It was the first and it certainly wouldn’t be the last of the galas thrown by Neo Queen Serenity in the dawning of the New Silver Millennium. Based on the amount of planning that had gone into planning this affair, Endymion had thought they would surpass those thrown by the original Serenity so many years before in terms of opulence. But when he mentioned this in front of his wife, she and Luna had laughed and assured him that they had quite a long way to go. He found this very hard to believe.
His wife was currently engaged in conversation with several diplomats, charming them with an ease that surprised him. Sometimes he would think back to that loud, clumsy girl who hit him on the head with a badly marked test and wonder what happened to her. He couldn’t find her at all in this statuesque, worldly woman. She only looked a bit like her and shared her hairstyle. Other than that, there was no hint of Usagi.
It was disturbing at moments like these to marvel at how he never called her Usako, and she never called him Mamo-chan. Sometimes he even forgot what his own name sounded like.
It was those thoughts that led him to excusing himself for a bit of air. These events did have a tendency to be stifling. He was grateful for the numerous balconies they’d had the foresight of building off the Grand Ball Room. It didn’t take him long to find one that was nearly empty. There was only one woman leaning against the rail, wine glass loose in her hand, and long, golden hair spilling down her back.
It took Endymion a moment to recognize that it was Ve—Minako. She was out of uniform, which was an irregularity. He wondered if they had all shaken off their Senshi guises for the evening. He silently hoped that they had.
She looked stunning, as she had no doubt spent hours perfecting even though it probably wasn’t necessary. She was dressed in bright yellow satin, a bold choice for most women though certainly not for her. She wore it well, as if it had been made for her. It showed off more skin than he bet Artemis was comfortable with.
As he came up beside her, he saw he was playing with a large heart shaped pendant at her throat. He wasn’t certain if it was topaz or yellow diamond, and it disturbed him that he was forced to try and tell the difference even then.
“You seem lonely,” he remarked, standing beside her. Endymion leaned his back against the rail, folding his arms across his chest.
Minako looked up, a little surprised to see him. But maybe she was surprised to see anyone. She had been so lost in thought. After a moment, she gave him a soft smile and turned her gaze out to the glittering horizon. “Alone, yes. Lonely… Well, what’s lonely really?” She took a sip of her drink, which he could now see was actually a martini, not wine.
“That’s harder than you usually drink isn’t it?” he commented. He wasn’t sure actually, but he’d never pegged Minako for a particularly heavy drinker.
“It isn’t my night to patrol,” Minako assured him instantly even though that hadn’t been his intention. “I got the night off because…” She soured, raising the glass to her lips again. “Well, it doesn’t matter what I got the night off for now.”
Endymion pondered this for a moment until he realized that there was only reason why Minako would ever hand her patrol off to one of the other girls… well, women. “Bad date?”
“The worst in recent memory,” Minako sighed, shutting her eyes wearily. “And considering my track record, that’s saying something.”
Endymion felt very strange talking to Minako about this. Granted, he couldn’t remember ever having a long conversation with Minako about… anything. But surely they’d spoken before. They must have. She was the leader of his wife’s guard. Certainly they’d talked about more than security updates or the progress of the palace’s construction or whatever business she was passing along to him. He couldn’t think of any such occasions, but there must have been something he wasn’t remembering.
Strange as he felt doing this, his wife was busy, and he had no idea where any of the others were even though anyone would have been more suitable. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, shifting. “Do you want to… talk about it?”
Minako laughed, her tone reminding him that she really was a lovely soprano. She’d sung at his wedding, and everyone had asked him where he and Usagi had gotten the money to hire a professional.
She’d cried when Usagi told her that.
“You don’t have to comfort me, Ma… Endymion,” she corrected herself, clenching her fist when she almost let his name slip. It was still new for all of them. Surely they’d get used to it eventually. “I’ll just make Artemis listen to me whine later.”
“No, it’s fine,” Endymion said, wondering why he was saying this when she’d offered to let him off the hook. “I don’t mind. Really.”
She looked at him out of the corner of her eyes, considering him for a moment. After awhile, she shrugged delicately, smilingly wryly. “All right. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Endymion was already regretting his offer.
