Greetings! Welcome to the prologue for my first Sailor Moon fic, Light of
Love. This story, as the summary suggests, takes place during the Silver
Millenium. I don't want to give away too much of the plot, but I do
promise that all of your favorite goodies (the Senshi, Princess Serenity,
and Endymion) and baddies (Beryl and Metallia) will make their appearances.
The story is essentially about Endymion and Serenity, how they meet, and
how it effects everyone around them. Since I'm setting up a LOT of plot
(which will hopefully support a trilogy, in the long run), several of the
first chapters will be about the other characters in the story.
Just to let you know, I'm drawing most of my influence from the manga, but not exclusively. If something doesn't make sense, please submit a review and let me know. I intend to edit and revise the story once it is complete; I plan to iron out inconsistencies at that time.
I would like to invite new readers to give this new twist on the Silver Millenium a try. I promise, it won't be painful! ^_~
As always, I absolutely love feedback. Please review! ^_^
Hollie
The Light of Love: Red Moon
Disclaimer: I do not own Sailor Moon.
Warning: the prologue is a bit gruesomely descriptive, so it may not be appropriate for the squeamish.
Remaining author's notes are located at the rear of the prologue.
---------------------------
Prologue: Fallen on the Sun
"You may be a queen," the man hissed at his wife, "But you will never have my throne!"
His deep voice resonated and bounced off of the vaulted ceilings of the great hall. The echo collided with silence in the cavernous throne room. The attendants standing in massive hall flinched at his statement. The man sat upon a vast crystalline throne, his deep red robes draping around his large sitting form like a bloody shroud. The golden crown atop his head sparkled as the rubies, emeralds, and diamonds caught the light of the roaring flames encompassing the room. His orange, fiery eyes glared upon the trembling form of the woman crumpled before him. Her finely manicured nails--red talons, really--clutched at his royal slippers. The long strands of her pitch black hair cascaded over her shaking shoulders, pooling about her on the hard black floor. Her own black royal robes spilled across the tiles.
"I meant no harm, husband!" the woman sobbed. She squeezed her hands around his feet, as though clutching them for dear life.
"Your false sincerity will get you nowhere!" the king grumbled, kicking the woman violently away as he stood. She tumbled backward down threes steps and onto the surface of the main floor. There, she gripped the ground, scratching at it with her painted fingers. She did not want to look at him, but as she heard his steps move downward and to her left, she lifted her moistened yellow gaze to follow his form.
The king walked toward two guards who held between them what appeared to be a prisoner. Along with his dignity, this man had been stripped of nearly all of his clothing. The skin of his pasty white back had been broken in a crisscross pattern, the welts swelling with now dry blood. His arms were a patchwork of bruises. The fresh purple swells overlapped the muted yellow fading of previous beatings. The hair of his chest had been seared from the brandings he had endured. An array of melted, distorted skin made his torso appear more like manipulated leather than the flesh of a man. A series of cuts and bruises littered his thighs and calves. Permanent rings, laced with blood, encompassed his ankles. His feet, although presently wrapped with dirty linen bandages, had been bleeding thoroughly, as evident by the trail of blood that indicated his treacherous journey from the dungeon to the throne room.
The king's cheeks crimsoned with rage as he looked upon this man. He violently grabbed the matted, dirty hair of the prisoner and forcefully lifted the man's drooping skull.
The woman on the floor stifled her cries, eyeing to what degree the man had been destroyed. A trickle of dried, red blood, originating from where his right ear had been, ran down the side of his face and down his twisted neck. His beautiful face was now a mash of features. Her eyes widened in horror as she gazed upon him. His once perfectly pointed nose was marred and crooked. His high, perfect cheekbones were now smashed, the hollows no longer distinctive but cavernous and bloody. His round lips were broken and split. Fresh blood oozed over cakes of dried blood and ran down the corners of his mouth. The bright, vibrant green of his eyes was muted and lifeless. A collection of bruises and cuts, matching the mess of other sores that riddled his entire body, covered his once handsome face.
The woman shuddered and covered her sobs in her hands. Horror racked her body, causing her to tremble and quake. The tears, which had previously been for her husband's benefit, now spilled from her yellow eyes in a torrent. They splashed onto the dark, hard floor beneath her. As she realized her plight, her quaking form shook and heaved. The sour taste of bile flooded into her mouth. She swallowed it, with her sobs, back into her stomach.
The king eyed his wife's shaking form, a look of satisfaction spreading across his round, full face. His yellowed teeth sparkled in the firelight encompassing the room. The orange of his eyes glittered with pleasure.
"My men have improved him, no?" he sardonically hissed. He turned his crowned head toward the prisoner. He had always hated the perfection of the Lunarians, and this man, or what had once been a man, was the perfect example of those qualities. Although the king would never confess it, much of the damage done to the Lunarian had been caused by his own hands. "Do you approve of my handiwork, Linnaus?" his gruff voice whispered softly.
