in its greedy mouth, turning to her mind when her body could not hope to satisfy the insatiable hunger.
She forgot the insufferable horrors she had endured as she gazed into the endless ocean of black that had flooded her vision.
Her useless legs desired to bring about her physical downfall, a want she could not combat. Quickly, she crumbled to the floor in a mess of broken spirit and conquered warrior.
She forgot the names of those who she had signed her soul away to save as the phantom Prince of Nemesis lifted her from the floor.
Cotton and feathers had nestled themselves in the canals of her ears, dulling the sounds of the world she was slowly escaping. Whispers scraped the shells of her ears only to be absorbed by the fluff, their messages lost forever.
She forgot the eternal trials and temptations of the recent months as she, Persephone, was forcibly dragged into the Underworld, her journey marked by the windows that rolled by on each side, offering glimpses of total darkness.
Nerves perished in their tissue sheaths, imprisoning her within the gilded cage of her own body. The dull sensation of a hand brushing her skin traveled the length of her arm before abruptly disappearing.
She forgot the face of the love she had held onto for lifetimes as her breaths slowed to a shallow crawl.
Heartbeats rebelled against life's cadence, forgoing the steady melody in favor of indistinguishable quivers. Poor blood perfusion began to leave its mark on her viscera as the serum pooled in unreachable oases.
She forgot the word for the color of the eyes she despised as darkness's hold on her vision momentarily broke, only to be reclaimed seconds later.
Mind was dethroned in a bloody coup by the marionette strings that entwined her brain in an unbreakable hold. The space belonging to her scattered thoughts was quickly encroached on by emptiness.
She forgot her name as she felt herself being stripped of her clothing and the remaining fragments of her mind.
Lingering memories of spring rain and autumnal shades, melancholy and hatred, everything she was to lose, leaked out of her eyes in heavy droplets. They were hurriedly swiped away.
She forgot—
The air caressing his cheeks was too clean, too crisp, too fresh. It held subtle notes of some sort of chemical disinfectant that was overpowered by an unpleasantly strong and almost repulsive scent of jasmine. He found himself scrunching his nose in response, fighting back an audible sound of disgust.
"I'd say you've returned to the world of the living." A woman's voice chuckled above him.
Rough fabric scraped his upper arm as it was pushed up, baring his flesh to the revolting air. A pinch in his arm was followed by the discomfort of liquid being forcibly introduced into his veins.
"Just some painkillers." The voice explained. "You'd hate me in a few minutes if I hadn't done that just now."
The surface beneath his upper body began to incline, mechanical parts whirring all the while, forcing him into a sitting position.
"Now, can you open your eyes for me?"
His muscles had to practically pry his eyelids apart. A crusty layer of mucus had glued his eyes shut, and he eagerly scrubbed the crystalline deposits away, ignoring their abrasiveness against the delicate skin of his eyes. Blue blinked at the saturated world that swam before him, brilliance of colors only exacerbated by the fluorescent lights suspended above head.
Without warning, a bright dot burned itself into his left eye's line of sight. Within seconds, it was administering the same treatment to his right.
"Not bad, not bad." The woman hummed. "Can you tell me your name?"
"Mamoru. Chiba Mamoru." His throat screamed for liquid to revive the shriveled tissue.
A glass of water was thrust in his hand. Three irregular ice cubes floated on the liquid's surface.
"Telepathy." He could practically hear his company's grin. "It makes for a great medical career, you know. What most doctors would give to hear their patients' thoughts…"
Doctor?
"Topaz." A latex-glove clad hand replaced the glass of water.
At his bedside was a thin woman leaning over the raised side-rail. Her amber locks were pulled back in a ponytail so tight that it revealed every bump and groove of her head. Red-gold eyes hid behind thick-rimmed, black glasses that were perched precariously on her plump nose. Painted red lips were pulled back to reveal two rows of coffee-stained teeth.
"What is this place? Why am I here?" He asked.
As he attempted to sit up, a hand on his chest forced him back against the pillows propped behind his head and shoulders.
"You've been comatose for eight months. Care first, questions later, alright?"
Oh my god…
Topaz abandoned his bedside as she turned to the monitor on his left.
Eight months before, he was lying facedown in the dirt of another century, bleeding out from the innumerable wounds on his back as Usagi was taken from him. He'd died.
"Purgatory, huh?" Red-gold eyes agleam with mischievousness. "You think the afterlife has this level of healthcare?"
