by Saint Erythros 

A Sailor Moon/The Empire of Caesarea crossover.  The characters of Sailor Moon 
belong to Takeuchi Naoko; similarly, TEOC characters belong to Jillian Byar. 

Predictably, it was Aneiron who found him first. 
"Hey, Dhearec!" 
Aneiron tapped on the huge crystal, somewhat doubtfully.  He rubbed it with his 
sleeve, took a closer look at what was thusly revealed, and grinned.  He took a 
deep breath, and yelled again at the door of the storeroom. 
While he waited for his chief aide to arrive, Aneiron drew his poniard and 
almost idly sketched a circle on the primary face of the occluded gemstone. 
Irritably, he glanced at the door, filled his lungs, and screamed, "DHEAREC 
Satisfied, he turned back to the crystal and began inscribing a few sorcerous 
symbols around and inside the circle, tracing them with the point of his dagger. 
 He wasn't that great a magician -- not like the mighty Tamyrlins, or even the 
Adepts -- but surely he could break open a stupid gem, for Madros' sake. 
If he could, maybe Dhearec would let him keep what was inside without having to 
do any paperwork.  This mission had been extraordinarily boring so far, and 
Aneiron could use something to cheer himself up. 
He didn't look up as his aide entered.  Dhearec was so tall that he had to duck 
his head in order to fit through the doorway; at seven foot three and three 
hundred pounds, Dhearec was hard to fit anywhere.  He was like all men of the 
Imperial House Madros: golden-skinned, dark-haired, patricianly handsome; 
possessed of a pair of tilted blue eyes, chill and expressionless and extremely 
He didn't like Aneiron.  He didn't like anyone.  But he found Aneiron less 
tiresome than he found most people, so he was stuck with the redhead until the 
Dai Shahre reassigned him. 
"Dhearec," said Aneiron, grinning like a madman, which most people considered 
him to be.  Many wondered why the Dai Shahre employed him.  They kept right on 
wondering, right up until the poison-green eyes went from merry to icy, until he 
stopped babbling happy nonsense and began throwing knives. 
"Dhearec," he said again, still grinning hugely.  "Lookit what I found.  Look, 
look, look." 
Dhearec, moving in a deadly rushing glide, massive and implacable as a glacier, 
stepped to the crystal. 
"Ah," he said.  The ice-blue eyes surveyed the crystal and the man trapped 
inside it, passed judgment, found the man somewhat interesting.  It wasn't every 
day that one ran across a man frozen in a pose of wide-eyed terror, arm flung up 
to ward against a nameless horror.  Even more interesting, to the 
scientist-mage, the crystal appeared to have been cast around the trapped man by 
a demon.  "Fascinating.  Is he still alive?" 
Aneiron shrugged, and began drawing power into himself from his link to the 
Soul.  "Dunno.  Stand back, and let's find out." 

