So thank you all for the reviews and your faves and follows. That's been so motivating to me. I'm glad you like the hook. This chapter is longer than the other, but stick around till the end, if you will ;). Building the character this chapter centers around - as he appears now and in his past life(s?) - required a look at Zoisite across various incarnations, and out of it came something pretty satisfactory. Happy reading.
2. Like a Doll (or) Kill Me With Kindness, Unlike You Did Before
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The silence was deafening.
That sounded dramatic, but he didn't mean to be dramatic. The four walls of the apartment seemed to be closing in on him with each passing second, and being home alone made it all the worse.
Kunzite was gone, off doing whatever it was he did on Saturdays, Nephrite left twenty minutes ago looking like the high-fashion model Zoisite was convinced he'd been in a past life, and Jadeite...
He'd left for Mamoru's roughly two hours and thirty-six minutes ago, give or take, but Zoisite wasn't counting. He wasn't. But now that Jadeite was gone, there was no one there to keep him company when he returned home from school to an empty apartment, no one there willing to play mannequin when he was on a deadline. No one there to wake up to for reassurance when he was struck with nightmares of a time long gone.
Not that he felt Jadeite ever listened to him the way he'd wanted him to or valued his company the way Zoisite had his. Still, he liked Jadeite and he liked his presence. Seeing him leave had been hard, not the hardest thing he'd experienced in this life—that honor would go to reuniting with the prince he'd betrayed twice, though, in hindsight, that might also count as the best—but hard nonetheless.
Because Jadeite's departure, to Zoisite, meant they were nowhere closer to once again becoming friends and brothers. He knew thousands of years of baggage brought on by mistrust and betrayal couldn't be resolved in a few short months, but he'd thought they'd be further along now in terms of progress.
Instead, it was the opposite. Kunzite spent half his time at the Prince's side, Jadeite never seemed happy being where he was, and Nephrite was never around in the first place. Zoisite knew he was partially to blame. He hadn't exactly tried his hardest to bring them together, though he liked to think that was partly because there was so much external resistance. It was impossible to act as the mediator when the hostile parties were mutually overbearing.
Zoisite also just wasn't very good at it. He'd been present for each of Nephrite and Jadeite's arguments—as far as Zoisite knew, they'd never gotten physical, though he didn't doubt they saved their worst lashings for when he wasn't around—but always failed to put a stop to them because of his inability to resolve conflict. Jadeite and Nephrite were just so strong in their opposition that it was hard not to be drowned out amid the chaos.
He wished he had Kunzite's penchant for solving conflict. Or ignoring it. Kunzite was unbothered like that, so even when Jadeite and Nephrite were going at it right in front of him, he'd pay them no heed. Zoisite once asked him how he did it. The older man had responded that so long as no one was in immediate danger of being killed, there was nothing to pay attention to. Zoisite thought the murderous look in Jadeite's eyes when Nephrite so much as breathed said otherwise, but he trusted Kunzite's judgment. He was their leader after all.
"Crap!" he hissed, jerked from his thoughts by the heat of the iron on his knuckles. He set the iron down on the face of the board and observed the back of his hand. There was already a bruise developing. He sighed, running his opposite hand over the dress he'd been pressing. He'd been so lost in his thoughts that he'd accidentally run over his hand, but at least he hadn't burned the dress. Unazuki was expecting it before tomorrow morning.
Zoisite unplugged the iron and laid the dress across the couch before trotting into the kitchen and running water over his bruise. As the water cooled his flesh, Zoisite grimaced at the quiet stillness of the atmosphere. He wondered when Nephrite would be home.
He smiled, thinking about his elder roommate. Maybe he'd bring back more clothes for Zoisite that he wouldn't wear because A) Kunzite wouldn't let him, and B) he wouldn't be able to pull them off anyway.
It was another one of those things he'd like to do but couldn't. The list included things like his desire but inability to face or protect his prince, for he couldn't protect his prince if he couldn't face him.
He couldn't protect his prince if he didn't have the power to protect him. What made him worthy of showing his face to him if he couldn't even do the job he'd been born again to finally get right?