The beaten man blinked hazily, his vision swirling around him as he attempted to focus on the large, wide form before him. His eyes lifted slowly, resting on the king's round, gluttonous face. His lids lowered as he swallowed back the metallic taste of his own blood. A hint of saliva moistened his mouth. A faint silver glow penetrated from the center of his forehead, just above the bridge of his nose. The glow materialized, forming an upturned crescent moon of silver. As the man opened his drooping lids again, his eyes sparkled. The fat king before him stepped back slightly at the sight of the moon symbol.
Linnaus' eyes wandered around the room with delirium. He attempted to hold onto his senses, but the sheer torture of the past few days invited him to retreat into the inner depths of his mind. The man knew that he was in a perilous waltz with the darkness that fed upon his soul. He squeezed his eyelids shut tightly as he attempted to clutch onto the last traces of his sanity. In a flash of brilliance, as bright as the silver crescent that kissed his forehead, Linnaus saw every moment of his long life flash before him. All of the emotion, the love, the joy, the sorrow, the anger, the jealousy, and fear, now enveloped his senses. He remembered everything. He had lived and loved. He realized the moment when he had fallen from his pillar of hope, sending him on a one-way trip to his tragic fate. He had come to this dismal planet as a favor to his cousin, Queen Serenity, and his lust for another queen had betrayed him to everything he had ever held dear. Now, on the edge of his mortality, Linnaus was overcome with clarity. His desire had twisted and contorted his soul. He could hear the familiar sobs of the woman sprawled on the ground nearby. She was the one who had turned his soul black with the lust for sex and power. A calm came over the Lunar man as he realized that her sobs were not because she loved him, as she had once proclaimed to him as they lay naked in their adulterous bed, but because she feared her own demise.
The man smiled in amusement at this epiphany. Although Queen Serenity could have never guessed that this would be her dear cousin's fate, Linnaus cursed the Moon Queen for sending him to this horrid place. He had once been a great nobleman and diplomat, but now he had lost so much that he could not even support himself on his own swollen and bloodied feet. He wished he were bathed in the light of the Moon Kingdom's throne room, the brightness piercing through the shadows. Linnaus longed to see his cousin one last time. He wanted to be on his own planet, surrounded by the love he had always taken for granted.
The hope he wished for poured into him. Even at his darkest moment, Linnaus found the strength he needed from his homeland, the Moon. His crescent symbol glittered as his body was filled with a great power. His voice, which had been dry before, burst from his lips. "No matter what you do to me, Nefar," he told the king, a glint of defiance dancing in the green of his eyes, "My queen will avenge my death. She will send you and your entire kingdom of pathetic swine kicking head-first into the fiery pits of hell."
The king's face, ruddy from his earlier rage, paled slightly. His mouth hung open in surprise. This man, who had beaten, starved, and tortured for days, dared to mock the great king? Nefar's orange eyes narrowed as the anger boiled within him. His rage seemed to ebb Linnaus on, who's laughter now echoed throughout the large chamber. With each chuckle, the silver light at the center of Linnaus' forehead danced and glowed brighter. The king growled and shielded his gaze with his free hand. Casting a final glance at the horrid moon symbol, King Nefar spat at the prisoner's forehead and released his hold on Linnaus' tangled mane of hair. Linnaus' face fell forward, his chin digging into his chest.
"If you didn't notice," the king hissed, motioning outwardly toward the flames engulfing the room, "You already are in hell!"
Linnaus stared downward, the glow on his forehead fading slightly. His vision hazed. A woman with silver hair, twisted into two buns atop her head, appeared before him. Her soft, pink lips turned up in the corners. Tears welled and spilled from her wide blue eyes and poured down her rosy cheeks. At the center of her forehead was a golden crescent, much like Linnaus', which betrayed her identity as the Queen of the Moon. His glassy gaze watched this woman as she blinked repeatedly and cried for him.
So intent were his eyes upon his queen, that Linnaus did not notice King Nefar walk back up to his crystalline thrown. He did not see the despicable king, as dark with hate as his queen was aglow with joy, grasp the finely adorned hilt of a heavy sword. Linnaus did not hear the curdling screams of the woman on the ground, who pleaded with Nefar to stop. He did not notice the look of satisfaction on Nefar's face as he pointed the tip of the sword at his own bloodied, beaten form. As the flesh was pierced with the plunging silver of the blade, Linnaus smiled. No longer did he care that the sticky warmth covering his flesh had burst from his own pierced heart. No, Linnaus had already found his solace in his remembrance of his Queen.
The two guardsmen let go of his arms, his body sinking into his own blood on the floor before him. The life drained from him slowly as the red oozed from his chest. He blinked his eyes, which now clouded and filled with vibrant, grateful tears. His gaze stared toward the crumpled form of the aghast woman with the ebony hair; however, unbeknownst to her, he had ceased gazing upon this world. As one final gasp of air escaped his lips, he uttered, "Thank you, Queen Serenity."
His lifeless green eyes stared at the woman in the black robes. A look of satisfaction kept his bruised lips upturned into a smile. The woman's stomach clenched. The sound caught in her throat. As she forced the air from her lungs, she let out a scream of such anguish and fear that the attendants in the room shuddered.
