Interlude: Berthier
The stone floor of the Crystal Palace was cold beneath her legs.
Cool, pearlescent hued stone that was not actually stone at all. It was crystal, glossed to perfection. Smooth, unyielding crystal to suitably bruise rather than scrape as the full gravity of what had just occurred brought Berthier to her knees in the palace foyer, close enough to reflect the shock carved into her features.
At her right, Koan remained unconscious, sprawled where Berthier had left her not five minutes prior. Her brow now sported a silver crescent, one that seemed to thrum, akin to the pulse of a living entity as its inverted twin began to gradually fade… Almost as though the seal of Sailor Moon were devouring the mark of the Black Moon Clan, and the very darkness that sustained it. Perhaps it was. Berthier recalled her own despair upon coming to in the wake of her defeat and the placement of that very seal. The rage that quickly perished, never to be summoned again no matter how hard she tried.
The despair had also dulled eventually, during some point in her time here.
Part of her suspected that had been due to her proximity to the owner of said mark. The absence of that now familiar presence hit Berthier, chilled her in a way ice never had. The weight of another bargain struck cradled between her fingers, its very aura enough to suffocate.
The Silver Crystal.
Berthier turned, yanked open one of the many drawers of the table beside her and promptly emptied the contents of her stomach into it.
She flinched as a voice said, "Ah, that will be a lovely surprise for the servants later."
It seemed King Endymion had left to greet company. Her hand tightened, burrowing the Silver Crystal deeper into her palm as the full might of the Order of Elysion rounded the corner behind the king.
She spoke before the accusations could begin. "You're all a bit too late if you came to join the fight."
From across the foyer Sailor Venus glared down at her, and Berthier was suddenly reminded of the commander she would one day become. Sailor Venus ran an eye past her, then Koan, and asked, "Where is Sailor Moon?"
The crystal became cumbersome, the burden of an entire galaxy pressing down. "Gone. Taken to Nemesis, the home of the Black Moon Clan."
Saying the words aloud, her stomach rolled, the weight of every breath suddenly laborious. Unfamiliar with such a harsh reaction, Berthier found herself struggling to overcome it. The word dawned on her after some reflection. Sailor Moon was supposedly the greatest warrior of the Crystal Empire, the Destroyer herself; neither of them could have predicted this outcome, or so she had thought, but that was not entirely true, was it?
Sailor Moon had not hesitated, not for a second, in handing Berthier the Silver Crystal. She had been prepared for that outcome. Prepared…
"What do you mean taken?" The young Endymion stepped forward, but it was not him that her gaze focused on.
Her focus went solely to King Endymion, and the carefully arranged expression he wore.
He'd known, hadn't he?
He had known. Sailor Moon had realized it too, that he was privy to what lay ahead and… and he had told her to have faith. The King met her eyes, something cold flashing through them. A warning. Berthier tore her attention back to his younger self, stifling the ice rising in her chest. This a was betrayal. Sailor Moon had trusted him, yet he- no.
Now was not the time. It did not matter to the extent of rousing Berthier's anger. It should not. Sailor Moon was… an enemy.
Yet she had also become a savior. Enemy, savior, harbinger, cohort; there was no making sense of the relationship between them. Nevertheless, acting out would do Berthier no good. She knew now not to be wary of King Endymion, and that was enough.
His younger self —Mamoru, Sailor Moon called him — repeated the question.
"If you wish to know," She began, "Then so be it. However, I am not responsible for the truths you may not like."
She gave a short account of everything that had happened. Her release from the prison, the meeting with Queen Serenity she had watched from a distance, being blindfolded and brought before the gateway, their time together in the crystal palace and the confrontation the Order had narrowly missed. Berthier did not mention King Endymion's words. That was a fight the Order could decide whether to pick at a later date.
