Chapter Text
Taranza sighs. It is a bright day, perfect for being outside and enjoying coffee. It is not too hot that drinking a warm beverage makes his exoskeleton twinge, nor is the breeze singing the latent praises of winter. It is a candid, late spring afternoon. Taranza walks into the balcony lounge and sinks into the first plush couch. He crosses a leg on top of the other - feeling content and calm. He knows it should not be strange, but after days of toiling in despair and nightmares, reminded of his wrongs at every turn - it is nice to be in a good mood finally. Even if he knows it is a fleeting moment, he savours it.
Taranza is alone, of course. The second he walked into the break room, everyone vacated. Even the balcony was empty when he stepped onto it. On a typical day, this would be depressing. But for once, Taranza feels giddy at having this relaxing place to himself. So he folds his hands on his lap and basks in the sunlight, letting his mind wander.
Things have been easier for Taranza in the following weeks. It is not perfect. The castle staff were reluctant to allow him in the garden. Taranza is not shocked by their distrust. Previously, they had not let him in any room with potted plants. He was only allowed near plants that were considered dead, like vegetables and fruits. Not that would have helped much if Taranza felt like destroying the trust King Dedede put in him. If he needed plants for his magic, anything that could blossom would be enough to start a catastrophe. Taranza has always been a believer in the principle of transforming the smallest seed into the most robust stalk. He could conquer this castle in less than twenty minutes if he really wanted to.
Taranza won't do it. He would gain nothing from it.
However, King Dedede's assistance broke their defiance, handing him over to the nervous head gardener of the castle, who goes by Gardener Doo. Taranza has yet to ask about the curious naming convention of the Waddle Dees and Doos but forgoes inquiring about it. As his supervisor, he must respect Gardener Dee even if he feels asocial. Especially the head gardener of all people! Sure, that title does not carry the weight it does in Floralia, but walking familiar steps feels good, even if it sometimes aches too much.
It feels like ages since he last cared for flowers. The freshness of tulips and violets brighten his days. As does the wildflowers growing beyond the gardens, far into the rolling hills beyond Dedede Castle, and the town further down the slope. Their scent flies into the corridors and the pavilion, letting him glimpse into another world he was closed off to until he looked outside and saw it with his own eyes.
Every time he is under the sun, Taranza daydreams. There are not many things to fill the monotonous work of gardening. He loves it. But he also admits that gardening alone is different from gardening with company. The other gardeners leave Taranza alone, shifty eyes glancing from the corner of their eyes and waiting for him to pull an escape manoeuvre or do something insidious to the plants as if Taranza would ever harm plant life! Not that they know that, but still! Taranza cannot imagine ending a flower's life so cruelly. In Floralia, flowers and produce are reaped with a prayer, as it is sometimes unavoidable when replanting or when they are to be used. But to poison them deliberately. Taranza feels ill at even the thought.
Taranza does not mind being left alone. Perhaps it is for the best he stays in social exile. He is not in the mood to make friends anyway, and although he was always the social sort, he was never the type to make real, long-lasting friendships. Sectonia was the exception. If he had been born a little higher on the social echelon, he would have been the typical socialite, enjoying the high life of court and drama. Or perhaps he would have been happier as a peasant. Able to empathise with the populace and build bonds born from hardships.
Taranza does not like to think of the past. It is strange. It feels so hazy, barely comprehensible, and yet he cannot help but remember everything in painful clarity at other times. All memories of Sectonia are ripped apart like paper, and like a fool, every mention of her name has him scrambling to put the pieces back together until he pulls them apart all over again.
Taranza opens his eyes, gazing at the horizon. The second-floor break room is at a perfect height to overlook the entire settlement near Castle Dedede and the surrounding steep hills leading to the mountain's peak. Living here so high up - for the surface folk - has made it so that no ground is even. Taranza is not sure if the castle grounds are naturally even ground or if Dedede had to build a foundation on top of it before building his castle. But the citizens of the town are not as lucky. Though, they do not seem to mind.
