Summary: What might it take to turn a friend into a foe? A hero into a villain? A man into a monster? An imagining of Mamoru’s corruption at the hands of the Dark Kingdom.
Submission for Day 3 - Nightmares/“This isn’t real.”
Summary: What might it take to turn a friend into a foe? A hero into a villain? A man into a monster? An imagining of Mamoru’s corruption at the hands of the Dark Kingdom.
Summary:What might it take to turn a friend into a foe? A hero into a villain? A man into a monster? An imagining of Mamoru’s corruption at the hands of the Dark Kingdom.
Submission for Day 1 - Seduction/“What do you want?”
Summary:What might it take to turn a friend into a foe? A hero into a villain? A man into a monster? An imagining of Mamoru’s corruption at the hands of the Dark Kingdom.
So I had absolutely no plans to do anything for rare pair week. It’s really not my wheelhouse, and I’m already neck-deep in another project. The week rolled in, and seeing everyone’s enthusiasm, I smiled and thought to myself, ’That looks like fun. Shame that I write nothing but UsaMamo.’
Then I remembered this post. Later that night I had an outline.
While I’d hoped to have a complete (short) piece done today, it turns out this is going to be longer than I’d initially thought. But in the spirit of participation, I thought I’d post the first part here on Tumblr.
Kudos to everyone who has contributed fantastic work this week. The fandom is lucky to have you. ♥
She drops to the cold stone with a heavy thud, and her sharp cry of pain gives me an undeniable rush of pleasure. When she grunts and pushes up from the floor, I lean forward ever so slightly, eager to get my first good look at her. The ridiculous costume doesn’t suit her, and the yellow hair is different, but when she lifts her chin my breath catches. Though she looks a touch younger, her face is the same. Just as I remember it.
Her fearful gaze scans the room, seeking me out, and I sink back into the welcoming embrace of the shadows. Seated upon my throne, cloaked in darkness, I am shielded from her sight. The muscles in my legs twitch with anticipation, poised to rise, but I keep my seat a while longer, determined to let the tension build. I have long awaited this moment, and I intend to savour it.
Unable to detect the threat looming before her, she turns her eyes away, and a low hiss escapes my lips. Clenching my staff, I surge to my feet, ready to make myself known.
“Welcome Princess, you have done well to come this far. I commend you for that.”
Her head whips around, and the shadows recede at my bidding, revealing only what I wish to display. Her blue eyes grow wide.
“You’re…Queen Beryl?”
Indeed I am. But it was not always so. And she did not always look upon me with such fear.
——-
The day began like any other.
Awakened at dawn by the crowing of roosters, Beryl rose from her bed and began her daily chores, doing so quietly, so as not to wake her father. His habitual late nights spent in the tavern meant he rarely stirred before midday, and given that he was prone to fits of temper when disturbed, Beryl had learned the importance of stealth. Completing her indoor duties with swift efficiency, she grabbed her sunbonnet and apron from their hooks and stepped out of the cottage.
It was a beautiful summer morning, bright and warm with just a hint of a breeze. Though the sun was not yet high, Beryl donned her wide-brimmed bonnet out of habit, not wishing to add to her unfortunate collection of freckles. Cursed with her father’s red hair and pale complexion, any exposure to the sun left her burned or spotted or both. Running through a mental list of the tasks she wished to accomplish before supper, Beryl tied her apron round her waist and headed out to the garden.
Gardening was her favourite pastime. Years ago, it had been her father’s passion—and profession—but after Beryl’s mother had passed, everything had changed. Now Beryl tended their small plot of land on her own, and though the work was at times arduous, she found it rewarding. Her father had always taken meticulous care of the garden, and Beryl prided herself on maintaining those standards.
But beyond that, the garden was her sanctuary; the only place in which she was truly at ease. Outside among the plants, digging in the soil, she could weed out frustrations, prune away worries, and root herself in the present. Connecting with the earth and helping beautiful things to grow gave her joy, and the quiet work brought her peace. Beryl didn’t mind solitude. If anything, she preferred it. She had no desire to share her refuge.
Thus, she was understandably disconcerted when she walked into the garden that morning and found someone standing amidst her rosebushes.
Startled by the intrusion, Beryl stared at the cloaked figure in mute apprehension until they bent to touch one of her prize blooms. “Excuse me!” she called, her voice sharp.
The trespasser whirled around and blinked at Beryl with the largest, bluest pair of eyes she’d ever seen. “Oh,” they said, drawing back the grey hood of their cloak. “Hello.” It was a young woman, small of stature, with pale, almost luminescent hair and skin. She wore her hair in an odd style, tied up on either side of her head in two identical spheres with trailing tails that disappeared into her cloak.
“…Hello,” Beryl replied with caution. “What are you doing here?”
