Welcome! Thank you for taking the time to read my story. When you are finshed reading this chapter, please review! I am anxious to know what you think. If you have questions, please e-mail me. More author's notes are at the end of the chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own Sailor Moon or any characters created by Naoko Takeuchi. King Nefar, Princess Orleanna, and Linnaus of the Moon are all my original creation. If you would like to use them, please ask! ^_^

***Summary of Prologue: Nefar, King of the Sun, has murdered Linnaus, the cousin of Queen Serenity of the Moon. His adulterous wife, Queen Metallia, has been banished to the surface of the Sun. As Metallia is escorted from the throne room, she promises revenge***
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Light of Love: Snow and Blood

When are we going to make a man out of ye?

The husky voice whispered the question into the young man's ear.
The owner of the voice leaned toward her companion. She thrust
her ample chest underneath his chin. The boy's dark blue eyes
glanced dubiously downward, eyeing the crease of cleavage smiling
up at him.

Like most of the women in the tavern, this vixen sported a worn
top far too small to accommodate her luxurious curves. The fabric
between the buttons at the center of her chest strained and gapped
outward. Portions of visible flesh hinted to the pleasures that
lay in waiting beneath her threadbare top.

The boy's vision drifted upward from the woman's buxom chest to
the hollows of her collarbones, up her craning neck, and finally
onto her face. He guessed that she must be only a little older
than his sixteen years, perhaps twenty, but, noting her worn,
marred features, the boy presumed that her youth had been spent
long ago. She may have, at one time in her life, been considered
pretty, possibly even beautiful. Her face now betrayed the
brutality of her profession. She appeared worn, tired, and used.
Her distinctive nose tilted unnaturally to the left. The boy
wondered if, as a young girl, her nose had been perfectly
symmetrical. Two ruddy smudges of rouge kissed the apples of her
cheeks; the youth noted how the hollows beneath the bones betrayed
her healthy ruse, the shadows caved into her jaw. Her lips were
haphazardly smeared with red. The lipstick may have been
perfectly placed at the beginning of the evening, but several
hours later, the red cake bled into the corners of her skin. Her
brown eyes were heavily lined in black.

The woman met the young man's gaze. Desire smoldered in her eyes.
The boy was both touched and revolted by her question.

The young man considered what she had asked. He looked upward.
He remained silent. Instead of replying, he turned his gaze to
the wooden handled cup resting in his right hand. He took a long
drink of honey ale. His short ebony locks fell backward as he
threw back his neck to capture the last few drops. He then
slammed the mug down on the heavy oak table before him. With less
ceremony, the young man wiped the warm ale from his moist lips
with the back of his hand.

The woman took his response, or lack thereof, as an invitation.
She tangled her hands around the young man's neck before settling
herself onto his lap. A glean of surprise registered on the boy's
face as he felt the weight of her body press against his thighs.
The stench of ale and cheap wine mingled with human sweat hung
heavily in the air. The boy held his breath. He found that he
preferred the sensation of not breathing to the sharp pungent odor
of her stench.

The two other men at the table, who had been dubiously eyeing the
exchange between the boy and the barmaid, now laughed heartily.
The man with the auburn locks neatly pulled into a ponytail at the
nape of his neck, shook his head incredulously and smothered a
smile with his left hand. The man with cropped blonde hair
giggled with such fervor that the woman turned her helmut of brown
hair to cast a contemptuous glare in his direction. The blonde
man, noting her fury, attempted to stifle his laugh. As the
barmaid turned her attention back to the black-haired youth, the
blonde man's mouth burst open in a louder fit of giggles. She
once again met his stare. This time, the man held up his pint to
her. His grey eyes sparkled in the the candlelit tavern.

To being a man! the blonde toasted.

Be careful, wench, slurred the other man with auburn hair,
winking a brown eye. He may be young, but our lad here had
broken many hearts.

He held up his own cup. He turned to the blonde. The two slammed
their mugs together with a loud smack. Ale from each pint spilled
over the edges and splashed onto the table. As evident from the
wet pool of ale mingled with froth on the surface of the wooden
tabletop, the two men had made many toasts this evening. They
laughed happily.

