Zoloto regards her home planet of Rastaban as trash and its people scum. She yearns for more. For a star worthy of her majesty. Manga canon. Written for the 25th Anniversary of Galaxia.

Sailor Moon - Rated: T - English - Hurt/Comfort/Spiritual - Chapters: 1 - Words: 2,642 - Published:secs ago- Wiseman, Galaxia, OC - Complete

A/N: Many thanks to Moon for beta reading this fic for me. Please check out their wonderful work under the Ao3 username CreamMoon.

/users/CreamMoon/pseuds/CreamMoon

This fic is a gift for Tsundereshipper.

Zoloto entered the run down tavern and approached the bar.

"White wine please."

After the bald and thickset barman grunted in vague acknowledgment, she removed her coat to reveal the soft lime green dress beneath. She felt the eyes of the other patrons upon her and felt slightly elated, but also overwhelmingly sickened.

She'd worn the dress to make herself feel better. It was one of the last remaining relics of her old life before her family fell to financial ruin and wearing it at home usually made her feel better. Made her forget the squalor she now languished in on that barren farm. But now, posturing as she was in this utter hole all the dress was doing was reminding her of how much she had lost, and how these peasants were probably delighting in her fall from grace.

Determined not to give them the satisfaction, she nonchalantly adjusted her gold and crimson hair and pulled up a tattered bar stool. Nevertheless, when her drink came she practically guzzled half of it before forcing herself to slow down; she didn't have the money to afford many more rounds. As she nursed her beverage she shot glances around the bar, surreptitiously eavesdropping on the scum that passed for her fellow patrons.

At a table on the other side of the tavern two elderly spinsters warned each other about the malfunctioning laundry machines in their local laundrette. A greasy man talked the barman's ear off about a hover car repair job he'd made a menial profit from that day. And over at the darts board, a haggard middle aged woman complained to her clearly disengaged husband about their children's falling grades.

Zoloto closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. Could these people possibly be the worst that planet Rastaban had to offer? Probably not, but they were all so banal. Once, the very idea of someone of her standing mixing with these commoners would have seemed at best outlandish, and at worst a nightmare. Now it was her reality. A reality that was set to get worse if she didn't find some way to make her crops grow. Back when they had money and influence, her family paid people to worry about that stuff, but now she was trying to learn the basics from scratch and didn't have the first clue what to do.

She took another swig of her drink then pursed her orange lips in disappointment, realising she'd finished the wine off too quickly. Placing the glass back down she stared melancholically at the pathetic dregs collecting at the bottom of the not quite clean glass.

"Hey, you know the place where stars are born? Strong stars, weak stars, light, power, everything? It's called the Galaxy Cauldron. It's one BIG soup that spits out everyone and everything."

Lethargically, Zoloto looked up from her drink, more intrigued by the unusualness of the conversation than the subject matter itself.

"I'd love to know where it is! Hic. If I took it over, I'd control- hic -the entire- hic -universe! I'd be a G-hic-od! I could say good-hic-bye to this crummy old hic life!"

"Alright, I think you've had enough ma'am," said the barman, steadying the well dressed woman.

"Damn off-worlders, never know when to stop," he grumbled under his breath. When he returned behind the bar he spotted Zoloto's empty glass. "You want another?"

"Yes please," Zoloto said automatically.

With glass refilled Zoloto became positively lost in the golden liquid, imagining the tiny rising bubbles to be stars escaping the primordial aether. The birthplace of the stars. It must be a magnificent, majestic place. So much more wonderful and glamorous than the trash heap that was Rastaban.

What she'd give to see it, to know where it was. Then maybe she could regain the status she'd grown accustomed to… Or even more than that? Zoloto huffed out a laugh at the absurdity of the idea and knocked back her drink, deciding to cut her losses and go home.

Eyes downturned, she left the tavern and weaved her way through the bustling bazaar, her tipsy senses bombarded by the smell of disgusting street food. She wrapped her coat more tightly around herself, vainly attempting to block out the stench as much as the cold. Eventually she came to a less crowded stretch of street and picked up her pace. Her impatience was rewarded by a loss of balance. She stumbled and attempted to right herself.

"It isn't very wise to traverse these streets alone at night. At least not when you've had a libation or two."

