Sailor Moon Fan Fiction ❯ Heartless Angel ❯ One Who Bears The Light ( Chapter 3 )

3. One Who Bears the Light

 

It was the first time he had seen her closer than from the audience at a public assembly, the first time he'd ever stood on eye level with her. Neo-Queen Serenity was the picture of elegant beauty. Her white gown, beginning just below her fragile-looking collarbones, flowed down her willowy frame with deceptively simple grace, pooling around her feet in a pile of snowy fabric large enough to suggest a significant excess even when she stood. Aside from the pastel rose-hued fabric at the back of her dress, styled to give the subtle impression of fae-like wings, the Queen needed no ornamentation in her attire to command respect and awe; her demeanor and presence alone spoke for her. Her visage was cherubic, mature and yet possessed of a kind of preternatural innocence that made the stylized “wings” seem all the more appropriate. Her hair was gathered atop her head, evenly spaced apart over her ears, in two spherical knots, each of which trailed into a long, flowing tail that flowed down along her sides and dangled to rest in coils upon her skirt. Even when standing, they would clearly fall at least to her ankles. The only adornments she boasted were the bejeweled little half-crown that nestled in her golden hair, two golden crescent earrings that dangled from each ear—and a symbol shining softly from the very skin of her brow, the ever pervasive golden crescent moon, the very symbol that adorned the brow of her feline messenger, the door and arch of the audience chamber, and the shoulder of the CTDF uniform. The royal crest—so this was its origin.

 

In the seat to her right, its back appropriately lower and shaped in a manner similar to the rest, was a Sailor Soldier he did not recognize. Her resemblance to the Queen was unmistakable; the similar style of her blindingly pink hair (two vaguely conical knots of hair atop her head, trailing down into twin tails that framed her in her seat) might have been taken as simple hero(ine) worship, but the fae-like facial features, the large, innocent eyes and even her bearing suggested more. …the Princess? She's a…? There was no mistake when they were sitting side-by-side like that. The spell that concealed the Sailor Soldiers' identities was strong, but easily broken in the right circumstances, and in the current age few of them took great pains to hide themselves. She appeared roughly the correct age, between fifteen and seventeen, and her red, white and blue fuku, much more elaborate and ornamental than the rest, was proudly decorated in multiple places—including the setting in her tiara where the others each bore a colored stone—with golden crescent emblems. With a start, he noticed something that had failed to leap to his notice immediately, a pale gray ball of fluff curled up in her lap, on which one of her white-gloved hands lightly rested. A subtle shift of the fluff-ball revealed a small golden crescent emblem; a third cat, it seemed, snoozing quite contently.

 

Despite his injuries (which, all told, caused more trouble due to itching than to pain), Alex kept his shoulders high and his bearing straight as he strode down the carpet, passing between the two lines of chairs facing him. He still felt conspicuous, self-conscious, almost naked standing before the most powerful gathering in the civilized world in nothing more than the cast-offs from his ripped and bloodied uniform, bandages still plain on his left forearm and right shoulder, but at least he managed not to limp. Upon reaching the center of the circle, standing an appropriately reverent distance from his Queen, he snapped to attention and raised his hand in formal military salute.

 

“Specialist Fourth Class Alex, Division Six, reporting as requested, Majesty.” His steely posture and features wavered, however, a nervous bead of sweat creeping down his temple as he added under his breath, “…eh-heh, this isn't about me trying to scratch the walls, is it? Because if it is, there's a perfectly logical explanation for that.”

 

A sharp look he could feel before he could see, three chairs to his left, told him that was not what this gathering was about before the Queen could speak. “I look forward to hearing it,” Sailor Uranus stated with deadly earnest. Alex swallowed. Hard. He snapped back into his crisp salute, struggling to conceal his anxiety with formality.

 

Thankfully, the Queen's look was one of mild, subdued amusement, though there was something…else he could not pin down. He was careful to control his bemused expression, maintaining that stiff and formal salute.