Anyway. Unazuki's dress. He needed to complete the finishing touches on it. He'd added the invisible zipper in the back seam, but he wasn't satisfied with how it had turned out. Something about it seemed too compact. In any case, he needed to have it finished in time for the party.
"Speaking of the party, what am I even supposed to wear?" he said aloud. As if the empty apartment might provide an answer (it didn't, but it should have). He didn't even want to go to Unazuki's party—he was more her friend than she was his—but he could do without the angry, expletive-stuffed midnight text reprimanding him for not showing up.
Maybe he could get over himself and go behind Kunzite's back to see what Nephrite had in store for him? Or maybe he could run out last-minute and find something a step-up from his admittedly pathetic arsenal of cardigans and sweaters.
"Beautiful clothes should only be worn by those with the fortitude to bring out their true majesty," Nephrite had remarked one late night after Kunzite had finished purging Zoisite's room of the high-end shirts Nephrite had taken it upon himself to supplement his younger comrade's closet with. "It seems your form isn't ready, but it will be. Soon."
Zoisite wasn't sure what that meant and didn't think he wanted to. Nephrite had a tendency to say things with zealous certainty, as though the universe had personally communicated with him. Like Endymion, they all bore connections to the earth and its atmosphere, the source of their powers, but Nephrite's spiritual realm seemed... separate.
Zoisite jumped, letting out an unceremonious yelp as his phone abruptly vibrated from its place on the coffee table. He gritted his teeth, realizing he'd been so lost in his thoughts, the water had run so long his skin, while less swollen, had become waterlogged.
He switched off the faucet, toweling his hand dry before jogging back in the living room to check his phone.
It better not have been Unazuki again asking when he was bringing her dress. Perhaps it was cruel to think, but the girl had all the patience of a wild boar. When he glanced at the screen, however, warmth swirled in his stomach.
Usagi: so remember all that studying i told u i had to do to make up for that test i failed? well, mamo-chan's finally setting me free! i left before he could come up with new and creative ways to torture me, and me and mina are going shopping to celebrate my grand escape. if you're not busy, i was wondering if u wanted to come? :)
There was a fluttering sensation in his chest. The Princess wanted to spend the day with him. But he needed to finish Unazuki's dress... But the Princess wanted to spend the day with him.
Unazuki could stand to wait, couldn't she? And it wasn't like he needed to modify the dress; knowing Unazuki, the tighter the dress the better. At the risk of being berated, he'd deliver it to her house first thing in the morning. For now—
Zoisite: I'd love to come with you! Just tell me where we're meeting and I'll be there.
She texted him the location, and Zoisite scurried to usher Unazuki's dress into a garment bag, glided into his and Jadeite's room—his room. It was his room now, even if it didn't feel right—and browsed the drawers and closet for something sufficient to wear, but anything he might have worn was either coated in hair or at the bottom of a hamper.
He tugged at the ends of his hair, frustrated as he chewed his lower lip. He usually tried presenting as decently as he could in front of the Princess, and maybe he couldn't pull off Nephrite's looks, but he refused to leave the house looking frump-adjacent with the knowledge that he was going to see her.
An idea struck him, then. He rummaged through his closet to find the initial dress he'd made a few months back for Kotono's graduation party. It wasn't perfect, but it would do. He closed his eyes, only opening them again some seconds later when a familiar rush of energy swept over him.
He approached the full-length mirror beside his bed, smiling to himself. The Princess would love this.
True to form, the exuberant squeal she let out upon spotting him at their meetup destination, the Tokyo Midtown Galleria, could be heard for blocks.
She seemed oblivious to the alarmed looks she garnered from strangers as she bounded up to him. She squealed again—quieter, clasping his hands as she said, struggling to contain her excitement, "Zoisite! You're a girl again."
"Since you liked this form so much the last time, I thought you might want to see it again. Is this alright?" He gestured for the green, swishy skater dress that he was sure he was a few inches too tall for, but he and Kotono were roughly the same size everywhere else, his male form notwithstanding.
Usagi nodded vigorously. "Of course! Besides, don't you think it would be rude of me to tell a pretty lady what she can and can't do?"
He flushed, averting his gaze to the floor. "Princess..."
"Ah, ah." She pouted and waved a finger in his face. "It's Usagi. I keep telling you: I'm your friend, not your liege."
