The Bracelet

by Ninx

Chapter One

Nephrite went to the Moon, and got sick.

It happened, he learned, to about a quarter of all first time visitors. Some just had light colds; others had full-blown flu. It had something to do with the Moon enclosure and the heavy magic there; Zoisite had spouted a bunch of gibberish about it. As if that were comforting.

Unfortunately, he was also required to attend the Opening Feast. This meant wearing his obnoxiously heavy official dress uniform and the Earth court hair style, a neat braid that trailed part way down his back. Overall, he made a striking picture, one that was, in truth, extremely uncomfortable. During the feast, he alternately froze and burned within his uniform, and the roots of his hair began to ache. After dinner came the entertainment, featuring singing and dancing that went on far too long. Then everyone else had to dance, too.


Privately, Nephrite wondered exactly which sins he was being punished for.

Even worse, he normally liked these sorts of events. Oh, Kunzite and Jadeite could write them off as social bores, but the food and drink were nearly always good, and there were always pretty girls. He and Zoisite could cut a swath through a room before the affair was finished.

Privately, it amused him that Zoisite, of all people, was his partner in reckless flirting. Put the man in a room of books, and all you could hear was the soft sound of knowledge being inhaled. Put him near a pretty girl, and all you could hear was the soft whish of charm flowing out. He wasn't sure where the man put it all.

And now, he couldn't enjoy any of it.

Finally, he managed to extract his liege's permission to go. He'd tried to catch the man's attention for hours, but wouldn't you know it? The Moon was full of Endymion's favorite party favor: pretty blonde girls. It meant that he'd finally had to wade through the horde and present himself, at which point he was told he looked like hell and was dismissed. After a few glasses of punch, Endy's mouth was almost as reckless as Jade's.

He exited the Grand Whatsit, and found himself confronted by a plethora of hallways. In his cooked brain state, he wasn't sure exactly which one to take. Did the blue one lead to their wing, or the green?

Toss-up. He could summon a servant, of course, but the thought of clapping his hands made him wince. Truthfully, he wasn't sure if he could snap his fingers at this point.

He decided on green. He took two steps down the short staircase, stumbled, and nearly went sprawling on the floor. Instead he toddled down the rest of the stairs and bobbed about before finding a stabilizing pillar.

|Okay. Plan 2: Powers.|

He really wasn't supposed to do this--not in plain sight, at least. He looked about until he saw a cluster of heavy shadow by the far wall. He stumbled away from the pillar and headed for it, hands fuzzing slightly with gold light. He slid inside the waiting shadow and was about to let himself dissolve away when someone else tripped down the stairs.

He slid back into focus, and noticed it was a woman. She wore a green and amber dress cut for state; that made her a noble. And by the look of it, she was feeling distinctly unwell.

Shit, shit, shit. He was far, far too much of a sucker for this.

He eased fully into focus. She didn't seem to notice; instead, she found her way to her feet, and staggered over to a pillar, which she clutched like salvation. There she leaned, and breathed, until he called out, "Lady."


Jupiter was drunk.

It was a problem of tolerance, she knew. Mercury and Mars could somehow swallow drinks all night, something she suspected had to do with their powers. At least she did better than Venus, who from the first sip acquired rosy cheeks and a very concentrated air of attempting to be sober. The two of them normally vowed to watch each other, but no, she had to have a dramatic moment and disappear with some guy instead.

So she'd gone, one, two, three cups beyond her normal limit. This wasn't helped by the fact that balls were "all dressed up and no place to go" events for her, full of watching everyone else work their way down the path to getting laid.

It wasn't fair.

She'd eventually caught herself at the bottom of a glass, her stomach lurching, her head pounding, and decided it was time to eighty-six her night. That the need to be sick was the best way to do so spoke volumes.

Not fucking fair at all.

So she'd slipped out the door, cursing Venus with every step, and, of course, had fallen down the stairs.

The universe obviously hated her. Or, at least, her heels.

She'd managed, somehow, not to vomit all over the floor nor her dress. It'd been quite a feat, but then, that's what Jovians were known for--pulling off shit no one else could.

She'd gotten up and found a pillar to lean on. Jovian. An Outer Princess at an Inner Court. Accepted some five hundred years ago as a way to bind the two halves of the system together. Accepted because of the strength they would bring...

She wouldn't wallow. She'd drunk too much to wallow; it would be dangerous, now. No, she was going to leave this room, go to her quarters, and throw up. Then she'd curse Mai--Venus, Venus!--until she fell asleep.

Much better than wallowing.

"Lady?"

She snapped about, and regretted it. The world swam for a moment, then refocused on a man in heavy uniform. Tall. Auburn hair, whisping from a braid. Oddly pale, too.

"Lady," said the man again, voice hoarse. "Help."