 

“Be at ease, soldier.” Her voice, when she spoke, hardly sounded as though it could have been produced by mere human vocal chords—but he had seen her mouth move, regardless, and though it had not been spoken in tones of command he let his salute fall and his posture loosen somewhat. “You are among friends,” the Queen continued, the same small smile still gracing her features. “Grateful friends. You were directly instrumental in the safe recovery of the mystical Silver Crystal.”

 

“Merely performing my duty to the Crown, my Queen,” Alex murmured, lowering his eyes to the floor self-consciously. “Thanks should go to the three brave soldiers who fell to his blade.” Grey…I swear I'll get him for you… “It was thanks to their sacrifice that the thief was stopped.”

 

Sorrow, true sorrow, flickered through the Queen's radiant azure eyes. “Rest assured, Alex, their loss shall neither be forgotten, nor taken for granted. Thanks to them, and you, the enemy was delayed and the Silver Crystal was recovered. Thanks to them, you are still alive and with us. Every life is as precious as any other.”

 

“Yes, Majesty,” he agreed solemnly, but it felt hollow. Three lives for his one…it was a horribly unbalanced `reprieve'.

 

Neo-Queen Serenity's eyes remained dark for a long moment, but finally she lifted her gaze, her smile banishing the misery of the moment. “Enough. Now is not the time to linger on sorrows. The Crystal is safe and the attack on our fair city was repelled with minimal losses. Your three fellows will be memorialized, be assured. But today, we show our thanks to you.”

 

So…Hotaru had been right? It was to be an award ceremony after all? …small crowd for an award ceremony. Aren't there usually audiences for these things? Still, it didn't pay to question the royalty on such things.

 

The Queen tipped her head subtly, gazing beyond his shoulder. Frowning, Alex half-turned to glance back. Sometime during the intervening period while Alex was addressing the Queen, Artemis had vacated the Venus chair and taken up a position at one side of the audience chamber door. Sitting on the other side was a second cat, nearly identical to Artemis save that its fur was inky black and its eyes glinted red in the soft light from the crystal ceiling. Even as Alex watched, the golden crescent carved into the wooden door began to glow once again, as it had when he'd touched it before. Slowly, the doors parted, and as before what lay beyond was utterly obscured by white light until it opened completely.

 

The figure who strode into the audience chamber, flanked on either side by the two cats (their tails and noses held smugly high), was unmistakable.

 

Bright, flamboyant orange high-heels, held in place by orange straps about the slender ankles; long, ever so long bare legs, leading up to an almost laughably short orange skirt (held in place by a large orange bow at the back of her waist whose ends trailed like twin flowing tails) that made an heroic effort of preserving her modesty; above this, a white uniform (of sorts) made of robust cloth, thick like padded armor but aesthetically streamlined to hug curves in a not-unattractive manner. Another large bow, this one deep navy blue, adorned it at the center of the chest, a golden brooch presumably holding it in place at the base of her uniform's orange V-neck collar. Sleeveless, it gave way to bare upper arms, which subsequently gave way to elbow-length white gloves that terminated in orange trim. Above the uniform, a slender orange choker circled her neck closely, and above that, the bluest eyes he had ever seen…

 

Moving on. Partially obscured by her gilded bangs was a narrow golden band, a circlet or tiara that dipped in front to form a partial V whose point terminated between her fine eyebrows. Set directly into its center was an ovoid topaz, its color nearly blended with the circlet itself. That golden hair cascaded down over her shoulders, framed her like a cape, barely held in check by a final, overlarge crimson bow at the back of her head.

 

Sailor Venus, Soldier of Love—often called, by those who served in her division of the CTDF, the Goddess of Love. However, her step was anything but ethereally divine today. She strode with her back stiff and straight, her head held high and her fine eyebrows drawn together in a most unpleasant manner. Nestled in her folded arms was a vaguely oblong bundle wrapped in white cloth, clutched close to her chest like a precious infant she refused to let anyone near. Even the two cats seemed vaguely wary of her, despite their distance.

 

Venus had no eyes for him as she strode down the narrow carpet path, her dark eyes boring into the Queen beyond him. Turning to face her, Alex carefully controlled his face as he gauged her reaction. The Queen seemed, amazingly enough…almost awkward. She would not meet the other woman's gaze directly, her eyes immediately focusing on the next nearest subject available—which happened to be him.

