Notes at bottom. Thanks!
-Lianne (liannesentar@hotmail.com)
http://Lianne_Sentar.tripod.com

*Blue Planet, White Moon*
Part 9

Rated PG-13 for violence, darkness, and some romance

	"May God guide her soul to paradise, and guide our 
lives through this grief that we may live on." Nephlite bowed
his head and closed his eyes. His gloved fingers rested atop the
marble gravestone. "Protect her, God, and protect us all."
	"Amen." Zoycite quickly whispered his own prayer
under his breath, then raised his gaze. The stone marking the
grave of the Earth queen was beautiful, but, according to the
custom, not substantially bigger or more elaborate than the 
thousands of other graves in the war yard. From child to 
soldier to old man to queen, the marble headstones stretched 
like slabs of silver far into the early evening horizon.
	Nephlite turned. Endymion, kneeling a meter behind,
stared blankly at the headstone. A single red rose lay clutched
in his bandaged hands.
	Zoycite let out a breath. "I'll miss her," he said softly.
"She was like my true mother. I can't imagine my real mother
could've been any kinder."
	Endymion hiccuped. He quickly turned his head away,
though not before his two generals saw the tears well in his
eyes. He pressed a fist into his lips and remained, trembling,
silent.
	"Endymion." Nephlite reached out. "Are you all right?"
	Endymion shrugged his shoulder inward, away from 
Nephlite's touch. Without a word he shook his head.
	Nephlite watched him a moment. "I talked to your father
before we came," he said at last. "You don't need to be present
at the meeting this afternoon if you're not ready for it. Malachite
and I being in attendance is sufficient."
	Endymion said nothing. He hiccuped again, and made
a tiny little whine in the back of his throat.
	Nephlite glanced over at Zoycite. "Stay with him," he
ordered. "I'll fill you in after the meeting." Nephlite let his
eyes fall on Endymion, once, before he turned and walked 
away. Zoycite waited until Nephlite had disappeared before
reaching out to his prince.
	"Endymion ..."
	Endymion didn't pull away. He shook as Zoycite slid
his hand over Endymion's shoulder and let his fingers brush
the back of it. When Endymion started to sob, Zoycite
unashamedly fell to his knees and threw his arms around
his prince.
	"Cry." Zoycite buried his face in Endymion's
shoulder. "Please, Endymion, cry until you have nothing
left."
	He did. The prince of the Earth cried like a broken
child, hysterically, fitfully, his fingers gripping the thick
dark silk of his brother's shirt and his tears soaking soft
auburn hair. He clawed at Zoycite, his fingers burrowing
deep into fabric and skin.
	"Mama ..." Endymion started crying harder. Zoycite's 
ribcage was crushed in the ferocity of his arms. "Oh GOD 
Zoycite ... Mama's gone ..."