Zoloto whirled around, almost losing her balance again. No one was there. No one, save a dark cloaked figure sitting cross legged in the dirt. Their hood was pulled low over their head, completely obscuring their face. Were she sober, Zoloto might have simply ignored the beggar, but the wine and night's frustrations impeded her better judgement.

"It isn't very wise to sit alone in the filth at night either!"

"Oh, people don't bother me. And even if they did, I'm more than capable of looking after myself."

The beggar's reply needled her. Maybe it was their sheer audacity to lecture someone high born as her. More likely though, it was the implication that she was less capable than this lowest of low lifes.

"Maybe I ought to take that big scary cloak of yours, and then nobody would bother me either." She winced almost as soon as the words had escaped her. It was hardly the best of comebacks.

"I don't think you'd do that, knowingly subject someone to the cold of the night like that," replied the beggar evenly.

Zoloto scowled. "You don't know anything about me," she hissed.

"I know more than you think. I make it my business to learn as much as I can about the happenings of this planet."

"There isn't anything happening on this planet. It's a backwater mud ball filled to the brim with trash and scum."

"... And I suppose you aspire for something greater?"

Zoloto let out a derisive laugh. "Of course I do! No one in their right mind would value this place!" She opened her arms gesturing to the filthy street. "I'd rather call anywhere else home."

"... Such as?"

Zoloto let out a smaller laugh and shook her head, raising her gaze skywards. At the twinkling lights in the night sky, she shrugged her shoulders and spoke in a sarcastic tone. "How about the birthplace of the stars themselves?"

"Oh, you mean the Zero Star of Sagittarius?"

Zoloto's gaze snapped back to the beggar. "What did you say?"

"The Zero Star of Sagittarius, located at the very centre of Sagittarius Alpha Star. That is where the Galaxy Cauldron lies, endlessly generating stars and planets to populate the galaxy."

Suddenly slack jawed, Zoloto stared at the beggar. "H-ho-how could you possibly know that?"

"Because I have been there. I have travelled far and wide across this entire galaxy."

Did she dare hope this beggar was not simply crazy or playing a cruel trick on her? Something told her there was truth in their words. It was as if the beggar was giving off an strange aura that Zoloto could instinctively detect. Could this be what the beggar had meant when they said they could look after themselves?

"Do you really wish to go there?" Inquired the beggar.

"I…" Zoloto wasn't sure what to say. Until mere moments ago the very idea had been a safe little fantasy within her wine lubricated mind. Now it was a potential reality, the enormity of the decision was nothing less than sobering. "Y-y-yes. I want to go there."

"To build a better future for yourself?"

"Yes of course! Any future off this scummy world would be a better future."

"... I wouldn't be too sure of that if I were you."

Indignation returned to Zoloto. "What? Are you some kind of fortuneteller? You know about the future?"

"Well… I know what fate would await you if you went to the Galaxy Cauldron. If you tried to harness its power."

Zoloto jerked back slightly, feeling a little like a child caught breaking school rules. "How could you possibly-"

"I told you, I make it my business to know about everything on this planet. I was in the tavern tonight, I saw how you reacted to what that woman said. And of course, everyone knows about your farm. It wasn't hard to deduce what was going through your mind."

Zoloto was stone cold sober now, the wine's effects burned out of her system by the sheer shock of what she was hearing.

"Please…" she began quietly, "Please tell me more about the Galaxy Cauldron. I need to know. I need to…" She let out a short, sharp breath, trying (and failing) to hold back the tears. "I need to get off this rock. I need to build a new life for myself. I have nothing here. I have no future."

"...I'm not a fortune teller. But I can tell you for a fact that you've got a brighter future here than anywhere near Sagittarius."

"If you've really been watching me you know that's a lie," sobbed Zoloto.

"I know it is difficult losing so much. But rather than dwelling on what you have lost, dig deep and try to see what you have instead gained."

"'Gained?' I haven't gained anything!"

"You have gained wisdom of how most people on this planet live," the beggar replied gently. "And you have gained the chance to start over, to build a new future for yourself."

Zoloto wiped the tears from her eyes. "All I have is a stretch of soil that I wouldn't know how to farm even if it wasn't totally barren. 'A new future' isn't even in my vocabulary anymore!"