"Then where—"
"Nemesis." Another shot in his arm silenced him. She offered a dry smile. "Just a step above Hell."
That man…
Topaz dumped a collection of loose pills in his palm and rewarded his other hand with the water glass.
"Prince Demando will be most interested to hear that you have finally awoken. Your peculiar survival has been a hot topic as of late."
Perhaps you should know who was the cause of your ultimate demise. I am Prince Demando, ruler of Nemesis and this Earth.
"Where's Usagi?" Dread began to spill into his tone.
"Pills first."
Without hesitation, he tossed the assortment of medications into his mouth, chasing them down his throat with a gulp of water.
"You'll have to forgive me for that one. A poor trick." She giggled. "I'm unaware of the Princess's whereabouts, as I have been tasked with your care only for almost a year now. Perhaps tonight you may ask Prince Demando. He is the one who is most well acquainted with her."
Hot blood warmed his cheeks until they were bright red with fury. He glared venomously at the doctor, who launched into a fit of laughter.
"Lighten up, would you? I'm certain that the Prince has harmed not a hair on her pretty little head. Though, if he has, I can't say I'd be too downcast. I'm still amazed even now that I've resisted the urge to kill you."
His grip on the glass slackened and, coupled with the sweat that had collected on the outside, sent the object hurtling towards the bed below. It fell silently on the bed sheets, tipping on its side and sending brisk liquid seeping through the fabric and onto his thigh.
"Kidding." She held her hands up. "I never had a personal vendetta against you or the Queen. I merely fancied an immoral habit or two, and saw opportunity in rebellion."
Mamoru was speechless.
"But, if it soothes your moral soul, I did receive my punishment in full. The only reason I am not as dead as my equally as traitorous sister is because I'm still of use in this show."
She pulled back the ruined covers, revealing the rest of his hospital gown and his bare legs.
"Now would be as good a time as any for you to take a shower." She motioned towards a door posted on the left wall. "There are fresh clothes and toiletries in there. After you freshen up, I'll give you another round of meds, and then we'll talk about your next steps."
The bed began its descent towards the floor as she lowered the side-rails.
"And if I hear screaming, I'll know that you looked in the mirror."
A few times, she emerged from the haze, disoriented and lethargic and numb. The muted colors of the room rippled and bled into one another as if she were trapped in an unfinished watercolor painting. Her senses felt just as muddled; she was floating in the cool embrace of the sea.
Eyelids were weighed down by fatigue, submerging her in the darkness, begging her to sleep again.
But, even through the veil, she could feel hands in places they were not supposed to be, a mouth exploring parts of her better left untouched, primal noises she didn't want to hear rumbling against her skin.
Cerulean eyes snapped open, as did her mouth in protest. The White Prince's head of disheveled hair appeared in her line of sight. A slim finger darted to her parted lips, silencing her.
"Relax."
Muted tugging at her heart. Her gaze was transfixed by the evil eye sliding open. Shadows began to blind her; darkness began to sedate her. Her focus lulled, replaced by complacency.
Hell's master dragged her under the ocean's waves as he took her again.
"He lied." Black Lady gasped.
Her reflection offered the visage of deterioration. Candy-floss hair had lost its coloring and thickness, skin had become pale and mottled, pieces of herself began to turn to ash. Three fingers on her left hand were wholly gone, and a gaping crater under her eye seemed to grow by the second.
"Wiseman!" She shrieked, but was well aware that the monster would not come to her rescue.
Another glimpse of herself in the mirror showed a child, a young woman, and an old hag all battling for dominance in spite of her impending destruction. Wrinkles began to carve themselves into the flesh of her forehead and cheeks, red eyes began to lose their brilliant coloring, lips began to thin and droop. Painless holes drilled themselves in her shoulders and legs and arms, each with indefinite and greedy boundaries.
You stupid girl. They've been playing you all along.
A single tear rolled down her intact cheek before that too was defiled.
Greed brought the Rabbit's downfall.
Demando slipped quietly out of the room, gently closing the double doors behind him. As expected, his advisor was already awaiting him in the corridor.
"I trust that Black Lady has met her end?" The White Prince grinned.
"She would have been of use to-"
"Her existence was blasphemous." Demando spat. "She has no place in my kingdom."
Shrouded in smoky shadow, the Wiseman was partial to silence.