****************

	Endymion lived in a spiraling reality. He barely slept 
or ate, and for an entire week he was kept off the battlefield
for fear he would get himself killed. It was a reasonable concern;
he could no longer hold a sword for more than a minute before
he began shaking, and his balance was so poor with the weapon
that a simple step backward could cause him to fall. His father
was concerned but sympathetic, so Endymion was, for the most
part, left alone to grieve. His generals were still called to war,
though at least one of them was often around when he went
looking; after Jedite broke his arm to a mace-wielding Legion
warrior, he was always in the palace when Endymion needed
him.
	It wasn't really an issue of standard loneliness, though.
As Endymion sat, alone, in his mother's abandoned dress
closet, he knew the deep emptiness that dragged him was
different from that. He *wasn't* alone. He had his father,
and his generals, and the milk-sisters from Malachite's
mother who now resided in the palace. Endymion had 
an extensive family remaining--after all, how many
young men could claim to have eight siblings and a 
surviving father in such difficult times? It wasn't
unusual to lose a parent to the fighting.
	He leaned his head against the wall and
stared up at the thick wooden hangers that hung
his mother's clothes. After a moment, he reached
up, grabbed a handful of silk nightgown, and tugged.
The feather-light fabric slipped off its hanger and
whispered into Endymion's outstretched arms.
	He needed a mother. Surrounded by men all
day, from his generals to the Earth king to the soldiers
who fought and died by his side, he needed to have 
someone, some *refuge*, to escape to when he could
no longer stand the bravado and courage of men. His
sisters were not only his; they had a mother, 
grief-stricken with Malachite's position on the 
battlefield, they had a blood brother and three
other milk brothers to share their love with. They were 
kind to Endymion, certainly, and the second-eldest had
always liked him especially and baked him cookies 
when they had been young--but the four girls had
lives of their own now, and had grown apart from 
Endymion once childhood had faded and they had 
raised to their positions as daughters of a high noble.
	Endymion's mother had been *his.* Her only
son, her only child, the deep love she had shown him 
since birth had been focused on him *as* her only 
child. He had run to her when he had needed to escape 
brawling with his generals or painful lessons on the 
training courts. When he was suffocated with the world 
of men as they molded him into the king they required, 
she was always there, smiling with her pink-painted 
lips, her soft hands reaching from wide lavender sleeves 
and stroking his hair. He loved his father. He loved his 
generals, he loved men. But he needed, he *needed* a 
woman.
	He buried his face in her nightgown.
	There was a slight creaking noise, and a
sliver of pale light spread along his cheek. He 
didn't look up as Jedite, arm in a sling, carefully
nudged open the door with his good hand.
	"Endymion?" The general's blue eyes fell
on his prince, and he frowned. He slid the door
open further and kneeled to be Endymion's height.
"Hey."
	Endymion blinked back the tears in his
eyes. He was through with crying--the tears were
gone, and all that was left was a deep, dragging 
hole in heart.
	"Hey." He felt Jedite's hand fall on his hair.
"Are you all right?"
	Endymion sniffed and lifted his head. His
arms hugged the nightgown to his body, his chin
rested on his knees. The gown smelled like baby
powder.
	"Yeah," the prince said quietly.
	Jedite hesitated a moment. He let his fingers
run down Endymion's silken hair. "I hate to tell you
this right now," he said, a little anxiously, "but ... 
Malachite says it's really important you see him right
away. There was a meeting this afternoon about the
enemy, and ..."
	He trailed off. Endymion felt that familiar
licking inside him--a combination of fear, anxiety,
and depression that war brought--and knew that his
time of mourning was over. The war had raged while
he had hidden himself away, and as a prince, as a 
man, as a person, he could no longer step back from
his duty.
	His stomach sank. "Yeah," he said quietly, and
he pressed his hand against the floor. Swallowing, he 
pushed himself to his feet, hung his mother's gown on
its hanger, and stepped out of the closet. Very, very
slowly, he closed the door behind him.