 

“It seems that Sailor Venus has arrived with the award with which you are to be presented,” she said, and Alex was mortally certain he could detect the vaguest hint of a quaver in her voice as Venus' heels clicked ever closer. Before the Love Soldier could so much as draw level with him, however, the Queen lifted a hand, bidding her wordlessly to stop. Alex did not turn to look this time, but he heard the clicking cease. His arms were stiff by his sides, his posture militantly attentive once again. The two cats, perhaps predictably, ignored the Queen's gesture and strode past him on either side, coming to sit on their haunches on either side of the Queen's chair with their tails curled around before their front paws.

 

Serenity's voice was firm and resolute once more as she spoke again. “Turn and accept your award for devout service and bravery in the face of adversity, Division Six Specialist Fourth Class…Alex.”

 

A kind of hush settled on the room, as Alex slowly turned, his brow furrowed suspiciously. Something was going on here, and he was part of it without being party to it.

 

Venus' eyes were already wide when he turned to face her, her brows drawn together in puzzlement mingled with…something else. When he faced her completely, still standing smartly at attention, her impossibly blue eyes somehow went wider still, perfectly round like saucers ringed with crystalline blue. Her petite jaw dropped open…and the bundle dropped from limp arms, tumbling to the floor with the distinct clatter of metal.

 

The rattle of metal at her feet (having miraculously managed not to fall onto her heel-shod feet) jerked her back to attention, and her fair cheeks tinted with color as she stooped quickly to gather it up again. Alex frowned, shifting his weight. Personally soothing as it was to the ego, he was well aware that he was not one of those men who had that…sort of effect on the opposite sex. Particularly not on the Sailor Soldier who could hold a significant percentage of the military by the heart-strings with little more than a smile and a wink.

 

Stepping closer, watching him like a predator in a zoo cage at first, Venus' eyes dipped slowly to the bundle in her arms and then lifted to him again. Something was odd in her gaze as she stretched her arms out, the bundle draped across her white-gloved palms. Now, rather than the possessiveness of a mother with her infant, Venus presented it to him with a strange kind of numbness, almost as though she were sleepwalking. Her eyes were unreadable now, void of the ire that had accompanied her entry into the audience chamber. Raising his hand, Alex curled his fingers around the cloth-wrapped shape. There was no mistaking the feel of a sword sheath, even through the cloth.

 

Venus did not take her wide, blank eyes from him, even as she edged around him to take her place in the chair whose back glowed with her planetary symbol. More than a little unnerved, Alex turned to face the Queen again, not certain whether he was to unwrap this…award…or not. She nodded to him, almost…urgently.

 

He attempted to maintain a proper air of ceremony, despite the lack of a crowd—he was surrounded by eight of the nine royal Guardians, and standing before the Queen herself!—but a part of the cloth snagged on the crossbars of the sword as he struggled to tug it free, forcing him to fumble awkwardly with it. Though he had failed to avoid embarrassing himself, he did at last manage to get the shroud loose, revealing at last his `award'.

 

It was indeed a sword, once again arousing his suspicions full-mast. Don't they usually give medals for injury in the line of duty? Again, though, he did not presume to question the Queen on her methods. Instead, he turned his attention to the weapon in his hands, draping the white shroud over his bandaged right shoulder so his hands were free.

 

It was a marvel to behold, in truth; almost more a work of art than a weapon. The entirety of the hilt was composed of silver, or at least some metal polished to shine with the perfect reflection of silver. What was more, it was not a solid piece; rather, it appeared to be an intricate composition of thick silver strands, twined and woven together to form the hilt and crossbars of a European-style sword. The handle was sheathed with an ivory grip, contoured to fit the shape of fingers; at the pommel of the sword, the silvery twine jutted at a blunt right angle, as if to partially frame the hand holding it. Set between the crossbars was a large, faceted, teal-colored stone whose nature he could not identify. The sheath was the color of ivory, braced with silver filigree.

