Sanctuary
A Sailormoon Generals Fanfiction
D. Gregory/K. Brinkman
Sailormoon is property of Naoko Takeuchi and all other appropriate copyright holders.
This is not meant as an infringement of any of their rights, and is simply an act of fannish appreciation.

The Sanctuary of Gaea was candlelit, but only moderately crowded. In the dim light, one veiled-silver clad woman sat alone in a long, dark wooden pew. The crowd murmured around her, but she sat in a tiny island of isolated silence. At the head of the Sanctuary stood the King and Queen, their small son Endymion beside them, and behind him, the red and gold armor and robes of young Lord Nephlite.

Malachite walked up the narrow carpeted walkway between the pews, pausing to bow to the silver-clad woman. His armor winked in the candlelight, the great hawks-head helmet with it's sky blue plume tucked under his arm.

A tiny form, dressed in dark indigo doublet and tights, walked quietly to the other side of the pew from the silver-clad lady. After kneeling toward the crown and altar, he enterend the pew, bowing deeply. His strawberry blonde curls were tightly held in place by a braid---his manners very becoming for such a young man. He spoke so softly that it could reach only the ears of the lady near him. "Zoicite, son of the Arch Duke and Dutchess Endymion---I bring my parents' compliments, might I have the honor of joining you? There was a tinkle of small, bell like earrings under the silvery veil as the Lady inclined her head. It was hard to tell, but her platinum eyes might have been amused: He bowed again, trying *very* hard not to smile. He had the great feeling that he'd just been seen right through, but he wasn't going to say anything if the lady wasn't. He sat down near to her, still speaking low. "... your son is my teacher...I'm very honored to make your aquaintance... I.. er.. that is , we are very proud of him."

Lady Azurite turned her head, to look up at the altar where the King and Queen stood, but she patted Zoicite's hand gently. Each golden-tanned finger had polished silver band on it. Beyond her, Malachite's face was expressionless as he made his way up the aisle, the tiniest smile brushing the corners of his mouth as he bowed.

Zoicite watched in rapt attention, after glancing just once at the hand that touched his. He turned to face the dais, watching in almost breathless anticipation. His eyes held starlight as they followedMalachite's journey to where the Crown stood. There was a faint rustle of fabric and mail as Malachite knelt before the Crown, the helm by his side, his eyes met Nephlite's as he bowed, as if something unspoken passed between them, then he dipped his head, his hair picking up a mother-of-pearl sheen in the candlelight and dim light filteringthrough the stained-glass over the altar.

The man-child beside Lady Azurite was holding his breath. He may have forgotten to breathe, or perhaps was trying not to gasp aloud. The King laid his sword on Malachite's shoulder as the raven-haired boy beside him tried valiantly to stand still. Nephlite laid a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder and he stilled with a sheepish smile.The ritual exchange and oath of fealty were brief, and Malachite's voice was strong, carrying to the back of the Sanctuary... but to a careful ear, there was still a youth's nervous quaver underneath.

Zoicite sat forward on the pew, each word spoken ringing from his ears into his heart. Too young to understand everything going on around him, he settled on a wide smile and shimmering eyes. There was the audible scrape of steel on steel as the King withdrew the sword and Malachite stood up, bowing and saluting the Crown and the family royal, before turning and saluting the gathering in the Sanctuary. The look of pride on his face, unmistakable. Zoicite was biting his lip, drawing blood, trying to keep from crying and shouting out---so overwhelmed was he. He'd never really felt pride in another's accomplishments before.. but this truely took his breath away. A vow of his own joined those spoken here... "I *will* make him proud"

Nephlite stepped beside him, and the two briefly clasped arms, a contrast of fire and ice before the assemblage, before the Crown gave him leave. He paused again at his mother's pew, offering his armto her, but catching Zoi's eye. Zoicite stood immediately, looking at Malachite, the corner of his lip turning upward. He bowed to the Lady, stepping back---his eyes never leaving Mal's face...*I'm proud of you* written in the radiance of the boy's face. Lady Azurite stood with a tinkle of bells and a rustle, her hand momentarily brushing Zoicite's cheek fondly. Her eyes seemed to sparkle like moonlight under the silver veil as she took her son's arm. Malachite smiled proudly at Zoe before leading his ghostly mother out.