*************

	"God save us." Endymion paled. "You're not serious."
	The glare Malachite sent him was uncharacteristic and,
quite simply, jarring, and Endymion abruptly realized how 
horrific their situation was. His stomach lurched; he leaned
against the wall, his breathing heavy, and swallowed the bile
rising in his throat.
	Nephlite shook his head. "It's been weeks since you and
Zoycite had the body of Thomas of Riverside brought to the
palace," he said. "Since then, the king has had it investigated--
quietly, so as not to cause a panic." His eyes darkened. "And it
*is* secret. Still. We won't tell the soldiers unless we absolutely
have to."
	Malachite let out a breath. "There had been other reports
before then similar to yours, claims that familiar faces had
been noticed among the enemy, that soldiers who had been 
killed, and whose bodies had disappeared, appeared to be 
back on the battlefield."
	Nephlite walked to the shaking Endymion and took 
his shoulders. He waited until the prince met his eyes. 
"Endymion," he said gravely, "we had always assumed 
that those missing bodies, of both our slain and theirs, 
had been burned by the enemy as part of some ritual. 
But Thomas was positively identified. As were others, 
after we had more bodies of their slain brought in
for inspection. Besides the death wound you inflicted on
Thomas, there was an old wound that had been healed
in some fashion alien to us. The means of healing were
remarkable, but unidentifiable." He paused, and Nephlite 
took a breath. "The wound was in his heart," he said
quietly. "A death wound to the heart."
	Icy fear crawled up Endymion's spine. He gripped
Nephlite's sleeve.
	Malachite looked away. "We always knew we were
fighting some sort of evil magic. When we put the pieces
together, it all made sense: before the first surprise attack,
various villages had reported a number of missing persons.
Many of our dead vanished from the field, and so few of 
the enemy's dead were left out that we didn't have much
to inspect. It's no surprise we didn't guess what was 
happening until now." His jaw set; his ice eyes, unreadable, 
were slick with a frightening layer of hatred. "Like fighting 
the devil himself," he said darkly. "Armed with an army of 
our own dead."
	For a moment, no one said anything. Endymion 
turned away and covered his mouth. He had held that fear,
deep inside his heart, when he had seen the face of Thomas
puke blood with Endymion's sword in his chest. He had
known for a long time exactly what might explain that,
but he had chosen not to face it. Not to believe it. Not to
think to what extent such a practice might have been
executed.
	He wanted to throw up.
	There was a faint knocking on the door. It was 
Nephlite's bedroom, so he stepped back from his prince
and looked to the door.
	"Enter."
	The knob slowly turned. "My prince?" came a
familiar voice, followed by a familiar set of orange 
eyes at the doorway's open slit. "May I come in?"
	Zoycite pushed the door open from behind her
and walked inside. "You were already given permission," 
he reminded her as he and Jedite entered the room.
Endymion noticed just how pale Jedite was (and had
probably been when he had come to the Earth queen's
closet), and Zoycite, unusually, seemed irritable and
edgy. His hands shook a little, though he tried to hide 
it. Endymion knew the two younger generals had already 
been told the sickening news.
	Beryl hesitantly stepped through the doorway,
a tray balanced on one arm. "I brought you food,"
she said. "You haven't been eating well lately, so I
thought I'd try to ... make you something you'd like."
	Endymion swallowed and tried to steady his
trembling body. Good God, food was the *last* thing 
he wanted to think of now. "Thank you," he mumbled, 
"but I'm not feeling great. I don't think I could ..." He 
trailed off as his eyes fell on the tray, on the carefully 
laid plates and the carefully prepared food. A small 
plate in the corner held a single fat slice of cheesecake.
	Despite how his stomach nauseatingly flipped when 
he saw the dairy product, he looked up at her, surprised. 
Her cheeks colored and she looked away.
	"The king sends a message," Zoycite said. "There's 
to be a small procession heading to the moon this evening 
to discuss new ... developments of the war." He glanced at 
Beryl, clearly not wishing to reveal sensitive information
before her, but her eyes were lowered. He left her be. 
"Anyway," he went on, "he wants all four of us to go. And 
Endymion." He locked eyes with his prince. "He said you can 
come, too."
	Endymion blinked. His heart twittered oddly,
frighteningly, in a desperate hope for a bare hint
of happiness.
	"R-really?" he breathed. "I can ... see Serenity 
again?"
	Jedite smiled weakly. "She probably misses you."
	For the first time in months, Endymion felt his
insides lift. Zoycite started telling him details: the time
of the transport, what he was supposed to wear, and all
sorts of other things that Endymion completely and happily
didn't hear. He was going to see Serenity.
	*Serenity!*
	He was afraid he wouldn't recognize her. How long
had it been since he'd seen her? Had she grown taller? Her
hair longer? She was becoming a woman while he was away,
and something stirred excitedly in him at the thought of seeing
how she had grown. She was probably more beautiful 
than when he had left.
	"... but really, it's up to you." Zoycite let out a 
breath. "So? What's it gonna be?"
	Endymion smiled brightly. "Of course I'll go," 
he answered. "C'mon, Zoycite, how could I say no?
I'm gonna see the moon again!" Endymion clenched
his hands to try and contain his excitement. The beautiful
moon, its beautiful people, and its beautiful princess!
He wondered if she'd already been informed that he was
going to be--
	"Endymion." Zoycite frowned. "That wasn't the
question. I asked you about the drugs."
	Endymion blinked. "What?"
	Malachite sighed. He was still grave, and he didn't