The boy rolled his midnight blue eyes at his two companions.Later,
he would interrogate them both to see which of them had
entreated the brunette to come to their table. They had often
hired wenches to make a man out of the youth. Although the boy
appreciated their attention, he could not help but think that it
was done more for their own pleasure of seeing his discomfort than
it was to strip him of his unmanly virtue. As evident from the
spent pallor of the brown-haired lass tangled around him, the lad
guessed that tonight he was to be the butt of their jests.

He should have been furious with the men. After all, he was aprince
and these revelers sitting before him were his guardians.
His position demanded that they treat him with respect. The two
had been in his servitude since he was ten, but the prince
regarded them more as friends than he did hired hands.

Jedite, the blonde who had a knack of flaring the temper of just
about anyone with a flash of his devious grin, was only two years
older than the prince. The young man behaved as though those two
years lent him a wisdom the young prince sadly lacked. Jedite
often referred to his worldly experiences as a page, bravely
trotting off to fight in the name of the King. The blonde always
pointedly boasted to the boy that, as a prince, he would never be
privileged to have such adventures. The two often squabbled, much
more like feuding brothers than a prince and his faithful servant.

The other man positioned at the table, Zoicite, was twenty.
Zoicite's delicate features and small, soft eyes made him appear
younger than he was. The auburn-haired man appeared more
beautiful than handsome, which had resulted in more than one
drunken altercation. Men had, on many occasions, mistaken him for
a young woman. From their glassy stares, it was always obvious
that their vision was blurred by the liquor pumping in their
veins. If these men were lucky, their err in judgment would only
result in a cut cheek or a broken nose. Zoicite, when agitated,
had a terrible temper.

In their attempt to help the prince lead a normal life, Jedite and
Zoicite had often snuck the young man away from his pristine royal
existence and into the dregs of the countryside taverns. The
first time they had brought him drinking, the prince's head had
barely hovered above the ruddy surface of the redwood bar. He
literally had to climb the tall, rickety rungs of the barstool to
reach his frothy pint.

The prince remembered that his guardians had managed to make him
very drunk on that first occasion. With a shudder, he recalled
that, once he hurriedly guzzled two pints, he had swaggered out of
the front doors of the tavern to find relief from the onslaught of
illness that swept through him. As he plunged his face into the
bushes to heave up the nausea that had overtaken his stomach, the
prince had heard Zoicite and Jedite's laughter behind him.

There is hope for you yet, Endymion, Zoicite had muttered
approvingly.

Since that night, Endymion had often joined the two other men in
the taverns. When they tired of the pubs in the village situated
in the shadow of the royal castle, the three of them mounted their
horses and traveled to the towns located further away. The prince
longed for the grittiness of their travels. His lessons in policy
and etiquette always left him thirsty for the fermented honey ale.
He craved the release it promised. A bitter pint always lifted
his spirits.

Under the tutelage of Zoicite and Jedite, Endymion had learned
long ago to shake off his royal demeanor to mingle amongst the
common people. Endymion preferred their company. He loved how
easily he was accepted as one of them. During the past few years,
the prince felt more at ease hidden in the anonymous mob of these
unrefined people than he did standing at the head of the throne
room during a royal address.

Noting Endymion's far away gaze, the brunette perched on his lap
ran her painted fingers through the prince's thick nest of black
hair. She gripped the short black threads at the base of his
skull and forced his head back to look at her.

Endymion's twilight eyes flashed upward. A glint of annoyance
festered within the dark blue orbs, which caused the woman to
cringe. She blinked her brown eyes, as demurely as a seasoned
whore could, and managed a smile. Endymion's gaze focused on her
crooked, broken teeth. The prince held back from appearing
completely repulsed.

Why don't we go upstairs? the woman whispered into his ear. The
hairs on his neck tickled from her humid breath. The woman seemed
to take his shiver as a positive sign, for she leaned her painted
face forward nibble at the prince's neck.

Endymion jumped. Uh, why don't you... he stammered. He fumbled
for his coin purse. His nervous fingers pulled the leather pouch
out from underneath the woman's skirted buttocks. Thinking that
the young boy had just groped her backside, the woman squealed
delightedly. Endymion cringed. Slipping the strings open on his
purse, he nervously produced two small, golden coins.

Holding the yellow objects between his fingers, Endymion uttered,
in the most sultry voice he could muster, Do be a sweetheart and
get that room upstairs.

