Chapter Seven

Hermione awoke the next morning in an unfamiliar bed. It took her a moment to remember she had spent the night in Zoisite's bedchambers, her bare skin tingling in memory of their lovemaking.

She turned her head to her left, smiling at the sight of him still sleeping beside her, his injured arm resting across her waist. He looked so peaceful that it seemed almost a shame to wake him, but she didn't want to leave without saying good-bye. Flipping over on her side, Hermione reached over to brush some of his hair off his forehead.

Zoisite's body jolted at her touch, his eyes popping open, but he visibly relaxed when he saw her face. "Hermione…"

"Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," she said, propping herself up on her elbow.

He smiled. "No, I'm sorry. It's an occupational hazard, I suppose. A soldier must always be on guard, even in bed." He reached up, caressing the side of her face. "Good morning. Did you sleep well?"

Hermione nodded.

"No regrets, then?"

"No regrets," she said. Even if it was only for one night, it was one of the most wonderful nights she ever experienced.

"Good." He twirled a strand of her short hair around his finger. "Damn, you are beautiful, even first thing in the morning."

Her cheeks warmed, but Hermione resisted her impulse to turn away in embarrassment, instead rather boldly placing her palm against his bare chest and sliding it downwards until her hand disappeared underneath the blanket. "You're not so bad-looking yourself," she said as Zoisite sucked in a sharp breath.

"I do believe I've been a bad influence on you, princess. Come here."

Zoisite pulled Hermione on top of him, his hands resting on her hips as she straddled him. Again, she had to fight against the urge to cover herself – it wasn't as if he hadn't seen everything already – gripping the headboard instead as he slipped inside her. She began rocking against him with little encouragement on his part, gasping as he sat up and brought his lips to her neck.

She was nearing climax when someone knocked on the door. "Who is that?" she asked, stopping what she was doing. It was too early for the maids to be delivering breakfast.

Beneath her, Zoisite sighed. "I don't know, but I should probably answer that," he said, gently pushing her off of him before reaching down for his discarded pants on the floor.

Hermione gathered the blanket around herself, covering her nudity. "What should I do? I can't be caught in your bed, Zach." The room provided few options for concealment. She could possibly squeeze into the wardrobe, but it would be a tight fit and there wasn't any ventilation.

"Hide under the blanket and pretend you're still asleep," he said as the uninvited visitor knocked once again, louder than the first time. "Don't worry. I'll get rid of them as fast as possible."

After buttoning his pants, Zoisite walked over to the door, and Hermione laid back down on the bed, pulling the blanket over her head so that her entire body was hidden from view. Her heart pounded when she heard him open the door and invite whoever it was – the voice sounded like a man – inside.

Was it Kunzite, wanting another carnal rendezvous with Zoisite? She knew Zoisite only considered his sexual relationship with the other general a casual affair, but it would no doubt be awkward for all parties involved if Kunzite realized she was currently laying naked in his lover's bed.

Taking in a couple of deep breaths to calm herself, Hermione strained to make out what the two men were discussing. Their voices were too low, however, for her to catch anything other than random words. She heard them mention Endymion's name a couple of times, and she thought Zoisite said something about the king, but that was it. At least she was reasonably sure that the other man wasn't Kunzite; his voice wasn't quite as deep as the white-haired general's.

Their conversation didn't last long before Hermione heard the door once again open and close, the guest presumably leaving the room. To be on the safe side, she remained hidden under the blanket until she felt the mattress shift underneath her and someone touched her back.

"He's gone," Zoisite said. "I don't think he suspected anything."

Hermione dragged the blanket downwards and sat back up, releasing a sigh of relief. "Good," she said, her eyes dropping down to the pale blue negligee Zoisite held in his lap. "Zach?"

"Here." He handed her the nightgown. "You should get dressed and return to your room before anybody realizes you're missing."

"Oh." She had hoped they would be able to resume where they left off before the unexpected interruption, but he was right. It probably was best if she snuck out while most of the palace was still asleep.

