A/N: Hey guys! So I'm kind of excited about this one because I wrote, edited, and am now posting this oneshot in just four hours. Woot! It's a bit of a character piece I though of while watching Caramelapple19's Sailor Moon Stereo Love vid on YouTube. Go check it out, it's really well done.
He could feel the weight of the armor—Who was he?—of the sword at his hip—Prince Endymion? No, there was another name. It was cold. He wasn't where he was supposed to be. Mamoru. That was his name. His shin-plates clicked against the polished obsidian floor as he shifted. Who's hand was this?—like ice against his lips. A strange, dark, gleeful cackle.
This wasn't right.
A voice echoing inside his head.
This had happened already.
He tried with all of his might to resist it, to yell his heart's answer as loud as he could. But it was no use. "Yes, my Queen." His breath should be harsh and heavy with panic, but it wasn't. His eyes should be wide with fear and sorrow as he looked at her, but they weren't. His grip on his sward should have been unsteady and hesitant, but it wasn't. His breath was deep and steady, his eyes blank and glassy, his grip firm and confident as he acted on the command and lunged at his unwitting target…his angel.
She dodged and he was glad for it. His heart lifted as she drew her moon wand, surely this would work. He saw the lights—they were beautiful—he waited for the warmth to wrap around him…but it never came. No! He just knelt there, waiting for the torrent of power to cease. He felt his body tense as her power began to fade and he tried to struggle once again. And once again, it was to no avail.
He lunged for a second time, and this time she was not fast enough. He was able to get behind her and there was a sickening sound as cold steel met the soft flesh of her side. He wanted to cry as she hit the floor with a pained shout, the moon wand clattering away from her reach. How could he get back to her if even the power of the Silver Crystal wasn't enough? He took a step forward, the light tap of his boots echoing in the large cavern. A rose materialized in his hand. Such a familiar feeling; it should have been comforting. It wasn't. He wanted to throw it in the direction of the vicious bitch who had put him in this horrifying situation. He didn't.
The voice still echoed in his mind.
The rose, black as his eyes, was flicked at the child-warrior without pity. He wanted to speak to her. To open his mouth and tell her I love you—please forgive me. Instead the words that came chilled his soul. "Die, Sailor Moon." She looked hurt and scared and confused…until the rose stretched into tangling vines and began their onslaught. Sparks, lightning, pure electricity ran through her small body. Her screams were of pure agony. And they didn't stop. How was she still conscious? A small feeling of pride welled up in him before he quickly quashed it. How could he feel pride in her while she was suffering so much pain? As the electricity increased, so did the volume and pitch of her screams. Had he once mocked her for her shrieks? How could he have found humor in something so heart-wrenching? Finally, the vines disintegrated under their own power and his angel was freed.
His relief was not to last, however, as he felt his own booted foot lift and literally kick her broken body while she was down. The future doctor in him could not help noting that with the amount of force he'd used, it would be a miracle if she hadn't broken two ribs and fractured at least one more. It was with morbid fascination that he watched from behind the glazed over windows of his prison as his body moved purposefully forward, wrapped large fingers around her small neck and lifted her off the ground like she was nothing. How could she be so impossibly small, so very fragile, but still face adversity with such courage?
You're so brave Usako…
He felt the power building up inside him, traveling down his outstretched arm.
I'm so sorry…
Once again her body was inundated with violent energy with the intent to tear her apart. Once again she screamed, though this time it was more of a gasping sob. Was she so tired? So numb that she didn't even have the will to do more? He nearly sobbed himself at the feeling of pleasure welling up in his body. The grip on her swan-like neck tightened, cutting off her tortured cries. She clawed at his hand, drew blood, fighting for much needed air.
His grip tightened again, an insane grin on his otherwise handsome face, as her scratching fingers weakened.
Let her GO!
For once his body did as he wanted, though not quite the way he wanted. He breathed a small sigh, even as he winced, watching her be thrown from his grip back on to the onyx floor. Her rasping gasps for stale air flooded him with both relief and rage. Had his body truly listened to him, or was it a quirk of fate? He realized it was time to find out as his arms lifted once more to bring his sword down on the blonde warrior. Before he had the chance to try and stop himself, however, his heroine—his princess—beat him to it. The pain was immense, but even as his body cried out, his mind encouraged her.
This is the Sailor Moon I know.
It was as if her tiara had drained his energy. Finally his body faltered and he slumped to the ground, breathing harsh and ragged. Only for a moment did he stop struggling, but it was enough to matter. Before he could even try to get ahold of himself again, his body had stood, sword tensed and ready, and all he could do was watch…
He was going to kill her.
Her blood would coat his blade.
And he would love it.
He shot upright in bed, a cold sweat on his skin, panic in his breath, and a rolling in his stomach. As quickly as he could, he rolled over the side of his bed and grabbed the nearby trashcan. His revulsion at the vision he'd just had was made physical as he heaved into the pail. He sat there for long minutes after he finished, shaking at the intensity of the vivid nightmare. The cool air that blew in through his partially open window was a balm to his soul. He was no longer in that large cavern with its stale air and cold obsidian floor.
He was no longer trying to kill the girl he loved.
He tried to remind himself that Usagi had saved him. She had broken through his prison within his own body by allowing him a conduit to focus all of his strength on. She had held out their locket and he had been able to snag a tenuous hold of the reins. He also remembered the pain of Beryl's crystal shard embedding itself in his back and the ghost of his love's lips as he lost consciousness all over again…
Eventually he rose from the floor and sat, still shaking slightly, on the edge of his bed. Thrusting a hand through his midnight locks, he took a deep breath and finally wrangled his breathing into a normal pace. He hated nights like this. When he was plagued by the memories of what his life had become. He dared not complain for long lest fate find reason to intervene again, for the good in his life far outweighed the bad in his opinion. He picked up the framed picture on his nightstand and traced the sweet face of his girlfriend.
She didn't know that he had these nightmares. She didn't even know he remembered that battle in Beryl's throne room. How could he unload that burden onto her? He would let her think he wasn't aware of it while it was happening. That he did not remember hurting her so. She had enough of her own nightmares, he knew. Far be it from him to add to their number.