Zoicite blushed furiously at the Lady's touch, and bowed low again as the two made their way out of the Sanctuary. With a fanfare, the Royal family was escorted out, before the nobility and knighthood could leave, but the moment they started to file out, the murmuring tide of gossip started. Such an odd family. The silver witch and her dottard knight husband..hard to see Lord Kunzite anywhere in that lad she bore... Zoicite turned his head, bright blue eyes piercing right at the speaker. He wasn't much, the "throw-away" child in a set of misborne twins, but he *was* the Arch-Duke's son, he had a title and posistion if he lived to claim it---but he bore his father's coldest look at the loose- tongued courtier.

Malachite obviously looked like his mother--he'd seen the same beautiful platinum eyes shining behind that veil---it must be pure jealousy, that.. for she was obviously a beautiful woman. Zoicite, furious, made his way out of the sanctuary--wishing he could slap the smug smiles off of every face who'd dared to defame his beloved master. He was looking, as were others, he was certain, to see where Sir Malachite had taken his lady mother.

There was a brief shift in the conversation nearest to Zoicite, but rumours were hard to quell with a stony glare. Malachite's family was nearly destitute, the rumors said, their holdings gone or ruined over the generations of noble, but financially incompetent heirs. Their connection to the crown was considered so thin as to be ephemeral...and the witch... Her silver gown, so carefully maintained and repaired over the years, twinkled in the twilight as Malachite aided her into a carriage.

Zoicite's fists were balled in rage, but he was *not* going to challenge some aging courtier at the scene of Malachite's Knighthood. He knew Mal better than these idiots---and what good did "connections" to the crown do? Didn't his own *twin*--the young prince's second cousin---sleep away under the apple trees instead of practice or study? Zoicite moved nearer to the carriage, so small asto be of little consequence to most there.

If Malachite even heard the jibing, it didn't seem to reach him as he mounted his steed. From inside the dark recesses of the nearby carriage, a pair of silvery eyes peered at Zoicite - who - caught and embarrassed, turned pink and bowed his head, raising his hand lightly in a salute. His heart was screaming at the lazy, wicked, muckrakes, but he was sheepish at being caught peeping like a chiminey sweep.

**I should like to see you before I return to my lands, little fierce one** the touch in Zoicite's mind was like a sprinkling of stardust, before the carriage began to clatter down the cobbled road towards the palace. There was a ripple of cheering as Malachite saluted some of his fellow warriors before following. The royal family had left quietly, the King allowing his youngest knight his brief moment of glory.

Zoicite gasped and gaped, only catching in on the cheering right at the last--in a strangled, cracking, youthful tone. So she *was* indeed a witch---well, must be a good one then, to have produced Malachite... and to be so gentle and fair. He thought at the place in his mind touched, not knowing if she could hear or not; *I.. am at your service lady... honored.* Then he circumvented the revelers and went off for the stables, his father kept horses there... he took one and rode off.. in the direction Mal and his mother's carriage rode.

--------

The apartments Lady Azurite had chosen for her visit were set off from the Palace compound, a former retreat, perhaps, for a Queen and her ladies, away from the normal turmoil of the palace. She sat on a worn stone bench outside, alone, as if she waited for only Zoicite, her veil lay in her lap, revealing the pearl-white hair that spilled over her shoulders, and the fine lines around her platinum eyes:

Zoicite bowed again, then came forward to fall to one knee before her. He was slowly learning the difference in those who required respect and those who deserved it. This lady deserved it. "Lady..?" His voice breaking slightly, youthful nerves a-quiver.

"Don't be afraid of me, child. Come here.. sit beside me.." Her voice was soft and cool as her touch. "May I look at your hands?" Zoicite blushed, but sat next to her, holding out his hands. "Of course, Lady---I'm not truely afraid.. I don't think ...."

"It's alright, young duke. Many people are afraid of me." Her tone was mild and unoffended as her neat nails traced the patterns on Zoicite's palms. "So. it's as I expected..." She muttered to herself, before looking into Zoicite's eyes. "My son believes you will suprise everyone someday. I believe he is correct." She smiled fondly again. Turning yet a darker shade of pink, Zoicite shook his head slowly. "I.. well, I wouldn't contradict you... and if they're scared of you because you're beautiful, they just have dull wives..." He clamped his hand over his mouth, realizing that he'd spoken so in front of a lady--much to used to his brother for company. "..does he really think so?... I..uh.. don't want to.... embarrass him." He kicked at a clump of grass.

