3
Silence.
She was silence.
Thus, it was only appropriate to start in silence. For it was in silence did her existence begin, buried within the depths and darkness of the sixth planet from the sun. It was the second largest planet in the solar system, the one that bore the beautiful ring, suspended in nothingness and reflected an ominous violet/violent aura. It was the planet that divided the light of the inner planets from the darkness of the Outers.
From the very moment she was born, fully formed and fully whole, she was put to sleep, put into silence, only to wake when called upon. Her memories of the beginning was just one memory, only of the darkness, only of the fleetingness of Time and Space, briefly interrupted by a Silver light that was too far for warmth, too far for anything.
Yet, when the Mother Queen called, she knew nothing but to answer. When she woke, for the very first time in her long, long existence, it was like she was being born for the very first time. It would also be, she remembered, her death for the very first time. And with the navy, teal and maroon looking up upon her bearing the sword, the mirror and the key, they knew, too, that it would be over. They knew, too, that she was to be the bane of their existence.
That Silver light so far, far away was fading, the warmth that could barely reach her was to never reach her in that lifetime. Her only instruction was to drop the glaive. Her only purpose was to destroy everything. The navy, teal and maroon wanted so badly to stop her, to prevent the inevitable, despised her for her purpose, her only existence to end all that was beautiful, all that was warmth, all that was light – all lives and loves and laughter.
But what they did not understand, could not understand, was that she was made to not feel, to not think, made only to obey.
Thus she dropped the glaive, for that was all she knew what to do, all she was built for. And when that blade touched the ground, when the echo of her destruction faded, it would also begin her second death. It would also begin her life.
Silence.
She was silence.
Her next most prominent memory was that of the darkness of her room, shadowed only by the mismatched lamps glowing like fireflies on the tables along the walls. She had a father this time, glasses glaring, and a mother dead too soon for comfort, and thus sealing her fate. And it was fate when she met her, a crystal pink that caught her hat in the wind, that graced her with a glowing smile, that saw her, really saw her, with ruby eyes. It was through her that she understood the happiness in a simple picnic, the feelings from a simple flower, the joy of a simple smile, and the security in a simple friendship… a friendship that encouraged her to believe in herself, to believe in a father so far away. It was the first time she laughed in all her two lives, the first time she learned to live. She was not required to sleep this time, but she was still, ultimately, integral to the Silver light.
All too soon, the navy, teal and maroon found her, wanting vengeance and justice from the first time she had let her grip off the Silence Glaive. From a foreign darkness that had dug into her skin, rooted into her veins, she became what they most feared, the Messiah of Darkness, proof of her evil, proof of her crimes, proof that they needed – blue, orange, red, green, silver and gold… pink – to kill her.
But she was, and always would be, the silence. She was made to not feel, to not think, made only to obey. She found the Silence Glaive in her hands again, awakened and freed with the help of the warm pink crystal, struggled to become whole in order to save the pink light from flickering out, and filled with the knowing that she must save the Silver as well.
Silence.
She was silence.
So she was to drop the glaive and destroy Pharoah 90… For the safety of the Silver, she died again, gladly died again. But in the aftermath, she did not know that the fates of the Outers were to change, for she was given a third life, held dear this time in the arms of the regretful navy, teal and maroon. Hands no longer full with a sword, a mirror and a key, the elderly Outers gave her what she had been lacking for many lifetimes… a family. And coupled with the pink, she now had a friend. Coupled with feeling, with thought, made not to obey, she was finally able to live.
Yet all too soon her mother planet found her once more, with her beautiful ring and ominous violet/violent aura. She was to pick up the Silence Glaive again, but this time she must pull down the barrier between the Inner and Outer planets, to part the wall and allow the navy, teal and maroon to meet, finally, with the blue, orange, red and green, to touch upon the silver, to recognize the gold. In a span of days, she aged years and done what the navy, teal and maroon had been afraid to do.