 

As numb as Venus had been, he raised his eyes to the Queen. “It's…it's incredible, your Highness.”

 

“It belonged to a warrior who fell an age ago, fighting for this world,” she proclaimed, her small smile reminiscent, and if he looked closely enough…a little sad. Shaking her head as though to clear it of such thoughts, she turned her gaze up to him with an oddly hesitant expression. Her eyes slid, briefly, around the circle of Sailor Soldiers, and Alex followed despite himself. Most of the Soldiers (save the Princess, who looked vaguely confused) met her with subtle nods. Venus' answering glance was once again subtly hostile, but even as he watched she turned that odd gaze back upon him, causing him to shift uncomfortably and look to the Queen again.

 

Her head tilted somewhat to the side as she watched. “Alex…will you draw the sword?”

 

Blinking, Alex glanced down to the marvelous but clearly ceremonial weapon, then back up to the Queen. She continued to watch him, expectantly—as though her words had been a genuine request, not a command. Awkwardly, he found his own eyes drifting about the circle. Venus, in particular, seemed on the edge of her seat. Uranus and Neptune, seated on opposite sides of him facing one another, both had shrewd, calculating looks in their eyes. Mars, Mercury and Jupiter each wore expressions as though they were watching the climax of a movie; distant Saturn watched with truly blank face, her amethyst eyes unreadable. And the Princess—who could only have been Sailor Moon's modern advent, the leader of the Sailor Soldiers—seemed to be the only one present who had as little clue what was going on as he.

 

Even the cats were watching him, expectantly.

 

More than a little uncomfortable with all the attention focused upon him, some intimidating and some simply unsettling, he lifted the sword up by the sheath in his left hand, his right curling around the ivory grip of the sword. He hefted it up before his eyes, taking in a deep, preparatory breath. Obviously they were expecting something to happen when he drew it. He sincerely doubted it would explode, else they'd not have asked him to draw it standing so close to the Queen, but he wanted to be prepared.

 

It was actually a struggle to draw from its sheath—literally. It was not rusted in place, nor was there a latch; rather, as he began to pull, the weapon literally started to shake in his grasp, the force growing more violent the harder he pulled. It was like the thing was literally trying to jump out of his hands. White energy began to crackle around the seam and the teal gem in the hilt, tendrils running up and down the weapon and his arms like lightning, causing them to tingle like liquid fire running through his veins. For a long, eternally long moment he debated the merits of flinging the sword away.

 

Involuntarily, the words burst from his throat, even as the blade exploded from its scabbard.

 

“Light come forth!!”

 

Power, unbridled, unchecked power coursed through his body. He could feel it, a painful constriction in his ribs at first, causing him to clutch painfully at the front of his shirt with his free hand and groan through his teeth. The feeling passed, however replaced with pure exhilaration. Gazing down at his hand, the flesh-tone was replaced with a blazing sapphire glow, though his clothing and visible bandaging remained undisturbed.

 

That was when it hit him, truly hit him. His back arched, his head flinging back, as the sword blazed blindingly. Unbidden, his arm swept it through the air across his body in a broad arc, cleaving through the empty space with a whuff of parted air. In its wake it left a wave of blue-white energy which washed over him, clinging as it passed, settling over his shoulders with genuine weight like a shroud. Another sweep, to his right, created another curving band of light that curved around his forearms. The final cleave brought the weapon and his arm once again across his upper body, but the wave in its path descended to circle his calves.

 

His arm, hapless puppeteer of the sword, brought it around to lever over his left shoulder, as though for a heavy back-handed swing. A sound built up in the back of his throat like a growl, against his will, and with a snarling cry he flung the sword through the air a final time. The shining blade flashed brilliantly, the blinding light dazzling even him, and when it cleared…

 

All the Soldiers, even the Queen herself, were shielding their eyes. The cats were blinking, having turned their gaze away during the final phase. All the eyes upon him were round, though many of them were tinged with a hint of knowing, or disbelief.

