It's me again! Yes, I, Elvenwarrior, the one writer who is both a scholar AND a fighter (well, maybe not!), have returned. The tales I spin are of true love. Love we all hope for, wish for, and basically just pray for. Okay, just a few more things for you to read, and then you can start the story.
I'm giving all the chapters their own titles because something completely different happens in each of them. You'll understand later.
DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Sailor Moon or any of her friends! Please don't sue me.
Okay, just one more thing. I FINALLY got my own webpage! YIPEEE! It's www.geocities.com/Athens/Delphi/7611/index.html. If that's not right, then you can e-mail me and tell me so.
That's it. Have fun!


Tales of Time-Chapter 2
Simple Magic



A soft breeze fluttered Darian's hair, brushing it away from his face. He sat in his office, high atop his company, O'Malley International. His eyes were shut in a moment of peace.
A beep.
"Mr. O'Malley?" It was a question.
"Yes?" 
"Beryl Donna is here." 
Darian grimaced. The last thing he needed was a confrontation with his week-old mistress. But if he refused to see her, she'd raise a dust storm in caterwauling.
"Send her I-," He didn't even get the chance to finish.
The solid oak double-doors slammed open. A fiery red head stood there, her slender but well-rounded body covered only with a light sundress. She wore a pair of spiked heel sandals on her feet. 
"Beryl." He said in cold greeting.
"O'Malley, you bastard!" she screeched.
Beryl Donna was from Italy, and had a temper to match her hair. But she was skilled where Darian needed her to be skilled, and that was what mattered. Besides the fact that she was a week new. 
"What haven't I don't now?" he asked.
"Did you think I wouldn't know? That I wouldn't find out?" she yelled.
'She must've seen Serena.' He thought. 'Damn.' He'd been hoping that Beryl would stay out of his private rooms for a few days. That's where he'd had Serena put when they'd arrived back at his mansion three days earlier.
"She was sleeping in your room!" Beryl yelled.
"I have a reason, if you want to hear it, Beryl!" he replied hotly.
"Don't bother, asshole. I'm taking everything you've given me, and I'm walking with it. Go to hell, Darian O'Malley." She said, spinning on her spiked high heels and marching out the doors. "You!" Darian heard outside the door. He stood, and walked to stand in his doorway. He gasped softly at what he saw. 
Serena stood, without any aid, and faced Beryl squarely. She registered his appearance with a flick of her light blue eyes, but wasn't in any hurry to tell his former mistress that he was there.
"I'm afraid we haven't been properly introduced. My name is Serena MacLeod. I'm O'Malley's-," Serena began.
"New mistress? Whore? What? You must be SOMETHING to him. Not even I'VE been in his personal bed." Beryl said.
Serena had been taken back when Beryl had called her a new mistress, but her eyes had narrowed at whore. Now, she was as mad as a wet cat.
"Never mind. I came by to talk to Mr. O'Malley, but it can wait." She said icily. Her tone froze Darian's blood, and painted a shocked expression on Beryl's face. She turned, and walked out to the elevator.
"Serena, come back here!" Darian cried. To his secretary, he said, "Mrs. Bolsheiv, hold all of my calls. And call security to escort Miss Donna out. From now on, she is NOT to be admitted."
His faithful secretary fixed Beryl with a steely glare, and punched up security. Darian didn't need anymore problems right now.
Serena had heard Darian call her back, but just stood in front of the elevator, waiting for the car. She heard him run up behind her.
"What do you want?" she asked.
"I want to know why you came here! I just had TWO of my mistresses confront each other in front of my office!" Darian exclaimed.
"I'm your mistress in NAME ONLY!" Serena shot back. Her anger flared dangerously. She continued looking at the elevator doors.
Darian grabbed her arm to jerk her around, and everything went to slow motion.
He yanked her around, and her hand flew out, pressing against his chest.
Serena knew that her reactions were violent, but she hadn't counted on her anger amplifying the energy discharge (Okay, just a little visual aid. If you've seen Stargate, you know that brain-melter thingy that Ra uses? Imagine that energy coming out of a bare hand.)
The sheer force of the energy threw Darian off his feet and tossed him straight into his office door, which was at least twelve feet behind him. The impact was enough to knock him out. 
Beryl and Mrs. Bolsheiv stared at Serena, who still had energy crackling around her.
"Sorry." She said, looking down.