He knew that. She went out of her way to remind him of that each time he slipped and addressed her by her past title, but she would always be the Princess to him. He owed it to her, after everything.
"Pretty dress. You make it for yourself?"
The radiant spell of comfort Usagi had cultivated between them was broken, the voice of one Aino Minako bleeding through.
He looked at her, slowly, to find she wore a crooked, chilly sort of smile. He'd realized what he was getting himself into the second he'd read that Minako was coming along, but he'd been too wrapped up in his own fantasy to care. Kunzite had advised that when they encountered the Senshi to remain cordial, even if they weren't treated with the same decency.
That wasn't so hard considering Usagi's guardians never indicated they wanted anything to do with them, but the few times he'd encountered Minako, he couldn't help but recall with striking clarity that time Sailor Venus sliced him apart with her crescent boomerang. She intimidated him, and if the look on her face said anything, she was more than aware of that.
"I actually made it for a classmate," he said. "It was too tight at the waist and there wasn't enough extra material to let it out at the seam, but sometimes I lend it to some of the other girls, so it sees good use."
"Ah," Minako hummed thoughtfully. "You don't quite... fill it out. Doesn't change the fact that if I were less confident, I'd kill to have your body. In any form."
She was taunting him—at least he thought she was, but she couldn't have known she was poking at bone-deep insecurities that had chased him through three lives. As far as Zoisite could remember, their relationship had always begun and ended at their association with the Moon Princess.
"I doubt that," he said blithely. "You're Aphrodite in human form. What more could you want?"
"Beauty is relative," she declared shortly, hooking her arms with Usagi's and guiding her toward a nearby sports outlet. The Princess sent him an apologetic look before letting herself be led away.
Zoisite refrained from tugging at his hair, having only been able to wrangle it into a neat(ish) ponytail on the train ride there. He was here for the Princess, not anyone else. He was fine. He was fine.
Fortunately, as the hour progressed he wasn't given a reason to feel differently. Minako mostly stuck to the opposite side of Usagi while he stuck to the other. The brash commentary he'd expected out of her was largely absent—excluding when she'd described her recent visit to the gynecologist in extreme detail, which he knew to be 100% done in a (successful) attempt to unnerve him—and she seemed content ignoring him for the most part.
He avoided perfume sellers and idly hopped from shop to shop with Usagi, never complaining even when she swept into a store only to emerge empty-handed each time. He was just happy to be with her.
"Mina-chan! Zoisite-kun!" Usagi gasped, skidding to an abrupt stop in front of a—according to the sign—newly-opened frozen yogurt shop. It had an eye-catching sort of whimsical cuteness. "Do you see what I'm seeing? Do you?"
Minako laughed. "Of course! It looks good. Just know you're paying this time." Her eyes contained none of their prior jubilation and dulled considerably when they flickered to Zoisite.
"I see it," he said, pointedly ignoring Minako's blank stare. "But are you sure you're up for it? You're not even a little full from the American dogs and the tantanmen bowl?"
Minako snorted. "Don't tell me you've been back this long and didn't know Usagi's an absolute beast when it comes to food."
Usagi looked offended. "As if you're any better, Ms. I-Eat-Full-Cartons-of-Sherbet-Before-Bed. Honestly, Mina. Sherbet? It's disgusting."
The two threw a few more rounds of petty jabs at each other before entering the shop in a flurry of giggles. Zoisite tried not to feel like a third wheel.
Usagi immediately flew to the yogurt station. Minako dropped into the nearest booth. Zoisite briefly considered sitting elsewhere, but he settled on the other side of the booth anyway. She was thankfully more interested in her phone than in him, so Zoisite allowed himself to relax a little.
Inside the shop was as cute as it was outside, the walls festooned with colorful vintage plates and lace balls hanging along the entryway.
Zoisite cradled his cheeks in his palms, content as he watched Usagi, looking for all the world like choosing a flavor of yogurt was the hardest thing she'd ever done.
"So. You and Usagi do this often?"
The abruptness of the question startled Zoisite, his knees knocking against the table in his rush to sit upright. The corners of Minako's mouth were curled, and Zoisite hoped beyond hope that his face wasn't as red as it felt.