 

Looking down, Alex found it difficult to suspend his own disbelief. His clothing had been completely displaced—not the greatest loss, considering that the only part that had belonged to him was the shirt—by an entirely new ensemble. Draped over his shoulders was a long, sleeveless, split-tailed white coat, trimmed with gold, whose divided ends trailed down just below his knees. Beneath it, his sleeveless black shirt had been replaced by a long-sleeved one; the sleeves disappeared into a pair of silver forearm bracers that extended from his wrists to just short of his elbows. Similarly to the sleeves of Sephiroth's coat, the forearm bracers were molded on the outward-facing sides into fin-like blades. Beyond these, his hands were sheathed with black gloves, also tucked into the bracers. Glowing faintly from the back of each bracer was a single spherical stone, the same teal color as the one on the sword. Below the waist, his pressed military-issue pants had been replaced with a set of loose black trousers, tucked into gold-trimmed white boots that came as high as his knees. Set into each, just at the protective knee covering, was another perfectly smooth teal half-sphere. Completing the costume, from his neck was suspended a silver medallion in the shape of a triangle that rested heavily against his chest, set with the same stone in its center.

 

His right hand still clutched the sword, the sheath in his left. The long, double-edged blade itself was of a make he had never seen before; while the edges were perfectly smooth, silvery-hued metal, the gap within them was like a kind of perfectly smooth glass or stone, blue-white light swirling in its depths. Power continued to crackle over the blade and both his hands, sparks of blue light flickering and leaping in the air around him, begging to be released.

 

Not really thinking about it, he flipped the sword around upside-down in his hand, his arm relaxing slightly so that he could rest the flat of the blade against his pant leg. His eyes, the pale blue in their gray depths now flickering with inner light, lifted to the Queen first of all. The fingers of his left hand uncurled, dropping the sheath—which faded from existence as it fell, not even reaching the ground—and then slowly lifted to sweep through his now slightly wild hair. His brow furrowed, confusion finally settling in beneath the preternatural calm that had settled over him.

 

“…what did you do to me?”

 

For a long moment, no one seemed to know what to say. The Crown Princess' crimson eyes were the widest of all, though Venus seemed to struggle to compete with her. To his surprise, it was not the Queen who answered him—rather, for the first time, one of the other Soldiers spoke.

 

“It is…a very complicated situation.” It was Mercury, her deep blue eyes troubled. Ultimately, none of the Sailor Soldiers save Moon and Venus seemed particularly surprised by his metamorphosis, which troubled him all the more. Had he been set up?

 

Not that he felt…bad, really. In fact, he felt great. Powerful, confident. Stronger than ever, like he could take on the world…or that monster, Sephiroth.

 

“The trouble is where to begin.” This time, it was Mars speaking, her chin settled between her thumb and her first knuckle as she thought. Her eyes strayed briefly to Venus, sympathy clouding them momentarily.

 

“Look, this is all pretty uncomfortable,” Alex—somehow, even thinking of himself by that name felt…wrong now—admitted, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Can somebody give me the short of it?” Inwardly, he was somewhat aghast at his own bluntness, addressing the Queen and her court in such a manner. They seemed to let it pass, though he could have sworn the black cat next to the Queen's right foot was giving him a dirty look.

 

His Captain obliged him, Uranus clearing her throat softly for his attention and only speaking when he turned to face her. “Luminaire.” The name felt immediately familiar, satisfying…right. “You've been asleep for a long time. I wouldn't be surprised if your memory is not completely…fresh.” There were odd looks directed at her from several directions, though her partner Neptune matched her narrow-eyed gaze—and Luminaire, himself, watched her with blank neutrality.

 

Neptune picked up where she left off, forcing him to turn a complete one-eighty to face her. “Your powers are required again, however.”

 

“To defeat Sephiroth.” This time, he himself had spoken, though the voice scarcely felt like his own. It was as though a small, detached part of him was watching the rest act without inhibitions, with no sense of hesitation or reserve.

 

More heads lifted on all sides, bemused glances turning back and forth, but Neptune steepled her fingers in front of her. “Sephiroth?” she asked, her brows elevating subtly…probingly.