Jadeite felt an enormous blow, heard a frightful crack!, tasted blood, smelled a 
fresh breeze, and finally saw a dusty black pair of boots in front of his face. 
He lay on the ground for a moment, catching his breath and reforging the shields 
around his psyche. 
Beryl was going to regret ever freezing him in eternal sleep, he vowed.  
Eternal?  Ha!  She was already unfreezing him - and the dark Queen was going to 
live to regret it. 
He paused, stole a glance at the boots again.  It didn't look like Beryl. 
Jadeite look up, saw two faces regarding him intently.  One was golden, angular, 
impassive.  The other - 
Was attached to a red-headed boy - boy? - apparently sitting in midair. 
Jadeite felt his teeth grind.  The boy obviously wasn't Zoisite - for one thing, 
he was quite definitely male instead of androgynously lovely, and for another, 
he wasn't dressed in the gray uniform of a Dark Kingdom general - but he did 
appear to have stolen one of Zoisite's most irritating tricks. 
Jadeite just hoped that the redhead didn't possess the same nerve-grating, 
eardrum-shattering, high-pitched laugh. 
He felt the familiar coldness settle behind his eyes, stiffening his spine, 
wrapping itself around his mind.  He smiled painfully.  He was home again, the 
song of Metallia creeping back into his brain. 
He stood, gritting his teeth all the way.  He would be damned if he would let 
that red-headed Zoisite-wannabe see him stagger.  He was desperately hungry, 
thirst was strangling him, and, worst of all, a pounding headache forced red 
clouds into his vision, screaming for his attention. 
But his pride, the same straight-backed arrogance that had forced haughty 
Kunzite and aloof Nephrite to acknowledge him as an equal, kept him upright. 
He stared coldly at the golden-skinned giant, noted the various blades slung 
around the giant's slim hips on a well-worn sword-belt.  This one was dangerous, 
the more so because of the deadly chill emanating from those eyes. 
Like Kunzite's eyes.  This one is every bit as dangerous as mighty Lord Kunzite. 
 Great Metallia!  No wonder I'm woozy!  This pair *is* Kunzite and Zoisite all 
over again! 
"I am Lord Jadeite," he said grimly.  "First general of Queen Beryl of the Dark 
Kingdom.  To whom do I address myself?" 
"Fascinating," said the golden-skinned one calmly, looking at Jadeite as a 
scientist thoughtfully regards an interesting new specimen.  The voice was a 
deep, cold bass; a voice that seemed to drip icy pools on the already-damp 
flagstones.  "A general.  The Dai Shahre will be pleased.  -- I am Dhearec 
sor'Wyarven Madros, servant of the Dai Shahre of Shondar, the Lord of the Iron 
Throne and the Prince of the Iron Crown.  What is the Dark Kingdom, my lord?" 
"This is the Dark Kingdom," Jadeite said sharply.  "This entire pocket of 
reality is the Dark Kingdom, domain of Queens Metallia and Beryl."  The red 
clouds were screaming at him again, shrieking names -- Endymion!  Rei! 
Endymion!  My Prince!  I am the worst of traitors, forgive me my Prince, please
forgive me ! -- telling him that he was a traitor; that Beryl was a lying bitch
who aimed to bring down his master, Prince Endymion; that Beryl was nothing more
than a dark demon who sought to butcher his beloved Princess Rei and murder the
rest of the Senshi. 
What's happening to me?  I am General Jadeite of the Dark Kingdom!  I have never 
served any master but Beryl!  I have never loved!  I have never betrayed my 
Thinking of which -- 
"What has happened to Queen Beryl?" Jadeite demanded.  He looked around again, 
truly looking this time, and noticed the worn look of the storeroom, which he 
recognized as one being near the throne room of Beryl.  "What has happened in 
the Dark Kingdom?   Who are you people?  What is going on?" 
"Poor kid," commented the redhead, pale face interested.  Jadeite was gratified 
to note that at least the boy's voice wasn't gratingly high-pitched, like 
similarly-diminutive Zoisite.  Thank Metallia for small mercies. 
The redhead studied him again.  The jewel-bright green eyes glinted.  "So why 
don't you let me handle this one, Dhearec, hmm?" 
The golden one -- Dhearec -- shrugged gracefully.  "As you wish," he said, and 
stepped back, regarding Jadeite with a mixture of scientific curiousity and 
passive indifference.  Jadeite was at a loss to determine which of the emotions 
shining forth from the icy eyes irritated him more. 
He vowed silently that he would kill both of them.  Slowly.  The redhead for 
daring to remind him of Zoisite, the golden one for recalling Kunzite, the both 
of them for witnessing his present weakness, and for treating him so cavalierly. 
 Oh, yes.  They would learn to treat one of the Shitennou with respect. 
But I'm not one of the Four Kings, that weeping voice in his mind protested.  I 
am Lord General Jadeite, trusted friend and guardian of Prince Endymion of 
Shut up, he told that voice, shoving it back in his mind.  Shut up.  Shut up. 
"So," said the redhead, levitating closer, dangling one booted foot indolently 
