Fic: The price of beauty
Title: The Price of Beauty
A/N: Written for sm_monthly, prompt: first person/body image.
I know I am not beautiful, not in these times and days where silver hair, blue eyes and snowy skin are what makes every man swoon. I know few women who look like that, and none of them are Terran. Just one more occasion where Earth and its people do not measure up. Of course Endymion would fall for the unattainable beauty high up on the Moon, and not for the woman of flesh and blood right by his side. He’s a Prince; he can have everything.
I can’t.
I tried staying out of the sun, but my skin wouldn’t lighten. It’s still tan, still too dark to measure up to the Moon Princess’ pearly white. That bitch. And there is nothing I can do about my hair, absolutely nothing. It’s red and the colour is too loud. Jadeite once ran his hands through it and told me it looked as if I had washed it with blood. To this day, I don’t know whether it was a compliment or an insult, but then nobody ever knows what that man means. Tongue as sharp as a blade and brain as small as a mouse. It’s a dangerous combination.
But I am not entirely without appeal. My handmaiden once told me that the right dress, a good posture, and a charming personality can create the illusion of beauty. The old woman was right. I know how to move, how to speak, how to think, and how to make men lose their heads, sometimes even literally. Nephrite follows me around like a puppy. A few compliments, one kiss, and already, he is mine. He will help me bring Endymion back, I know it. And if he doesn’t, well, then I’ll just have to dispose of him.
Getting Zoisite to help me is more difficult. I do not know whether the touch of a woman can excite him; mine certainly didn’t. Nose always in a book, that one. But he will follow his commander’s lead, so once I win over Kunzite, I know Zoisite will follow in his wake, even against his better judgement. Easy. Loyalty and trust have always made people stupid.
Kunzite himself is a stellar example of that. The commander thinks he’s better than everyone else, and the people certainly see him as the most capable one. He’s silent, barely ever smiles, but still waters run deep. I know that there is a monster lurking within the man: too much repressed emotion. It’s a well I need to untap, and the Venusian witch has already helped me do it. She left him, the foolish woman, left one of Earth’s best and most beautiful men to run home to her silly princess. Jadeite told me all about it: he’s one for gossip and everyone knows palaces aren’t the right place for secrets anyway.
So understated compassion and the illusion of loyalty were what I offered Kunzite, and he lapped it up, drop by drop. Didn’t take long. He’s in my bed now, licking the wounds Venus left on his soul. Soon, I will ask him to take me to the Moon to retrieve Endymion. I hope he still remembers how much Venus hurt him then; getting rid of her would be a welcome bonus to finally winning Endymion. Serenity I will have to take care off myself.
Serenity never had to work for anything, so she doesn’t know how sweet revenge tastes, doesn’t know how determination can make up for everything. After this, nobody will ever steal from Earth again.
Lately, my looks have changed. My hair is still red, and my skin still dark, but I can see how power fills in the blank spaces. It suits me well. My silhouette is changing too. My waist is smaller than ever before, and I swear I have grown an inch or two. Ridiculous, a woman of twenty-four winters still growing. My shoulders hurt a bit, and they feel pointed, as if the bones were about to push right through the skin. But Kunzite doesn’t mind, and neither does Nephrite. I wonder if they know that they take turns warming my bed at night. Maybe they do, maybe they don’t. Maybe they just don’t care.
Zoisite has started to stare at me instead of the pages of a book. I can feel his eyes following me whenever I’m with the other shitennou. It’s not lust that makes him look at me, that I know. I think he fears me. Fear is good. Fear is power. And power is beauty.
So maybe I am beautiful after all.
The End
A/N: Written for sm_monthly, prompt: first person/body image.
I know I am not beautiful, not in these times and days where silver hair, blue eyes and snowy skin are what makes every man swoon. I know few women who look like that, and none of them are Terran. Just one more occasion where Earth and its people do not measure up. Of course Endymion would fall for the unattainable beauty high up on the Moon, and not for the woman of flesh and blood right by his side. He’s a Prince; he can have everything.
I can’t.
I tried staying out of the sun, but my skin wouldn’t lighten. It’s still tan, still too dark to measure up to the Moon Princess’ pearly white. That bitch. And there is nothing I can do about my hair, absolutely nothing. It’s red and the colour is too loud. Jadeite once ran his hands through it and told me it looked as if I had washed it with blood. To this day, I don’t know whether it was a compliment or an insult, but then nobody ever knows what that man means. Tongue as sharp as a blade and brain as small as a mouse. It’s a dangerous combination.
But I am not entirely without appeal. My handmaiden once told me that the right dress, a good posture, and a charming personality can create the illusion of beauty. The old woman was right. I know how to move, how to speak, how to think, and how to make men lose their heads, sometimes even literally. Nephrite follows me around like a puppy. A few compliments, one kiss, and already, he is mine. He will help me bring Endymion back, I know it. And if he doesn’t, well, then I’ll just have to dispose of him.
Getting Zoisite to help me is more difficult. I do not know whether the touch of a woman can excite him; mine certainly didn’t. Nose always in a book, that one. But he will follow his commander’s lead, so once I win over Kunzite, I know Zoisite will follow in his wake, even against his better judgement. Easy. Loyalty and trust have always made people stupid.
Kunzite himself is a stellar example of that. The commander thinks he’s better than everyone else, and the people certainly see him as the most capable one. He’s silent, barely ever smiles, but still waters run deep. I know that there is a monster lurking within the man: too much repressed emotion. It’s a well I need to untap, and the Venusian witch has already helped me do it. She left him, the foolish woman, left one of Earth’s best and most beautiful men to run home to her silly princess. Jadeite told me all about it: he’s one for gossip and everyone knows palaces aren’t the right place for secrets anyway.
So understated compassion and the illusion of loyalty were what I offered Kunzite, and he lapped it up, drop by drop. Didn’t take long. He’s in my bed now, licking the wounds Venus left on his soul. Soon, I will ask him to take me to the Moon to retrieve Endymion. I hope he still remembers how much Venus hurt him then; getting rid of her would be a welcome bonus to finally winning Endymion. Serenity I will have to take care off myself.
Serenity never had to work for anything, so she doesn’t know how sweet revenge tastes, doesn’t know how determination can make up for everything. After this, nobody will ever steal from Earth again.
Lately, my looks have changed. My hair is still red, and my skin still dark, but I can see how power fills in the blank spaces. It suits me well. My silhouette is changing too. My waist is smaller than ever before, and I swear I have grown an inch or two. Ridiculous, a woman of twenty-four winters still growing. My shoulders hurt a bit, and they feel pointed, as if the bones were about to push right through the skin. But Kunzite doesn’t mind, and neither does Nephrite. I wonder if they know that they take turns warming my bed at night. Maybe they do, maybe they don’t. Maybe they just don’t care.
Zoisite has started to stare at me instead of the pages of a book. I can feel his eyes following me whenever I’m with the other shitennou. It’s not lust that makes him look at me, that I know. I think he fears me. Fear is good. Fear is power. And power is beauty.
So maybe I am beautiful after all.
The End