She broke down all conventions, and approached and attached herself to the Inners. No longer were the Outer planets to watch the Silver from afar. No longer were they to stay at a distance. No longer were they to weep at the ruins of the Silver Kingdom and not be present to defend the beloved palace. Finally, finally, the ten of them could be together.
The one who did not belong to either the Inner or the Outer had been the one to bring them together. She had thought it amusing at the time, and secretly proud of herself.
But it did not take long for another shadow, another darkness, to threaten the beloved Silver light. It was a darkness so deep that it could even snuff out the soul lights of the planets and steal the power of the Star Seeds for itself. Thus, it came as no surprise that she was to die for the third time, but never did her faith in her princess waver, never did she believe that she would never live again, and never did she doubt in the power of her light, of the lights of her most beloved.
Silence.
She was silence.
She remembered being within the Galaxy Cauldron when her princess scattered the deepest darkness to the deepest depths of the cosmos, eternal, eternal, eternal… And with one bright light, one Silver strength, she was given her life back – for the fourth time. But this time, this time, it would last for centuries, as bright as her princess' bridal dress when she wedded her prince, when the Silver and Gold came together at last in one defining moment of perfect togetherness.
Time passed, laughter was shared, and for several short years they were able to live a life they had desired for a long time. They had been able to go to school in the mornings uninterrupted. They had been able to have lunch in the Crown Parlour without needing to cut it short for a youma. They had been able to go on vacation – outside of Japan – like any other family. She, herself, had been able to make friends outside their circle. Her papa was able to race his beloved cars. Her mama was able to play her beloved music. Her other mama was able to design her own clothing line. They had been able to live, responsibility-free, fear-free, burden-free for six short years before the Twenty-First Century was to begin.
And when the clock chimed for that fated year, when the fates of the planets aligned with the sun and moons, they all gladly took on the helms as Queens of the Solar System, and the Second Silver Millennium was to begin. From the cement and steel of the Twentieth Century, their beloved Silver Queen summoned forth the crystal heart of the Crystal Palace, summoned forth the utopia of the Crystal Cities of Earth – Crystal Tokyo a flaring beacon as the capital. All the Queens, all nine, gladly put aside their normal lives, their dreams of what could-have-been, to be the guardians they were destined to be. In an instant, human life spanned a thousand years, disease was rare and hunger non-existent. Happy people were easier to govern… but when one was satisfied, she had found soon enough, one wanted more – in excess. Thus the Inner Courts had always been lavish, but the Outer Queens had been firm with their populace.
In due time, her life was made perfect when the Silver Queen and the Golden King gave birth to the Pink Princess, her friend – her best friend – she had not seen for years. To hold the small baby was reminiscent of the time when the pink had found her as a baby. How their roles switched… and how she had needed to hide from the pink in fear of disturbing the Time-Space continuum, for it was not long when the navy, teal and her, violet/violent, had needed to confine themselves within their own palaces when the Dark Moon Kingdom was to invade.
It had been bittersweet for her to watch her Queen coffined in crystal, to watch her King become ghostly, to watch the blue, orange, red and green fade into hollowness in order to protect the Crystal Palace, only to be reassured that once it was all over, once the affair had been finished in the Twentieth Century – with the Dark Moon Kingdom, Pharaoh 90, Dead Moon Circus and Sailor Galaxia – her pink princess would return to her exactly as she had left her years ago.
And soon enough, after the passing of several years, the footsteps of her princess echoed throughout Titan Castle and found her, perfectly still and perfectly happy to have her friend back. The distance, the knowledge of knowing the pink princess and not having her know in return, had almost been unbearable, but when they embraced like the children they had always been, the leftover friendship they had put a pause on in the Twentieth Century flared to endless life in the Twenty-First. And it was all made complete, a perfectly new generation, when the Asteroids awoke - pastels blue, crème, red and green. The Neo Sailor Senshi had come to be.
