Author: Silver Sailor Ganymede PM
Unrequited MinakoKunzite, KunziteZoisite. She knew it would never work out between them: they were just too different after all. Yet she would always go on hoping: hoping for a love that would never be.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Angst - Minako A./Mina/Sailor Venus & Kunzite/Malachite - Words: 428 - Reviews: 2 - Favs: 1 - Published: 09-03-06 - Status: Complete - id: 3137653
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Disclaimer: I do not own Sailor Moon.
By Silver Sailor Ganymede
She knew it would never last; they were just too different after all. She was fire whereas he was ice, she was the light but he the darkness: they were complete opposites, their attraction fickle and based not on love but a marriage of convenience.
Still she had hoped, so hoped that something would perhaps arise from their union; nothing ever did. He was too distant, too cold, and even she could not melt such a heart of ice. Ice, cold, night, silver: fire, warmth, day, gold: yes, they were just too different.
But he had fallen for another of the king's protectors, the betrothed of princess Ami of Mercury, who had seemed not to care at all for anything other than her studying, her dislike of the outside world quite obvious to her. She had seen the relationship between the Mercurian and her supposed lover, Zoisite, to mirror her own with the ice king: a mirror image, a complete reversal: Ami was the ice, the cold, the night, the silver senshi, whereas the youngest shitennou was fire, warmth, daylight and the pure beauty of gold.
She knew that he was as much the opposite of Zoisite as he was of her… and yet… and yet there was something between them that Minako could neither explain nor understand. In their case fire and ice worked in harmony, day and night existed in peace, the cold and the warmth balanced each other out, silver and gold combined to make the purest of all gems known.
It was love, Minako knew that much from fairytales and the like: but gold was easily corrupted, silver would tarnish, nothing would last, and it was the bitter irony of fate that she, the goddess of love, would never experience love for herself. She knew it was better this way; false attractions and lives of lies would do nothing to help her in a life such as this: emotions would only get in the way; she would have to remain a mirror image of her true self.
Perhaps the Mercurian princess had the right idea about life after all; it pain was all that could be brought to you then why bother leaving fairytales you could convince yourself were real? But there was always hope, was there not? She knew it would never last, whatever there may have been between them in the first place, yet still she went on hoping: hoping for a love that would never be returned.