As she slipped the negligee over her head, Zoisite stood back up and silently gathered the rest of her things from the floor. Hermione frowned, confused as to why he seemed to be giving her the cold shoulder.

"Zach, is something wrong?" she asked, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and reaching for the robe he had placed beside her. "Did I do something to offend you?"

"What?" He looked at her with the same glassy-eyed expression Hermione remembered from the previous night when she first arrived at his bedchambers. "No, it's nothing," he said with a shake of his head. "Sorry, I just haven't completely woken up yet, that's all. I'm useless until I've had my first cup of coffee."

Zoisite chuckled, but there was nothing mirthful about the sound, his laughter ringing hollow and false. Even he seemed to realize the futility of his act, letting out a sigh as he combed his fingers through his tangled hair. "How much did you overhear?"

"Just now? Not much." She stood, crossing her arms to ward off the morning chill. "Who was it? Did he bring bad news?"

"You could say that," he said, pulling a fresh shirt out of the wardrobe and pushing his arms through the sleeves. "That was Julian, with a message from Khalil. There's trouble brewing in Elysion, so we will need to cut our visit short. We must return to Earth as soon as possible."

"Trouble? What kind of trouble?"

He shook his head. "I cannot tell you, Hermione. That is classified information."

"Oh. Yes, of course." She understood. With the signing of the treaty, their kingdoms were now considered allies, but that didn't mean there still weren't secrets to be kept by both sides. "Well, whatever the trouble is, I hope you will be able to take care of it swiftly and safely," Hermione said, unable to hide the small hitch in her voice as she held back a sudden threat of tears.

She was being ridiculous. One night – that was all it was ever supposed to be. Even after he admitted his feelings for her were real, he had never promised her anything more. She had accepted that, yet...

With a small, almost melancholic, smile on his face, Zoisite walked over Hermione and placed his hands on her upper arms, pressing his lips against her forehead in a chaste kiss. "Thank you for last night," he said, his voice barely louder than a whisper as he brushed back a tear that had managed to escape and roll down her cheek. "It will be a night I treasure, one I will do my best to never forget."

Everything he had fought for had been in vain.

After Hermione left to return to her own bedchambers, Zoisite closed the door behind her and staggered back to his bed, weak and light-headed. He had done his best to keep himself together in front of the princess after Jadeite had informed him of the news, but alone, the enormity of what had happened hit him like a punch to the gut.

He needed a drink.

With a shaking hand, he reached for one of the crystal glasses on his nightstand, still half-filled with wine from the night before. The wine had lost some of its rich taste overnight, but that didn't stop him from gulping it down, finishing off the other glass as well.

It wasn't enough. He needed more.

Zoisite stumbled over to the dresser, pulling the stopper out of the crystal decanter. He didn't even bother with a glass, bringing it straight to his mouth as he drank what was left of the wine, which wasn't much. Upon reaching the last drop, he violently swore, the decanter shattering when he threw it against the wall.

A sob ripped through his body, Zoisite collapsing to his knees as tears began rolling down his cheeks. He pressed his hand against his mouth, attempting to muffle his cries, but they were impossible to suppress, his body releasing every bit of pent-up emotion he had. His breath came in heaving gulps, making it feel like he was drowning on land.

He should have told Endymion the whole truth from the beginning. If he had confessed what he had overheard between King Oberon and Dr. Caduceus, maybe Endymion would have taken his warning that there was something suspicious about his father's illness more seriously and canceled their visit to the Moon. He knew now that his initial misgivings about the Lunarians were incorrect, that Queen Beryl and her Dark Kingdom were the ones to blame, but at least Endymion would have been by his father's side when he passed.

At least they would have had a chance to fight.

After a while, Zoisite stood back up, using his hands to wipe away the remnants of his tears, then walked over and kneeled down beside his bed.

He almost always kept his sword underneath his bed while sleeping, hidden but within easy reach should he be attacked in the middle of the night. He felt around until his fingers touched the metal of his elaborately decorated scabbard, rising back to his feet after grabbing it.