A dim room in a stately mansion on a hill. A figure laid still on the bed, with another figure hunched over.
Serena sat up, and look at Darian's room. She'd seen it when she'd woken up three days ago, but she hadn't really looked at it. 
It was cold, with everything spotlessly neat, and almost no personal items around. All that said it was inhabited were the framed magazine covers that lined the mantel of the huge fireplace. Each on was one that Serena had seen on the newsstand.
Suddenly, the double doors swung open, and s tall, stiff, butler entered, carrying a covered tray.
"I-who are you?" she asked, leaping up.
"I am Thomas, Mr. O'Malley's butler." He replied. "I hope it was not presumptuous of me, but I thought you might like some breakfast, since you sat up all night with Mr. O'Malley." He set down the tray, and pulled the lid off.
Scrambled eggs, Texas Toast, and bacon smells wafted towards Serena's nose. He mouth watered.
"Um, thanks." She said right before she started scarfing it down. Thomas watched in amazement. When she was done, she wiped her mouth, and said, "Thanks, Thomas. Now, where does O'Malley keep his gym? By the way, I'm Serena."
"Mr. O'Malley normally uses a gym in town, but he has a private gym here." Thomas replied.
"Could you please show me where it is?" Thomas cast a wary glance at Darian's still figure. Serena followed his gaze. "Don' worry. He'll be all right. Just needs to sleep it off."	
"Of course, miss." Thomas bowed stiffly, then straightened. "I'll show you the gym."

Darian awoke with a wicked headache, and the lingerings of a disturbing dream. He sat up, and pulled on a robe Thomas had laid out. He felt a presence behind him, and turned to see his butler.
"Hello, Thomas." He said.
"How are you feeling, sir?" Thomas asked.
"Like I drank a bottle of vodka straight." Darian replied.
"Your new mistress is in your private gym, sir." Darian turned to his, puzzled.
"Mistress?" 
"Yes, sir. Serena, I believe her name is. She was kind enough to introduce herself to me."
"Serena? She's in the gym? Doing WHAT?"

He walked into the mammoth gym, and stopped dead. His dark blue eyes were fixed on a short, lithe figure in black.
Serena leapt, dodged, cartwheeled, flipped, kicked, and punched agilely. She easily wielded two long knives, making flowing motions.
Suddenly, she dropped the knives, and crouched down, her arms in a protective gesture over her head.
Darian heard small snaps and pops, then saw small dots of light start to flicker around her body.
The pops changed to crackles and loud snaps as she unfolded her arms, and started a slow sweep, the muscles in her arms flexing with power.
Then, lightening started striking INSIDE the building.
"Serena?" Darian yelled.
She turned to glance at him, and all at once the energy in the room slammed back into her body, knocking her breathless to the mats.
"Serena, are you all right?" he asked ,running towards her.
She sat up, breathing hard, and pushed her hair out of her face. "I'm fine." She said, standing up. Her knees buckled, and Darian ran to catch as she fell.
"Yeah, right." He said, helping her to the edge of the mats. "Where'd you learn to do that?"
"What? Oh, THAT. I learned THAT from an old teacher." Serena replied.
"Amazing."
"Maybe, but he died before he could teach me any more."
"No. I meant YOU. I've never seen someone do something like that."
"I doubt you ever will again." Irony was thick in her voice.
Suddenly, Darian moved away, and Serena fell to the mats, her legs still weak.
"What are you, MacLeod?" he demanded.
"I'm a thief, O'Malley." she replied. 
"No. What are you REALLY?" His eyes flashed. She struggled up, and gave him a hard look.
"If I told you the truth, you wouldn't believe it." Serena replied. "Which is why I can't. I'm a simple thief, Darian." It was the first time she'd said his given name. "I may appear to be more, but I'm not. I just know few tricks." She limped out.
"If you are anything, Serena MacLeod, it is NOT simple." Darian said softly, picking up the knives.