"You should know something happened to Sailor Moon on the battlefield." Berthier added. "I don't know what. She wasn't struck by any attacks and yet somehow her strength evaporated." The Black crystal held immense power, but it was not capable of countering the Silver Crystal and especially not from such a great distance. Had that been the case, there would not have been any need to chase that child through time. She wouldn't have even escaped to begin with…
Dread pooled in her.
Berthier's gaze snapped to the Order, scanning until she spotted the head of pink locks she had desperately hoped not to see. Upon meeting her eyes, the child flinched, tucking herself behind Sailor Jupiter. Jaw clenched, Berthier hissed, "You damned fools. This was your fault all along!"
Mamoru narrowed his gaze. "Pardon?"
"The reason why she was weakened during the fight is because of you." Berthier's voice rose. Unable to keep the snarl from her face, she said, "That brat over there wields the Silver Crystal of the thirtieth century. Surely you cannot be so dense as to think that two versions of the Silver Crystal can exist in a single moment of time without one drawing more strength? The Black Crystal drains that sort of power, and its essence, no matter how thin, is littered across this land. Sailor Moon had already used her healing abilities to save Koan when you lot entered. With everything going on it's a miracle she managed to best my sisters at all."
Mamoru stiffened as though she'd struck him. However, it was Sailor Venus that retorted. "Enough. With no evidence to prove this claim, your words are meaningless."
"I know I'm right. It's hardly my problem whether or not you can accept your part in this."
Her eyes darkened. "Take care, Berthier. You're in our custody now, and in the Order of Elysion we do not take kindly to pointing fingers and blindly placing blame."
"Sailor Moon guaranteed my safety." She made sure to meet every gaze, choosing her next words carefully. "She gave me her word, and I have held up my end of the bargain. Whether you like it or not, there is nothing any of you can do to me. Remember that. It isn't my fists you'll be left to deal with, and I for one know better than to be on the receiving end of Sailor Moon's wrath."
Someone scoffed. Sailor Venus appraised her. "You're a criminal. Do you really think Sailor Moon would care what happens to you past today?"
The world… it's a rather large place, Berthier.
Sailor Moon thought she had a future. "Yes, I do."
The Order appeared taken aback. No one made any move to call Berthier on it, however. She assumed she was in the clear until she realized Mamoru was staring at her with alarming intensity. Or rather, at her hand.
"You shouldn't have that." He advanced towards her, arm outstretched.
As though to take the Silver Crystal, and perhaps the burden it instilled from Berthier.
She didn't want it, any of it. Why should the pressure be on her, anyway? Who was Berthier to stand in the way, when she had been nothing but weak this entire time? Weak enough to fall for the Black Crystal, weak enough to cast aside her sisters, her family, for a little bit of power. The Silver Crystal didn't belong in the hands of one such as her. The only one fit to wield it was Sailor Moon and she…
She had left it to Berthier.
Sailor Moon had saved both her and Koan from the darkness. She'd seen in Berthier the potential for a second chance at life, and she granted mercy rather than death to the girl she so clearly hated because Berthier had asked her to. Sailor Moon had kept her word every step of the way, and so Berthier would not fail her here. She would not. Mamoru reached for the Silver Crystal, only to find himself thwarted when her fingers grasped the exposed skin of his wrist with deadly speed.
"Sailor Moon entrusted its safekeeping to me." Frost began to coat his arm, spreading from where she held him. "She put her own life on the line and trusted me to guard it in her stead. You have some audacity in thinking I would allow you to take it from me."
He flinched and broke free of her grip, backing up. The silver hair General took advantage of the space and slid into a defensive stance before his master. Teeth bared, he moved a hand to the sword at his waist. "Keep your filthy hands to yourself, witch, or I shall remove them."
"That is quite enough." King Endymion said. The Order of Elysian tensed, falling back silently under the commanding presence before them. Part of her quieted as well, not out of instinct but because Berthier had only ever known the thirtieth century, and it was a place in which the King Consort was not to be trifled with. So she lowered her head, no more than an inch to honor the King as he stood between her and the Order and said, "This child is under the protection of Her Majesty, Queen Selene of the Crystal Empire. No harm will come to her in the Queen's palace. Is that understood?"