"I'm sorry," he managed through his embarrassment. "I don't—I'm not sure what that means."
She rolled her eyes. "Duh. Do you and Usagi always prowl around Tokyo together not bothering to tell a soul about it?"
She was smiling, despite the accusation in her tone. He responded carefully.
"Well, my..." He paused, unsure of what, exactly, his fellow Shitennou were to him. He liked to think they were brothers, but he knew that not everyone shared that opinion. "The guys. They always knew I was spending time with the Princess. There was nothing for me to hide."
"Is that right?" Minako narrowed her eyes. "Well, I can't say Usagi's been doing the same. I didn't even know you guys hung out like that until today when she oh-so-casually mentioned she'd invited you to come to the mall with us. Said something about not wanting you to be lonely. Apparently, she hadn't bothered to tell me you two were all ice cream and peaches because she thought I'd be—what did she say?—really brash about it. Insane, right?"
"...Right."
"That's what I said, though fuck of a leader I turned out to be! I didn't even know my own Princess's, my own friend's, whereabouts. But you haven't killed anyone innocent. I mean, not in this life, so she was in... mostly non-murderous hands?"
Her blows, while delivered nonchalantly, were effective, and Zoisite felt smaller and smaller with each second that passed.
"But you're okay now, aren't you?" she continued. "You mentioned earlier you dressed like this because Usagi liked it. That's very considerate of you, but is it all for her or do you like it too?"
Zoisite hesitated, and not just because of nerves. Did he like it? He'd never thought deeply about it besides Usagi's affinity for girls she found pretty and his desire to make her—the reason he'd even discovered his shapeshifting powers when he was still struggling to activate the rest of his powers, if they even existed—happy.
But if he was honest with himself... he did like it. The fact that he was able to shift into any form he pleased meant that maybe he wasn't a complete hindrance to Usagi, his prince, and the future he didn't like thinking about for fear that his physical existence threatened it.
It was miserable, but his different forms gave him pieces of a strength he'd never known himself to have. They made him feel as if he were someone worth rooting for and someone potentially worthy of the compassion the Prince and Princess had shown him thus far.
"I do like it," he admitted. "Usagi's approval is certainly a bonus, not to mention sometimes when I'm out in public in this form, I get free things."
"I beg your pardon," Minako huffed. "You think it's okay for grown men to give teenage girls or those presenting as teenage girls tokens?"
Zoisite blanched. "No. I just. I don't—"
She waved a hand dismissively, snickering. "I'm just messing with you. Can't you take a joke?"
Minako spoke again before he could flounder for a response. "You're a doll, you know. That's what Usagi says, but I can kinda see it now. You're a cute, pleasant guy. Funny since you were quite the impressive bitch back in the day. God, I couldn't figure out for the life of me why Serenity liked you, but I guess some things never change."
Her smile grew cooler then, a dim cast in her eyes. "Just try to kill her with kindness this time and maybe not a magical space sword, okay?"
She cocked her head to the side, her smile broadening significantly as she plucked her phone off the table, and then she was scrolling away, unconcerned with the spate of emotions she'd advertently triggered in him.
"Guys!" Usagi's voice, loud and gusty, her unorganized footsteps clanking against the tile flooring. "I didn't know what to get, so I closed my eyes and took a leap of faith."
Zoisite blinked rapidly, swallowing the lump in his throat and relaxing the muscles in his face as best as he could just as Usagi reached the booth.
"If you don't mind, I got you guys some too," she said, precariously balancing three large buckets of yogurt in her arms. "I know you don't like sweet things, Zoisite, but I figured we all need a little sugar in our system sometimes—hey. Are you okay? Your eyes are really shiny."
Zoisite shook his head, unfurling a wide smile. "I'm perfect!"
Ack. That sounded forced. Evidently, Usagi thought so too because she eyed Minako suspiciously. The other girl pretended not to notice her friend's scrutiny, suddenly captivated by the ceiling.
She scrunched her nose but didn't comment, sliding into the booth beside Minako. As they ate their yogurt, Usagi talked about a wide array of subjects, and Zoisite tried his best to nod along. When she inevitably asked if she could have the rest of his mostly untouched yogurt, she gave him an appraising look as he slid it across the table, but that was the closest she came to outright interrogating him.