"How dare you, Nefar! How dare you!" she wailed. She slammed her clenched fists into the shining black tiles beneath her. The edge of her hands tingled painfully, but the queen no longer cared.
"No need to worry, my dear," responded her husband, wiping the blood from the blade on his own crimson robe. He turned, the fire of rage dancing wickedly in his eyes, "You will soon follow your lover's fate."
The queen's yellow eyes widened. The tears ceased to spill across her now pale, horror-stricken cheeks. As though she had suddenly remembered herself to be a member of royalty, she sat up and held her head high. "You wouldn't dare!" she said. Inside, she was still a bundle of raw nerves, but externally, she had grown stoic and regal.
The king returned to his vast throne and sat down. He placed his ring laden hands on the sculpted dragon heads of the chair. Satisfaction flooded him, painting a smile across his face. "Now, we must dispose of this carcass," he declared lightly. His right hand casually motioned toward the crumpled, bleeding form that had once been Linnaus. The two guardsmen, who had brought the prisoner to the throne room, now stepped forward to drag his lifeless body to the crematorium. Nefar's eyes danced with glee as an idea flashed in his head. "Halt," he ordered. "A normal disposal is too good for this scum. We will deposit his corpse-- unaltered and unceremoniously--on the Moon. Let's see if his precious queen will be able to save him then..."
"You can not do that, Nefar!" his wife squeaked. "You can not leave his body to rot on the Moon...his soul will not be at peace!" Even the worst criminals were given at least some sort of death rites. The queen dreaded to think what her husband was prepared to do with her body, once she lay lifeless in a pool of her own blood. She closed her eyes to the revolting thought.
"Perhaps you are right, my dear," he stood and paced in front of his thrown. He held a ringed knuckle to his plump lips. He glanced to the jewel on his forefinger, a swirl of green jade and blue turquoise catching his eye. He moved his hand, admiring the craftsmanship with which the ring had been cut and polished. It had been an heirloom, a gift from a king of the Earth long, long ago. As the Nefar stared at the ring, another flash sparkled in his orange eyes. "We will not give Queen Serenity the satisfaction of finding her cousin's body on her own soil." he declared, "Linnaus' corpse will be disposed of on the Earth."
The horror creased his wife's face. She, like all others, knew of the precarious relationship between the Earth and the Moon. Millennia of mistrust and superstition, pinched with centuries of warfare, left the bond between the planet and its moon on unleveled ground. Even when the Earth and the Moon were in an alliance, as they were presently, the relationship was strained. If left to dwell on the Earth, Linnaus' soul would not find peace. Furthermore, if his body were discovered by the Earthlings, they may accuse the Lunarians of trespassing. If his body were discovered on the Earth's surface by the Lunarians, as the queen assumed was her husband's desire, warfare would most likely follow. The queen regarded her own dismal fate. If her body was also deposited on the earth, no one would come to avenge her death. Anger sent a surge of warmth into her face.
The guardsmen nodded to the king as they each took hold of an arm and dragged Linnaus' body from the chamber. His head fell backward, revealing his lifeless eyes to the rows of attendants he passed. Linnaus' feet smeared a trail of thick, fresh blood across the tiles as his heels dragged across the floor. The queen winced as she watched the form of her dead lover disappear. She may have manipulated the gullible man, but even she was aghast at how far poor Linnaus had fallen.
"Now my dear," King Nefar was uttering. The queen turned her ebony head, her yellow eyes facing him. "We must decide how dispose of you."
"Nefar," she whispered, "Please, please, I love you! I would never do anything..."
"Enough of your pleads!" Nefar boomed. He grasped at the hilt of the sword that had sealed Linnaus' death and leapt down the steps with a stealth never seen in the fat king. He held the tip of the sword threateningly in his wife's face, much like he had hovered it in front her lover's chest moments before. "Perhaps I should cut out that lying tongue of yours," hissed the king. "Death is too dignified for a whore like you!" With a flick of his hand, he threw the sword across the room. The metal of the blade scraped across the dark tiles before finally slamming into the wall and clinking to a halt.
At the rear of the great hall, the large, opaque double doors creaked as they were forced open. A slight, faint light cascaded into the room, followed by the shadow of a young girl. The child entered the great chamber and closed the huge door behind her. The king, along with all of the attendants of the court, turned to the back of the room. Even the queen, who was still situated on her knees, turned her head to take in the vision behind her.
The girl had long, midnight black hair, which drifted behind her as she walked into the room. She wore a uniform of gold and red, which hugged tightly to her frame. Her short, thigh-length skirts glistened as she walked forward on her booted feet. The sound of her steps echoed in the cavern. As she walked resolutely to the front of the great hall, she paused before the queen, cupping the woman's face with a gloved hand. She then cast her orange eyes upward, the anger creasing across her youthful face.
"Welcome home, Orleana," the king said dryly. He motioned to the woman on the ground before him. "You are just in time to help me decide your mother's fate."