The woman lifted her thin fingers to grasp the coins. Endymion
held them away. He tucked one coin into the palm of his hand and
held the other between his thumb and forefinger.

Zoicite and Jedite stared in awe as their prince, their very
young, inexperienced, and awkward prince, confidently placed the
shiny object within the crease of the woman's ample cleavage. The
brunette giggled loudly, a sound which caused the patrons nearby
to cringe at the horrid cackle. The woman puckered her lips and
bent forward to kiss the prince. Endymion panicked. He held the
remaining gold coin in front of his own mouth.

The wench paused. Eyeing the glittering object, her brown eyes
lifted upward to meet his gaze. She raised her heavily lined brow
when the boy remained silent.

I am hungry, Endymion finally managed to mutter. His face
flushed as he stammered, Go and uh, get me half of a roasted
chicken and take it up to, uh, our room.

The prince bit the inside of his lip to keep from laughing. He
was by no means hungry. He had no intention of eating half of a
chicken. Endymion had pondered, since she had first approached
their table, when this bar maid had last consumed a decent meal.
Her chest appeared ample and her tightly fitted dress revealed her
curves, but the prince doubted that her luscious figure was the
result of a healthy appetite. From the red blossoms on her nose
and cheeks, he assumed that the main staple in her diet was ale.
The woman's eyes brightened as she gazed into Endymion's stormy,
twilight eyes.

I love a man with an appetite! the woman declared suggestively.
She giggled again and lifted herself from Endymion's lap. The
young boy groaned in relief. The wench, assuming that the moan
was one of pleasure, turned briefly and winked at him.

Endymion feigned what he hoped was a sexy smile and whispered, I
will be there shortly, sweetheart. Now go, I must bid good day to
these men.

He eyed her wiggling form. For posterity's sake, the prince
slapped the woman's backside. The smack reeled her forward.
Endymion dubiously watched her ragged form as she approached the
bar, ordered the chicken, and then ascended upward to the second
level of the tavern. She was soon gone from their sight.

The prince's scrutinizing gaze turned away from the stairwell and
toward his two faithful companions. He still guessed that one of
his trusty guard had enticed that dreadful thing to attack him.
Just looking at them, he found it hard to guess which of the pair
was guilty. Jedite's grey eyes were spread wide like an owl's,
and his mouth hung open in surprise. Zoicite's pallor appeared to
be more sedate. The prince noticed that a sheen of amazement
glazed the red-headed man's normally cunning, watchful gaze.
Unlike Jedite, his mouth did not gape open, but his finely lined
lips were slightly ajar, revealing a bottom row of glorious white
teeth. Perhaps, the young prince thought, neither of the men had
anything to do with the buxomness wench's affections.

Endymion was amused by his own conduct. Had the wench approached
him a year ago, the young prince would have turned five shades of
crimson before making a complete fool out of himself. That was
why Jedite and Zoicite began to regularly hire women to visit
their table. The prince had not, at first, been aware of the
joke. He was just grateful for whatever god it had been to plant
these beauties before him.

They had been beautiful. In the beginning, the women were
exquisite and mysterious with amazingly long hair which
practically dripped to the floor in hues of chocolate and gold.
Their perfectly pointed, full lips were the color of fresh blood,
and their sparkling, wide eyes were always hidden behind amazingly
long lashes and drooping lids. To Endymion's inexperienced gaze,
these creatures were decadent and lovely. He was most amazed that
they would take the time to talk to him, much less favor his
company to the other two, obviously more experienced men at the
table.

Not knowing of the trick Jedite and Zoicite had played, the
gullible prince attempted to win the favor of the beauties who
flocked to him. He was inexperienced, so he mimicked the
mannerisms of his two guardians. Endymion had watched the ease
with which Jedite and Zoicite handled women. Awkwardly, he would
copy Jedite's cool wink or Zoicite's plucky, careless laugh.
Unfortunately, the young prince still had much to learn about the
fairer sex. If he were lucky, his voice may only crack slightly
as he impressed upon the lasses all of his worldly experiences.

Several months had passed before Endymion realized that the
beautiful women were bought and paid for. Upon discovering
Jedite and Zoicite's secret, the prince resolved to no longer be
the fool. The prince ignored the wenches who visited the table.
The bar maids became flustered with Endymion's aloof attitude. No
mater how much Jedite and Zoicite offered, the wenches refused to
join the prince.