“Admiring these beautiful roses,” the young woman said, gesturing to the bushes surrounding her. “Is this your garden?” Though she spoke with a strange accent, Beryl had no trouble understanding her.
Somewhat pacified by the compliment and perceiving no immediate threat, Beryl relaxed a degree and answered, “Yes.”
The young woman’s face bloomed into a brilliant smile. “It’s lovely!” she exclaimed, whirling around in a circle. “I’ve never seen so many colours all at once. I didn’t even know roses could be red!”
Beryl blinked. “You’ve never seen a red rose?”
“No, we only have white roses on the—where I come from.”
“Where are you from?” Beryl asked, sweeping her gaze across the grey cloak once more, this time noting its rich fabric and fine stitching. The garment bore the telltale signs of finery.
“Oh, far from here,” the young woman replied, turning back to the roses. “I wish we had these at home. What are they called?”
The evasion had not gone unnoticed, but Beryl decided to leave it be for now. “Crimson Glory.”
“Crimson Glory…” the stranger repeated, pausing a moment to consider the name before her bright smile returned. “I love it! And I love them! Vibrant and striking, just like their caretaker.”
Mirroring the young woman’s infectious smile, Beryl quirked a brow at her last comment. “Do you mean me?”
“Who else?” the young woman answered with a small laugh. “With your sparkling green eyes and lovely red hair you make the perfect pair!”
Beryl lowered her chin as heat flooded her face. Reaching up to check that her long braid hadn’t come loose, she mumbled a reply. “That’s very kind, but I think most would say I’m a better match for a carrot.” Many had said just that. Beryl hated her hair; hated that it made her stand out when all she’d ever wanted to do was blend in.
The young woman clucked her tongue. “Fiddlesticks!” she said. “Anyone who would say such a thing is only envious. Your hair is gorgeous! Certainly better than my drab, colourless mop.”
“I think your hair is lovely,” Beryl told her, though the timid admission only renewed the warmth in her cheeks. Apart from the odd style, the young woman’s platinum hair shimmered in the sunlight, reflecting all the colours of the rainbow.
The young woman blushed before batting her eyelashes and adopting a sly grin. “Now who is being kind? You must tell me your name so I can thank you properly.”
A sudden fluttering in her stomach prompted Beryl to lower her gaze. “Oh, it’s um…it’s Beryl,” she stammered, fingering the frayed edge of her apron.
“Mine is Serenity. I’m delighted to meet you Beryl, you and your Crimson Glory.” Serenity’s smile faded as she turned to the roses with a look of longing. “I wish I could stay, but I’ve already strayed too long. Thank you for letting me admire your garden.”
Strangely reluctant to see her go, Beryl surged forward. “Wait!” Grabbing the pruning shears from the pocket of her apron, she moved to the bush and snipped its largest bloom. Checking to ensure the stem was free of thorns beforehand, she extended the rose. “A gift,” she said, “to commemorate our meeting.”
Serenity’s face broke into a smile, and her fingers brushed against Beryl’s when she accepted the rose. “The first of many, I hope.”
It’s still my favorite SM movie. The way Usagi and Mamoru fight for each other, sacrificing their lives for one another. I think the movie shows in such a painful but beautiful way how much Usa and Mamo love each other.
The movie highlights - in way the anime never did - how important Usagi is in Mamoru’s life, how lonely he was, and how she became his family. (I feel like we never got this heartfelt talk about his past in the anime.)
The finale still gives me goosebumps. The creators perfectly aligned the music to the scene, I could start crying just thinking about it. The way she opens her eyes and moonlight revenge starts and we know now something badass gonna happen.
She opens her eyes with THAT DETERMINATION. She shows her true colors here. She is Sailor Moon. She is Serenity. She is truly the saviour.
There is not one bit of uncertainty or fear in her.
And it’s Mamoru who - although he fears for her life - doesn’t flinch a second to transform and to support her. Because he know that it’s what she needs, never forcing her to act differently.(And he motivates the Senshi to do the same)
In the times of crisis he gives her this reassuring smile, it melts my heart.
And then the - for me personally - most painful Sailor Moon death happens. The way the crystal shatters in pieces. You can only imagine Mamoru’s reaction being the one to witness it first hand.
The next thing we see is a Mamoru completely broken and devastated. Not moving, eyes empty. I think we never saw him like this ever in the anime (and manga?). You feel his realization that there is literally nothing he can do.
She’s dead, and he knew this would happen.
After Mamoru saves her with Fiore’s help, she opens her eyes and we see (I think it’s the first time ever) Mamoru cry in relief and with his beautiful tears the amazing moonlight revenge music starts once again.
It’s just beautiful.
(I wonder if there is any fanfiction that reimagined the movie, or told it from Mamoru’s POV?)
I love this movie for all the same reasons ❤️
I wrote a little Mamoru POV fic last year from the (near) end for UsaMamo week. I hope there’s a lot more fic out there for the movie.
