A/N: You might want to have read Endymion's Heritage and Serenity's Heritage for this one. Review, please?
Masks
They said she was the most radiant being in the universe; that she in her pure, unaltered beauty could drive a man to his knees.
But there is a saying; that beauty is pain, and indeed it was. No man would stand beside her, for if Serenity of the Moon outshone the very stars in the sky, she would humble any man – no matter how great – that dared approach her.
A lonely soul, she had only her senshi for comfort, and even then, as more than half goddess, she had lived many, many years before they had first come.
Endymion had often heard tales of Princess Serenity's alluring appearance as a child, and now, an outwardly solemn lad of thirteen and still resisting the urge to squirm during royal functions, he was quite sceptical. Surely no woman could be that beautiful?
He thought of his own mother, who sometimes appeared to him in a glade at the foot of the mighty fire-mountain from which she had descended directly into his father's arms. She was beautiful – her hair was a dark mahogany, like the reddish wood his desk was fashioned from, and her eyes a stormy ocean blue that darkened with the swell of emotions, particularly when she was thinking of the man she had left behind for her son.
No, no one could possibly be prettier than Gaia, whose wild presence always left him exhilarated, or even Queen Selenity, of the silver hair and all-seeing lavender eyes
So Endymion resolved to one day meet this princess himself and put the questions in his mind to rest.
The opportunity came sooner than he imagined – the Terra and its satellite guardian were discussing alliances, and for some reason that Endymion heard but did not understand, he was to come with his father and the ambassador to arrange some sort of treaty.
The discussions between Queen Selenity and King Tenkaichi were long and monotonous, and, finally exasperated with his son's poorly-hidden fidgeting, the king turned Endymion loose and the young prince was invited by the queen to wander the palace as he would.
It was on one of these jaunts that he witnessed a girl – older than he, he thought, assessing her figure absently, perhaps sixteen or so – sitting by one of the royal fountains and trailing slender fingers through the clear water. She had crystalline hair that split the light about her into an ever-shifting glow of colour, and her white-clad form was petite and delicate.
Endymion came again the next day, and the day after that, never to speak or even see her face, but to watch her trail her fingers through the water, speak to the flowers and sing softly.
When one day he managed the courage to approach her, he did so cautiously, wary of disturbing her peace. To his surprise and near-alarm, she turned to look at him, and he saw that she wore a mask.
"Is there something I might help you with?" she asked gently, and he felt the queerest stirring in his chest as he heard her clear, melodic voice, pitched low so that only he could hear.
Endymion was silent for a few more moments as he tried to order his thoughts. "I'm Endymion," he managed, and almost cringed at the way his voice cracked.
She didn't laugh at him, merely smiled and stood, curtseying gracefully. "I am Serenity," she said.
And so began one of the most unusual friendships of the era.
As the years passed, Endymion often wondered what the simple mask concealed – it covered the entirety of Serenity's face, moulded so closely to her skin that he could only tell if she smiled or frowned by tiny inflections in her voice, and allowed not laughter or weeping in its rigidity. Did it hide a terrible burn, or a shameful blemish? He could not imagine her face to be any less attractive than the rest of her, but kept his opinion to himself.
He asked her about it on one of his visits, watching her braid her hair for sleep.
Her answer was unexpected: "because there is no curse greater than being set on a pedestal – you are fed praise, but long for good bread and wine."
The next question came uncharacteristically hurriedly as he inspected something in his hands, determinedly looking away from her. "May I see your face?"
There was a long pause, and for an agonising moment, regret swamped him as he realised he may have offended her deeply.
A rustle had his head lifting in surprise as she undid the ribbons tying the porcelain to her face; lavender-blue eyes met midnight sapphire deliberately before Serenity lifted the mask, and he was blinded, forever lost.