Endymion thought that his two guardians would lose interest and
the prince would, once again, be left to enjoy his pint of ale
alone. At first, it seemed to work. Things returned to how they
had been before. The only women who approached the table came to
entice Jedite. He seemed to be the only one present to strike
their fancy. Zoicite almost appeared to be a woman, which
discouraged most of the wenches. Jedite's women eyed Endymion as
they approached the table, but their faces fell as they noted that
he was still a boy.

I'll bed you fer sure in a few years, lad, one had uttered to
him in her sultry voice, No woman in ere will resist you after
you've grown into yer body.

She may have meant it as a compliment, but as Jedite and Zoicite
cackled over her frankness, the prince's face flushed with
embarrassment. Endymion had endured a bit of a growth spurt that
had left him lanky and awkward. The bones in his arms and legs
had lengthened, stretching his muscles tightly against his frame.
His collarbones, knees, and elbows protruded from his pale skin.
His feet and hands were massive. The prince likened his own
unsure steps to that of a court jester wearing upturned, bell
slippers. The seams of his stitched leather gloves now stretched
uncomfortably from the strain of his long fingers and wide palms.
His voice was deepening, but on occasion, which seemed to be when
it was most inconvenient, his words would crack in his throat.
The sound sent anyone around him jeering. As Jedite's wench had
noted, he would be quite popular in a few years, but for now, the
prince was left to dwell in the realm between boy and manhood.

Jedite and Zoicite left Endymion alone. For a little while. Just
as the prince breathed a sigh of relief, his trusted companions
began their new game. Once again, Jedite and Zoicite hired women
to join Endymion at their table. This time, however, the antic
had been slightly altered. Instead of the striking, beautiful
wenches of the past, this new wave of whores were aged, chubby,
pock-marked, dowdy, or any combination thereof. Jedite and
Zoicite would now spend the evening giggling gleefully at their
prince's discomfort as he attempted--unsuccessfully--to drive
these women away.

The first of this breed had, like this most recent wench, settled
herself onto Endymion's lap. Her wide, mammoth backside had
spread across the young man's spindly legs, inducing a pain that
was, much like the whore's thighs, so immense that the prince
thought his bones would snap. He had let out such a loud gasp of
horror and pain that it had sent half of the tavern laughing.

Such experiences had been awkward and humiliating for the prince,
but he resolved that he would not let Jedite and Zoicite win at
their game. Endymion longed for victory, to best them at their
own antics. As the time passed, the prince found it easier to
mask his own emotions. He learned to endure a little
embarrassment while he discovered the easiest way to rid himself
of these wretched women. If he managed to stupefy Jedite and
Zoicite in the end, the prince considered his personal chagrin a
small sacrifice.

Endymion suppressed a chuckle. Tonight, he had finally won.

Considering his victory, the prince's lips turned up in the
corners. His cheeks flushed slightly from the drink. He thought
of the brown-haired woman upstairs, waiting patiently for his
arrival. He imagined her her bloated form draped across the bed,
the plate of chicken balancing perilously on her naked lap. He
shuddered. Shaking his mop of black hair, the prince muttered,
more to himself than his two companions, Hopefully she'll
actually eat that damn chicken.

The prince ran his left hand through his dark hair. He tied the
brown leather coin purse around his belt and rose from his wooden
seat. His tall, lean form towered above Zoicite and Jedite.
Endymion reached for the brown wool cloak resting on the wooden
peg behind him. As he fastened the heavy fabric cape around his
neck, his dark blue eyes glanced downward to his friends.

he asked. The prince turned away as he adjusted the
placement of his sword on his hip. Again, he looked to his
guardians. Neither man had stirred. Endymion wanted to relish
their expressions and burn their bafflement into his memory;
however, he became anxious. Glancing upward toward the stairway,
he muttered at Zoicite and Jedite, We need to go before that
wretched woman comes down here looking for me.

Jedite shook the amazement from his head and snapped back to
attention. You mean, you were only jesting? he finally
demanded.

The prince snorted. Of course I was kidding! Endymion laughed,
Why else would I prepare to leave? He held out his arms. His
cloak billowed around his form.

I just thought that, stammered Jedite, his words slurring
slightly, that you were preparing to go upstairs.