Zoisite drew his sword and tossed the scabbard aside. The steel blade glinted in the morning light coming from the window, his hand wrapped around the golden hilt that indicated his high standing in the Terran Army. He stared down at the sword and inhaled a shaky breath.

There was a part of him that wanted to point the tip of the sword at his stomach, to impale himself upon the blade with which he had used to spill so much blood. He knew it was common practice in the Far East states for soldiers to commit ritual suicide as a way to atone for their misdeeds. Pressing the pad of his thumb against the sharpened blade, Zoisite barely winced as it broke through his skin, a thin trail of blood dripping down his hand.

But no.

He was through being a coward.

The odds were against them, he knew. Kunzite had mentioned Beryl had aligned herself with a powerful demon, but nobody had realized just how strong Metallia's powers were until a few hours ago, when the Dark Kingdom put their ultimate plan into action in the wake of King Oberon's death. The demon's influence had spread like wildfire across the planet, brainwashing Earth's citizens into believing the king and Endymion were traitors, that they had betrayed the Golden Kingdom by joining the evil Queen Serenity's Silver Millennium. Though Helios had done his best to try to defend Earth through the power of his prayers, without the aid of Endymion and his Golden Crystal, only Elysion had been completely protected from Metallia's corruption – a shield that was only growing weaker by the moment.

If Elysion fell... Zoisite closed his eyes, swallowing as he tightened the grip on his sword.

He had always fought for the wrong reasons. For family honor. For his father's approval. Only protecting Endymion had given him any sense of pride as a soldier, but it was different now.

Earth was his home, and he would be damned if he let some egotistical puppet queen and the demon pulling her strings destroy it without a fight.

Zoisite sheathed his sword back in his scabbard, pressing his lips against the polished zoisite stone embedded into the pommel of the hilt. He never considered himself a particularly pious man, yet he recited a prayer to the goddess Terra, asking for her protection in the battles to come. If such a goddess truly existed, they would surely need her help more than ever.

When he finished, Zoisite set the sword on the bed, then took a seat at the desk in front of the window. He needed to bathe and prepare for their return to Earth, but there was one more thing he had to do first.

He reached for a sheet of the provided stationary, a quill, and an almost full bottle of ink. Inhaling a deep breath, he dipped the tip of the quill into the black ink and began to write.

They all wore black.

No one else seemed to think anything of Prince Endymion and his guard's dark attire, but the sight of them entering the teleportation chamber, two by two, followed by the prince, brought to mind the opening scene of the book Zoisite had lent her to read. In it, the main character Mariana had attended the funeral of her beloved father, everyone in attendance garbed in their finest black clothes.

Black was the color of mourning in Earthian culture.

It could be merely a coincidence. After all, Zoisite and the other guards were all wearing identical uniforms as usual. Hermione did not know if there was any special significance to the choice of uniform; for all she knew, they had simply felt like wearing the black ones. She doubted that, however, noticing a marked solemnity as the men parted to allow Prince Endymion to approach Queen Serenity at the bottom of the teleportation platform.

The princess was conspicuously absent, having found it too difficult to say good-bye.

"Your Majesty." The prince bowed, the other four kneeling behind him in perfect unison. "We thank you for your generous hospitality. You have made us feel most welcome."

"Yet you wish to leave so soon?" Queen Serenity asked. "I had several more celebrations planned in honor of Earth joining Silver Millennium. It would be a shame for you to miss them."

"We must regretfully decline the invite. There are urgent matters that must be attended to back home."

"Yes, of course. Perhaps another time, then." The queen stepped forward, and, breaking with protocol, reached for Prince Endymion's hands. "Give your father my well wishes. I look forward to meeting him in the future."

"T-Thank you, Your Majesty," the prince said, a noticeable hitch in his voice. "I will be certain to do so."

As there was still some time left before the teleportation pad would be ready to launch, everyone then broke into smaller groups to say more personal goodbyes. Hermione's eyes immediately found Zoisite's from across the room.