She laughed, the silver earrings chiming. "He doesn't say exactly so in his letters, but he has every faith in you, my sharp little one." Azurite stood suddenly, then. "When you return to the palace, please..give this to my son?" she produced a small scroll from the folds of her gown. "Of course lady.." Zoicite scrambled to his feet, bowing. "I.. I am honored to meet you..." Something was making him feel very sad--he didn't understand it, but he almost wanted to beg her to stay.

She touched his cheek again, her hands impossibly cool for the warm night. "We will not meet again, little Zoicite. But it was a pleasure to for this once." He swallowed, leaning into the gentle touch... only Malachite--and his mother, so it seemed, were unafraid to touch him. "I.. I think I understand." She simply turned then, with a rustle of silver skirts, leaving Zoi alone with the white roses in the garden.

Zoicite touched the flower petals, then made his way back to the Castle. He had to scrub one silly tear from his face before he made his way to where he *hoped* Malachite would be. Even if he were with Nephlite, he had a good reason to interrupt, did he not? He walked into the castle, looking and listening for the newly appointed First Knight.

As he stalked silently through the halls, he *would* have enjoyed the feeling of walking right past people who didn't even realize he was there.. but this was different. He had a reason to be in these halls... he was looking for Malachite.. Sir Malachite now.. Finally, through the labyrinthine passages he made the turn toward where he knew Mal's rooms were, the door ajar and spilling flickering light into the corridor. Something about the missive he carried seemed.. heavy... in his heart somehow... He wondered about Mal's Lady Mother as he paused.

In the spartan room, Malachite was perched on his bed, ceremonial uniform and armor neatly arranged in all their correct places. He wore a plain blue tunic and trousers, forgoeing even shoes at the moment. He sat with a musty book, supplementing the light from the nearby lamp with a small,bobbing globe of light. A small mage-trick, worthy of Nephlite's contempt on the best of occasions.

Struck at how stunning he looked, it took Zoicite a moment to swallow and knock politely. "Pardon, lord..?"

Malachite looked up, startled. For a brief moment, he looked younger than his 16 years, before his normal, serious-adult expression took over. The magelight, however, flickered and poofed away as his concentration slipped. "Zoicite. I hadn't realized I'd left the door ajar. ....come in. Please. He swung his feet off the bed, standing with sudden grace.

Zoicite grinned before he could catch himself. He closed the door behind him and walked forward... belatedly remembering to bow. "I.. have something here.." He produced the scroll from his belt. "Your lady mother asked that I bring you this?" He offered it to Malachite.

Tilting his head, Malachite took the scroll, breaking the silver wax seal to read it with a growing frown. Zoicite winced at the expression, feeling like he was intruding. He moved back a few steps to the door. "I..uh.. I'll leave you ... to read in peace..." Malachite looked up, eyes old and grey and weary. "You don.. uhm..certainly." He sighed and raked his hair back.

Zoicite stopped, instant concern, filling his eyes. "Mal...?" He bit down on his lip again. "I... are you .. okay?" Malachite's eyes flicked back down to the letter for a moment. ".....yeah. ..yes. yes. Thank you..for the concern."

Zoicite was unconvinced,remembering everything that *had* to have gone on with his mentor today, and his eyes searched the room for wine, juice, water..food..*something*. " ....sorry, Lord.. you.. don't look the thing at *all*... and you're a *terrible* liar, if I can say that and live..." He was trying to grin.

A silver eyebrow shot up. "I suppose I'll have to improve on that. Zoicite....." he paused, confused, watching Zoi begin to scurry abou the room. "..what are you doing?

"Looking to see if the good Knight has anything to eat or drink before he falls over on his noble nose... Sir..." He tried not to snicker as he poked through the cupboards. "And, please, leave the lying to those of us better at it... unbecoming and all..."