smile, but a touch of the freezing burn had melted from 
his eyes. "Each time you took the transport, you were
given fewer and fewer drugs to try and detach your 
dependance on them. Your father wasn't sure if the
same procedure should be followed this time considering
how long it's been since you visited, but decided to 
let you make the call." He raised an eyebrow, barely.
"If you decide to continue weakening the drugs, today
you'll be on a completely new one. One that'll leave you
awake."
	Endymion barely thought about it. With the new, 
terribly-missed happiness he felt spilling through him, 
he would've taken the transport without any drugs at
all if it would've gotten him to Serenity sooner.
	"The new drug," he said as he made his way to the
door. "I've gotta get ready. Come get me when it's
time to go." His hand on the doorknob, he stopped, and
turned. "Please," he added, with a little smile.
	He suddenly became aware of Beryl. She was staring
at him, her hands curled around her tray, in a way that
made Endymion feel ... he wasn't sure what. He brushed
off the feeling and beckoned to her. "Can you come with
me for a minute?" he asked.
	Beryl nearly jumped. "Of course," she blurted as
she quickly walked over to him. He exited the room, 
holding the door open for her as she scurried through,
and began down the hallway with her by his side.
	He glanced at her. "Why'd you bring me cheesecake?"
he asked.
	Beryl blushed. Gripping the tray with one hand, she
brushed a stray strand of red hair behind her ear. "I
knew you ... liked it," she said after a moment. "I wanted
to try and cheer you up."
	A touch embarrassed, he felt his own cheeks get hot.
"Th-thank you," he said, quietly. "That was really nice of
you."
	She raised her eyes to his. The orange was deep
and heavy, and it made him feel odd to look into it. 
She smiled, shyly. "It's nice to see you're finally 
feeling better."
	He ran a hand through his hair. "It's been a long
time since I visited the moon," he answered. "I miss
the princess there."
	Beryl averted her gaze. "Ah." She licked her lips. 
"Serenity, am I correct? The servants here used to talk 
about you two."
	Endymion stopped. Beryl, surprised, halted; she 
colored and pressed her lips together at the way he suddenly 
looked at her.
	"Talked about us?" He could feel his heart speed up
in his chest. Something frightened, excited, welled up inside
him. "Wh-what'd they say?"
	Beryl's shoulders dropped, just a touch. She looked
away. "Just the usual gossip," she explained. "You
know. That you two were ... more than friends."
	Endymion's heart thudded. Memories of all the times
he had spent with Serenity, all the different ways she had
made him feel, rushed back in on him in a thick warm wave. 
People had thought they were involved. People had talked
about that. What was it Malachite had said? About looking
like he was in love?
	Endymion, suddenly, abruptly, realized he had never 
really dealt with the question before. He and Serenity were
friends, certainly; just those few times they had been together
they had been drawn to each other, and the times he had been
with her were some of his most poignant memories. He was
fascinated by her. He liked to hear what she had to say. He
liked *her.* But....
	As his thoughts trailed off, he set his eyes back on
Beryl. He was a little surprised by how lonely she suddenly
looked.
	"Um ... are you ok?" He furrowed his eyebrows. He
reached out to her.
	Beryl blinked her eyes and shook her head. She gave 
a wane smile, though he noticed she was a little pale. "I'm
fine," she answered.
	He looked down at her tray. He could feel his appetite
coming back, and he wanted to give her food the respect it
deserved.
	"Hey." He carefully pulled the tray from her hands.
He smiled at her. "I think I can eat this after all. You've
got some great stuff on here--can't let it go to waste."
	She brightened a touch. A smile, an honest one,
graced her pretty face. "Thank you, my prince," she
said with red cheeks. "I hope you enjoy it."
	"Thanks." Without thinking, not sure why he did
it, and feeling his actions moving with the strength of the
new excitement within him, he took her hand with his
free one and brought it to his lips. He half-noticed
the way her face reddened when he did so.
	But he couldn't dwell. "Bye," he said with a smile, 
and, after carefully balancing the tray in both of his arms,
started off in a quick trot for his room. He had to
get ready for Serenity. He had to get dressed for Serenity.
He had to wear something special, something masculine, 
for Serenity.
	He didn't notice Beryl's fixated gaze as he disappeared
down the hallway.

To be continued....

-It's short, so I'll update in two weeks with the next part (which
will focus on the moon visit). I just wanted to make sure I
got something up tonight. ^_^ Sorry for last part--it was weird,
I know. I was reading odd stuff at the time. I think I'm going to
end up revising this story and posting it on Fanfiction.net later,
so Part 8 will probably be written in a better fashion and some
of the short connected parts, like 3 & 4 and 9 & 10, will be
mushed into a single longer part. Oh, and by the way, if anyone
ever receives a blank e-mail with an attachment from any of my
e-mail addresses, delete it and DON'T download it or save it to
your computer. If I ever send an attachment to anyone, I'll write
out a comprehensive e-mail with it saying exactly what said 
attachment is (sorry, been having hacker/virus problems lately). 
At any rate, see you June 28th. Oh, and I'll be a guest at Otakon 
this July, so I hope to see some of you there, too. Take it easy!
-Lianne (liannesentar@hotmail.com)
http://Lianne_Sentar.tripod.com		
*Sailor Moon and all its characters copyright © Naoko 
Takeuchi/Kodansha Ltd./Toei Animation, Co., Ltd. This 
story part copyright © Lianne Sentar, June 2002.



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