They left the shop soon thereafter. Usagi was practically jumping on the balls of her feet as she finished off his yogurt while simultaneously describing to Minako a new arcade that had opened up in the mall, but Zoisite only absently listened to the discussion, his body on auto-pilot as he trailed behind them. He felt sick, like he was liable to throw up at any second. Had he really let her get to him this bad?
He had. It was pathetic; he was pathetic.
"Usagi," he called, stopping. She whipped around, mid-bite. He would've found it adorable if he hadn't been so busy hyperventilating. "I have to go home. I have—I have a thing to do today."
"Thing?" Usagi questioned, frowning. "Oh. Well... Are you sure you have to go now? I'm heading back to Mamoru's in a short while. Jadeite is probably still there."
Yeah. Brooding, Zoisite thought. But that would only make things worse. He couldn't face Mamoru. Not now. "I'm sure. I have to finish something I'm working on for a classmate's birthday, and I have to take it to her before she decides to plunder my bedroom for it herself."
"O... okay."
The Princess passed her yogurt to Minako, hesitating before closing the distance between them and throwing her arms around him in a light but affectionate hug. Behind them, Minako let out a strangled noise, something between a laugh and a wheeze.
Usagi pulled back from the hug—too early in Zoisite's opinion—but held tight to his wrists. "I'm sorry. I just thought with Jadeite gone and everything you'd want some company, and me and Mina were going shopping anyway, so I thought. I thought maybe with me here she wouldn't be that bad and—"
"It's nothing. Really," he lied, mustering a smile, but Usagi's expression said she wasn't convinced.
"Whatever she said—and I know she said something—don't take it too much to heart," Usagi said, smiling earnestly. "She's upset and can't channel that, but you deserve this. You all do, and no one can take that away from you. You hear me?"
When he didn't respond, she sighed and took a step back. "This is it then for today... isn't it? I guess there's nothing else I can do. Call me when you get home, okay?"
She hugged him again, shooting him another heartfelt smile as she rejoined Minako, who didn't bother greeting him as she and Usagi walked away. Zoisite watched as they merged into the crowd, his trembling fingers clasped together.
When he could no longer make out their figures, he felt himself relax—not quite, but the knots in his stomach were lessening. Still, he was only one perfume sample away from vomiting.
And here I am doing the same thing I thought Jadeite was doing earlier. Running...
But he couldn't even face his prince, so he wasn't stupid enough to believe he could've defended himself against someone fully prepared to kill him if he stepped a little out of line. For all Minako's taunts had been hurtful, she wasn't wrong.
Because she had no right to trust him—to trust any of them—and though he'd sooner slit his throat than harm another innocent, there was a lingering fear, one he couldn't shake off, that he'd be influenced by forces he couldn't control again and betray the very people who'd gone out of their way to help him.
But this time he would prove that he was worthy of being trusted again. Even if he couldn't prove he was strong or reliable, he could try to prove that he was better than what he'd been. Than what he was.
He owed it to Minako and the Senshi, and more than anything, he owed it to the Prince and Princess.
Zoisite righted his posture, lifting his head. He had a dress to modify, and wasting time on tears—let alone in this form—wouldn't make that happen faster.
"You deserve this. You all do, and no one can take that away from you. You hear me?"
He did, but that didn't mean he had to believe it.
The ballroom was alive. Various guests from a wide range of planets across the galaxy—some even hailing from different star systems—flitted through the room, vast and embellished with the finest pieces of Lunarian decor. At the center of the room perched on a crystalline throne was a tall, statuesque woman with wavy locks of silver cascading down her back, a graceful train of hair encircling her throne. She vigorously entertained the dignitaries standing before and all around her, her double-edged but full smile as vibrant as the inverted moon embedded on her forehead.
Queen Serenity was in her domain as the reigning monarch of the Moon Kingdom—founder and leader of the Silver Covenant—and served as the stickum for intergalactic politics.
That, however, didn't mean she was the face. Well. At least, not the face everyone who bore little to no interest in political niceties and was more involved in the party scene wanted to see.