Taranza leans over the couch and balcony railing. A gentle smile graces his face. The townspeople go about their day in peace. The atmosphere is lively and homey, with cute roundish buildings and a summery vibe. It is nothing like his home's cold and hyper-colour structures or the tall skyscrapers of the wealthier parts of Moonlight Capital. It looks right out of a cosy fairytale, with a watercolour-like colour scheme to match.
Something in Taranza yearns to explore it. After seeing the beautiful sunrise the other day, his love for exploration he had as a child has reawakened. But he cannot obey that urge. Taranza still feels so damaged, and so too are Dreamland and its people. The horrified reaction to his mere presence proves that him strolling into town is a poor idea. They only allow Taranza in the garden with someone else being there. Taranza is lucky to be able to take a break without someone looming over his shoulder to keep an eye on him if he returns to his old ways.
Old ways, huh? Taranza muses, looking up, far into the blue yonder. It is a cloudless sky, and Floralia is nowhere in sight. However, Taranza is not surprised by this. If Dreamland could have seen his home, they would never been taken off guard by the invasion. Not with one determined knight patrolling the heavens for foreign attacks. The only evidence of Floralia's existence is the debris from the failed invasion. Blimps guard the Dreamstalk as Dreamland cleans up the wreckage Queen Sectonia and Floralians' army caused. A giant airship with a familiar-looking mask affixed to the front stands out amongst the others.
Taranza shrinks in himself. The remainder of the cold knight has Taranza's hair stand on end. Although his interactions with King Dedede have improved, - that does not extend to the rest of his family. Taranza does not want to be near the bloodthirsty knight; luckily, Meta Knight shares that sentiment. On the off chance they cross in the hallway, Meta Knight steely walks past him - not even sparing him a glance. Taranza would feel offended if it were not for how relieved he feels once the knight leaves the vicinity. He is lucky it was not Meta Knight who chased after him when he kidnapped Dedede. Despite Kirby's determination, he feels that Meta Knight, with his righteous anger and flight, would have caught up sooner.
Kirby is - Taranza is uncertain what to think of them. On days like these, he is neutral, merely admiring Kirby's prowess from a factual standpoint. But on darker, colder days, he loathes the pink child with every fibre of his being. They were a thorn in his side, ruining his plans and chasing after him as if it were a new fashion style. They killed Sectonia. His irrational anger has led to a few outbursts - small ones, but still. Every time Taranza sees Kirby unexpectedly, he is overcome with a surge of hot-blooded desire for revenge. He knows Sectonia was too far gone; he knows every little piece of her he loves had long since faded into the past, even before he started the invasion. But still - he wants to avenge her even if she no longer cared for him. He wants justice for his childhood friend, who he watched fade away in the throes of madness.
But Taranza, as foolish as he feels since his betrayal of Floralia, is not absurd enough to fight Kirby. The youth would interpret it as a spar with how airheaded they can be - but when they get serious, Taranza stands no chance. Kirby's power is passive and easily goes under the radar. It is why even though Kirby is one of the most powerful people Taranza has had the displeasure of meeting, he overlooked Kirby's power until it was too late. Those copycat abilities, or whatever they are called, are stupendously strong. It is impressive and frustrating all at once. If only he could feel scholarly around the kid and not vengeful. He is sure he would have an easier time being around Kirby.
Because as much sense everyone has staying away from Taranza, Kirby takes after their kingly father, always trying to spend time with him if they run into each other. It is exhausting as it is distressing. Taranza understands why King Dedede would want to check up on him, disguising them as just friendly chatter. But Kirby seems not to understand the concept of personal boundaries or that he is a felon that children should not want to hang out with! Heaven forbid, if something like this happened in Floralia, Taranza would have driven himself into a tizzy.
Kirby is enigmatic in the worst ways possible. It is impossible to guess what goes in that dense head of theirs, and frankly, Taranza does not want to know. Maybe it is a cruel twist of fate that a child with the powers of gods wants to spend time with him - a disgraced holy man whose friend and love were felled by their stubby child fingers. The irony makes Taranza want to cry.