The silver haired general fell back, and Mamoru said, "Queen… Selene? Not Serenity?"
The King nodded. "A change in name was announced in the beginning of her reign. There were some who, despite tradition, did not wish to honor the name of her predecessor and… well, you will see eventually."
Berthier waited, but to her surprise he did not reveal anything further. This man… he was playing them all, wasn't he? Delaying the Order so that they would miss the fight in time, purposefully allowing one of his own comrades to go into a battle he knew she would not win. What was so precious about these events that he felt the need to see them through in this manner? Berthier would stay silent on his interaction with Sailor Moon, but what did such a minor piece of information matter, that he would hide it from the Order?
Her generosity did not extend that far.
"He's leaving out the best details, you know." As the others turned their attention to her, King Endymion frowned. She found that she did not particularly care. "It wasn't just that princess of yours that adapted a moniker upon the restoration. In their early years they were known simply as Princess Serenity and Sailor Moon, but with a growing empire come reputations. Eventually they became known as Queen Selene and Lady Nyx. The Iron Queen and The Destroyer."
"Thank you, Berthier. I'm sure that was very enlightening for the Order of Elysion." King Endymion swept his gaze past each of them. "Sailor Moon is currently being held captive on the planet Nemesis. Time is of the essence… that is, if you wish to retrieve her in one piece?"
Sailor Mars glared up at him. "She's still one of us."
A man Berthier did not know strolled forward, hands in his pockets. He was, to put it plainly, massive. She was positive he hadn't been on the field during her capture; she'd have remembered him, if not by his size then by the aura of power he excluded. It wasn't familiar, yet something about him itched at her memory. "That's right, even if she caused this whole mess, Usagi needs our help. So let's get to it, shall we?"
"What do we do with her in the meantime?" Sailor Mars nodded to Berthier.
"Oh, I think we can come to an agreement." The man crouched down to her level and still towered over her. His eyes met her own, and in them she saw not anger or hope, but embers and rubble; the build up of a bomb and the aftermath in its wake. An emotion she did not know, yet one strong enough to freeze her in place. "Berthier has proven herself to be a wealth of information. She's going to tell us exactly how to infiltrate Nemesis, because she knows the value of cooperation. You owe Usagi a life debt now, isn't that right?"
"I- Yes." She struggled to hold his stare. It was nothing more than an inkling, but she could no longer shake the feeling now. Regardless of the fact that she had never laid eyes on him before, not in person nor in any portraits, Berthier was almost positive of who this man was. Holed away in the impenetrable Moon Palace with the elder princess, his infamy had faded to the point where few rarely spoke of him.
"Excellent." The right-hand man of the Destroyer smiled. It was not kind. "I'm here to collect."
Interlude: Saphir
The girl in his brother's arms appeared far from what Saphir had expected she might.
Small, fragile — truly, she couldn't top more than 152 centimeters and Saphir was certain he'd seen dogs that weighed more — she remained unconscious, cradled against Demande in a way that only served to further dwarf her already unimpressive stature. As his brother advanced through the corridor, strands of the girl's hair billowed out in his wake. She resembled a maiden one might read of in a fairytale; gathering flowers in a meadow or trapped in the highest tower of a castle, features gentle in her forced slumber. Blood speckled her skirt and boots.
This could not be the Destroyer Sailor Moon.
Saphir's childhood had been filled with stories of the legend. One of the great three that had brought upon the restoration of the Moon Kingdom and the deadliest warrior of the Order of Elysion. Sailor Moon had brought every enemy of not only Queen Selene, but the solar system itself, to their knees. Entire armies and rulers, all crushed beneath her heel. The Black Moon Clan had not been able to ally themselves with any of the known empires outside of the solar system because of her. It was well known throughout the galaxy what happened to those that entered the Moon Kingdom's territory with ill intentions.