I may be a novice, Endymion snickered, But I thought the point
of going upstairs was to take off your clothes, not to put more
on.

Jedite's face reddened. You had me worried. I thought you were
actually going to...

With her? Endymion motioned toward the stairway, his eyebrows
raising in question. Jedite nodded his head somberly. The prince
shook his head. Definitely not! That woman was horrid.

Zoicite's face flushed with color. He began to laugh wickedly-
the kind of laugh that began in the belly and burst forth like an
explosion. It spilled out of the red-headed man. He buckled
over, nearly bumping his forehead on the table before him.
Zoicite slapped his leg as he giggled. He leaned over to his
right and crashed into Jedite. As he pounded the blonde man's
shoulder, he wiped the tears from his eyes and pointed mockingly
at Endymion.

The prince's blue eyes rolled upward to the grooved wooden planks
of the ceiling. From Zoicite's response, the prince concluded
that he had chosen the wench. As his midnight gaze rested on the
red-head, Endymion shook his head and muttered, Go to hell,
Zoicite. I hope you didn't pay too much for her to come over
here.

Zoicite took in a deep breath to gain his composure. His brown
eyes gazed upward to look at the prince. The younger man's
twilight eyes were locked in a stony gaze. A wide grin spread
across Zoicite's lips. Again, laughter sputtered from his mouth.

Drawing in another breath, the guardian stood. He smoothed down
his tan linen shirt before he reached for his own cloak. As he
threw the dark wool around his shoulders, the man beamed. He
glanced to Endymion's face and in a calm voice, stated, She was a
real prize. Worth every coin.

Zoicite and Endymion wandered out of the tavern, leaving a
surprised Jedite sitting alone at their table. The two burst into
the twilight. Both Endymion and Zoicite were startled to be
greeted an illuminated evening. Everything--the lane before them,
the rooftops of the neighboring buildings, and even a couple of
rotting wagons standing nearby--was covered in a pristine blanket
of white snow. The snow and the luminescence of the full moon
engulfed the world in a pale grey glow. Moonlight bounced off the
reflective white surface, washing away all hints of shadow.

It must have snowed again while we were inside, Zoicite
muttered, pointing to the trails of fresh footprints.

Endymion smiled and stepped forward. His feet sank into the
substance. He remembered how, when they had arrived to this small
town, the snow was melting, trampled, and dirty. Water had been
trickling off the rooftops in the afternoon sun. Now, the world
was frozen and buried in a fresh shroud of pure white. Massive
icicles loomed perilously overhead. Eyeing the sharpened spears,
both Zoicite and Endymion moved from underneath the roof overhang
skirting the tavern.

We weren't in there that long, commented the prince. As he
staggered forward, Endymion realized that perhaps he had consumed
one too many pints. His body reeled ahead while his legs tottered
behind him. Endymion held his arms out to steady himself.

Once straightened, the prince gazed up at the clear sky. He held
the sharp breath in his chest. No trace of clouds. The moon was
glaring down with such force that the pin pricks of the stars were
difficult to see. The prince stared longingly up at the sky.
As a boy, Endymion had pondered his placement in the universe. He
had dreamed of visiting other worlds. His mother had told him
tales of other planets and kingdoms that lingered beyond the
Earth's atmosphere.

Zoicite's laugh brought the prince out of his reverie. Well,
let's get to the public stables. Hopefully Jedite remembers where
we deposited the horses today.

The two sauntered down the middle of the lane, toward the center
of the village. Endymion attempted to remember the name of this
village, but his hazy stupor kept a thumb over the words in his
mind. He giggled. One day, he would be king. As the most
powerful man in the world, Endymion would not have to be bothered
with such tawdry details as one little town's name. The village,
like the countless others he had visited with Jedite and Zoicite,
was so small and common. He wondered if this town was even
effected by the policies and treaties that his father and the
other nobles considered to be so important. How would Endymion
effect the lives of the villagers here, when he was king? Would
they curse his name, as they often did his father, while mockingly
raising their pints in the tavern?

Endymion's drunken reflections were broken again. This time,
Jedite was the culprit. The blonde man jumped between Zoicite and
Endymion, throwing his arms around each of their shoulders.
Endymion winced as the weight of the man jostled his already
unsteady footsteps. He heard Zoicite curse beneath his breath.