"And hadn't we decided that she is of far more use to us?
"Yes, but would it not have been better to have them both?"
Demando scoffed. "That girl might have learned to wear a wolf's skin, but she was that weakling man's offspring. Tonight, I will ensure that she is no longer a possibility. We have no need for frivolous variables."
A cold hand fell on one door's handle, twisting it to reveal the room's contents.
His Queen's body was entwined with the silken sheets, her golden hair loose and wild around her.
"Now, convince her to see our way of things."
Topaz had been correct in her observation: Mamoru looked awful.
His facial hair had far outgrown swoon-worthy stubble, and was practically begging for him to take a razor to it. He had gladly slapped a dollop of shaving cream on his face and went to town on the unruly hairs.
Equally as horrendous was his actual hair, which too had grown far more than he would've liked. Black locks rested at his jaw, tangled and sticking up in every direction. It had taken copious amounts of combing to coax them back into place. But even then, he wished that his doctor would've bothered to include a pair of scissors in his toiletry kit.
The change of clothes provided were not at all what he had expected. His host had been more than gracious in her choice of wardrobe by offering a starched, white dress shirt, a gray pinstripe waistcoat, matching pants, and a rich navy tie. A pair of white socks and black dress-shoes offered escape from the standard issue hospital slippers.
Why are they doing all of this?
He would've been a fool to not question the luxury bestowed upon him. They'd given him healthcare, bath products, and nice clothing. Heck, even the bathroom he was currently occupying was rather extravagant. The countertops were marble, the floors some sort of expensive, rough cut stone, the details impeccable.
These people had plotted his future downfall, so why were they going out of their way for him? Had they been doing this for Usagi too?
Then it dawned on him.
He hadn't once thought about her since he'd conversed with Topaz and cleaned himself up. They were making him comfortable to make him forget.
Those bastards.
Straightening his tie, he glanced over his unfamiliar reflection one last time. The hair still bothered him, but alas there were more important stakes at hand than less than pleasing appearances.
Mamoru unlocked the door and stepped out into his room.
"My, my." Topaz mused. "I'm beginning to be jealous that I'm not the one having dinner with you tonight."
Dinner?
"Prince Demando has so graciously extended you an invitation to a private meal with him tonight. And before you ask, no, you cannot refuse it."
Even if the option had been available, Mamoru doubted that he would've opted out of the chance to meet his foe again. That man had all of the answers he sought.
"I'd tread carefully on certain subjects." Topaz hooked a thumb on the pocket of her lab coat. "His temper is just as impressive as his hatred for you."
"Then why dine with me?" Mamoru managed to say before the doctor could read his thoughts.
"He wants to meet the man who refuses to die."
Silence.
She prodded the bridge of her glasses with her index finger, guiding them back into place. "Eight times, you know. He was responsible for the first five while the others were merely your own body giving out. But even as your heart ceased to beat and your lungs forgot to draw air, you somehow came back."
Eight times?
"So what made him stop after the first five?" He almost laughed.
"His attention was needed elsewhere." She replied cryptically. "Plus, neither of us thought that you would last much longer anyways. But it appears that we were wrong, so here you are."
Mamoru was willing to bet that his adversary's attention had shifted to a certain Moon Princess, and the mere thought made his stomach roll with nausea.
How hard it must have been for you to control yourself. She's so intoxicating. Why, if she was to have been by my side for all of this time, I would have had her in my bed underneath me long before.
Raking a clammy hand through his hair, he inhaled sharply. "When is dinner?"
His hands itched to form fists and rearrange the face of the man who dared to threaten the safety of his lover. He saw fear flash in Topaz's red-gold eyes as she listened in to his internal monologue, but it quickly disappeared as her hand wandered to a syringe sticking out of her pocket.
"Now." The doctor offered a wry smile and extended a hand. "If you would follow me, please."
She rattled off the names of the various rooms as they walked side by side towards the dining hall. Mamoru had lost count of how many bedrooms and libraries and laboratories she listed.
"The Prince enjoys company, while his brother is a fan of literature and the sciences." She explained.
You mean he enjoys keeping prisoners.
One thing that he had continued to notice, though, was the heavy classical influence in the finishing details of the palace. There was no shortage of roman columns, and every thirty feet or so was marked by an elaborate arch serving as the bridge between two walls.