He touched Kunzite's arm, the taller man leaning to his side so that Zoisite was able to whisper in his ear. After Kunzite nodded his understanding, Zoisite retrieved the book he had borrowed from the library from his trunk and walked over to join Hermione.

"Princess Hermione!" Zoisite gave her another one of those sad, fake smiles of his, acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary. "Here, I should return this to you," he said, handing the book over to her. "I wasn't able to finish it, but the parts I read were fascinating. Thank you again for checking it out for me."

"You're welcome," Hermione said. It was only then that she remembered the book she had been holding to her chest, having mostly forgotten about it while she focused on her observations of the Earth delegation. "Oh, here." She gave him back his own book. "Thank you for loaning it to me. It was quite…enlightening."

Zoisite flipped to the page marked by the red ribbon, frowning. "Did you not finish?"

"No, I still have a few more chapters left until the end."

He closed the book with a soft thud, staring at the cover for a long moment before holding it back out to her. "Then you should keep it. You haven't even reached the best part."

"Oh, no, I couldn't! It's from your private collection –"

He shrugged. "I can always purchase another copy back home. I insist you keep it," Zoisite said. "When you finish reading it, feel free to donate it to the palace library if you'd like."

Hermione hesitated but eventually relented, accepting back the erotic novel and placing it in the crook of her arm along with the library book. She recalled the conversation about censorship they had the previous day in the gardens; a book – no matter the nature of its contents – deserved to be protected. Besides, she had to admit there was a part of her that was curious to see how the story concluded, to discover if Mariana had gotten her revenge in the end.

She bowed her head. "Thank you, Lord Zoisite," she said, pushing back a strand of hair behind her ear before looking back up and lowering her voice. "Um, about this morning, the news you received... Did King Oberon pass –"

"Zoisite, we're leaving," Kunzite said in a sharp tone of voice, interrupting her. Jadeite and Nephrite were already climbing the stairs to the teleportation pad, Endymion exchanging some final words with the queen. "Finish saying your goodbyes."

"I'll be right there," Zoisite called out before turning his attention back to her. Some of the mask he'd been wearing slipped, his faux smile disappearing as he lifted his hand as if to cup her cheek. "Hermione…"

She sucked in a sharp breath, turning her head to the side. They had already said their private goodbyes that morning; this was only a formality, one they couldn't allow to turn to sentimentality, no matter how much she longed to embrace him one more time. Zoisite, seeming to realize that as well, curled his gloved fingers into a fist and dropped his hand back to his side.

She didn't know if she was disappointed or relieved.

"Page 142," he said, Hermione blinking in confusion.

"Pardon?"

"You'll understand when you read it. I'm sorry."

"Zach?"

Zoisite shook his head. "I cannot explain more. I must rejoin the others," he said. "Goodbye, Princess Hermione."

"Goodbye, Lord Zoisite. Keep safe."

He gave her one final smile before turning around, Hermione watching his back as he followed the others up to the platform.

After the Earth delegation left for their home planet, Hermione returned to her bedchambers, books in hand. She set them down on her desk, side-by-side, and took a seat.

Page 142.

Zoisite hadn't said in which book the page number referred to, so Hermione reached for the book he had given her first and flipped to the page in question. Her eyes skimmed over the first few paragraphs, her cheeks going flush. The page fell in the middle of one of the most explicit sex scenes in the book, one that Hermione found very…arousing. She squirmed in her high-back chair, trying to ignore the tingling she felt between her legs.

"No, concentrate, Hermione," she berated herself, closing the book and setting it aside before she let herself get too invested in the sexy scene. Whatever clue or message Zoisite intended her to find was obviously not found in that book.

That left the library book, the scientific guide to medicinal herbs and poisons she had written with Zenobia's assistance. Hermione frowned, her brow furrowed in confusion. Why would Zoisite want her to read a page in her own book? She picked up the book and turned to page 142, something slipping out from between the pages and fluttering to the floor at her feet.

"Oh!"

She reached down to retrieve the envelope, examining it as she sat back up. There was no name written on it, no seal engraved in the red wax to indicate who it was from. Was this what Zoisite had wanted her to read?

