Word Count: 897

Albert was in a flurry of excitement, of that Lucasta was certain.

He didn't show it as one would normally expect, of course, but then Lord Albert Berrengar was not the sort to allow himself to become carried away. Severe and stoic, Albert was a man of composure, of precise intent. He showed no emotions but those which he thought appropriate to be witnessed by others, and shared nothing of himself but that which he deemed it pertinent to expose. He was ambitious, determined, and calculating—a dangerous combination in a man so heavily involved in politics, and so depended upon by the King.

He greeted Lucasta at the entrance of Castle Palatine, one of the old royal residences on Venus which now played host to an elite, all-female academy of the military arts.

“Lady Lucasta,” he said soberly, and executed a shallow bow.

Lucasta stretched upon descending the carriage and smoothed out some of her fur, but made no effort to return the respectful gesture.

“I presume you had some reason to call me here,” she said.

“Indeed.”

Without another word, he tuned on his heel and directed her inside.

At twenty-eight, Lord Albert Berrengar was an imposing figure swathed in dark robes. Lucasta often thought he looked a bit like one of Ganymede's old-fashioned priests. His severe demeanor only added to the picture. He stood taller than most men of his homeworld, slight as they typically were, but his frame was lithe and lean in keeping with the common build of his people. His hair had gone gray some years ago, a premature change in color that nonetheless served his stoic bearing well. His eyes were a cold, pale blue, and hard as ice.

But there was an intensity about him today that Lucasta thought different from the norm. He seemed full of energy, his steps determined and his posture sure. His expression, though commonly emotionless, bore subtle traces of pleasure—a barely discernible quirk of the lips that Lucasta thought quite out of place.

“You look well,” she commented drily.

Albert did not answer, but led her to a door down a quiet, scarcely populated hall. He stood aside and looked expectant. Lucasta merely returned his gaze with an arching look.

After a few tense moments, Albert took the hint and opened the door for her.

“Thank you,” she said imperiously.

Lucasta crossed into a room very similar in design to those found on Ganymede, but then she'd often suspected Ganymede to have borrowed much of their architectural style and design elements from Venus. The typical self-important Ganymedean would make claims to the contrary (that Venus had borrowed their style from Ganymede), but Lucasta knew which of the two boasted the richer history. She made a cursory examination of her surroundings but noted little more than the color scheme done in shades and tones of purple and lilac.

Albert led her through a formal sitting area into the bedroom beyond.

Perched in the wide bed was a young woman of about twenty-five Earth years, clothed in a dressing gown colored a dark rose, with long, dark hair gathered into a loose plait over one shoulder. Next to her sat a young girl of about two, with blonde curls and a pair of wide eyes to match the woman's pale purple. In the woman's arms was a bundled infant, swathed in a white blanket trimmed in lace.

“Lady Palatine,” Lucasta observed with thinly veiled surprise.

Palatine's welcoming smile carried a touch of pride.

Lucasta glanced in Albert's direction to study the look of intensity on his face.

“Explain,” she demanded.

He motioned her forward with a flick of his hand. “Look closer,” he said.

Though she bristled with impatience, already weary of all the secrecy, Lucasta nevertheless hopped onto the bed in a single graceful leap. Palatine made no move to retreat. Though the small girl-child showed some interest at the presence of a cat, Lucasta reserved her attention for the infant, which she was certain had been Albert's intention. The baby slept peacefully, a tiny bundle with thin blonde curls and rosy cheeks.

The baby's sex was not immediately discernible, and yet Lucasta remained certain that this new child was male.

As if in response to her certainty, a curious change came upon the child. Upon the baby's forehead there suddenly appeared a golden symbol alight with magic, which resonated with that part of Lucasta that deep within was gifted with added awareness. The symbol was there so briefly anyone not looking for it might have deemed it to be a trick of the lights, fading from view but leaving its image imprinted in Lucasta's mind.

An open heart joined with jagged light.

“But you are not of Ganymede,” Lucasta said, shooting an accusing look at Palatine, whose child she assumed this to be.

History showed two constants in the line of Ganymedean Senshi—Sailor Ganymede was always male, and he was always born of Ganymedean blood.

“You are an Earthling in the service of Venus,” Lucasta continued in a tone of disbelief. “How have you come by this child?”

“He is my son.”

The voice that answered was not Palatine's, but that of Albert Berrengar.

Lucasta turned slowly. She could not disguise her shock as she looked at him. She was speechless.

Albert only smirked with pleasure.