You weren't leaving without me, were you lads? Jedite huffed.
His cloud of breath billowed into the frosty air.

It's not our fault you took too long, responded Zoicite. The
beer stench of Jedite's breath hung in the air. Zoicite turned
his head away.

Jedite gasped. He dropped his arms from around his comrades
and stepped forward. The trio was nearing the town square. It
had been the epicenter of the village that afternoon. Makeshift
tents and overhangs had speckled the square. From these colorful
stands, people attempted to sell their wares. In the erie glow of
moonlight, the square was an abandoned, open expanse. A delicate
layer of snow covered the ground, unscathed by foot or hoof
prints.

Jedite skipped forward. HIs tall, lean form was concealed by a
deep navy cloak, which appeared to dance just above the snow. The
blonde paused. He swaggered backward. An burst from his
lips as his backside fell against the snow-covered bricks of the
square. He threw his arms upward and flung his back into the
powder.

Endymion and Zoicite rolled their eyes at each other as they
approached him.

I'll sleep here tonight, the guardian declared. He crossed his
arms over his chest.

Jedite's still form reminded Endymion of a corpse resting on a
funeral pyre. He stooped over Jedite and placed a hand on his
guardian's shoulder. Upon contact with the man's tunic, the
prince felt as though he were physically thrown from the site.
Endymion reeled back. Closing his midnight eyes, Endymion
envisioned Jedite laying before him, dressed in a formal grey
uniform and surrounded by the licking flames of an encompassing
fire. The flashing image sent a surge of energy through
Endymion's body. The prince shivered.

Jedite, completely oblivious, snapped his grey eyes open and sat
up with a start. Endymion and Zoicite both jumped back in
surprise.

A well! the blonde haired man declared, pointing to the smack
center of the square. The small stone structure was a few paces
in front of them. Jedite sprung up and staggered over to the
well. He peered downward into the chasm of darkness. It
stretched down too deep for even the moon's glow. Leaning over,
Jedite shouted into the blackness cheerily.

Endymion rolled his midnight eyes. He glanced over to Zoicite and
smiled.

Are you all right? inquired Zoicite. He had noticed the
prince's strange reaction.

Endymion shrugged, mumbling about a strange vision. Zoicite
nodded his auburn head thoughtfully. The prince had, what Zoicite
had dubbed, a second pair of eyes. It allowed the prince to see
beyond his five senses. Endymion had once told the guardian that
he seemed to be rooted into the ground, like a tree. He said the
connection electrified his body, sending currents of emotion and
energy from the soles of his feet through the ends of his
fingertips. The prince referred to his second eyes as a curse,
but Zoicite had always regarded the powers as a wonderful gift.
Many times, Endymion's feelings and premonitions had saved them
from scrapes. Noticing the prince's strained face, Zoicite
wondered how much of the visions and feelings Endymion did not
share with them.

What in the hell are you doing? Endymion shouted to Jedite.

Zoicite snapped to attention. The blonde man had begun to
unbuckle the front of his trousers.

The prince's eyes widened as he shouted, You are not going to
piss in the town well!

Jedite's grey eyes flashed upward. A devilish grin spread across
his lips. Endymion took a step forward to stop the man from
relieving himself. Jedite laughed, shifting his hips as he
urinated beside the well. You bastard, Endymion muttered
underneath his breath.

Don't talk to your elders that way! snapped Jedite. He fastened
up the front of his pants and turned away from the well. He
giggled. As he approached Endymion and Zoicite, he crossed his
arms over his chest to block out the cold.

You know, Endymion, muttered Jedite, shivering, That was the
only inn in town. You gave our room to a whore!

The prince rolled his twilight eyes upward. Jedite's behavior was
hurling his mind into soberness. Like his companion, Endymion was
also cold, wary, and tired. His aching joints, relaxed from the
ale, moaned with each stride, and the young prince groaned at the
thought of climbing back into the saddle for the long ride to the
castle.

