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sophiap.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
kinkfest2009-06-30 08:42 pm
sophiap.livejournal.com) wrote in kinkfest2009-06-30 08:42 pm
Entry tags:
Three Princes, [Sailor Moon/Sandman/Princess Tutu, PG]
Title: Three Princes
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sophiap
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Word Count: c. 1,000
Summary: One prince needs a small favor from another.
A/N: For the prompt Crossover: Sailor Moon(Mangaverse)/???, Mamoru/???: A healer's duty - "Right now, what you are doesn't matter much to me. What does matter is that you are my patient. And as a healer, it is my duty to aid you--and, if necessary, protect you." Crossover with Princess Tutu and Sandman
"I'm dreaming, aren't I?" Mamoru wasn't sure what gave it away, but wherever he was, wasn't real.
"Yes. But where you are is very real. Perhaps even more real than the splinter of reality you call home. It would be to your peril to forget this, Prince Endymion."
For a moment, Mamoru thought to ask how this other person knew about that other identity, but...
No.
His bedroom had become a throne room, and the person on the throne clearly had every right to be sitting where he was sitting.
It didn't matter that he wore nothing fancier than a black tee shirt and black jeans. Mamoru knew he was in the presence of near-absolute power. Trying to pretend he knew nothing about his past life and rank would be dangerously foolish.
Recognizing his place, Mamoru bowed. "How may I be of service, sire?"
That got a nod of acknowledgement, and a flicker of starlight far back in those pitch-black eyes. He clapped stone-white hands together sharply, and a figure emerged from the stained-glass shadows of the throne room, wheeling a gurney.
If Mamoru needed any more proof that he was in a dream, it was that the man wheeling the gurney was made of sticks and had a pumpkin for a head.
"Where d'ya want the stiff, boss?" the pumpkin-man said.
"Here will suffice. You may go."
The pumpkin man left as ordered, puffing on his cigar and muttering how a little thanks would go a long way, not that some people could ever be bothered...
"I have need of a healer. One with the King's Touch," said the pale king.
"But you..."
Something flashed in those dark eyes, and Mamoru knew that the other king could unmake him in a second.
"There has been interference on the borders my realm, and until I have identified the players involved, I do not choose to intervene directly."
Mamoru understood he was to pull back the sheet covering the gurney. It had lain flat before, but as he pulled it back, the space beneath it filled out, revealing a body.
"Is he...?"
The person beneath the sheet was young, fine-boned but strong. He had a head of snow-white hair and a dancer's build. It seemed wrong that he should be so immobile, so still.
"He is alive." The dark voice was taut with restrained fury. "Alive, but the one who wrote him into existence at my behest has betrayed his covenant with me."
Mamoru rested a hand on the young man's chest. He felt warmth, and breath, but something was missing.
"He has no heart," he said, angry and amazed. Power from his own heart began to flow into the other man before he could even will it.
"Like you once were, he is a prince in search of a princess."
Power flowed out, giving strength where strength had been shattered, as Mamoru remembered what it was like to be without memory, without power, without hope...
"Like speaks to like," said his host. "Story echoes story. You and he come from similar places in the mind, but the one who dreamt him..."
Mamoru saw the other man's princess. Dark where Usagi was light. Full of chaos where Serenity was at peace.
There was only so much he could do to heal this other prince (Mytho, something told him, the words appearing in his head as if he had just then read them in a book), but he had to try. It felt like repayment, but for what he could not remember.
"Whether or not a story has an ending that pleases its characters is of little matter to me," said the man. Mamoru did not know the man's name, but he now knew who the man was. "But the characters who have been cast in the roles of king and knight should not be relegated to mere pawns."
But they were all playing pieces, Mamoru realized, no matter what their rank or role. The chessmaster sat in front of him. For a moment, he thought he could see the shape of his own story, set down in black and white for all to read at their leisure.
Mytho's eyes did not open, but Mamoru could tell that life had returned to him. Not much, but enough. Barely enough. Until he found his own story again, his own ending, he would gain strength enough (strength enough for what?) from the story of another prince who had lost himself and lost his princess.
"Will he..." Mamoru cleared his throat and tried again. "How will his story end?"
The glint in Dream's eye told him that this was not a question he should dare ask a second time.
It was hard not to wonder, though. Mamoru rested a hand on Mytho's forehead and said a quiet blessing. He wondered if he would dream of this again.
"No, Endymion. Your involvement in his story ends here. You have done your part, and for that I commend you," said the dark man, the Prince of Stories. "All you need to know is that the ending to Mytho's story will be satisfactory."
He would not remember this when he woke. He knew that, and it made him far sadder than it should have. He knew so little about Mytho, but like spoke to like, and the emptiness in Mytho's heart echoed in his own.
Then, Mytho's eyes opened.
So did Mamoru's. He sat up and rubbed at his temples, wondering what on earth he had dreamed about that would leave him with a tightness in his throat and a vague sense of dread that he knew would cling to him all day long.
For the next several hours, he would wonder who it was he needed to call. He was certain there was someone he needed to make sure was okay, but he couldn't remember who it was.
In time, though, the sense of worry faded to nothing more than a vague memory of a memory. And if later, he should find himself wondering why he chose a particular birthday present for Usa-ko, he would only tell himself that he thought that once upon a time, she had told him how she always wanted to see Swan Lake.