Zoloto dropped to her knees and buried her face in her hands. As her body heaved with renewed tears, she felt comforting arms embrace her. To her surprise she didn't care about the invasion of her space.

"Every life in this universe knows darkness, war, death, sorrow," whispered the beggar.

"T-th-then what is the point of a-a-an-anything?"

"Because someway, somehow, they also know light, and hope, and life, and joy."

The beggar broke the embrace, instead taking a hold of Zoloto's bracelets, gently pulling her hands from her face.

"The existence of the bad doesn't diminish the good. And the good is what makes going on worth it."

The beggar released Zoloto's wrists and placed their hand beneath her chin, raising her head up.

"Have faith in the future Zoloto. Make that faith your bright guiding star and I promise you, things will get better."

For the second time that night, Zoloto found herself believing the beggar.

"Thank you."

As the almost childlike whisper echoed between them, Zoloto became aware of something in her hand. She looked down and found a handful of seeds in her palm.

"Wh-what are these?"

"Just something to help you along. I obtained them during my travels. They grow in even the most barren of soil. It's not much, but with proper love and care, your little farm could become a beautiful garden."

Zoloto let out a rattling breath. "I… I don't know what to say."

"You don't need to say anything to me. But… if you will permit another word of advice?"

"Of course!"

"... You might want to consider saying something to the other people in this community. People like the ones you dismissed in the tavern tonight?"

Guilt coiled within Zoloto's stomach.

"I know you don't exactly have a high opinion of them. But they, like you, are trying to make the best out of life. If you humbly, sincerely, asked them to, they would reach out and help you."

"W-why would they do that?"

"Because this world and its people are not scum. They are not trash. They, like all life out in the universe, have their own unique shine to them."

There was an odd quality in the beggar's tone. There was conviction, but also a reprimanding note. Yet Zoloto felt it wasn't exactly meant for her.

"But I haven't done anything for them."

"Most people aren't that cruel or selfish. There are some people who are filled with so much kindness, so much love, that they will even help those who have hurt them. You haven't come close to truly hurting these people, so I'm certain the people here will help you start over."

"You really think so?"

The beggar nodded. "Most people, deep down, understand what it is to be lonely stars wandering the universe, seeking out a place for themselves. And more often than not, they find that place alongside one another. Perhaps they can be part of your guiding star too. They are certainly part of mine."

Zoloto's orange lipstick was smeared but that didn't stop a small smile breaking across them. She gave a slow, sincere nod.

Satisfied, the beggar helped her to her feet and then moved off, waving at her as she proceeded down the bazaar.

"Wait," Zoloto called after them. "Who exactly are you?"

The beggar stopped. Zoloto wasn't sure if they were merely being dramatic or if they were trying to come to a decision.

"That isn't important. All you need to know is that I do my best to look out for the people of this planet."

Though she knew it to be selfish and entitled, Zoloto couldn't help herself. "Please, I know I shouldn't ask anything more of you, but at least tell me your name?"

Slowly, the beggar turned around then, somewhat tentatively, lifted their hood. The woman beneath was no beggar. She was beautiful, majestic even, with long, curly golden hair that finished in fiery red ends, a mirror of Zoloto's own locks. She smiled back at Zoloto, though there was a trace of melancholy and regret behind her eyes.

"Once, long ago, I was known as… Galaxia."

A/N: Naming Galaxia's home planet 'Rastaban' was a suggestion from my friend Clover Cubed (who's work you simply MUST check out, especially her Future Reunion doujin). Rastaban is a real life star within the Draco constellation. Its name means 'beta draco' or 'head of the serpent'

The idea here is that Galaxia hoarded Sailor Crystals kind of like European Dragons often hoarded treasure (but she was noticeably a beta dragon, not the top of the food chain, referencing her not being as high a status as she thought she deserved). In my own head I was also kind of nodding towards the naming convention for the Animamates. Iron Mouse, Aluminium Siren, etc. In this sense Galaxia would be a Dragon, specifically a Gold Dragon. That is why I named my Galaxia stand-in Zoloto, which means gold in Russian (because Galaxia's headdress resembles a Russian kokoshnik.

I'm quite pleased with how this one turned out to be honest. I sort of hammered out a first draft in a day or two and it all came together nicely, riffing off of Galaxia's encounter with Wiseman when she was traversing the galaxy.