The girl's eyes twinkled angrily. A lump of worry formed in her throat as she glanced to her left and noted the large smear of blood on the floor. Obviously, she had missed the punishment met out to another of her mother's lovers. Her mother had often taken men in her bed, but the rage she had noted in her father's face was greater than she had ever seen. Looking defiantly into the eyes of the king, she asked, "What do you plan to do, father?"
Nefar frowned. He had requested that Orleana return from her studies on the Moon, but he had never suspected that she would arrive back so quickly. He scowled at the sailor fuku she wore, hating it for its association with Queen Serenity. As he ran his gaze up her form, he noticed moon-shaped pendant around his daughter's neck. Growling, he grasped at the trinket and waved it in his daughter's face. The chain pulled taught and cut into her skin of her neck. "What the hell is this?" he demanded, releasing it forcefully. The pendant fell into the folds of the gold and orange bow at the center of the girl's chest.
Orleana clutched the golden crescent between her fingers and scowled at him. "It's a transporter," she told him. "I am not strong enough to teleport by myself, so Sailor Mercury gave it to me. I can use it to return back to the Moon."
The king laughed. "Well, you can throw it away! You are not returning to the Moon. Your mother's delusions are over, and you will not become a Senshi. And anyway," he muttered, "Once I kill her, I will need your help here."
The girl's gaze glanced from her father to her mother. As she noted the fear in her mother's tearstained face, she came to grips upon the altercation she had interrupted. With a strange twist, Orleana realized that she held her mother's fate in the palms of her hands. Although the princess had never had much affection for either of her parents, she could feel the dread pitting in her stomach. Her mother had never been affectionate, but Orleana regarded the queen with more respect than she did her father. He had always hated and despised his only child. Had she been born a man, she suspected that the contempt and indifference he had dealt her over her sixteen years would have been replaced with respect and, most importantly, love. Her mother had once told her the horrid story of her birth, when the king had nearly plunged the blade of his dagger into his newborn daughter's chest. Had the midwife not told him that the queen could no longer have children, Orleana suspected that she would be settled in a crypt beside her sister, who had not been so lucky to avoid the king's blade. Apparently, he had determined that female heir was better than no heir at all.
"Father," she said slowly. She wanted to be careful to speak the right words, "Death is not a favorable fate for an adulterous queen."
King Nefar eyed his only child with question in his eyes. Her eyes were steadied on the queen's face, which pleaded for mercy.
"Send mother to the surface of the planet," Orleana said, her eyes raising to meet his. A glean of the diabolical danced in her smile, her cheeks turning rosy. "There, she can contemplate over the terrible deeds she has done as the flames mar her beauty."
The king nodded thoughtfully. His laugh, which began as a nervous giggle, burst forth from his moistened lips and resonated in the cavern. He turned and climbed the steps to his throne, leaving the princess and the queen on the main floor. As he settled into his throne, he raised a hand, and motioned for a man to step forward. The tall lanky figure stumbled toward the thrown, carefully avoiding the drying blood in the chamber.
"From this moment," King Nefar stated loudly. "My wife, Queen Metallia, is banished to the surface of the Sun."
The queen again crumpled to the floor, her anguish tearing through her quaking form. As she began to sob over her demise, she felt the arms of her daughter surround her. Orleana stooped over to hold the fallen queen. The girl attempted to quiet her mother's cries by smoothing a gloved hand over the woman's head and back. The woman choked on the air, piercing the atmosphere with horror and fright. Orleana glanced upward to her father, who eyed them both thoughtfully, a flash of joy turning the corners of his mouth with satisfaction. The princess scowled at her father as he began to giggle gleefully.
Through her gasps and heaves of despair, the queen heard her husband's cruel laughter. Raising herself from the cold black tile beneath her, the queen stood defiantly. Her yellow eyes flashed upward, resting on the fleshy face of the gluttonous king. She and Nefar had always had a tumultuous relationship, but in this moment, the spark of fire she had felt for her husband was extinguished. The color drained from her face as her entire being filled with contempt.
"Mark my words Nefar," Queen Metallia hissed, holding her head high, "Your kingdom will soon fall. Those of the Moon will avenge Linnaus' death and my disposal. Your reign will end very soon, and I will have your throne!"
With her final words, Metallia spun on her heel and walked regally from the throne room, flanked on each side by the guards who would escort her to the hostile surface of the Sun. She should have been furious with Orleana, but Metallia knew that her daughter had just handed the queen her life. Existence on the Sun may be unbearable, but it was better than no existence. As Metallia left through the large double doors of the great hall, she resolved to return one day as the triumphant queen of the Sun.
End of prologue.
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Did you love it? Did you hate it?
I know I'm a stinker to not include ANY of the original Sailor Moon characters in the proloque (well, with the exception of Metallia), but if you just hold out for the next chapter, I will not dissapoint you!
Please review. Your opinion means a great deal to me. A special thanks goes out to my alpha reader, Ancient Writer. Thank you so much for taking the time to read Light of Love: Red Moon!