"These are your rooms, miss." Thomas said, opening an oak door and walking in. Serena followed him in, and gasped.
It was a large room, with a four-poster canopy bed. Through two other doorways, she could see a closet and a bathroom.
"Are these the mistresses' rooms?" she asked, sitting on the bed.
"No, miss. Those rooms are located closer to Mr. O'Malley's rooms. These are the guest rooms." 
'So, O'Malley is living up to his end of the bargain.' Serena thought. 'Not bad rooms, for a thief.' She noticed Thomas watching her, and said aloud, "I won't need anything else, Thomas. Thank you." 
She heard the door click, and looked at the room.
The ceiling was high and arched, like a cathedral. The entire room was oak. The stain glass windows were covered with heavy drapes.
"Nice. Wonder what Mom would think?" she said to herself. Then she noticed something by the bed.
Her personal items from her apartment in Carillon Town were in two bags by the bed. She opened them, and found a picture of her parents, framed in a expensive silver frame, on top. She picked it up carefully.
"I don't remember doing that."  she said.
"I did that." She spun her boot heel, and found Darian standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame.
"And this?" She gestured at the bags. "Did you do THIS?"
Darian tossed something at her head. She dodged and caught it. It was her house keys. "I found those in your jacket. I thought you might feel more comfortable with some familiar objects around."
Serena looked at her parents' picture, and then at Darian. 
"Maybe."
"You left these in the gym." He pulled the two knives out from behind his back.
"Thanks." She took them. Then she looked at him suspiciously. "Why are you being so nice to me?" she asked. 
"I'm nice to all of my mistresses." Darian said simply.
"Remember our deal, O'Malley. I am you mistress in name only." Serena said.
"Does that mean that I can't be nice to you?" Darian quirked an eyebrow.
"Maybe."
He smiled, and jerked his head towards the closet. "Look in there."
"Why?" 
"Just LOOK."
Serena walked over to the walk-in closet, and opened the double doors. She walked in, switched on the light, and made an audible gasp.
Darian walked up behind her, and saw rows upon rows of bright gowns and fantastic dresses.
'Hmm. Ama works fast.' He thought, also making a mental note to pay the woman double her usual amount. "What do you think?" he asked. Serena reached out, and touched a dress as light as gossamer.
"I'm-I'm amazed." She said. Then she turned to him, and her eyes narrowed. "Are these a buy-off?"
To her surprise, Darian burst out laughing.
"You are a very perceptive girl. Yes, they WERE meant to be a buy-off, but now I can't imagine anyone trying to buy off a policeman's daughter." He replied.
Then, he looked at her. I mean, he really looked at her. Serena stood out from the bright clothes in her black jumpsuit, boots, and sweatshirt. The only thing that blended in was her hair, which was pulled back into a ponytail.
Serena was in a bright heaven. These were dresses she'd only seen in store windows, much too expensive for a policeman's daughter and thief. She'd never even dreamed of owning one of these dresses.
But there they were. In a closet. In HER closet!
"You flatter me, O'Malley." She said.
"That's something else you're perceptive of. You never use my first name. If you are to pass as my new mistress, you must call me Darian." He said.
"Oh? And do I have to kiss you, too?" Serena asked, smiling.
"Yes."
Her smile faded, and she walked out of the closet, not touching Darian.
"What?"
"I-," she began, then glanced at him over her shoulder, "I don't kiss."
"Like prostitutes?"
"No, like I DON'T kiss. It's not in my genes."
"Oh, boy." Darian said, running a hand through his hair.