No matter how tired he was, the prince silently determined, he
would not admit his fatigue, especially not to Jedite. Endymion
grit his teeth against the cold. We can ride home tonight, the
prince declared. His strode in front of the two guardians,
passing the well. Over his shoulder, he cried, And don't call me


A cloud of air puffed out of Jedite's nostrils as he huffed. The
blonde haired man would have been surprised if any of the
villagers even recognized the prince's name. Jedite looked around
them and observed that they were completely alone in this town
square. He laughed. No one heard, he grumbled. After a pause,
he added,

The crunching of Endymion's heavy boots in the fresh snow stopped.
The young man let out a deep, audible breath. The warm air from
his lungs clouded in the frozen atmosphere. His tall, cloaked
form turned. With a determined look, clearly visible in the grey
moonlight, he approached the man with the blonde hair. The
prince's eyes sparkled as he grabbed the cuff of Jedite's cloak.
He may have been two years Jedite's junior, but the prince's tall
form towered over the guardian. The young prince tugged at the
fabric. He pulled Jedite forward so they were nose to nose.
Jedite let out a small whimper of surprise.

What did you say? Endymion questioned through his clenched teeth.

The guardian glanced away, nervously. From the corner of his eye,
Jedite could see the flash of anger in the pair of twilight orbs
glaring at him. The prince had every reason to be vexed. Jedite
would have been more surprised if Endymion had not been furious.
Hadn't they all agreed long ago to not call the prince by his
birth name when traveling in the countryside?

Licking his chapped lips, Jedite muttered, I was only kidding.
Endymion's gloved hand twisted the collar of Jedite's cloak.
Jedite jerked backward and fell off balance. The prince let go.
Jedite's backside sunk into the cold, wet snow.

I deserved that, the blonde muttered as he wearily stood on his
feet.

You certainly did, agreed Zoicite. He and Jedite bickered.

The prince turned. As he took a step forward, he paused. Tingles
sliced up his spine. He drew in a deep breath.

Once again, he became acutely aware, with his second pair of eyes,
that they were being watched. He could feel eyes boring through
the glow of the moonlit night, watching their every move. Whoever
it may be was standing nearby.

Endymion blocked argument between Zoicite and Jedite from his mind
and instinctively placed his hand over the hilt of his sword.
Peering into the dark, he attempted to locate the spies. Ahead of
them, in the shadows of a modest one-story building, stood two
men. Once Endymion's dark blue eyes had spotted them, the prince
wondered how he had not spied their forms before. Noticing the
glean of a long silver blade in the shadows, Endymion unsheathed
his sword.

The sound snapped his two guardians from their altercation.

What is it? Zoicite inquired.

Endymion pointed toward the shadow. We are being watched.

The guardians peered into the darkness. Are you certain?
questioned Jedite. The prince nodded.

Second eyes, muttered Zoicite. He drew his sword and loudly
shouted, Show yourselves!

Two figures reluctantly emerged from the shadow. Instantly, the
prince and his two guardians recognized the dark navy uniforms of
the king's guard. The glean of silver hair caught in the
moonlight.

Oh shit.

Endymion nodded at Jedite's words. He was thinking the same
thing.

The pair approaching were not ordinary soldiers. The one with
long, chocolate curls was Nephrite, the head of castle security.
His stoic face betrayed none of his emotion. Nephrite was
considered a quiet, reliable guardsman. Any words he spoke were
deliberate. He had been in the king's employ for fifteen years.

No one knew where Nephrite came from. Some assumed, from the way
he carried himself, that he was once a nobleman. Endymion thought
he must have been a scholar. He regarded Nephrite as one of the
most educated men in his father's employ. Whereas most soldiers
spent their free time in the local taverns, Nephrite borrowed
books from the castle library to read in his chamber. Many people
disliked the stoic, solitary soldier, but Endymion regarded him as
a respectable man.

To Nephrite's left was a slightly taller man with metallic silver
hair and a wide, deliberate stride. Endymion groaned. Kunzite.
Only twenty-five, he was head of the army and one of the King's
top advisors. His crown of liquid silver locks made him appear
old; most regarded the premature grey as a result of a traumatic
experience. Kunzite had once confessed to the prince that he had
come from a village in the high latitudes, and that everyone in
his town had the same shocking silver hair. Kunzite was the son
of a duke. He had never told Endymion about the village he was
from or the name of his father, stating that some things are best
left in the past. The prince had not pressed the Kunzite for more
detail. Endymion regarded Kunzite as a strict older brother.