Hollie ^_^
feel free to contact me at holliedaye@hotmail.com (please no junk mail--I already receive enough viagara and home mortgage offers to last me two lifetimes!)
Return for Chapter 1: Snow and Blood
Just to let you know, I'm drawing most of my influence from the manga, but not exclusively. If something doesn't make sense, please submit a review and let me know. I intend to edit and revise the story once it is complete; I plan to iron out inconsistencies at that time.
I would like to invite new readers to give this new twist on the Silver Millenium a try. I promise, it won't be painful! ^_~
As always, I absolutely love feedback. Please review! ^_^
Hollie
The Light of Love: Red Moon
Disclaimer: I do not own Sailor Moon.
Warning: the prologue is a bit gruesomely descriptive, so it may not be appropriate for the squeamish.
Remaining author's notes are located at the rear of the prologue.
---------------------------
Prologue: Fallen on the Sun
"You may be a queen," the man hissed at his wife, "But you will never have my throne!"
His deep voice resonated and bounced off of the vaulted ceilings of the great hall. The echo collided with silence in the cavernous throne room. The attendants standing in massive hall flinched at his statement. The man sat upon a vast crystalline throne, his deep red robes draping around his large sitting form like a bloody shroud. The golden crown atop his head sparkled as the rubies, emeralds, and diamonds caught the light of the roaring flames encompassing the room. His orange, fiery eyes glared upon the trembling form of the woman crumpled before him. Her finely manicured nails--red talons, really--clutched at his royal slippers. The long strands of her pitch black hair cascaded over her shaking shoulders, pooling about her on the hard black floor. Her own black royal robes spilled across the tiles.
"I meant no harm, husband!" the woman sobbed. She squeezed her hands around his feet, as though clutching them for dear life.
"Your false sincerity will get you nowhere!" the king grumbled, kicking the woman violently away as he stood. She tumbled backward down threes steps and onto the surface of the main floor. There, she gripped the ground, scratching at it with her painted fingers. She did not want to look at him, but as she heard his steps move downward and to her left, she lifted her moistened yellow gaze to follow his form.
The king walked toward two guards who held between them what appeared to be a prisoner. Along with his dignity, this man had been stripped of nearly all of his clothing. The skin of his pasty white back had been broken in a crisscross pattern, the welts swelling with now dry blood. His arms were a patchwork of bruises. The fresh purple swells overlapped the muted yellow fading of previous beatings. The hair of his chest had been seared from the brandings he had endured. An array of melted, distorted skin made his torso appear more like manipulated leather than the flesh of a man. A series of cuts and bruises littered his thighs and calves. Permanent rings, laced with blood, encompassed his ankles. His feet, although presently wrapped with dirty linen bandages, had been bleeding thoroughly, as evident by the trail of blood that indicated his treacherous journey from the dungeon to the throne room.
The king's cheeks crimsoned with rage as he looked upon this man. He violently grabbed the matted, dirty hair of the prisoner and forcefully lifted the man's drooping skull.
The woman on the floor stifled her cries, eyeing to what degree the man had been destroyed. A trickle of dried, red blood, originating from where his right ear had been, ran down the side of his face and down his twisted neck. His beautiful face was now a mash of features. Her eyes widened in horror as she gazed upon him. His once perfectly pointed nose was marred and crooked. His high, perfect cheekbones were now smashed, the hollows no longer distinctive but cavernous and bloody. His round lips were broken and split. Fresh blood oozed over cakes of dried blood and ran down the corners of his mouth. The bright, vibrant green of his eyes was muted and lifeless. A collection of bruises and cuts, matching the mess of other sores that riddled his entire body, covered his once handsome face.
The woman shuddered and covered her sobs in her hands. Horror racked her body, causing her to tremble and quake. The tears, which had previously been for her husband's benefit, now spilled from her yellow eyes in a torrent. They splashed onto the dark, hard floor beneath her. As she realized her plight, her quaking form shook and heaved. The sour taste of bile flooded into her mouth. She swallowed it, with her sobs, back into her stomach.
The king eyed his wife's shaking form, a look of satisfaction spreading across his round, full face. His yellowed teeth sparkled in the firelight encompassing the room. The orange of his eyes glittered with pleasure.
"My men have improved him, no?" he sardonically hissed. He turned his crowned head toward the prisoner. He had always hated the perfection of the Lunarians, and this man, or what had once been a man, was the perfect example of those qualities. Although the king would never confess it, much of the damage done to the Lunarian had been caused by his own hands. "Do you approve of my handiwork, Linnaus?" his gruff voice whispered softly.
The beaten man blinked hazily, his vision swirling around him as he attempted to focus on the large, wide form before him. His eyes lifted slowly, resting on the king's round, gluttonous face. His lids lowered as he swallowed back the metallic taste of his own blood. A hint of saliva moistened his mouth. A faint silver glow penetrated from the center of his forehead, just above the bridge of his nose. The glow materialized, forming an upturned crescent moon of silver. As the man opened his drooping lids again, his eyes sparkled. The fat king before him stepped back slightly at the sight of the moon symbol.