All seemed like the happily ever after they had all fought for, but their memories held strong, their knowledge of Chaos was ever-vivid. Even armed with the knowledge that they were to die again, that their Eternal Sailor Moon would become Sailor Cosmos, they had nevertheless been caught off-guard by Chaos' rapid growth. He had been like the quiet whisper, with only the wake of death and destruction left behind him. It had been their test, the Queens of the Solar System, for all their understanding of the future, they had never known whether this fight with Chaos in the Thirtieth Century would end in light or in darkness. No one in the Twentieth Century knew what had happened to Sailor Cosmos when she had returned to her distant future, no one knew if she had won or lost… All had seemed bleak at the time.
Silence.
She was silence.
She had watched her comrades die off, one by one, watched the galaxies farthest away snuff out first, watched their people and places and castles fall into ruin and skeletal remains. She had raised her Silence Glaive countless times to defend against Sailor Chaos, but truth be told she had been fearful that each swing of her Death-Goddess scythe would be her last. The terror, the loss, the grief had been overwhelming when her precious mamas and papas left her, when her princess was lost, when her most beloved friends were taken away from her.
She had been one of the few to survive during the last days of end-days, and her last vision of the world were the silver-blue eyes of her queen and the crystalline tears running down her face. She remembered that at least if she were to die, finally, then she would be able to meet her family again, able to see them all again.
Silence.
She was silence.
When next she was reborn, after Sailor Cosmos had returned from the Twentieth Century to scatter Chaos for another time, she had found herself a mere child, naked save for a crème-purple bed sheet in the broken ruins of Titan Castle. There had been fog turned silver under the glittering stars reborn, and it was rather cool like the first breath taken. She had been alone, or so she had thought, until she heard steady footsteps echoing near. Imagine her surprise when she had been met with Souichi-papa. Imagine her thrill at the prospect of having another chance with him, together, a family once lost.
The days that followed, the rebirth and renaissance of the cosmos, had been both heartbreaking and satisfying. She had rolled up her sleeves, her arms child-thin and child-fragile, and rebuilt her palace by hand, stone by stone. She had shed tears, tears that washed away the dust and dusk of the dark days as she paved new streets of the Saturnian capital city. She had formed calluses on her fingers as she rewrote new legislation for her people, for the Solar System. It had been a great time to start over, to remake inefficient cities and carve out a more proficient landscape for the people.
The smiles that soon showed on her people's faces, the laughter that soon filled the beautiful new cities, the warmth that soon overflowed the vast green fields and the hard, honest and gratifying work in the mines was reward enough for her. The return to that beautiful life was enough for her to feel accomplished and complete.
And her friends and family… the love that they had shared was enough to ease her sleepless nights worrying over her planet's reconstruction, to fill in the loneliness in her office busy going over reports, and to overcome her nerves in making the decisions needed for the betterment of her countrymen.
Being the Queen of Saturn, Matriarch of Titan Castle and the Sailor Senshi of Death, Destruction and Rebirth had never been so fulfilling. Never had she had so much to fill in the silence, never had she had so little time of silence, and never had she been so little of silence until now.
Silence.
She was silence.
Thus, it was only appropriate to wake to silence. Bone-tired, heart-hollowed and blood-raw, she opened her eyes to gauge the intricate crown mouldings on the ceiling, beams of wood painted in gold and in rich hues of reds, blues and purples, criss-crossed into star patterns and triangles, hexagons and squares. Blearily, she looked to the walls, equally covered with mouldings and painted with frescos of gold vines, silver leaves and coloured blossoms, and then to the curtains, thick, velvet and drawn closed. And yet, despite the windows masked from her sight, she knew it to be eight in the evening; the positions of the stars, suns and moons a part of her now.
It had been a dream, she noted, a fluid film of all her memories playing out before her, except she had felt everything so keenly that it was like she had been made to relive everything all over again. How strange it was that her old wounds, unseen on her skin, stung as if they had been reopened just a moment before. How strange it was that her heart shuddered as if she had encountered Him for the very first time. How strange it was that her soul seemed to think itself to be that unborn child-woman again, made to sleep for eternity within the depths of her mother planet.