As he gazed upon the two navy forms gliding across the blanket of
white snow, Endymion knew that he and his companions were in a lot
of trouble. He had never told Kunzite about these antics with
Jedite and Zoicite. He had always suspected the General knew, but
young prince had never wanted to ask Kunzite if he actually did.
The stony glares of Kunzite and Nephrite made Endymion shudder.
The two men must have spent half of the day searching for Endymion
and his two guardians. Nephrite and Kunzite stopped a couple of
paces before them. Even in the hazy moonlit glow, Endymion could
see the hardened lines of their disappointed frowns.

Jedite rattled off an excuse. He muttered about the sleepwalking
prince and the desperate efforts of his trusted guardians to bring
him home safely. He and Zoicite were so intent on the prince's
whereabouts, he claimed, that they had no idea of where they were
or how late it was. Nephrite rolled his eyes.

You will have to do better than that, declared Kunzite. His
somber, deep voice hung in the air.

How did you find us? Endymion inquired.

Your mother sensed that you were in danger, Nephrite stated.
Sarcasm dripped as he muttered betraying his amusement.

My mother? Endymion choked. A rock sank into his stomach. He
was going to have a lot explaining to do when they got home. He
wondered how furious Queen Kyrena would be with him when she
discovered that he was drunk and not in danger. Endymion thought,
with a shudder, that perhaps he should have gone upstairs with
that wench in the bar. Anything was better than facing his
mother's wrath.

Let's get your horses, Kunzite said, placing a hand on
Endymion's shoulder. Her majesty will most likely be awaiting
our return.

Another groan escaped from Endymion's lips. He rolled his eyes
upward, cursing his own bad luck. As his twilight blue eyes
caught site of the moon, the prince sighed.

The pale orb dangled in the sky above them like a pearl glimmering
in dark, murky water. He noticed a crescent of darkness kissing
the left side of the moon. A shadow was overtaking the bright orb
in the sky. As the prince stared upward, a gasp of air caught in
his throat. The shadow was not only dark, but also red.

Endymion pointed upward. The four other men followed his gaze.
Each man uttered incoherently underneath his breath at the
celestial event taking form in the sky above their heads. The
transition seemed to last an eternity.

Each moment that passed plunged painted the red shadow further
across the face of the moon. The darkened spots on the moon's
surface deepened to ruby. The moon glow dulled as the light
slowly faded. Looking down, Endymion noted that the snow was no
longer the soft, blinding white; it, like the moon, had been
stained crimson.

A jolt of power shot up from the ground, through Endymion's boots,
into his heels, through his legs, and into his chest. Terror
filled Endymion's heart. Painful energy sliced through his body.
His head began to swim. The beat of his heart echoed in his ears.

A chorus of screams could be heard in the distance as the
villagers across the countryside ran out of doors take in the
dreaded site. The tin shrills cut into Endymion's ears. His
breathing became labored. Clutching his head, he peered down,
noting how the snow had altered from the cool, white fluff into an
oozing river of red. Endymion's dark blue eyes widened. He
pitched forward. The prince attempted to step back, but his body
reeled ahead.

Endymion would later try to describe the feelings that tore
through his frame at that moment. So intense was the misery that
his body went into a quaking shock. Later, he would explain that
he felt as though, in that one flash, he was able to feel the
despair of every living creature on the planet. Endymion learned,
in that one moment, as the moon turned from a pearl to a ruby,
that the Earth was in danger. Instinctively, the prince glanced
up to that crimson moon; he felt drawn to its protective facade.
He let out a large sigh of relief as a calm rushed over him.

Try as he might, the prince was shaken from his quietude.
Something deep within the ground was taking hold of Endymion and
attempting to pull him forward. The prince tried to resist;
however, after one last glance upward to the red stained moon,
Endymion dropped to his knees. A yell of agony caught in his
throat. Forcing the air from his lungs, the prince let out a cry
of despair.

Endymion fell flat against the Earth. As his body came into full
contact, Endymion felt more of the suffering and terror. Blinking
back the tears, Endymion whispered, Helios protect us. His lids
fell, darkening his world. Endymion's last memory was of the dark
overtaking the light, and with it the impending misery and despair
washing away the hope he had for his people.
-----------------
End of Chapter 1

Well, there you have it. I don't really know what else to say, aside from mentioning that I am craving your opinions/response. So review it! Thanks!

Hollie
holliedaye@hotmail.com

Please return next week for the next installment: Fate