Curious, Hermione pulled a letter opener from the top drawer of her desk, using it to slide underneath the wax and break the seal. Inside was a single sheet of stationary, folded in half. She sat back in her chair and unfolded the paper, bringing a hand to her mouth as she read the elegant handwriting.

Dearest Hermione,

If this letter was to fall into the wrong hands, it could be considered an act of treason, but I cannot in good conscience leave here and stay silent. There is something I must tell you.

Perhaps I should have told you last night. There were several moments I almost caved, but I couldn't believe it myself. No, I didn't want to believe it. Even now I hold on to the hope that Khalil is mistaken, but I know in my heart that it must be true.

Our king is dead – murdered by the leader of an anti-Silver Millennium faction that has recently gained much support with the citizenry. In the prince's absence, the throne was seized by said leader, who has used demonic powers to gain control of most of the planet in record time.

I do not know what will happen next, only that the treaty Prince Endymion signed is worth nothing in the eyes of this new Dark Kingdom. They will declare war on Queen Serenity and the rest of Silver Millennium; it is only a matter of time. My comrades and I have vowed to do everything in our power to prevent such a thing from happening, but I must confess, I have little faith that we will succeed. This Queen Beryl is backed by a powerful demon, one skilled in mind manipulation, and it is highly probable that we will fall prey to brain-washing. I shall do my best to resist, but…

Hermione, if the next time we meet is on the battlefield, do not hesitate to kill me. I would much rather die at your hand than serve as a mindless slave to a false queen. Please, I realize this is a cruel request in light of the wonderful night we shared, but the Dark Kingdom needs to be stopped at all costs. You are a soldier, too. You must understand.

And when it is all over… Do not cry for me, Hermione. Instead, remember the man who made love to you last night and smile, for he will finally be at peace.

General Zacharias Zoisite

"No…"

Hermione reread the letter a second time, the sheet of paper shaking in her hands. She had suspected the Earthians' sudden departure from the Moon might have something to do with King Oberon's passing, but this... She had never imagined the trouble Zoisite mentioned that morning was something so dire. A mind-controlling demon? If the ice monster they fought at Lake Serenitatis was somehow related, then Queen Serenity needed to strengthen and secure the barrier surrounding the kingdom as soon as possible.

Still, Hermione remained seated, frozen in place.

You are a soldier, too. You must understand.

Zoisite's words from the letter echoed in her mind. No, she didn't understand. Of course she comprehended the words themselves – though he had written the letter in his native Terran, she was familiar enough with the language that it was an easy translation for her – yet how could she possibly consider him her enemy? How could he even think to ask her to –

A tear rolled down her cheek, falling from her chin to Zoisite's letter in her hands. It splattered over his signature, causing some of the ink to bleed and smudge. She set the paper down on her desk and swiped the palm of her hand over her cheek, but more tears soon followed against her will, her shoulders trembling as Hermione hid her face in her hands.

Zoisite was right. It was too cruel a request. Her hands were meant for healing, not killing. And to kill him in particular... She crumpled the letter in her fist, wishing she could tear it up and pretend she had never read it.

But that was impossible. Of course it was impossible.

She was a soldier. She had a sacred duty to protect the royal family and Silver Millennium from any and all threats, no matter her personal feelings. If what Zoisite feared became reality...then she had no choice but set her emotions aside and carry out her mission as a Sailor Guardian.

Hermione pressed her lips together, sniffling as she blotted her wet face with her handkerchief. No more tears. It wasn't what he wanted. When she managed to get her emotions under control, she uncrumpled and smoothed out the letter as best she could, then folded it and placed it back in its original envelope to present to the queen and Ishtar.

She stood and threw back her shoulders, determined as she walked to the door.

It was time to prepare for war.

DISCLAIMER: "Sailor Moon" doesn't belong to me.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I hope you enjoyed the story! Thanks again to Covenmouse, Kanadka, and everybody else at the Discord server who helped and encouraged me while writing this fic.

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