“He was just some guy…” Minako explained, looking down at the grass several stories below them. “You know it’s hard enough actually getting anyone to hold a simple conversation with me anymore. I think they expect me start glowing or sprout wings or something.”
Endymion let out a sudden bark of laughter, making her jump a bit. “Sorry… I know the feeling.”
She smiled. “I suppose you would at that.” She flipped her hair a bit before continuing, revealing her pale shoulder. “Anyway, I finally found a guy whose voice didn’t leap up three octaves when I was talking to him. I can’t tell you how shocked I was. He was… He seemed nice and very charming… Fun. He seemed like a lot of fun.”
Endymion couldn’t imagine why she was stressing this point so much, and he was tempted to ask her just how much she’d had to drink. He held his tongue as she continued shortly thereafter.
“We’ve met whenever I had time. And as you know, that doesn’t happen often. But he seemed to be sticking around, so I invited him here…”
Minako trailed off. Endymion fumbled a bit for something to say, wondering if he should prod her to continue or not. He had offered to talk about it, but if she’d changed her mind, he certainly wouldn’t press her. He wasn’t certain what he would do once he knew what had gone wrong anyway. After a moment, he managed to say, “Yes?” feeling that was noncommittal enough.
“He spent the entire two hours talking about my necklace,” Minako said dryly, knocking back the rest of her drink.
At first, Endymion didn’t quite understand, but it eventually dawned on him. “The male version of a gold digger.”
“Yeah,” she quipped, tossing her empty glass into the bushes. “You’d think he’d at least have the decency to want my body as well. I at least could have gotten a good romp for my efforts.”
Endymion couldn’t remember the last time he had blushed, but he was quite certain that that’s what was happening at that precise moment. He took a very long sip of his drink, looking around for someone to rescue him in case Minako got any more detailed. Sadly, there was no one in sight. He wondered if maybe they were avoiding the scene, laughing at him from some hidden corner.
Minako looked at him strangely. “What? That was the clean version.”
Endymion very much wished that the world made bigger wine glasses.
She frowned, cupping her chin in her right hand, her nails gently touching her pink glossy lips. “I wasn’t even looking for something serious, you know? I just… wanted someone outside of all… this.” She gestured vaguely at the palace and the party with her other hand, letting it fall limp at her side when her point was made. “It gets hard down here. You know?”
Endymion chuckled, recovering from her openness. He nodded a bit and remarked, “I know exactly what you mean.”
“But at least you have… Serenity,” Minako said carefully, and he could tell that it sounded foreign in her mouth.
He wanted to tell her that his wife was hardly a solace. She was just another reminder of what he’d lost, of what he’d given up, of what he’d never have. She was a living example of the dreams he had given up. She may have been his wife, but she wasn’t the woman he married, and the knowledge of that was slowly eating him alive. And in that moment he wanted to grab Minako by her pale white shoulders and tell her all of this, begging her to understand. This wasn’t what he wanted. He knew it wasn’t what any of them wanted, but while they all wallowed with each other, he was left alone with his wife. And he wasn’t sure how much longer he could stand it.
But he just set his empty glass down on the railing and said, “Yes. Yes, I have Serenity.”
Endymion thought that was all over, but unfortunately, Minako continued down that train of thought. “It must be nice… living the fairy tale. Happily ever after and all that.”
He swallowed, avoiding her gaze. “What else could anyone want?”
Minako grew quiet for a moment, her liquid eyes taking on an odd cast. She turned to look at him directly for the first time since they’d begun speaking, forcing him to look at her again. She had that arresting quality, making it impossible to look anywhere else but her face if that’s what she wanted. But even then it didn’t seem like she was looking at him even though their gazes were locked. She seemed to be somewhere else entirely, and he found that both worrisome and enviable.
“I thought it was going to be me, you know.”
He blinked, not fully comprehending. “What do you mean?”
“Living the fairy tale,” Minako explained, resolute in her words. “You see, I... I… Artemis didn’t tell me,” she blurted, her voice cracking a bit.
“Didn’t tell you…” His eyes widened in shock as he took in the meaning of her words. Back then, so very long ago, when Sailor Venus had arrived. He’d remembered thinking she was the picture of grace and elegance. Emerging from the moonlight, it had been hard to look at her. And later, when he’d realized that she’d been a decoy, he had marveled at how wonderfully she’d played her part.