Malachite narrowed his eyes at Zoicite, a look of stern disapproval that often startled and cowed warriors twice his age. But his heart really wasn't in it. "Look.. I.. appreciate the effort... but...Zoi.. you don't have to nursemaid me.." He sounded defeated and sat heavily onthe edge of the bed.

The smaller boy turned around on him, staring him down. His lower lip was trembling, but he had it caught in his teeth again. "I'm *not* a nursemaid... I'm the closest thing to a squire you've got at the moment..." He walked over to Malachite , and stood kicking at the ground. His eyes proclaiming emotions that he couldn't voice. "Besides, *someone's* gotta save you from yourself.. you're going
to get all stiffnecked, stuffy and conceited unless you've got some annoying brats around to keep you busy.... Now..." Zoicite took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "....where can I get you some wine? I can run to get some fruit ...or something from the kitchens..."

Malachite suddenly wasn't sure if he should be angry or amused. "Concieted? Stiffnecked? STUFFY?? Me??" He folded his arms, the letter rustling. "Fine..*Squire* ...There's a sixth of yellow wine in the wardrobe. I keep it for field emergencies. And there's probably some dried meat in my sack. Good luck."

Zoicite's eyes lighted, and his next breath hitched in his throat--tell-tale sign that he was more additude than substance. He went and got the wine, found an appropriate glass---then raised his eyebrow at the dried meat. "Ick. You *sure* you don't want something...real?"

Mal laughed softly, a deeper version of his mother's laugh. "You'll have to get used to that in the field, *squire*. But..why not? Go fetch us something from the kitchen." Zoi nodded, he knew very well what field rations were, muttering, "..not in the field now, are we..." He turned toward the door.. then skidded to a comical halt... peeking over his shoulder, his face draining of color. "...uh... squire? I..uhm... was.. picking.. at you.... m'lord.. I.. um...."

Malachite simply folded his arms and gave the closest thing Zoicite had ever seen to a self-righteously smug *smirk* on that silver-eyed face. He knew he'd been bested....even if he *did* prefer it to the gray weary look he'd had before. He made a note to himself to beat his head into a stone wall every time he thought about opening his mouth from now on.

Bowing, he escaped from the room--tearing off at a full run to the kitchens below. Malachite shook his head and laughed again as the younger boy took off down the hall, before he sighed, reading the letter again.

His mother's hand was neat and elegant, the ink a deep blue and smelling vaguely of violets.

"Dearest Son:
Today was a wonderous day for me. You have
become a man in your own right. And well it should
be. I expect your father's body to have finally
passed away by my return to the keep. Servants will
return with the remainder of your belongings.
Your place is here now, my son. Although you should
never see me again, know that I will always love you.

Always, Azurite"

It was less than 10 minutes later, Zoicite returned, with a large covered tray. He knocked on the door and waited outside---trying not to bounce around from nervous excitement. Malachite let Zoicite in, watching him try to manage the tray. The letter lay on the bed, the grey look in his eyes still but better hidden.

Zoicite walked over, setting the tray down---*food* he needed no lessons in---he caught sight of the letter---and the not-so-well-hidden look in Mal's eyes, but went about setting up the table instead of saying anything about it. "I wasn't sure what you prefered---so I got several things.... and.. another flask of wine---so you can keep yours for your emergencies."

Mal nodded, looking at the table. "Excellent. maybe next I'll let you clean my armor." He said it with such a straight face, it was hard to tell if he was kidding. Zoicite looked at Mal at his armor, then back to the young knight again. "Yes, lord. But I'm afraid if I polished it now---you'd blind your friends as well as your enemies."

Malachite picked at some cold smoked duck with a wry smile. "Fine, fine. I suppose then you'll just have to eat something with me." Zoicite blinked audibly. "...you sure... ?"

That silver eyebrow quirked again "I'm not going to sit here and gorge myself with you standing there. Besides, you brought up enough food for a small army." Zoicite flushed, but sat opposite Malachite and made himself up a plate---oddly, not that much for a boy his age. "I.. I'm used to raiding the kitchen for Jed.." he muttered.

Malachite nodded sagely as he ate...as carefully and fastidiously as he did everything. "I'm sure your brother has a ...er..heatlthy appetite." He looked significantly at Zoi's plate: "Eats like a horse, yes.." Zoi picked at his food.. then looked up at Mal. "Oh..me?" He shrugged. "I'm a cheap feed.. I don't eat much." "Make sure you eat enough to keep your strength up..." Malachite said it half to himself as he picked at his food.