Linnaus' eyes wandered around the room with delirium. He attempted to hold onto his senses, but the sheer torture of the past few days invited him to retreat into the inner depths of his mind. The man knew that he was in a perilous waltz with the darkness that fed upon his soul. He squeezed his eyelids shut tightly as he attempted to clutch onto the last traces of his sanity. In a flash of brilliance, as bright as the silver crescent that kissed his forehead, Linnaus saw every moment of his long life flash before him. All of the emotion, the love, the joy, the sorrow, the anger, the jealousy, and fear, now enveloped his senses. He remembered everything. He had lived and loved. He realized the moment when he had fallen from his pillar of hope, sending him on a one-way trip to his tragic fate. He had come to this dismal planet as a favor to his cousin, Queen Serenity, and his lust for another queen had betrayed him to everything he had ever held dear. Now, on the edge of his mortality, Linnaus was overcome with clarity. His desire had twisted and contorted his soul. He could hear the familiar sobs of the woman sprawled on the ground nearby. She was the one who had turned his soul black with the lust for sex and power. A calm came over the Lunar man as he realized that her sobs were not because she loved him, as she had once proclaimed to him as they lay naked in their adulterous bed, but because she feared her own demise.
The man smiled in amusement at this epiphany. Although Queen Serenity could have never guessed that this would be her dear cousin's fate, Linnaus cursed the Moon Queen for sending him to this horrid place. He had once been a great nobleman and diplomat, but now he had lost so much that he could not even support himself on his own swollen and bloodied feet. He wished he were bathed in the light of the Moon Kingdom's throne room, the brightness piercing through the shadows. Linnaus longed to see his cousin one last time. He wanted to be on his own planet, surrounded by the love he had always taken for granted.
The hope he wished for poured into him. Even at his darkest moment, Linnaus found the strength he needed from his homeland, the Moon. His crescent symbol glittered as his body was filled with a great power. His voice, which had been dry before, burst from his lips. "No matter what you do to me, Nefar," he told the king, a glint of defiance dancing in the green of his eyes, "My queen will avenge my death. She will send you and your entire kingdom of pathetic swine kicking head-first into the fiery pits of hell."
The king's face, ruddy from his earlier rage, paled slightly. His mouth hung open in surprise. This man, who had beaten, starved, and tortured for days, dared to mock the great king? Nefar's orange eyes narrowed as the anger boiled within him. His rage seemed to ebb Linnaus on, who's laughter now echoed throughout the large chamber. With each chuckle, the silver light at the center of Linnaus' forehead danced and glowed brighter. The king growled and shielded his gaze with his free hand. Casting a final glance at the horrid moon symbol, King Nefar spat at the prisoner's forehead and released his hold on Linnaus' tangled mane of hair. Linnaus' face fell forward, his chin digging into his chest.
"If you didn't notice," the king hissed, motioning outwardly toward the flames engulfing the room, "You already are in hell!"
Linnaus stared downward, the glow on his forehead fading slightly. His vision hazed. A woman with silver hair, twisted into two buns atop her head, appeared before him. Her soft, pink lips turned up in the corners. Tears welled and spilled from her wide blue eyes and poured down her rosy cheeks. At the center of her forehead was a golden crescent, much like Linnaus', which betrayed her identity as the Queen of the Moon. His glassy gaze watched this woman as she blinked repeatedly and cried for him.
So intent were his eyes upon his queen, that Linnaus did not notice King Nefar walk back up to his crystalline thrown. He did not see the despicable king, as dark with hate as his queen was aglow with joy, grasp the finely adorned hilt of a heavy sword. Linnaus did not hear the curdling screams of the woman on the ground, who pleaded with Nefar to stop. He did not notice the look of satisfaction on Nefar's face as he pointed the tip of the sword at his own bloodied, beaten form. As the flesh was pierced with the plunging silver of the blade, Linnaus smiled. No longer did he care that the sticky warmth covering his flesh had burst from his own pierced heart. No, Linnaus had already found his solace in his remembrance of his Queen.
The two guardsmen let go of his arms, his body sinking into his own blood on the floor before him. The life drained from him slowly as the red oozed from his chest. He blinked his eyes, which now clouded and filled with vibrant, grateful tears. His gaze stared toward the crumpled form of the aghast woman with the ebony hair; however, unbeknownst to her, he had ceased gazing upon this world. As one final gasp of air escaped his lips, he uttered, "Thank you, Queen Serenity."
His lifeless green eyes stared at the woman in the black robes. A look of satisfaction kept his bruised lips upturned into a smile. The woman's stomach clenched. The sound caught in her throat. As she forced the air from her lungs, she let out a scream of such anguish and fear that the attendants in the room shuddered.
"How dare you, Nefar! How dare you!" she wailed. She slammed her clenched fists into the shining black tiles beneath her. The edge of her hands tingled painfully, but the queen no longer cared.