The lucky ones had their remains returned to their people, both out of respect and as a warning.
Many swore up and down that she would one day return should the restored Moon Kingdom face annihilation. However, Earth was little more than a blackened wasteland at this point, as dead as its most fearsome warrior. The Destroyer had left a legacy of fear in her wake, one that could not be shake centuries after her demise.
How could that feeble girl possibly be the same person?
The hall split, and Demande veered left, eventually bringing them through the wide, arching doors to his personal chambers. Saphir paused at the threshold, disquieted by how utterly gentle his brother was in laying the girl — their captive — onto the bed, brushing aside the few wisps settled against her cheek. Despite his reservations on the legitimacy of the girl's identity, Saphir did not think it wise to leave his brother undefended. He ignored the display of affection and moved to the foot of the bed. Demande did not face him, did not ever bother to look up. "What is it?"
"Forgive me, my prince, but… this girl is the supposed Destroyer, and our prisoner, is she not?"
He had said the wrong thing. Shoulders tightened, Demande made no move to face him. "Yes, Saphir. What of it?"
"For our own safety would it not be prudent to find her more secure arrangements in the dungeons?" At the withering look he received, Saphir quickly amended, "Nowhere unsavory, of course… but perhaps in chambers with a stronger door. I can only assume there will be chaos once she wakes."
"Chaos." He echoed, then laughed. "You need not worry. For one such as her, the sheer proximity to the center of our power is more than enough to drain her energy. The Silver Crystal is not on her person, and I found her already weakened before capture." Demande's smile faltered, sobered by his own words. "It was quite… odd. I sensed her weakening just as similar energy appeared to manifest within the Crystal Palace."
Saphir considered that, his pulse quickening. Their greatest adversary remained out of commission for now, but that could change. "The Queen…?"
"I don't believe so, no." Demande turned from him again, fingers reaching out to hover just over the girl's cheek. Hovering, but not touching. "She looks like her."
Saphir found his gaze sweeping over her features, recalling the single time he had been faced with Queen Selene. While they were indeed similar in appearance, he could not help but note the intrinsic distinction. It was not a simple disparity in age, or a contrast of golden tresses that separated her from the silver haired Queen. The child before him did not seem to possess the decorum, wisdom, and cunning of the Queen. Saphir would never forget the gaze of that sly, otherworldly woman; the way she had watched them, allowed their retreat with a smile that was queenly and sharp enough to cut. It had been the expression of one feared — and courted — by death.
He wonder if his brother, in his ever-growing infatuation with their sworn enemy had noticed these differences. Saphir doubted it. "Appearance aside, she is still Sailor Moon. Surely you do not plan to keep her here in your chambers, within easy reach of escape, indefinitely?"
Demande casted him a warning glance. "You forget yourself, brother. Whether she stays or goes, the decision rests solely with me."
"Of course, my prince. However, as your second it is my duty to ensure your safety above all else, and in order to do so there are times that I may be forced to voice my concern. I only ask that you consider the risks that come with having the Destroyer in our very home."
Saphir had never given him poor counsel before, and Demande knew it. "Very well."
A knock sounded from the entrance, and to Saphir's dismay Esmeraude stood at the doorway, lips upturned in what he assumed was supposed to be a pleasant expression. Perhaps it was pleasant, if one did not know her for the conniving weed that she was. In her hands she held a hanger and garment cover, presumably another lavish outfit meant to catch his brother's attention.
"You called for me, my prince?"
"Indeed." Demande stood and gestured her in. He checked the contents of the bag and nodded in approval. "Well done. Now, our… captive seems to be in need of new attire. We shall step out while you make her presentable. Come, Saphir."
It was almost worth the surprise, to see the shock on Esmeraude's face turn to indignation. Saphir smothered his smile and continued after his brother, leaving her to do as she was bid. Esmeraude would, too, no matter her feelings on the matter. Any member of the Black Moon Clan had no reservations when it came to orders from their leader.