How strange.
How strange it was that she felt like she had just relived her whole life – all those lifetimes – all over again in the span of a few hours.
Weakly, she pushed the down comforter from her torso to let the cold air wash over her body, a soothing balm cool against the heat of her skin. She was dressed in a thin, white night dress that clung to the sweat on her collar, a flimsy material that made her ghostly and fragile, fluttering above her breasts every time she took a breath. In the darkness, with only the echo of her own breathing in the room, she soon realized that there was no other sound to be found – no wind, no wildlife, no chirping of crickets – just… silence. Just… herself.
Death.
"Good evening, your majesty."
She stiffened, thinking it was her imagination. But no. No one could possibly imagine such a voice, wine-potent and blood-thick, sinister and cradling…
No.
It was not her imagination. She was not a deluded fool.
"I see that you are choosing to ignore me."
Unnerving. His dark chuckle was unnerving, sending chills down her arms and up her spine, both thrilling and fear inducing. What a horrible man.
Slowly, very slowly, she pushed herself up from the bed, her limbs shaking from the exertion and her lungs brittle at the caution. By the time she had managed to sit up, sweat had gathered at her brow and her face red from the effort. She was weak, she acknowledged, too weak to put up a fight, something she was sure he knew. There was very little, she had surmised from their last encounter, that she could hide from him.
But that didn't mean she wouldn't try.
Looking up-
Her breath caught.
His eyes…
Red.
Like bloody death.
Like poisonous ambrosia.
Like a silence so deep that it echoed with a still-beating heart from an opened chest.
It was Him.
She winced and bent over when she felt her heart seize, the muscles in her chest constricting painfully. Something foreign writhed inside of her, and she convulsed when she felt it twist. At first she was perplexed, even a little indignant at being invaded, but in a flash she remembered what had happened. Her heart stopped. The man. Her Silence Glaive Surprise. The darkness she had taken from him and placed inside of herself.
She coughed, ripping through her dry throat.
Something else was in her body. Something dark. Something slimy. Something squirming around the insides, threatening to wrap scaly fingers around her Star Seed.
It was Him.
He was inside of her.
She brought a hand over her heart as if it could fend off the panic, knowing that now was not the time to over think, but to act accordingly. Swallowing, she bravely met his bloody gaze again and bit her lips together, gathering all her convictions together to straighten her spine, as if daring him to move, to strike, to hurt.
But he didn't.
He merely sat there, watching her, amused at how she had struggled to sit up, entertained at the idea of her trying to be brave. It was like he was a cat watching a mouse whose tail was caught in a trap! (Not that she was expecting any sympathy.)
What an irritating man, she thought with a frown, remembering how at ease he'd been during their fight.
As if reading her thoughts, his smirk turned teasing, his head bent almost inquisitively, mockingly. It was even more jarring to know that he was unharmed, as if her glaive or deathly attacks had not even bothered him at all. His black vest and pants were unmarred, his red ribbon unbothered, his red trench coat unbroken – his red hat still on top of his head. It was as if his whole being was mocking her, made tenfold bitterer with his glass of red wine and his gilded gold, throne-like chair upholstered with red velvet.
And he was being pretentious, they both knew, especially when he was smirking like that, especially when he had one leg over the other, especially when he was eyeing her like that, especially when they both knew she could hardly move, much less fight.
She fisted her hands uneasily, not understanding why she was so annoyed, not understanding why she wasn't dead yet. If he had any ounce of honour in him, then he would have killed her outright without these games, without looking at her like some prey he was leaving last to eat. He couldn't possibly think that he could manipulate her against her allies – her family and friends. He couldn't possibly believe that she could join him. He couldn't possibly believe she was that weak.
Then what was he waiting for? Why wasn't he finishing her off?
She blinked warily, her eyes catching an ethereal silver glint just behind him. Perhaps it was by chance, perhaps it was by Fate, but whichever it was, it was then that she spotted her Silence Glaive resting by the double doors, innocently, almost harmlessly.