Taranza sips from his coffee. The coffee from Floralia and Dreamland are vastly different, sharing only a vague brown hue and a bitter aftertaste. But Taranza is starting to enjoy it even if he misses the food and drink from his homeland. Dreamland food is not bad, even if he still has to be careful of what he consumes occasionally, like drinking too much coffee. He blacked out once and does not remember anything from the encounter. But from how terrified everyone looked when he woke up, he swore only to drink two cups daily.
"Ah, Tazz! Thayure are."
Taranza blinks, registering the voice before he turns around. King Dedede walks onto the balcony, closing the sliding doors behind him. He is dressed lightly compared to the last weeks, enjoying the pleasant weather the gods bestowed upon them. Taranza is unfamiliar with Dreamlland's fashion but can appreciate the deep pinks and greens of Dedede's robe regardless. It is undoubtedly very uplifting to look at. It reminds him of peonies with their dark green stems and soft baby-pink petals.
Still, Taranza's smile twitches. He hoped to enjoy his break alone. Thinking of the royal family, summoned the head of the house to him. Kore really has it out for me. He muses vehemently.
"King Dedede, whatever can I be of assistance?" Taranza politely asks, as one does. He may be a criminal, far from his homeland - but Taranza knows his manners. Annoyed or not, he will not disrespect the king by dismissing him. The very notion has the hairs on his body crawling.
Dedede smiles, happy to hear Taranza's use of his name. Taranza tries to dismiss the content feeling in his chest at seeing King Dedede pleased. It is nothing, he tells himself. I should not feel happy about being friendly. It is just etiquette, nothing more.
"Funny ya mention assistin' me," Dedede replies, his grin straining. Taranza's eyebrows crawl to his hairline. How curious.
"Oh? Do tell? What can I help you with, my king?" As annoyed as he may be with the king, Taranza is polite enough to hear him out. Though even if he were to scrap away the pleasantries, he still would lend King Dedede a listening ear. For all the man has done for him, Taranza cannot be grateful enough.
He pats the seat next to him, scooting to the side so the king can take a seat. But the king does not accept the invitation. Taranza frowns. This cannot be good. He thinks, swallowing a mouthful of coffee to calm his nerves.
"Wayul, ya see Tazz - me and Meta Knight are going tuh be gone all tomorrow afternoon, and I wuz hoping thet if ya are not busy, ya could…" King Dedede trails off, pressing his hands together. His grin crooked, "-babysit Kirby."
"Babysit Kirby?! Pardon me?!" Taranza yells, unable to believe his ears.
"Yeah, ya heard me correctly. Kirby needs a babysitter. I don't want them tuh be alone." King Dedede bobs his head, unaffected by Taranza's shock.
"Ah, okay?" Taranza nervously smiles, bemused. Out of all children, Kirby seems like the last kid who would need babysitting. Well, next to Bandana Dee, Kirby is second place. But still, God slayers should be exempt from the social rule. Usually, King Dedede would explain his request. He has been adamant about being crystal clear with Taranza since day one. He is only upping the ante since their heartfelt exchange in the royal garden. But he is strangely silent, gauging Taranza's reaction rather than attempting to accommodate him.
Taranza hates to think about it but dislikes how attached he is to King Dedede's reassurances. The king's face betrays nothing of his intentions. Even as he grins, it is empty. Like a businessman's smile, he is only smiling for pleasantries so the deal will go smoother.
Taranza dislikes it.
"My good man, you mentioned Kirby, but what of Bandana Dee? Does he not need supervision?" He tries a different approach. Though he could directly confront Dedede about this absurd notion, he fears invoking his wrath. For as friendly King Dedede has been the past long weeks - it is always the calm one whose wrath stings the hardest. Taranza knows that from experience. It would only take one ornery comment on a bad day to destroy the pleasant nature of their relationship.