They did not follow him without reason, after all. More than a visionary, Demande wielded the charisma and wit of a king. His resourcefulness had allowed the Black Moon Clan to grow and flourish, even with their failure to obtain allies. Saphir had always been able to see the solution to any problem they encountered, but it was Demande, his extraordinary brother, that brought his plans to fruition and then saw them through regardless of the cost.
(All reigns are built on the ruins of what was once great. Blood, suffering, death; these are only a few ingredients in the making of an empire)
A few minutes later the door opened, and Esmeraude emerged. With a graceful smile, she said, "It is done, Prince Demande."
"Excellent." He immediately moved past her, missing the moment her smile faltered. To his credit though, Demande put aside the object of his desire long enough to pause just short of the entrance. "Saphir says the Ayakashi sisters are being treated from their run in. Tell me, if I were to send you on a reconnaissance mission, would Rubeus be sufficient support?"
Esmeraude's gaze brightened. "Ah, I can handle something along those lines on my own. What do you require of me?"
"I sensed a presence coming from the Crystal Palace, one I am not entirely familiar with. Investigate it without exposure." Demande glanced back at her, mouth set in the beginnings of a frown. "Are you quite certain you'll be fine without assistance? The defeat of the Ayakashi sisters happened partly out of their own foolish arrogance and has in turn effected our ranks. I would be displeased if such failure were to repeat itself from the same mistake."
Head bowed, Esmeraude replied, "I have my droids. I will not disgrace you, my prince."
He considered her words, and, satisfied with what he found, turned back toward his chambers. "Do not linger, Esmeraude."
She waited, for further acknowledgement or perhaps even one last glance only to be disappointed as Demande strolled through his chambers to the girl she had just been forced to serve. Amused, Saphir allowed his lips to curl upward. Her haughty eyes met his own. Not in a hundred years, his gaze projected. Esmeraude bristled and offered him a sneer before strutting off to complete her assignment as commanded. Saphir half hoped Rubeus caught her on the way out; that man had the most wonderful talent of knowing how to push all her buttons.
It would serve her right. As if such an unrefined, imperious woman could ever attract his brother's attention. Remarkably strong though she was, Esmeraude had neither the shrewdness nor the skill to be seated by Demande's side. Not that he had any intention of pointing this out to her. Her hair-trigger temper would be the end of her one day. It had nearly been the end of him, upon his rejection of her all those years prior.
Saphir turned his attention back to the girl, noting how carefully Esmeraude had positioned her. His amusement dimmed upon taking in the girl's gown; silk, dyed a blue so deep it may as well have been black. The same cut and fit favored by the Moon Kingdom Royalty, and a close replica of Queen Selene's attire. Long, off the shoulder sleeves of gossamer had been added, the sheer fabric pooling artfully around their captive.
Saphir was reminded then that there were far greater concerns than the green wench.
Her feet remained bare.
Saphir was not certain why his mind kept diverting to that inconsequential detail. As his brother scooped her back into his arms and they left to find wiseman, he could not help how his gaze drifted to the girl's bare feet.
He recalled a tale from his childhood just then. A commoner girl, a prince, and a glass slipper. Did that make his brother the prince, or the fairy godmother?
Demande led them to one of the countless unused rooms of their fortress where Wiseman seemed to have been waiting. The room itself was bare save for an ornate wooden chair at its center, and upon entering Saphir dismissed his train of thought, feeling slightly ridiculous. His brother settled their prisoner into the plush cushioning with care, a single hand holding her unconscious form upright as he turned to speak with the advisor.
Regardless of the girl's deceptive fragility, this was not a fairytale.
If it were, her role would be the villain, the dragon to be vanquished; not the fair maiden. The person before them was no helpless princess, thinking anything along those lines was a recipe for disaster, and yet… The treatment she had received thus far gave him pause.