Deep purple carpeting cut a path on the black floors, guiding the pair through the halls. Occasional dark spots in the fabric caught his attention, and it took him far longer than it should have to realize what they were.
"Do they kill people in these halls?" He asked, disgusted, as they passed another bloodstain.
"You can kill people anywhere." Topaz paused, then her lips spread into a playful grin. "But yes, they do."
She seemed unbothered by the prospect of murder in the corridors, happily humming to herself as she directed him towards the dining hall. He took the time to assess her with a judicious eye.
Just as all the members of the Black Moon Clan, she possessed the signature inky crescent on her forehead and the same primeval darkness in her eyes. However, her skin was surprisingly tan for a woman who most likely spent little to no time in the presence of the sun.
"A family anomaly. At least one of us per generation gets a darker complexion."
"Ah." He replied lamely.
"If you would've seen my sister, you'd never guess we were blood relatives. Tourmaline was always on the fair side."
They rounded the corner, disappearing into a pitch-black fog momentarily, only to emerge in a completely different hall. He could tell it was by the fact that the carpet had disappeared and the floors had paled in color.
"You've mentioned your sister before. What happened to her?"
Topaz's stride faltered as she fell quiet. Her affect changed, becoming reserved and anxious. Red-gold orbs flickered from wall to wall.
"Let's just say that while all of us chose the wrong side, she took her treachery a step further."
She hurriedly opened a door to her right, holding it open for him.
"I wish you a pleasant evening." She said with a pained smile.
He began to walk into the room, but before he could cross the threshold, she stood on her tiptoes and all but touched her lips to his ear.
"This is a place of lies."
He was reluctant to take the first bite of food, paranoid that the items were laced with poison, but ultimately was swayed by his famished body and the idea that he had come back from the dead eight different times.
Surprisingly, the food was rather enjoyable. It was nothing to write home about, but it wasn't inedible. He had scarfed it all down and was shoveling the last bite into his mouth when the servant had come to retrieve his empty plate.
Unlike Topaz, the dining staff worked silently, tending to his needs without a word and dodging his questions unless they revolved around his meal. They did not respond to his thank yous, nor did they laugh when he cracked a couple of somewhat entertaining jokes. Silent, efficient…just like robots.
He thought back to the enemies they had faced. The lackeys of those four sisters had always been droids under the guise of humans. Perhaps the staff was of the same origins. And speaking of enemies…
For ordering Mamoru's attendance at the meal, Demando was surely taking his sweet time. Was he even actually coming? Was this some sort of trap?
But most importantly, he wanted to know if the Prince was bringing Usagi along with him.
Mamoru needed to see her, needed to see that she was safe.
"My apologies for joining you so late." The double doors parted for Demando. "I trust that they fed you, as I instructed them to?"
"Where is Usagi?" He bypassed the Prince's question.
"What's the hurry? We haven't even had our first drink yet."
Demando's languid strides put him in front of the wine credenza. A lone bottle and three glasses were already set out for him.
"I selected this one just for tonight." He removed the crystal stopper. "It's always been a favorite of mine."
The deep-red liquid trickled into the first glass, sloshing against the sides. When it was half full, he moved to the second of the three, filling it to an equal amount.
"Where is Usagi?"
Scooping the two cups up, one in each hand, he began to walk towards the table. Seating himself at the head of it, a chair to his left removing him from Mamoru, he slid one glass across the table.
"She'll join us soon." He replied coolly.
Mamoru stared blankly at the drink in front of him.
"I'm not going to poison you." Demando chuckled, sipping his own wine. "After all, I tried that and it didn't work."
He was not amused.
"Did Topaz tell you about your eight deaths? Allow me to be the first to say that I was shocked by your resilience. Here I thought for the longest time that Prince Endymion was a mere weakling."
"I guess you thought wrong." Mamoru glared.
"Indeed, I did. It's truly a shame that our interests are so well aligned. You would have made a valuable ally."
"So why keep me around if not for that?"
The White Prince rolled the Jakokuzuishou earing dangling from his right ear between his thumb and forefinger. His violet eyes gleamed. "I simply haven't found a proper way to get rid of you yet."
The hairs on the back of Mamoru's neck stood on end, but he resisted the urge to react. Maintaining his dangerous gaze, he pressed his lips into a grim line.
"You don't want it?" Demando motioned towards the untouched wineglass. "I'm sure you'd acquire a taste for it. After all, she did."