Dedede pulls a face, “Bandee? No way. Thet kid is too responsible to cause trouble. He will be down at thuh Waddle Dee community centre all day teachin' Wanyin and showin' the younger Dees some moves. He is thuh last person I hav to worry about." King Dedede laughs warmly as if Taranza's inquiry is that unbelievable. He casually leans against the couch. It shifts under his weight. Yet his attitude is anything but warm. Taranza feels on edge.
"And Bandana Dee cannot take Kirby with him?" Is it not his duty as Kirby's brother to look after him?' Taranza wishes he could say. Babysitting Kirby - pah, the idea is lunacy! But he keeps the sentiment to himself. He does not want to be indignant. The thought of children needing a caretaker beyond their toddlerhood days is absurd to him. Taranza knows Kirby is young - but they are certainly not that young!
"No."
"No?" Taranza repeats, puzzled.
"No, Bandana Dee needs time with thuh other Waddle Dees." King Dedede presses, looking fall intends and purposes - annoyed. Taranza is not sure why, but he will not challenge Dedede on it.
"Heard loud and clear." Taranza mumbles, not wanting to argue about it further. He can sense that it is a difficult subject.
"Fine, I will babysit Kirby." He sighs, finally giving in.
"Great! I will tell Kirby you're watchin' em' tomorrow." King Dedede beams from ear to ear - all the awkwardness melting away before the shining sun. That was his mission, and now that Taranza has agreed, all the tension disappears. Taranza smiles thinly - trying his hardest not to let his resentment show. Well, there goes my perfectly predictable work day. Great, he muses sarcastically - clutching the teacup in his floating hands so carefully. Only a popping vein a way from crushing it in his hands.
Dedede lingers, glancing around the balcony for an escape before being reminded that he is a king and can dip out whenever he wants. The edges of his smile grow sheepish.
"Anwho, It wuz nice seeing ya, but I need tuh go now. I've a lot of things tuh pack for thuh expedition." Dedede says, his eyes trailing along the sky. Taranza does not need to ask where the expedition is taking place. Dedede is just being nice by calling it a trip instead of the recon that it really is.
"So, until some other time. Adios !" He departs as soon as he arrived, with nary but a wave and the heavy stomping of his feet, taking the peace he broke with him. Taranza drops the grin, breaking out into a deep grimace. It contorts his face, and he messages his cheeks, hoping to get his jaw to unwind before it gets stuck in a permanent frown. Knowing his luck, that will happen. He leans backwards into the pillows, no longer pretending to sit upright and be proper. Letting the cushions envelop his whole frame as he groans loudly into the empty sky - his cold coffee put back on the coffee table. He gazes at the sky, sneering at the sunny weather.
The sun does not feel so pleasant anymore.
The day is beautiful - even better than the day before it. And yet Taranza cannot enjoy it. He sits inside, gazing at the stark sunbeams filtering in the drawing room with longing. Taranza awaits the horrible afternoon he must spend babysitting Kirby. He yearns to sit outside in the sun with a good book, letting nature and the natural architectural beauty of his surroundings sway him. But his dream is a far-away wish from older times. Still, he would prefer having a regular labour day to this insulting task.
Upon further instructions - which Dedede relayed with a memo taped to his door - Kirby will meet him in the drawing room. Together, they could decide what to do next for the entire afternoon. Taranza would be relinquished of his duties once Dedede and Meta Knight returned from their expedition at twilight. A generous estimation, as from little Taranza gathered from Dedede's rambling on the note, that the last checks up on the sky debris and trunk of the Dreamstalk may take hours depending on how cooperative the other nations in Popstar are today. Plus, the possibility of the new representatives of Floralia showing up might take up more time. They could be up there until midnight arguing and signing papers. Taranza knows all too well how much of a headache bureaucracy can be.