Their cause was righteous. The Black Moon Clan sought to rewrite history and free Earth from the tyranny of the Crystal Empire, and to do so came at a price. Necessary casualties, and a merciless approach. Sailor Moon belonged in a cell. She was an enemy; a dangerous one not to be taken lightly. Should it come to the worst, the Destroyer would not look upon them with mercy. So why did Demande treat her as a guest?
The fit of the gown was exact. His brother could have only summoned Esmeraude in the time between capturing Sailor Moon and returning to Nemesis. A dress of such quality could not be made in so short a time. It's existence opened a new train of thought, one Saphir was not ready to acknowledge.
"Saphir." His brother called. "Come help us."
He had shifted to the right of her, one hand still at her shoulder and the other now bracing her wrist to the armrest. With Wiseman hovering behind, that left Saphir to take up the space at her left. Demande nodded toward her free arm. "Hold her still now, Wiseman will be beginning."
Saphir held her arm to the armrest. "Starting what, exactly? What is this about?"
"Bringing the Destroyer to our side, of course." Wiseman said. He brought his hands up to hover at either side of her temples. Dark energy began to seep from his fingertips, drawn to the girl. "With the power of my magic, it will not be difficult to sway her mind."
"That's insane." This was Sailor Moon they were speaking of. The girl in question stirred, and Saphir firmed his grip. It was never going to work. She may not have been the greatest mind in the solar system, but she was certainly the strongest opponent; for her to fall to Wiseman's trance, he would have to be far more skilled than he'd let on.
Saphir had never liked the sage.
It was perhaps in his nature to be suspicious of others, but that suspicion had allowed for their survival. Something about Wiseman had always rubbed him wrong, and Saphir had kept an eye on him for as long as he'd been around. The sage wielded words the way a warrior did weapons, and while it was true that his advice had greatly helped the Black Moon Clan's success, there were times where his words tasted a little too honeyed. Saphir did not wear any Black Crystal because Wiseman pushed for its use. Anything he advocated for was undoubtedly something Saphir needed to be suspicious of. If the sage did in fact turn the Destroyer… that could be problematic, should his loyalties lie elsewhere.
Saphir's hand nearly slipped as the girl came to life, mumbling and jerking.
"Keep her still." Wiseman ordered, tone bordering on insolence. Though his brother hardly seemed to notice, Saphir most certainly did. A sharp retort was poised at the tip of his tongue, ready to remind the sage just whom it was that he served. He lost his chance when, without warning, the girl beneath him seized.
She bucked with incredible force for one of her size, nearly breaking their hold. Her eyes, unseeing, swiveled madly as her murmurs rose to fearful shouts. She screamed the name over and over and over. Serenity. It dawned on him then that it was fear for the girl whose name spewed off her tongue, not for herself, that had turned Sailor Moon half crazed. She was looking for Princess Serenity. Demande's face grew taut, as though her pain were his own. "Quickly now, Wiseman." He snapped.
The sage doubled down on his efforts, that wave of dark energy pouring from his fingertips to her mind now a visible thick, curling smoke blacker than night. The effect was immediate, though not in a manner any of them expected. No longer was she fighting, her struggles having melted into shivers. Her nails, having dug into the wooden armrests with enough force to crack and bleed, paused in their clawing. For one fleeting moment, it was almost as though she could see as her gaze, still unfocused, flicked directedly to Wiseman above her.
Sailor Moon's expression smoothed into steel, and a chill crept through Saphir as her voice, raw yet soft, rang through the room with the confidence of a seer. "Your life shall be mine, Puppet Master."
Then her body went limp, head slipping forward as she fell to his magic entirely.
The air became stilted, as though weighed by the final words of the Destroyer: a promise and a curse. Wiseman, in the wake of her words, had the good grace to appear slightly unsettled as he continued his work. Demande chuckled.
"Spirited, isn't she?" He brushed a knuckle down her cheek, admiring the slightly strained expression. "Saphir, go to my chambers and fetch me the box on my desk. I finally have use for it."