She met his eyes.
He saw what she saw. In fact, she wouldn't doubt it if he had placed it there to mock her.
Now it was up to her if she was willing to take a risk. If she was willing to believe that she could escape? With him so close? With her so feeble?
In all logic, she shouldn't – couldn't. She knew she was not in any way, shape or form able to manage an escape, not when she was feeling so tired and drained, not when she knew he was in perfect condition and she was bedridden. But if she were to stay, if she were to remain within these walls of his, then she would be at a disadvantage, constantly within his watch and power. Moreover, she didn't know what he had planned to do with her, whether that be life or death, or a fate worse than what could be imagined. In her frail state, she could easily be brainwashed – it was something she was very aware of.
His smirk widened. He knew her decision before she could even make it, and when his eyes gleamed like cursed rubies in the darkness, she knew he was anticipating her to move. She knew he would enjoy to see her attempt, but they both knew that it was a risk she'd have to take, have to try upon her honour as a Planetary Queen.
So she moved.
It was only a second, almost a reckless act, and she launched herself off the bed towards her beloved glaive-
"Quick!"
-only for her legs to give and leave her crashing to the floor in one giant, ghostly heap, her dress momentarily flipping over her head and showing her underwear like a toddler first learning to walk.
He laughed. A deep baritone, full and heavy, reverberating in the darkness of the room like a living nightmare. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," he chided with another dark chuckle. "You haven't recovered yet."
Her bones had threatened to break under the impact and her skull had knocked against the hard marble, but she still had enough fire left in her to push her dress irritatingly back down and away from her face to give him a well-placed, well-indignant glare (with a side of a blush, but she refused to believe he could embarrass her). Her rage may have been lessened in its strength with her out of breath and coughing feebly, but she held his eyes long enough to convey her consternation and hate.
She had never hated many before, except for Him, but this man was somehow clever enough to put himself on her hate list, especially when he felt no need to either harm or help her! He was so confusing and frustrating and mind-boggling mysterious! What did he want with her?
Her heart seized again and she dropped to the floor, her bones brittle as she attempted to curl into herself, but had to stop halfway when what felt like acid burned its way through her veins. Gasping, she closed her eyes when white flashed before them, and she dry heaved, her chest constricting, twisting – a darkness worming its way through her body, destructive, acerbic, demanding – reaching to snuff out her soul light.
Pain.
It was so painful.
And it hurt – everywhere.
She groaned and dragged her fingernails across the marble tiles, her teeth clenching hard enough to draw blood, as if displaying pain elsewhere would distract her from the darkness eating away at her from the inside. And yet, somehow, she was able to vaguely note that he had stopped laughing. And yet, somehow, she was able to vaguely hear him stand from his king chair. And yet, somehow, she was able to vaguely feel him come near.
Squinting through her blurry eyes, she realized that she was crying and that there were two heavy boots in front of her face. Through the haze of pain, she dragged her eyes upwards, across his black pants, his flawless vest, his annoying ribbon at the base of his neck – his liquid-dark, bloody-wine eyes that watched her, constantly watching her, with a blank, almost curious, expression.
What did he-
She froze when he began to bend over, reaching for her. In a bout of sudden strength and conviction, she shuffled out from under him, her feet kicking her away, her shoulder bumping into the wall in the process. She knew there was a window above her head, and as much as she may want to risk falling to her death, she just didn't have the strength to reach for the windowpane.
She closed her eyes, believing the worst, and flinched when his finger brushed against her cheek, his deep rumbling laughter reverberating against her skin. And despite herself, her breath hitched when he pressed his thumb against her neck, just above her larynx, a warm spot that made it hard to breathe. She even gasped when his long warm fingers snaked across the back of her neck like whispered death and tilted her collar back, cradling her head like it was the sweetest thing one could ever hold. At any moment, he could end her. A sudden squeeze at her neck and she would suffocate. A simple snap and she'd be dead.