Author:
sophiapRating: PG
Warnings: None
Word Count: c. 1,000
Summary: One prince needs a small favor from another.
A/N: For the prompt Crossover: Sailor Moon(Mangaverse)/???, Mamoru/???: A healer's duty - "Right now, what you are doesn't matter much to me. What does matter is that you are my patient. And as a healer, it is my duty to aid you--and, if necessary, protect you." Crossover with Princess Tutu and Sandman
"I'm dreaming, aren't I?" Mamoru wasn't sure what gave it away, but wherever he was, wasn't real.
"Yes. But where you are is very real. Perhaps even more real than the splinter of reality you call home. It would be to your peril to forget this, Prince Endymion."
For a moment, Mamoru thought to ask how this other person knew about that other identity, but...
No.
His bedroom had become a throne room, and the person on the throne clearly had every right to be sitting where he was sitting.
It didn't matter that he wore nothing fancier than a black tee shirt and black jeans. Mamoru knew he was in the presence of near-absolute power. Trying to pretend he knew nothing about his past life and rank would be dangerously foolish.
Recognizing his place, Mamoru bowed. "How may I be of service, sire?"
That got a nod of acknowledgement, and a flicker of starlight far back in those pitch-black eyes. He clapped stone-white hands together sharply, and a figure emerged from the stained-glass shadows of the throne room, wheeling a gurney.
If Mamoru needed any more proof that he was in a dream, it was that the man wheeling the gurney was made of sticks and had a pumpkin for a head.
"Where d'ya want the stiff, boss?" the pumpkin-man said.
"Here will suffice. You may go."
The pumpkin man left as ordered, puffing on his cigar and muttering how a little thanks would go a long way, not that some people could ever be bothered...
"I have need of a healer. One with the King's Touch," said the pale king.
"But you..."
Something flashed in those dark eyes, and Mamoru knew that the other king could unmake him in a second.
"There has been interference on the borders my realm, and until I have identified the players involved, I do not choose to intervene directly."
Mamoru understood he was to pull back the sheet covering the gurney. It had lain flat before, but as he pulled it back, the space beneath it filled out, revealing a body.
"Is he...?"
The person beneath the sheet was young, fine-boned but strong. He had a head of snow-white hair and a dancer's build. It seemed wrong that he should be so immobile, so still.
"He is alive." The dark voice was taut with restrained fury. "Alive, but the one who wrote him into existence at my behest has betrayed his covenant with me."
Mamoru rested a hand on the young man's chest. He felt warmth, and breath, but something was missing.
"He has no heart," he said, angry and amazed. Power from his own heart began to flow into the other man before he could even will it.
"Like you once were, he is a prince in search of a princess."
Power flowed out, giving strength where strength had been shattered, as Mamoru remembered what it was like to be without memory, without power, without hope...
"Like speaks to like," said his host. "Story echoes story. You and he come from similar places in the mind, but the one who dreamt him..."
Mamoru saw the other man's princess. Dark where Usagi was light. Full of chaos where Serenity was at peace.
There was only so much he could do to heal this other prince (Mytho, something told him, the words appearing in his head as if he had just then read them in a book), but he had to try. It felt like repayment, but for what he could not remember.
"Whether or not a story has an ending that pleases its characters is of little matter to me," said the man. Mamoru did not know the man's name, but he now knew who the man was. "But the characters who have been cast in the roles of king and knight should not be relegated to mere pawns."
But they were all playing pieces, Mamoru realized, no matter what their rank or role. The chessmaster sat in front of him. For a moment, he thought he could see the shape of his own story, set down in black and white for all to read at their leisure.
Mytho's eyes did not open, but Mamoru could tell that life had returned to him. Not much, but enough. Barely enough. Until he found his own story again, his own ending, he would gain strength enough (strength enough for what?) from the story of another prince who had lost himself and lost his princess.
"Will he..." Mamoru cleared his throat and tried again. "How will his story end?"
The glint in Dream's eye told him that this was not a question he should dare ask a second time.
It was hard not to wonder, though. Mamoru rested a hand on Mytho's forehead and said a quiet blessing. He wondered if he would dream of this again.
"No, Endymion. Your involvement in his story ends here. You have done your part, and for that I commend you," said the dark man, the Prince of Stories. "All you need to know is that the ending to Mytho's story will be satisfactory."
He would not remember this when he woke. He knew that, and it made him far sadder than it should have. He knew so little about Mytho, but like spoke to like, and the emptiness in Mytho's heart echoed in his own.
Then, Mytho's eyes opened.
So did Mamoru's. He sat up and rubbed at his temples, wondering what on earth he had dreamed about that would leave him with a tightness in his throat and a vague sense of dread that he knew would cling to him all day long.
For the next several hours, he would wonder who it was he needed to call. He was certain there was someone he needed to make sure was okay, but he couldn't remember who it was.
In time, though, the sense of worry faded to nothing more than a vague memory of a memory. And if later, he should find himself wondering why he chose a particular birthday present for Usa-ko, he would only tell himself that he thought that once upon a time, she had told him how she always wanted to see Swan Lake.