"No need to worry, my dear," responded her husband, wiping the blood from the blade on his own crimson robe. He turned, the fire of rage dancing wickedly in his eyes, "You will soon follow your lover's fate."
The queen's yellow eyes widened. The tears ceased to spill across her now pale, horror-stricken cheeks. As though she had suddenly remembered herself to be a member of royalty, she sat up and held her head high. "You wouldn't dare!" she said. Inside, she was still a bundle of raw nerves, but externally, she had grown stoic and regal.
The king returned to his vast throne and sat down. He placed his ring laden hands on the sculpted dragon heads of the chair. Satisfaction flooded him, painting a smile across his face. "Now, we must dispose of this carcass," he declared lightly. His right hand casually motioned toward the crumpled, bleeding form that had once been Linnaus. The two guardsmen, who had brought the prisoner to the throne room, now stepped forward to drag his lifeless body to the crematorium. Nefar's eyes danced with glee as an idea flashed in his head. "Halt," he ordered. "A normal disposal is too good for this scum. We will deposit his corpse-- unaltered and unceremoniously--on the Moon. Let's see if his precious queen will be able to save him then..."
"You can not do that, Nefar!" his wife squeaked. "You can not leave his body to rot on the Moon...his soul will not be at peace!" Even the worst criminals were given at least some sort of death rites. The queen dreaded to think what her husband was prepared to do with her body, once she lay lifeless in a pool of her own blood. She closed her eyes to the revolting thought.
"Perhaps you are right, my dear," he stood and paced in front of his thrown. He held a ringed knuckle to his plump lips. He glanced to the jewel on his forefinger, a swirl of green jade and blue turquoise catching his eye. He moved his hand, admiring the craftsmanship with which the ring had been cut and polished. It had been an heirloom, a gift from a king of the Earth long, long ago. As the Nefar stared at the ring, another flash sparkled in his orange eyes. "We will not give Queen Serenity the satisfaction of finding her cousin's body on her own soil." he declared, "Linnaus' corpse will be disposed of on the Earth."
The horror creased his wife's face. She, like all others, knew of the precarious relationship between the Earth and the Moon. Millennia of mistrust and superstition, pinched with centuries of warfare, left the bond between the planet and its moon on unleveled ground. Even when the Earth and the Moon were in an alliance, as they were presently, the relationship was strained. If left to dwell on the Earth, Linnaus' soul would not find peace. Furthermore, if his body were discovered by the Earthlings, they may accuse the Lunarians of trespassing. If his body were discovered on the Earth's surface by the Lunarians, as the queen assumed was her husband's desire, warfare would most likely follow. The queen regarded her own dismal fate. If her body was also deposited on the earth, no one would come to avenge her death. Anger sent a surge of warmth into her face.
The guardsmen nodded to the king as they each took hold of an arm and dragged Linnaus' body from the chamber. His head fell backward, revealing his lifeless eyes to the rows of attendants he passed. Linnaus' feet smeared a trail of thick, fresh blood across the tiles as his heels dragged across the floor. The queen winced as she watched the form of her dead lover disappear. She may have manipulated the gullible man, but even she was aghast at how far poor Linnaus had fallen.
"Now my dear," King Nefar was uttering. The queen turned her ebony head, her yellow eyes facing him. "We must decide how dispose of you."
"Nefar," she whispered, "Please, please, I love you! I would never do anything..."
"Enough of your pleads!" Nefar boomed. He grasped at the hilt of the sword that had sealed Linnaus' death and leapt down the steps with a stealth never seen in the fat king. He held the tip of the sword threateningly in his wife's face, much like he had hovered it in front her lover's chest moments before. "Perhaps I should cut out that lying tongue of yours," hissed the king. "Death is too dignified for a whore like you!" With a flick of his hand, he threw the sword across the room. The metal of the blade scraped across the dark tiles before finally slamming into the wall and clinking to a halt.
At the rear of the great hall, the large, opaque double doors creaked as they were forced open. A slight, faint light cascaded into the room, followed by the shadow of a young girl. The child entered the great chamber and closed the huge door behind her. The king, along with all of the attendants of the court, turned to the back of the room. Even the queen, who was still situated on her knees, turned her head to take in the vision behind her.
The girl had long, midnight black hair, which drifted behind her as she walked into the room. She wore a uniform of gold and red, which hugged tightly to her frame. Her short, thigh-length skirts glistened as she walked forward on her booted feet. The sound of her steps echoed in the cavern. As she walked resolutely to the front of the great hall, she paused before the queen, cupping the woman's face with a gloved hand. She then cast her orange eyes upward, the anger creasing across her youthful face.
"Welcome home, Orleana," the king said dryly. He motioned to the woman on the ground before him. "You are just in time to help me decide your mother's fate."
The girl's eyes twinkled angrily. A lump of worry formed in her throat as she glanced to her left and noted the large smear of blood on the floor. Obviously, she had missed the punishment met out to another of her mother's lovers. Her mother had often taken men in her bed, but the rage she had noted in her father's face was greater than she had ever seen. Looking defiantly into the eyes of the king, she asked, "What do you plan to do, father?"