Saphir hesitated.
It wasn't as though Sailor Moon posed any threat to Demande in her present state; however, she was not the only force to be reckoned with. Even weakened, Saphir could not shake the feeling that she should not have been quelled so easily by Wiseman. That is, if he were the mere sage he claimed to be. He was still pouring his own power into the girl's mind, his intent unknown.
Saphir's pause costed him. Demande pulled his attention from Sailor Moon long enough to level him a displeased stare. Quickly, without a glance the sage's way, he exited the room, stifling the unease that haunted each step. Not even in solitude would Saphir show uncertainty.
Wiseman was not all that he appeared.
He had provided unrivaled resources in the form of power and intel, and had thus gained Demande's trust. His advice was not always what Saphir himself might consider reasonable, or even humane, but they had all crossed lines for the sake of a better future. For now, Saphir could only continue to watch and wait. Wiseman would show his true colors soon, he was sure. When that time came, Saphir would be prepared.
I was nowhere, swathed in darkness.
I… Who was I?
Yes, a good question. Who are you?
I didn't know. There was only myself and the darkness that spoke.
Not of this realm…. Then, what are you?
I didn't know.
What was my name? What did I look like? I tried and failed to grasp for the answer as it slipped by, the barest trace of a memory, a face. Silver hair and a gold crescent moon. Eyes the color of the sky, the very essence of kindness. I knew that face, knew it with more resolution than anything regarding my own self, but… what was her name?
The face disappeared quickly, as though snatched away.
What is it that you most desire, girl?
Unexpectedly, the answer surfaced immediately, nearly as effortless as the girl from before. A truth so pronounced it may as well have been carved in my very soul.
Power; immeasurable power beyond all else in the known universe.
Undiluted strength.
There were people in this world that held favor and those that did not. The stars did not whisper my name. My triumphs and failures would never be worth their acknowledgement; there would be no path mapped in the constellations for me to follow, only the vague outline of a different soul's future and a story that was not my own. A wooded path that had once been made of blooming roses, now nothing more than thorns and dead buds to punish my bare feet. That was how I lived.
And so I knew only this: By Destiny or the Gods or the Stars I had been denied something intrinsic to this life. Unwillingly dragged into a hollow, unforgiving role and then denied what I was owed under the burden of a debt forcibly paid.
Power… Then you shall have it.
Amused, the darkness released a small tendril. It did not understand.
One's fate was not a trial of endurance, a series of events to be taken lying down. Fate was the unforged path to be carved at the mercy of the very hands it had deemed unworthy; it's earthen ground marked by every bloodied footstep taken. I was not a common beggar, sated by mere table scraps. With phantom hands, I grabbed that pitiful tendril, and pulled and pulled and pulled. Until the darkness was screaming, until the full might of it was left bare, exposed.
A feast left before a ravenous beast.
Interlude: Berthier
It happened without warning.
One moment Berthier was perfectly fine, leaning against a window with her back to the desolate view as the Order bickered over their plan of attack, and the next she was on her knees, choking on air. She watched four of them go down alongside herself, clutching heads and going pale. The Generals.
Each bearing a silver crescent. She could guess who was responsible for the markings.
The taste of ash filled Berthier's mouth; the taste of living, breathing corruption. A feeling she had known well until recently. Still, it did not attempt to take her over, did not even seem to sense her. There was shouting, Mamoru knelt beside the one called Nephrite, demanding to know what was wrong.
"It's Sailor Moon." Berthier answered. She leveled her gaze at Nephrite, the understanding in his eyes. For whatever reason, he seemed to know such darkness, seemed horrified by its caress. All four on the floor, absolutely stricken by the sensation. So it was for them that she said, "It must be going after Sailor Moon. Wiseman is trying to take her."
Sailor Venus glanced between them, connecting the dots, before addressing her, "If you can feel it, do you know if it's working?"
