IIIIIIIIIIIII'M BACK!

#67: Weeping Willow
His gaze followed her bare feet as they padded through the dewy grass with taffeta skirts hitched up past decency. She turned an eager pair of blue eyes on him and called back.

"Do you like it, Endy?"

The question didn't register for a few moments. Then he slowly began to take in his surroundings. A crystalline brook twisted between the prince and princess like a rippling streamer; clusters of white and pink flowers dotted the grassy banks; funny cattails hung limply over the water. There was also a stout, stumpy plant that he took to be a bush, but more closely resembled a suckling pig.

He would never say so, though. This was the corner of the palace gardens that the princess herself had put much work into, tending it with the love she bestowed upon every living thing around her.

"Of course." He neatly leaped over the brook. "I especially like this willow tree."

He was sure her beaming smile would blind him.

"That's why I chose this spot! Willow makes everything so cool and light and comforting." She brushed a hand across the curtain of silvery-green branches. "Sit with me, Endy," she said as she seated herself in the willow's shade and dipped her feet into the water.

Endymion, on the other hand, was in a more playful mood.

"Serenity, are you attempting to give me, the Prince of the Terran Kingdom, Ambassador of the Arctic, Conqueror of Jolidistan orders?" he asked, raising his chin higher with every title.

Serenity, however, merely yawned (without even shielding the royal mouth).

"Endy, do stop with that title nonsense," she told her friend mock-condescendingly. "Your parents probably only made you "ambassador of the arctic" so you'd go exploring and accidentally fall into a volcano. As for—what are you laughing at? Endy!"

Endymion, who was doubled over with mirth, managed to gasp out, "As long as the Arctic zebras hadn't trampled me first, eh Sere?"

Serenity nodded seriously. "You've certainly got to keep an eye out for the zebras. Oh and the hipotenusamuses. Selene, he's off again. Endy, what's so funny!" Her only response were a few unprincely snorts. She jumped up from her spot in the grass to give Endymion, who had collapsed against the willow tree's trunk, a nice smack on the shoulder.

"Ouch!"

"Why do you keep laughing at me?"

He gave his companion an innocent look. "I would never laugh at you, Sere." His eyes strayed down to see that her pale green skirts were still bundled up higher than decorum commanded. "Now, be decent, Mistress Moon, and stop tucking your skirt like that."

She jutted her chin out defiantly. "What for? It's hot out."

"Just as I said, it's not decent for ladies to hoist their skirts up in such an unbecoming fashion," he said loftily. Decorum commanded it, not him. "You don't see women on Earth doing such a thing."

"Well, I'm not a woman of Earth, am I?" she shot back. With that, she nipped her skirts up higher and alluringly extended a creamy leg.

Decorum be damned.

Still, he wasn't going to give in to her Venusian tendencies. No, he was going to be the one mature, stalwart royal in this situation.

"Endy, give me back my dress ribbon!"

The green ribbon only waved mockingly at her as it and Endymion flew alongside the brook. But something the prince knew quite well was that Princess Serenity was a champion runner. Of course he knew it—he was counting on it.

In an instant, she was upon him, and there was a confusion of green skirts and strong arms, tumbling, squealing, until two pairs of soft, tempting lips found one another and the world stood still except for the fluttering of heartbeats and the tangle of limbs and the sweet sighs of satisfaction that left the young lovers and the breeze that swept through the feathery branches of the willow.

And when, what seemed to be an eternity later, the Lunarian sky was painted blood-red and shrieks of misery and raging battle tore through the air, the willow bent in the anguish it shared with its owner and her love. When all was silent, the willow tree gave a final groan and toppled into the brook, weeping until all was desiccated.

Yes, a bit of angst there. This is my first Silver Millenium fic. Yay for the aristocratic manner of speaking--it's so proper. Hope you enjoyed, tell me what you think!