What was he waiting for?
…
What was she waiting for?
She gritted her teeth when she felt his fingers trace the underside of her jaw, a flutter of wings on a broken branch.
Was she really going to let him do this? Was she really going to let him kill her? So feebly? So pathetically? So submissively? Where was her pride? Where was her honour? Where were her convictions and strengths of her many, countless lifetimes? Never before had she cowered before her enemy. Never before had she felt hopeless. Never before had her belief in the light and the life wavered so.
What made him so different?
"He isn't," she thought.
She pushed his hand away, breath haggard and chest clutching, and opened her eyes to glare at him, stumbling slightly to see that he was not making fun, but appeared rather grave and serious. But nevertheless, the Queen of Saturn would die of shame before dying without putting up a fight.
She placed her hand over her heart and yelled, "Saturn Crystal Power, Make Up!"
Like the sun rising over the crest of a green field, like the moon beaming violet through stained glass, her Star Seed, her Saturn Crystal, flared to life like a beacon promising refuge and a peaceful death. Warm and fluid, she closed her eyes as she felt the ribbons beginning to form and twine their way over her body, her sailor fuku beginning to take shape, but just as soon she convulsed and winced, dropping to the floor once more when she felt the darkness, her unwanted guest within her soul, tremble and envelope her Star Seed, feeding on her light and taking her power for itself.
"N-No," she gasped meagrely when she saw her captor's shadow close in, unable to move for she was (to her horror) paralyzed from the pain. "D-Don't c-come any cl-closer."
The man, his hat blood red, took no heed as he reached for her, his eyes filled with the knowing that she couldn't move. Like a lethargic, seductive predator, his arms wound around her knees and neck like silk-snakes and drew her to his chest. She wanted to move, wanted to escape – wanted to do anything she could to get away, but all she managed to do was let a small whine escape from the back of her throat and place a hand against his heart, his un-beating heart, in a feeble attempt to push him away.
But she couldn't.
He was too strong.
And she was too weak.
She blinked back tears as the torment inside of her ripped through her very psyche, a pain so familiar to Mistress 9 – to Sailor Chaos – that all she could do was whimper and attempt to scamper away from the one man whose very presence screamed of Him, that permeated with His darkness and cruelty. And yet, through her tears, through the blur of hurt, she could not see any of that darkness or cruelty on his face, only a sombre consideration, a silent contemplation…
She suddenly stilled, from both fear and disbelief. In the suffocating darkness, the deafening silence, she saw…
His incisors grew in length and sharpness, gleaming silver-white in the lightless room. She didn't even need to ask, didn't need to much think, and she knew – she knew – he was going to bite her! But she was too weak, to tired, to wrought with pain to say anything, do anything, think anything, as his head dipped forward and his fangs-
"Ah," she cried out softly, her limbs stiffening.
It happened so quick – two pinpricks, warm and soft, against the left side of her neck and… She shivered when warmth rushed through her body and she was able to exhale without feeling any pain anymore. She didn't know whether it was a blessing or a curse when the hurt began to recede, and with her neck craned back and her fingers fisted in his shirt, she could feel his heart start to beat, a steady thump, thump.
"Vampire…" she thought dazedly, his vampiric saliva warming her by exciting her pheromones.
She hadn't known that her eyes had been closed until she opened them, gauging the crown mouldings on the ceiling again, before trailing her violet pupils downwards to look at him, his dark hair like a curtain over her neck, only his pale neck could be seen from her position. There was a vein, large and trembling, just under his ear, and she could tell that it was him. He was the one who was making it no longer hurt. He was the one who was taking her pain as his own. He was the one leeching off of her pain.
He was the one who was hurting now.
And it was confusing. He was confusing. She didn't understand why he was helping her. She didn't understand how he could reduce her to… this, watch her like a predator toying with his prey, and then suddenly, almost unthinkingly, come to her aid in her time of need, in her time of writhing hurt. Should she feel indebted? Or at the very least thankful?