In a hall adjacent to the one Queen Serenity busied herself entertaining dignitaries, attendants of lower ranks and classes—the ones prohibited from entering the main ballroom full of royalty and high-ranking government officials, the ones who'd bargained off everything from family heirlooms to their children all for the sake of being able to say they'd attended the Silver Gala—convened in a gathering of their own, but it was generally agreed upon that this was the superior party due to its relaxed nature.
One was far less liable to run into snobs (the snobs usually kept to themselves, though there were no boundaries on which hall they could enter) and casual cross-species interaction was regular, even interaction teetering on the edge of hostile. Or, comparatively, the fetishistic.
At the center of the room, much like Queen Serenity herself, was an angular man with wavy blond hair twisted into a braid falling over his right shoulder and prim, elegant features. He was dressed in exquisite Terran garb, a garb most of the guests weren't overly familiar with, but it was nevertheless the third year in a row he managed to be the star of the annual Silver Gala. The herd of people flocking him on all sides was a live illustration of his popularity.
At only eighteen human years, Zoisite was fresh-faced and the youngest member of Earth's Four Heavenly Kings. As one of the Terran Prince Endymion's personal bodyguards, he should have been with his liege in the other hall, but that was, in fact, what made him such an attractive figure. The rebellion of it all enthralled partygoers, and he was all too willing to play along.
"So you really don't lick yourselves on Earth?" a woman, hailing from Mau if her bizarre line of questioning indicated anything, asked.
"I've never understood you Mauvians. Licking yourselves in the name of so-called grooming," another woman—a Lunarian. Over the years Zoisite had become an expert at identifying their holier-than-thou drawl—said.
The Mauvian scowled. "You know, for someone whose planet barely has any water at all and only subsists because of the power of its Queen, you sure have a lot to say."
The Lunarian gasped. "My people don't lick themselves! That's more than I can say for yours. I like to think we reserve the right to judgment."
"It's a grooming technique!"
"Is it? Well—"
"Ladies," Zoisite purred just as the women rounded on each other. Naturally, they stopped mid-altercation and looked his way. He gave a gentle smile, resulting in many a sigh emanating from even the furthest sides of the room. "What is this? This fighting? The foremost aim of events such as this one is to promote unity throughout the galaxy. I don't ask of you to understand each other, and I don't ask of you to even love all the customs of the civilizations that comprise our solar system, but I am asking you to respect each other. For who are we if we don't respect ourselves enough to respect others?"
There was a neat, succinct pause as they considered his words, and then, like clockwork, the two women were apologizing to each other, some members of the audience even supplying their own hyperbolic testimonies as to bear witness to the supposed power of unity. In no time, they had resumed gushing over him and asking this, that, and the other question about Earth's customs.
He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. They hadn't actually believed any of that, had they? He hoped not. Then again, non-Terrans were easily impressed. For all their posturing, they couldn't possibly fathom that the people of Earth were, in fact, people. It was the reason behind their fascination with him.
Not that Zoisite thought he was particularly altruistic outside of basic civilities. Back on Earth, even those closest to him would be hard-pressed to describe him as kind—and what of it? Altruism was for bored people-pleasers, like Jadeite—but the humanoids didn't care about personality so much as they did what he could offer them. In that respect, they were similar to Terrans.
"Is it true the Prince sleeps once per every twelve hours? I always thought that was excessive," someone in the back of the crowd—Zoisite couldn't see their face—said.
"Ah! Good question!" someone else chimed.
Zoisite did roll his eyes this time. Aliens.
Despite his belief that the least they could do was open a book on their respective planets, he couldn't ruin his reputation as the worldly, open Terran from the Prince's guard, so he answered anyway.
He wasn't a minute into his explanation of Homo sapien sleep cycles when the doors fluttered open, and then, flanked by two guards, appeared Queen Serenity, floating more than walking through the entryway. Here to appeal to her common constituents.
"Oh! The Queen!" someone exclaimed at the same someone—a Chuuan—said, significantly blander, "Oh. The Queen." Zoisite couldn't help but chuckle at these opposite reactions. What a funny world they lived in.