Zoicite stiffened a little. "Best as I can, Sir. I'm *not* going to die and drop on you or anything.." "I would be very displeased with you if you DID die on me, Zoicite." Mal said it gently but sternly.

Zoicite worked at quelling the icky feeling he always got when he had to think about his health. "Don't intend on it.. Sir." Finally, he sighed and set down his fork. "I... I haven'tbeen truthful with you, lord..." Malachite winced inwardly everytime Zoicite called him "lord". "What do you mean by *that*?"

Zoicite picked at the edge of his plate, not looking up. "I... that is.. I'm not a good choice...that is to say... You'd do better to get a squire who's better suited." His voice sounded older, somehow" I'm ... not that strong.... you should have someone who's going to live to grow up.." His voice dropped. "The healers aren't so sure about me..." He hurried the rest of the words out, caught between pride and shame. "...but I AM demmed good fighter... I can do anything anyone else can..."

Malachite leaned his chin on his hand. "Zoicite.. you have more determination in that runty little body than someone twice your size." He sat back a little. "I didn't agree to teach you to fight because I thought you weren't going to survive and do well."

Zoicite looked up, eyes a bit wide, one corner of his mouth curling up. " ... you were afraid I'd annoy the hell out of you unless you did?" Zoi glowed in the praise, but sobered quickly. " I.. just wanted to be honest, is all... I can't *promise* not to drop dead on you.. but I sure don't *intend* to..."

"See that you don't... squire." Malachite said archly, nibbling a fig.

Zoi smothered a chuckle. "Yes, sir." then started eating again. They ate in silence, Zoi refilling Mal's glass periodically and then waiting until the young knight seemed finished eating, before he spoke again. " ...your Mama's leaving... isn't she?"

Malachite frowned at him. "Did she say that to you?" There was a sudden edge in his voice. Zoicite shrugged. " ..sort of.. it's how she said goodbye.."

Malachite stiffened a little. "....yes. She's... always been willful that way..I suppose. She thinks I'm old enough to fend for myself now." He smiled thinly.

Zoicite muttered nearly beneath his breath. "I should have called them all out..the old fogies... they were *mean* ..."

"..Mean..? Zoicite, what are you talking about now?" Malachite frowned over at him. Zoicite fidgeted. "...um.. well.. I'm sorry, you know. She's a nice lady.. ...uh.. the.. old windbags in court..they sort of.. called her.. names. I *tried* to get them to hush...but..." He shrugged broadly. "...old windbags."

"You get used to them." Malachite said this with surprising mildness. "You can't let it get to you.. when you do, they've won. A warrior knows what battles to walk away from...." Zoicite muttered noncommitally again for a minute. "Yeah.. right. But still...I know you're all grown up and all... but... " He stopped himself. Mal wasn't a sissy---he didn't need his mother there... did he? but it *still* had to hurt. " you... gonna.. be okay... with that and all... ?" He floundered, not really knowing what you *did* to make a grown man feel better.

Malachite stood and walked to the window, looking out on the moonlit surrounds. An owl hooted softly in the darkness. "I suppose I'll have to be...life's road is rarely smooth and gentle..."

"...I don't think she's... mad at you or anything.." Zoicite's young mind struggled with issues more complex than he was used to. Malachite shook his head, not turning around. "No. She's not. She's just been waiting for this day. It's just her way to be like this."

Zoicite walked over carefully to Malachite. "uh.. Mal?" There was no 'lord' or 'sir' this time. He put a hand on Mal's forearm. "I..." He sighed and muttered. "I don't know *what* to say....just.. you're not *alone*... okay?"

Malachite looked down and ruffled Zoicite's coppery curls. "Thank you, Zoe... I know." He smiled wanly down at the boy. "I.. think I'd like to be by myself for a little bit, ok?"

Zoicite nodded, quickly clearing away the foodstuffs and trays---leaving the wine-- and bowed out of the room. His voice could be heard just as the door was closing. "...and congratulations, Mal...proud of you.." Mal smiled to the night sky, not wanting to turn his head so his new squire would see the tears in the corners of his eyes.