She hadn’t been playing.
“You mean…” he whispered, staring at her in a way that would have made any other human being uncomfortable. “You thought you were--"
“Yes,” she interrupted, perhaps fearing it would be blasphemy to utter such a thing. They were all so careful now. “And I thought we…” she trailed off, her cheeks taking on an appealing pink tinge. Her eyes fluttered away from him, shielded by midnight dark lashes. “Well, you were Endymion. I always knew that. And I… thought I was… So, I just assumed…” She laughed, sniffing a bit and rubbing her bare arms at a cold he didn’t feel. “It’s silly isn’t it? Even remembering that.”
Endymion swallowed, finding his mouth was oddly dry. “It isn’t silly.”
“You know, even after that I still clung to the hope that maybe I’d find my own prince,” she went on painfully still looking at him. He was amazed at her bravery then. Facing the demons of hell was one thing. But facing another human being so intimately was entirely different. He couldn’t help but admire her agony. “Even if it’s just meant to be a casual fling, I still hope that maybe it’ll work out this time. Maybe this one will be right. Maybe this one is my prince, cliché as it is…
“But no man ever seems to measure up to you.”
Minako blinked in horror that those words had been said, her hands flying to her mouth. She managed to blush and go white with horror at the same time, staring up at him, sorry for having ever thought it much less said it. She’d been too honest and let her thoughts run away from her. She’d confessed more than either of them had wanted. But there was no taking it back now, and she didn’t know how she could possibly fix it. She began to walk away from him in a flurry of gold and sparkles, no doubt wanting to lock herself in her room for several millennia until this exchange could be forgotten.
He didn’t know why, but he very much wanted to kiss her then.
Endymion reached out and grabbed her arm and found himself pulled along with her as she teleported back to her chambers. Of course, that hadn’t been his intention, but he couldn’t help but take advantage of their solitude. He pulled her to him with practiced ease, bending his head to catch her lips unawares, holding her to him when she gave a surprised little squeak and tried to pull away. After a moment, a combination of old teenage lust and expensive alcohol clouded her thinking. He felt her hands slide up his chest and lock around his neck.
It was several long, heated moments before she pulled away long enough to ask, “What are you doing? What are we doing?”
“I didn’t want it either,” he muttered, trying to catch his breath. He tangled his hands in her hair, gold like his wife’s used to be but so different. It was thicker. He felt he could get lost in it. And he wanted to get lost in her, to forget his responsibilities and his vows to a woman he didn’t know anymore. “I wanted… so much more than this.”
“More than world domination?” she asked, amused by his grandeur.
He laughed, and it felt real for the first time in ages. Not derisive and not sarcastic. It was just laughing and it made him want to cry in gratitude. “So much more than that.”
Minako smirked then, her eyes sparkling in the dim light of her bedroom. She’d no doubt already arranged this for her previously scheduled rendezvous. She had good taste. “Wanna forget this ever happened?”
He didn’t respond with anything more than another kiss. He yanked her to him again, briefly concerned that he would crush her with his need, but he should have known better. She was hardly fragile. It would take a bigger man than him to break her, and he doubted there was one up to the task in existence.
He refused to release her, drinking in the scent of her sweat and her perfume, the taste of her lipstick and dark rum, the feel of satin slipping through his fingers and her skin smooth with battle scars, and the sounds of her moaning quietly into his ear, just loud enough to drown out his conscience and remind him how much he needed this respite.
“Say my name,” he instructed, desperate to hear the syllables fall from her swollen lips, breathy and wanting. Wanting him no less.
“Endymion,” she panted, having conditioned herself at precisely the wrong moment.
He bit her neck, pulling her as close to his own body without merging them together completely. “Not that. My name. Say my name, Minako.”
“Mamoru,” she whispered, clutching at his back as his hand ran up the length of her impossibly long leg until it met the junction of her thighs. She gasped, eyelids fluttering, neck exposed. “Oh, Mamoru, Mamoru, Mamoru…”
And in that moment, for the first time in ages, Chiba Mamoru was able to breathe.