He staggered against the pillar closest to her. She just stared. |Help?| she wondered.

"Damn, damn--can you understand me?" he said.

"Yes," she replied.

"Oh, thank the stars," he rasped back. Up close, his forehead was covered in sweat, and he really was pale. "I'm trying to find my room." He sat down heavily against the pillar. "Only I can't think."

Something swam through her foggy brain. "You're from Earth, aren't you?"

"Yes. I would get up to introduce myself, but apparently, I'm dying." He gave a pathetic cough.

Her head pounded. Her stomach churned. She understood and agreed with the sentiment.

"Come with me," she said, holding out her hand.


Nephrite staggered in and sat on the ledge of the bathtub. It was deep and long, made of green marble streaked with spiky white. He leaned over and brushed at the woman's head where it lay against the privy.

"Feel better?" he asked, voice gentle.

Jupiter gave him an unfathomable look, and sighed. "I hope that didn't disgust you too much."

He smiled, even though it hurt. "Not at all, Lady."

He thought she blushed. She pushed away from the privy, hands falling to her lap, head down.

"So, do you usually do this sort of thing?" he asked, stumbling over the words. Internally, he groaned. This was not a way to gain a proper interstellar reputation.

She looked up at him. He wondered again how anyone's eyes got to be that green. Or how someone managed to keep that much poise when they'd been throwing up for the last few minutes.

He was rhapsodizing. Damn, he was ill.

"No," she said, and her voice was very quiet.

He sensed the nerve, and looked away. She reached out and touched his hand, and he met her eyes again.

They were narrowed.

"You're sick."

"Dying, actually," he said, grinning. That hurt, too, but he couldn't resist.

"No, no, just sick," she said, and now she stood up. "Moon Ill, I'd guess," she added, pulling him to a stand. He stumbled against her, noting that her eyes nearly met his, and how easy it was for her to steady him. She touched his forehead, and winced.

"Why aren't you in bed?"

"Had to go to the Feast," he replied woozily.

The look she gave him told him he was an idiot. He shrugged in reply--he was already quite certain of that.

Once again she was leading him, her grip tight on his hand. Last time, the journey had been cut short. This journey was also short, as she pushed him onto a bed.

He laid there for a moment, then said, "Lady?"

"Yes?"

"I'm not at my best now, but..."

She smacked him on the ass with a pillow. "You'll sleep here, for now. Your room is too far away."

He blinked. "But what about you?" he asked, voice plaintive. That made him wince internally, but her look softened.

"I've got a couch," she said.

He sat up completely. His brain thunked against the inside of his skull. "No," he said.

"No?" she said, eyebrows going up.

"No," he said again, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He stood up; she went to push him back down, and he caught her hand. The bracelet on her wrist jangled.

She stared at him, and her grip tightened. He squeezed back, matching her. Their eyes met.

Finally, softly, "It's your bed, Lady."

Equally as soft, "But you weren't disgusted."

Her eyes flickered, and part of her was exposed.

|SHIT.|

He gave in, let go of her hand, and sat back down.

She smiled, hesitantly, and said, "You should get that jacket off." Then she disappeared back to the bathroom.

Nephrite shrugged out of his jacket, then reached down to take off his boots. A hint of metal glinted at him from the floor, and he picked it up. It was the Lady's bracelet, a simple thing of links of copper. It was broken between the links--strange, it had just been whole on her wrist.

She came back with a glass of black fluid. He swallowed it anyways, sticky and thick as it was. Immediately his brain started to shut down, and he fell back onto the pillows.

He heard a rustle, then nothing more.

His last thought was, |I don't even know her name.|


Jupiter would later attribute the dream to alcohol. Her dreams were normally faint, misty things, which this was not. It was full of color in fantastic shades, the play of light bringing out the deep color in everything; the sound was fresh as a whisper in her ear, as if piped directly into her brain.

Even later, she would understand.

She dreamt of the Shrine, and the Seer, two things she had not thought about in a long time.

She heard the words again, words she had never understood before, nor since. No more did they seem a casual remark, though, but words of portent and power.

She took the box from the man's hands. She had been a young girl before, but now her hands were the same size as always, and the box was small within them. She ran her fingers over the carved pattern, the whippy branches and sharp leaves, and let them glide to the latch.

|How do I open it?|

|You will figure that out, soon enough.|

She had. She slid the insert out with her nail, twisted it over a touch, pressed a leaf. There was a click, and she opened the lid, expecting to find what had been in there before.

Instead, there was another box.

She stared. The carved box dropped from her fingers, and against everything she knew, shattered.

She looked between the pieces and the new box in her hand, which somehow was bigger than the precious wooden box of her childhood. It seemed flawless, carved from jade, and very solid. A pattern of leaves twined around it.

"When it breaks, rejoice."

She looked up. Her eyes widened.

She awoke.