She didn't know.
Of all the things that had left her speechless throughout her lifetime, she felt like this moment was just like that moment when Chibiusa had caught and returned her hat to her. Such a selfless act, such a memory of being addressed, of being acknowledged by another.
This was just as speechless.
Carefully, softly, she detached her fingers from his shirt and gently brushed his hair aside to meet his face – only for it all come to a heart-stopping halt. He was looking directly at her. His pupils were dilated, dark and sensual. His breathing was harsh, excited. His lips curved in a predatory smirk. He was enjoying the pain.
"Monster," she breathed.
And with a jerk, she felt it then. A long thin strand of darkness, of Him, being tugged out like a thread from her Star Seed and into him, her captor. It wasn't until a second later did she realize that the darkness she had taken from him earlier was being taken back by him!
She pushed him away, lurching over to regain her breath when his fangs ripped through her skin from her hasty reaction. But even as she struggled to shove him aside, his arms held steady around her and she scowled when he only smirked at her attempt of a successful retreat, his eyes a deep bloody red with his pupils dilated. It was as if he was humouring her.
He chuckled when she began to shake at the aftermath of the pain, a creeping prick at the base of her spine that was slowly traveling upwards. It may not be as hurtful, seeing as her Star Seed had with equalized the darkness and the size of the darkness had been decreased in size significantly, but that still did not stop the hiss escaping from her lips when her captor stood with her in his arms, jostling her perhaps not on purpose. Purpose or not, she had been roused to place her hand on his chest again to steady herself, only to realize how small and frail she appeared against his broad shoulders and terrifying height.
He chuckled again at her incredulously frightened expression and (surprisingly) gently placed her back onto the bed. Tense, she sank into the feathered bed and took a deep breath to determine her body's limits and if the pain had receded. It had, much to her relief, and then she turned to meet his gaze with a blank expression, confused as to what her fate would be, and felt her breath hitch at his eyes.
His pupils, sharp as quills, was tracing along the edge of her jaw, following the bead of sweat rolling down her neck and trailing, feather-light, down her throat to her breasts. He watched, almost lecherously, almost mockingly, the rise of her breasts with every feeble breath she struggled for and every gasp she released laboriously. She was so exposed, so inviting, lying on the bed with her hair spread out like ink… unmoving… with only a thin white dress as her only defence against him…
Her jaw hardened.
He was enjoying her struggle, enjoying watching her slowly deteriorate…
She stilled, frightened and resistant, when he brushed a long finger along the left side of her neck. His nails outlined the dried trails of blood left behind, her skin already healed and flawless. But it was his eyes that showed his displeasure, his eyes reflecting his disappointment at how he had not left a single mark on her – no scar because of her divine healing powers, for it was obvious, so obvious, that he wanted that darkness back from her, wanted to dominate her and the stars and the cosmos… and the silence of her hallowed grounds.
He could keep trying.
He could keep drinking her blood.
But she was not going to let the darkness within her, a darkness she was determined to dissipate through the light of her Star Seed, go.
He was going to have to fight with tooth and nail to get the pieces of Chaos she had stolen from him back.
And judging from his eyes, twin pools of ruby moons with a predatory glint, he was thrilled for the challenge.
"I will not kill you, Hotaru Tomoe," his voice like a reaper's scythe in the darkness.
No. He would not. It would be easier to tame Chaos in the organized living body of a Planetary Queen than to chase after it in the wild. No. He would not kill her… yet.
She blinked, unperturbed by his knowing her name, having realized that he must have gone through her memories the first time he had drank from her.
Never again.
Never again would she be so weak and defenceless as to let him so easily to know her deepest of secrets.
Never again.
"And what name shall I call you, nosferatu?" she asked.
His smirk widened to show his shark-like teeth, amused at her queenly tone, as if she could ever rule her current surroundings. It entertained him to no end, she could tell.
"Alucard."
the point