Very well aware that he was baiting him, Mamoru remained still, though his muscles screamed to attack his enemy.
"I served it to her on our wedding night, in fact." Violet orbs burned holes into him.
Instinct possessed Mamoru. Within seconds, his chair fell to the floor as he sprung up. His hands formed fists, which eagerly went out in search of the White Prince's angular features. Flesh met flesh with a loud smack as Mamoru drove his fist into Demando's nose. He felt the cartilage give under his force, fragmenting and releasing a torrent of blood. Red gushed from the Prince's nostrils, dribbling down his philtrum, staining his pale lips crimson.
"The first few times were rather difficult," he laughed, spitting blood. Ruby droplets scattered on the floor. "She begged me to stop, begged for you to come rescue her, but she eventually came around."
Mamoru threw another punch, but Demando evaded the hit.
"Imagine what she's going to think when she sees you tonight. The Prince who didn't come to save her when she needed it most."
His blood boiled, the words worming their way into his ears, into his mind, taunting him relentlessly. He went in for another hit, but missed again. "How could you do that to her?!"
"Bed my wife? How could I have not?" The White Prince taunted.
"She is not yours!" Mamoru roared, launching himself at the man.
They fell to the ground in a flurry of black and white and red, wrestling for control.
"Then you still mistakenly believe that she belongs to you?" Demando flashed a bloody smile. Red had seeped into the cracks between his white teeth.
"She doesn't belong to anyone!" Another punch thrown. "She's not something that you can just take!"
He finally landed another hit, fist connecting with Demando's razor sharp cheekbone. The flesh broke apart; epithelial seams busting and opening the floodgates.
"On the contrary." He still found the strength to grin even in spite of all of the blood pouring from his face. "I did take her. Many times."
Mamoru was ready to strike again, when a voice stopped him dead in his tracks.
"Mamo-chan?"
His gaze flew to the open door where his love stood. He felt as though he'd never seen her before.
Her hair was out of its signature style, falling around her loose waves, with a crown resting atop her head. Filigree tendrils of silver formed delicate webs that trapped crystalline vermillion roses in their midst, flowing on until they met their origin points, crafting an endless loop of intricacy. Her dress was crafted of ivory lace and perfectly rounded pearls; fantastical patterns crawled up and down the length of the garment, which ended just below her knees. A strand of pearls lined an inch of her sternum, nestled between her breasts while one wound itself around her waist.
Glistening blue eyes met his gaze, a single gemmed tear clinging to the outer corner of each eye.
"Mamo-chan." Her hands darted to her face, cupping her nose and mouth as she breathed his name again.
Neither individual paid attention to the blood coating his hands, the blood slathered on the front of his waistcoat, the blood staining his rolled up sleeves. Usagi ran into his arms, melting in his embrace, burying her face in his chest.
"You came back." She whimpered.
"Of course," he stroked her hair. "I always will."
She tilted her head back to look him in the eyes. He instantly lost himself within her familiar gaze, drowning in the bliss of being reunited with her once more.
"I love you." He whispered, brushing his red fingertips over the skin beneath her eye to wipe away the tears that had collected there. Only, when the pads of his fingers met the droplets, they were solid to the touch, refusing to budge from their places.
Gemstones. Why-
In that instant, he realized that the coloring of her eyes was off. They had once been pure, saturated cerulean, but were presently a mix of blue and…
"Violet." The word escaped his lips, his horrified realization leaking into the room.
This is a place of lies.
Distracted by the prospect of being reunited with his love, Mamoru had neglected the White Prince, who was picking himself up off the floor. His hands guided his swollen, broken nose back into place, drawing all of the color and inflammation from it. Likewise, when he smoothed his fingertips over the gash on his cheek, the skin knit itself back together.
Before he could think to question what had just happened, something pierced the flesh of his abdomen. Blade wed tissue as the weapon was driven into the cavity. He turned his alarmed eyes onto the woman in front of him who wore Usagi's face. Her hands were curled around the hilt of the knife sprouting from his stomach.
"Usako?"
Her villainous laughter would haunt him for the rest of his life.
"You don't get it, do you?" The cool shades of her eyes froze over. Cruelty wrote itself onto her mouth. A hand seized his necktie, yanking him down to her height. Lips whispered the words that shattered his heart.
"You are dead to me."
End
Mamoru is alive. For now. I'll see you all again in the next chapter! Would you kindly review?