Nefar frowned. He had requested that Orleana return from her studies on the Moon, but he had never suspected that she would arrive back so quickly. He scowled at the sailor fuku she wore, hating it for its association with Queen Serenity. As he ran his gaze up her form, he noticed moon-shaped pendant around his daughter's neck. Growling, he grasped at the trinket and waved it in his daughter's face. The chain pulled taught and cut into her skin of her neck. "What the hell is this?" he demanded, releasing it forcefully. The pendant fell into the folds of the gold and orange bow at the center of the girl's chest.
Orleana clutched the golden crescent between her fingers and scowled at him. "It's a transporter," she told him. "I am not strong enough to teleport by myself, so Sailor Mercury gave it to me. I can use it to return back to the Moon."
The king laughed. "Well, you can throw it away! You are not returning to the Moon. Your mother's delusions are over, and you will not become a Senshi. And anyway," he muttered, "Once I kill her, I will need your help here."
The girl's gaze glanced from her father to her mother. As she noted the fear in her mother's tearstained face, she came to grips upon the altercation she had interrupted. With a strange twist, Orleana realized that she held her mother's fate in the palms of her hands. Although the princess had never had much affection for either of her parents, she could feel the dread pitting in her stomach. Her mother had never been affectionate, but Orleana regarded the queen with more respect than she did her father. He had always hated and despised his only child. Had she been born a man, she suspected that the contempt and indifference he had dealt her over her sixteen years would have been replaced with respect and, most importantly, love. Her mother had once told her the horrid story of her birth, when the king had nearly plunged the blade of his dagger into his newborn daughter's chest. Had the midwife not told him that the queen could no longer have children, Orleana suspected that she would be settled in a crypt beside her sister, who had not been so lucky to avoid the king's blade. Apparently, he had determined that female heir was better than no heir at all.
"Father," she said slowly. She wanted to be careful to speak the right words, "Death is not a favorable fate for an adulterous queen."
King Nefar eyed his only child with question in his eyes. Her eyes were steadied on the queen's face, which pleaded for mercy.
"Send mother to the surface of the planet," Orleana said, her eyes raising to meet his. A glean of the diabolical danced in her smile, her cheeks turning rosy. "There, she can contemplate over the terrible deeds she has done as the flames mar her beauty."
The king nodded thoughtfully. His laugh, which began as a nervous giggle, burst forth from his moistened lips and resonated in the cavern. He turned and climbed the steps to his throne, leaving the princess and the queen on the main floor. As he settled into his throne, he raised a hand, and motioned for a man to step forward. The tall lanky figure stumbled toward the thrown, carefully avoiding the drying blood in the chamber.
"From this moment," King Nefar stated loudly. "My wife, Queen Metallia, is banished to the surface of the Sun."
The queen again crumpled to the floor, her anguish tearing through her quaking form. As she began to sob over her demise, she felt the arms of her daughter surround her. Orleana stooped over to hold the fallen queen. The girl attempted to quiet her mother's cries by smoothing a gloved hand over the woman's head and back. The woman choked on the air, piercing the atmosphere with horror and fright. Orleana glanced upward to her father, who eyed them both thoughtfully, a flash of joy turning the corners of his mouth with satisfaction. The princess scowled at her father as he began to giggle gleefully.
Through her gasps and heaves of despair, the queen heard her husband's cruel laughter. Raising herself from the cold black tile beneath her, the queen stood defiantly. Her yellow eyes flashed upward, resting on the fleshy face of the gluttonous king. She and Nefar had always had a tumultuous relationship, but in this moment, the spark of fire she had felt for her husband was extinguished. The color drained from her face as her entire being filled with contempt.
"Mark my words Nefar," Queen Metallia hissed, holding her head high, "Your kingdom will soon fall. Those of the Moon will avenge Linnaus' death and my disposal. Your reign will end very soon, and I will have your throne!"
With her final words, Metallia spun on her heel and walked regally from the throne room, flanked on each side by the guards who would escort her to the hostile surface of the Sun. She should have been furious with Orleana, but Metallia knew that her daughter had just handed the queen her life. Existence on the Sun may be unbearable, but it was better than no existence. As Metallia left through the large double doors of the great hall, she resolved to return one day as the triumphant queen of the Sun.
End of prologue.
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Did you love it? Did you hate it?
I know I'm a stinker to not include ANY of the original Sailor Moon characters in the proloque (well, with the exception of Metallia), but if you just hold out for the next chapter, I will not dissapoint you!
Please review. Your opinion means a great deal to me. A special thanks goes out to my alpha reader, Ancient Writer. Thank you so much for taking the time to read Light of Love: Red Moon!
Hollie ^_^
feel free to contact me at holliedaye@hotmail.com (please no junk mail--I already receive enough viagara and home mortgage offers to last me two lifetimes!)
Return for Chapter 1: Snow and Blood