 

Luminaire snorted, his right hand lifting slightly, just enough to pitch the sword down so its point embedded at a slight angle in the carpet and the crystalline floor beneath. He caught a couple of flinches, and the black cat's tail bristled, but no one commented.

 

“Sephiroth is the name of the thief the Queen defeated,” he continued, idly flexing the fingers of his now empty hand.

 

Though a few of the Sailor Soldiers seemed vaguely uncomfortable with the direction the award ceremony had taken, Uranus and Neptune were unrelenting. Uranus was the one who questioned him next. “Were you able to learn anything else?”

 

“Only that his power and skill are immense. No mere human can possibly hope to stand against him. Those three privates didn't stand a chance. …neither did I.” His eyes narrowed, and he punched his right fist into his empty left hand with a resounding smack. “Next time, though…”

 

“Next time we will deal with him as a group,” Uranus interrupted him, her voice unyielding and hard as steel. “This man, this…Sephiroth…is too dangerous a foe to underestimate a second time. The very fact that he was able to steal the Silver Crystal to begin with should have told us this much.”

 

He met her eyes boldly, almost defiantly, something he would have greatly hesitated to do mere moments ago save under extreme circumstances, but she was implacable. Huffing a dissatisfied breath through his nostrils, he averted his gaze. “…right.”

 

Taking command of the meeting once more, the Queen raised her voice, prompting him to turn toward her. “Provided he dares to attack again. For now, perhaps it would be best to return matters to a state as close to `normal' as possible.”

 

Luminaire did not miss the subtle implication in her tone, and his left hand lowered to his side, fingers partially curling as though clutching something. Flickers of pale blue light coalesced into the form of his sword's silver-braced sheath, and he plucked it out of the flooring with a casual tug.

 

He actually hesitated, before returning it to its scabbard. This feeling, this power…it was intoxicating, as was the confidence and composure that seemed part and parcel to the effects. Still, Neo-Queen Serenity was looking at him expectantly, and he was not mad enough with power to defy her. Levering the point into place, he slowly slid the weapon away, hesitating only once before shoving the final inch home. It was not until the weapon clicked into place that a brief, dazzling flash of light overtook the local area again.

 

This blaze was much shorter, there was no flair and ceremony this time; the light flooded his vision, and when it was gone, so too was the new attire (replaced with his less than presentable clothing and bandages from before), the brimming power he had felt running through his arms…and, with them, the unnatural self-assuredness. Immediately, he swallowed hard, realizing just how crass he had acted seconds ago. He couldn't even safely say that he it had been like another person in his body, for he had possessed full control of his facilities at the time. His usual limitations had simply seemed more hollow, less meaningful. Hastily, he shifted his boot so that it covered the slit his sword had made in the carpet—and the gouge in the crystal flooring, material he had not been able to scratch with a diamond.

 

“Thank you, Specialist Alex,” the Queen was saying, seemingly heedless of his profuse nervous sweating. “As I am certain we all have a great deal to think about, we shall allow you to retire to your quarters at this time, while we discuss matters. You will find your injuries completely healed, I trust. Keep the sword with you, but I must request discretion when using it in front of those who are not Sailor Soldiers or of the royal family.”

 

“Y-Yes, my Queen,” Alex forced himself not to mumble, saluting sharply, and then beginning to step back with a bow. “Ah…by your leave.” Turning, he began a brisk walk toward the door.

 

The sound of a brief shuffle amongst the chairs caused him to pause and glance over his shoulder. Venus had started to rise, as if to pursue him, but from the chair to her right Uranus had restrained her, with a hand on her forearm. The Soldier of Love tossed matching looks of displeasure to both her and the Queen, before settling back into her chair. A glance in his direction told her he had seen the spectacle, evidently, for she quickly averted her eyes to gaze at nothing in particular.

 

Frowning, Alex continued toward the door. The hadn't let him ask any of the questions percolating through his head, and all he had to go on now was this strange weapon and a name.

 

Still, with this power…

 

Sephiroth, you are going to die.

 

The thought was like a mantra as the door cycled through its luminous opening sequence, and it carried him all the way to the barracks.