and leaning back.  He looked for all the world as if he were lounging in an 
invisible armchair, one which hovered eight feet off the ground. 
"Well, my lord General Jadeite of the Dark Kingdom," the redhead said 
cheerfully, grinning the wry affectionate smile of an elder brother, "I'm afraid 
that your Queen Beryl is dead.  Long dead, 'smatter of fact.  Terribly sorry.  
Nothing that we can do about it, seeing as how we seem to have arrived two years 
after she bought the farm, so to speak.  We just moved in here, m'boy, and --" 
"You will address me as 'General Jadeite' or as 'my lord,'" said Jadeite softly, 
crossing his arms in front of his chest.  He cursed the momentary dizziness that 
the movement caused.  He noted with panicked humiliation that Dhearec made a 
brief motion forward, as if to catch him should he fall. Goddammit, man, show no 
The redhead blinked, looking taken aback.  "Oh.  Oh, sorry, my lord."  The 
invisible armchair evaporated, and the boyish stranger smoothly landed on his 
feet.  In one motion he bowed and went into a kneel, one fist over his left 
breast.  "My lord General Jadeite," he intoned solemnly, grin wiped away and 
emerald eyes serious, "the queen is dead.  This place, the -- Dark Kingdom?"  At 
Jadeite's chill nod, he went on, "The Dark Kingdom is now occupied by His 
Excellency Merolan sor'Rolan al'Ledo, Archduke of Shamyrr, Battlefather of the 
Armies, Warlord of the Empire, Dai Shahre of Shondar, and the Prince of the Iron 
Throne.  And, coincidentally, by His Excellency's special forces, the Silver 
Flames."  The grin reappeared for an instant, green eyes shining in pride.  "My 
outfit, the finest damned soldiers in all the Six Galaxies!" 
"Seven Galaxies, now," Dhearec corrected.  Jadeite spared a glance at him.  The 
slender giant's arms were crossed over his chest; every muscle in him obviously 
loose and ready.  He wondered, in a split-second loss of control, whether he 
ought to move out of Dhearec's reach.  He cursed himself for a coward and a fool 
once he realized that he was really contemplating retreat. 
A Dark Kingdom general does not show weakness! 
"Continue," ordered Jadeite.  "And give me your name, soldier." 
The redhead actually flushed, turning his clear pale skin a dull purple.  
Purple?  These two cannot be merely human, then.  I must be more careful 
"I am Aneiron sor'Brannan Jander," the redhead said humbly, eyes downcast.  
"Servant of the Dai Shahre of Shondar, Chief of Staff for the Silver Flames." 
Jadeite considered this for a moment, for the present shoving aside his hunger 
and his thrist and his .... other problems.  Beryl dead.  He cast around for the 
power-signatures of his fellow generals, found nothing but the lingering 
death-traces of Zoisite and Kunzite.  Of Nephrite there was no sign.  Is he 
still alive, then? One thing's for certain; if he is still alive, he would be a 
good ally... I shall try to find him. 
And there was something else interesting. 
  There were traces of the Senshi: that brat Sailormoon, the bubble-bitch 
Sailormercury, lovely fiery hellion Sailormars, and other, unfamiliar, 
Senshi.... and Tuxedo Kamen.  Those blasted infants!  It was they who defeated 
Queen Beryl?  But -- I can still feel Metallia itself!  All is not lost, then.  
I am still here, to defend the dark kingdom!  I am still a King of the Dark 
He was the only high-ranking lord left in the Dark Kingdom.  The knowledge 
stunned, elated, and sobered him all at once. 
He made a split-second decision. 
This Dai Shahre of theirs -- perhaps he could help. 
Jadeite smiled.  Perhaps.... perhaps this Dai Shahre, who employed obvious 
madmen like the boisterous Aneiron, who made devoted servants of the icy giant 
Dhearec, could help him. 
Perhaps this alien warlord could help him gain his revenge against the Senshi. 
"Take me to the Dai Shahre," Jadeite ordered the still-kneeling Aneiron.  "But 
first, I require food."  He glanced down at his grimy uniform, which had eagerly 
soeaked up dust and puddles from his fall to the flagstones upon release from 
the crystal.  He grimaced.  "And a change of clothes." 
Aneiron flowed lithely to his feet; Jadeite noted with a mental smirk that the 
redhead was shorter than he was.  About Zoisite's height, yes.  At least, unlike 
dear Zoi-chan, Aneiron shows satisfactory respect.  Even Aneiron's kneeling 
courtesy, though, would not deflect his death at Jadeite's hands; Jadeite would 
merely make it quick and (relatively) painless instead of the slow agonizing 
torture that the general had originally planned.  They have seen my weakness; I 
cannot allow that.  They will die. 
The dark blue eyes of the Dark King glimmered as Aneiron and Dhearec flanked him 
out of the storeroom.  But not before they assist me to my vengeance.... 


To Part Two
Dude, thanks for reading so far. Congratulations on being a merciful person. If 
you really wanted to e-mail me -- these things happen -- you might wish to do so 


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