The Queen navigated the room with the grace of a swan, enrapturing the attention of Zoisite's audience and even those who hadn't looked happy to see her. She was nearing closer to him with each guest she stopped to personally greet. He'd met the Queen before, a few times during the occasional visits of goodwill to the Earth Moon Kingdom officials felt obligated to embark on and of course during past Silver Galas when he'd finally come of age.
She was a grounded, dignified woman with beauty and form he thought every man should envy. Zoisite thought she might be a trickster. He'd never been sure if her more-smirk-than-smile expression was intentional or just her face, and that was perhaps the most intriguing thing about her.
He migrated to the back of the room, figuring he should give the legions of adoring fans their day in the limelight before the Queen caught up to him. Besides, he had more pressing matters to attend to. Like who would occupy the space beside him in his bed at his suite in the Crystal Palace. Preferably someone of this realm.
In the almost two years he'd formerly served Endymion, he learned that Lunarians, if nothing else, were good—the best, even—for one thing.
He was eyeing a red-haired Cooconian with a sizable but manageable wingspan when the ballroom doors opened again. Zoisite raised an eyebrow when a short, petite girl slipped through the doors. She'd come in so quietly that the partygoers, so wrapped up in her mother, barely took note of her, and the ones that did were only momentarily distracted before they resumed focus on the Queen.
Zoisite stared a little while longer. The Lunarians, cursed people, had a market on beauty, and Princess Serenity was no exception. She shared her mother's long silver hair and bone structure, but she stood several inches shorter, her eyes were a breezy blue rather than a raw silver, and her face was more youthful, or as youthful a face one could have when their mother ceased physically aging at 21.
She had a kinder face, too, the uncertainty in her eyes so unlike the confidence the Queen exhibited. He'd never formally met the Princess, but aside from her beauty, he found her overall boring and unimpressive. She lacked the mystique that made her mother such an interesting figure.
He wondered why she was here and where her Senshi were. As far as Zoisite knew, they scarcely left her side when on duty and—according to Kunzite and Endymion, who'd attended her sixteenth, in human years, birthday celebration earlier that year (another apparent act of "goodwill")—were murderously protective. Then again, he was a member of Endymion's guard and decidedly not at said prince's side, so. Stranger things.
He was given a clue as to her motivation when she approached a tall blonde woman wearing a rather eye-catching ruby choker. The woman immediately dropped into a deep bow, but the Princess only laughed before pulling her up.
Zoisite couldn't make out what they were saying, but the Princess at some point was moved to embrace the taller woman.
When they pulled apart, there was one noticeable discrepancy: the choker had disappeared from its hostess's neck. The woman, however, didn't seem to notice, too star-struck by the Moon Princess, the Moon Princess who'd stolen her necklace, and, Zoisite assumed, hidden it in an enclosure in her dress.
He watched the Princess regally zip toward the exit, unsure if he should laugh or be more concerned that certified royalty was stealing from a commoner. In any case, it was a fool's ploy to accuse royalty, let alone the Moon Princess, of thievery.
But there was more to the story. Zoisite saw a flash of brunette hair and standard Lunarian servant robes at the threshold of the open double doors, and no sooner did the Princess reach them did a hand shoot out and tug her out of the room.
He looked back at the Princess's victim. Still, she appeared wide-eyed and star-struck and... Was that the faintest hint of magic he detected pervading her space? It was subtle, almost null, but it was there.
In fewer than five minutes, the Princess had used her mother's presence as leverage to swoop in like a thief in the night, cast a spell on and promptly steal from a commoner, and swoop out.
Zoisite felt his mouth twitch. A mischievous scamp, then?
"Lord Zoisite. Evading your duties again, are you? How characteristically valiant of you."
A mischievous scamp, just like her mother. He matched the Queen's well-defined smirk with one of his own, his thoughts lingering on the Princess Serenity and how maybe she wasn't so boring after all.
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These first four or so chapters are largely introductory for the characters and their different situations, and I hope that comes off. As for Minako's behavior, I've seen her portrayed every which way, but I feel like sometimes she's really lacking some of those brash, hot-blooded tendencies her manga version has in full swing, so to me, it's fitting.
I'd love to hear your feedback on the chapter, so don't hesitate to leave a review! Thanks again for the engagement last chapter, and I hope y'all have a good week. Stay safe!