There was a flare, one that tasted of wickedness, of triumph, of the Destroyer.
As suddenly as it came, the feeling disappeared, like a door slamming shut.
Each of them seemed to exhale at the release. Berthier did not know whether to be relieved, or terrified. She shook her head, struggling to find the right words. "I… I don't know. It's gone."
Interlude: Saphir
The box was larger than he'd expected, and heavier. It bore the velvet of a jewelry box, and the hinges at one side, so it was most likely some kind of accessory made from the Black Crystal Demande so dearly loved. Saphir ignored the slight chill, continuing down the corridor. It was probably a necklace, given the size, yet he found the thought even more unsettling than the girl it was to go to. A necklace… or a crystal slipper.
For Demande to have had something of Black Crystal made in advance… what was he thinking? By remaining silent for so long in support of his brother's rule, had Saphir somehow failed him? Demande's growing obsession with Queen Selene had been an issue for a while, yet it had never truly interfered in their plans until now. The Destroyer, regardless of her appearance, was not a force to be trifled with. The greatest threat to their cause was being pampered with jewels and luxurious dresses when she should have been in the deepest, darkest cell Nemesis had to offer. Demande had gone beyond unreasonable.
Saphir would have to tell it to him flat out. This could not go on, not with everything the Black Moon Clan had been working toward at stake.
Yes, he would have to say something.
That was what Saphir had planned to do, until he reentered the room and stopped dead. Wiseman, or what had once been him, was little more than a shriveled corpse on the ground.
The thing that had once been Sailor Moon stood close before his brother with the poise of a predator, a smile that was at once both lovely and wicked as she stared deeply into his eyes.
Demande must have sensed him. Without breaking her gaze, he said, "Have you brought it?"
"I- Yes." Saphir made no move to approach, and neither person made any further acknowledgement of his presence.
Her fingertips brushed the underside of Demande's chin the way one might a lover, and he was so clearly mesmerized, utterly enchanting by the being in front of him. She looked the very essence of death incarnate, of a moonless, starlit night. Of the endless darkness between those stars. She crooned, "Kneel."
Demande knelt.
Outrage pushed Saphir forward, and primal instinct halted him when her gaze turned on him. Those eyes, ancient and cold, froze him where he stood. It was only when her attention drew back to his brother that Saphir found himself able to breathe. Whatever threat had lied within her was now infinitely more deadly.
What had they done? What the hell had they just done?
"Saphir, you stand before your Queen Eclipse. Kneel."
Eclipse. Not the Destroyer, not Sailor Moon.
Swallowing the knot in his throat, Saphir knelt, thankful for their diverted attention. She offered her hand. Demande took it and placed a kiss to the knuckles. "I am yours, my Queen, if you would allow me the honor. Let us rule this world together."
Too far. Saphir had been blind to the severity of his brother's obsession.
"What could a prince with neither crown nor kingdom offer me?" Amusement colored her tone, though her expression showed only mild curiosity.
"Everything." His voice was reverence, devout. "My court, my title, my loyalty. The very heart in my chest. Every palace within every kingdom, and all worlds in the infinite galaxies surrounding us, I will lay at your feet. I swear it."
Eclipse tilted her head, gazing down at him, and Saphir witnessed her lips part, as though breathless. Enamored. He willed his brother to rise.
Demande remained on his knees. "What do you desire?"
You, Saphir thought in dawning horror, unable to miss the emotion etched across her face. But that was not what she said. In the dimly lit room, with the corpse of what had once been Wiseman at her feet, Eclipse raised her hands to cup Demande's face. His arms wrapped around her waist without hesitation, salvation written in his gaze. She traced her thumb across the edge of his lip. "My desires are all-consuming, Prince Demande. Tell me, how far does your devotion go? How far will you follow me?"
Saphir knew the answer, knew it with every horror stricken fiber of his being. His brother leaned into her touch. Releasing a soft sigh. "To whatever end, my Queen."
That wicked smile bloomed.
