Prince, I found your picture today... The cameo in his hand was old, practically ancient. The picture was covered in dust, but a quick polishing with his sleeve had removed most of the age. He didn't know how it had arrived in his drawer; God only knew where he'd picked it up. He couldn't remember.
But then, Kunzite, lord of the Dark Kingdom, had a hard time remembering much of anything beyond the last few years.
He was hunched over on his bed, chin resting on his knees, as he dangled the small painting from its aging chain. The silver had long become tarnished; he wanted to clean it up, but he had no idea if the Dark Kingdom even had polish. Why would they, he supposed, when he could just as easily will the tarnish away? One of the perks of giving up your soul was avoiding household chores.
But for Kunzite, it would not have been the same. The picture might have just been a trinket, but the wear on it went far deeper than any precious metal.
Prince...
He wanted to cry. How badly he wanted to! Now that he knew...
I know. I know what I did to you, Prince...To the other Shitennou. I've condemned all of us.
The tears wouldn't come, though. He'd been drained of them. By selling his soul to Beryl, he'd been absolved of those emotions. So he'd thought; it was just an illusion. The emotions were still there, but they were trapped. Kunzite did not like feeling trapped.
For a long time, he hadn't cared. The Prince was dead? Well, it was a long time coming, the arrogant bastard. Thought he could run around with the Moon Princess, contaminate the whole planet with his silly idealistic love nonsense!
But now he knew everything. It had all come back to him, first in a slow trickle, and then at full power.
He had betrayed Endymion, betrayed Serenity, betrayed the entire Solar System. Planet after planet, decimated. Senshi after Senshi, crushed under the heel of Beryl. Under his own heel.
He'd laughed while he'd done it. That, perhaps, was the most chilling. He hadn't cared. Beryl had taken away his sensitivities, his morals, his convictions.
She'd taken away everything about him. Kunzite of the Dark Kingdom was a puppet, not a human. For awhile.
But now, he understood. He had been commanded to take Sailor Moon, to take the Ginzuishou, but he hadn't. He had taken the one person he wanted to protect more than anything.
Of course, that meant he had condemned the already-dead Prince to something even worse. The living dead. The Dark Kingdom.
It was too late for any of them now. Beryl was brainwashing Endymion - no, Mamoru - at that very moment. He was suceptible; he was, despite all evidence, not dead. But he was very close. His mistress wouldn't even have to break a sweat to corrupt him.
His mistress. The words, the thought made him ill. First in command of the Shitennou, often translated to mean "help Berly rid herself of sexual frustrations."
Of all the things Kunzite wanted erased from his mind, after this was all over, that would be one of them.
He'd never wished for Sailor Moon to win before. That wasn't what Beryl instructed him to do, and you simply didn't do things that weren't Beryl-sanctioned. But holding the thousand year old cameo in his hand, turning it over and over and watching the Prince's eyes plead with him, he fervently prayed that she would. He wanted it to be over. He wanted Beryl to lose, he wanted to be six feet under.
He wanted the nightmare of his life - or whatever it, in fact, truly was - to be over.
I want to put this picture away, pretend I still don't care. But Prince, I've condemned you. It was bad enough I betrayed you, but I've pulled you into Hell.
He felt a glimmer of masochistic hope. With you here, perhaps she'll get sick of me. Perhaps she'll ask you to kill me. Oh, I couldn't be that lucky, but there's a chance...
But then, Kunzite forced himself to consider something: after he was gone, it would be his Prince who would be pressured into making love with her. That was something he most definitely could not stand.
He was trapped in Hell a little longer. He didn't know if he could stand it, but he had to try.
There was a light rapping on the door. Quickly, Kunzite opened a drawer on his dresser and flung the cameo in. He piled miscellaneous things on top - papers, candles, anything he could find - so it would not be found. It was the only thing he had to prove to himself that the nightmare was real.
"Kunzite?" The voice was soft, feminine. Zoisite.
"Yes?" he replied curtly. It was back to his façade. No one could know he had mistakenly come upon his soul.
"Beryl-sama says she wants to speak with you. It's urgent."
Kunzite sighed to himsellf. "I'm coming."
He listened for the younger man's boots to click down the hall before he even got off his bed, and then complete silence before he opened the door. Did Beryl know he'd figured it out? It was likey; few things could be hidden from her. He didn't know what would happen to him. But silently, as he stalked almost arrogantly to the throne room, he swore to himself that he wouldn't let it end in this cold, empty nightmare. He would go down swinging, if he had the chance.
The picture had told him everything. It was the only face, the only person that meant anything. Now, it was his only lifeline.
She can try to take my memories, Prince, if she wishes. But I'll always have that picture. We're not done for just yet.
Don't you just love one-shots?