Taranza takes a deep breath, holding it in his chest. It would be a lie to say he has not thought about how Floralia is doing after he left. He imagined it was anarchy, and with how vocal the resistance was during Sectonia's territorial reign, they must have made a mess of things. But what about now? After a month, some order must have been restored, even if there is no royalty to rule anymore. Some nobles must have survived and, knowing them reinstated themselves as the kingdom's new rulers. Would they erase the beautiful history alongside the death of Arachnids? His species hardly matters now anymore, nor does their ancestry to the divine god queen herself, Aurelia. Would they erase her, too? Would his country become a godless realm?
Or, the church could have taken over. They were on the rich side as they never interfered with Sectonia, giving her plenty of tributes in the hopes she would leave them alone. She did, surprisingly. Would they bring back peace to Floralia? As much as Taranza wants to believe the clergy saved the day, a nasty voice in the back of his head sings of corruption. He may have been the Head Gardener once upon a time, but he would be blind not to see the cracks. He ignored it, knowing he could do nothing about it until he was years along and had the favour to change things for the better. The demotion Sectonia gave him sank his plans in the waters. None of his rules ever stuck because of his early retirement. More than likely, as he fears the rebellion leaders are now leading the land - trampling on all that is holy and just.
Taranza exhales, his whole body slumping from it. He would rather not think too much of it. Floralia's unknown fate weighs on his mind. Does it even matter anymore? I'm not a citizen anymore, nor do I deserve it for abandoning my country. He thinks glumly. I do not deserve the peace of mind I would get from knowing. Although I definitely deserve the despair. It is my fault it turned out this way.
Taranza's eyes wander, uncrossing his arms and observing the room instead of steaming in frustration. It is much nicer than he expected - almost as beautiful as the Imperial Palace used to be before Sectonia made her renovations. The furniture is more in line with what Taranza expected from a monarch like Dedede, with his grand throne and the few statues and portraits he has seen lying around the place during his cleaning days. The upholstery is on the finer side, more antique than it is gaudy. The floors are clean marble with a white rug underneath the couches, and an opulent coffee table sits between the couches.
Taranza glances at the snacks on the cake tray and fears the future stains on the pristine rug and sofa cushions. There is no way Kirby will be able to eat without spilling anything in this beautiful room. Taranza almost feels affronted on behalf of the cleaning crew as not so long ago. He used to be a member of their party. But the appointment has been set, and Taranza can only hope Kirby will listen to him and eat properly.
Taranza refuses the thought of cleaning up after Kirby or, goddess forbid, cleaning his face like a toddler. The very notion makes him want to tear his hair out.
I may be a babysitter for a day, but I am not a nanny - in Kore's Domain! This is beneath me! Taranza huffs, standing up in indignation. The thought of being someone's personal assistant rubs him the wrong way. It reminds him of those days when he did everything in his power to please his superiors in the monastery to rise through the ranks. It rankles that someone like him, with his talents, would be reduced to such low tasks. It is one thing to garden and clean up a communal space, but to clean up after someone capable of doing that themselves? He despises the very thought!
Isn't that what you did for Sectonia, though? Cleaning up her messes and being at her beck and call like a hound? His inner voice pipes up, rising from its slumber to torment Taranza.
That's different! I was her trusted right-hand man. She could not permit anyone near her or her rooms. Nobody else was trustworthy enough. Taranza answers inwardly and grumbles under his breath, greeting a persistent yet old foe.
Convenient for her, you mean, only having to boss one dexterous servant. Oh, so lonely and gullible.
That's not true. Taranza huffs.
The voice only tuts.
Sure, you feel that way. But in the end, she threw you away, just like everyone else. Like disposable trash, she had no further use for you. Not when you failed her so miserably.
Taranza's mind falls silent, and he, too, falls back on the couch, groaning in defeat. It is hard to argue against a voice that he has been with ever since he turned sides, growing all the stronger at witnessing the death of the woman he ended up devoting his life to when there was nothing else for him. Poking at every minor inconsistency or discomfort he experienced since he had to resign from being the Head Gardener and now, his worst enemy.
Doubt, a powerful voice that is supposed to help him, holds him tight around his neck, squeezing the happiness he found in past memories, coiling around his shoulders like a snake, choking the life out of him slowly.
But I am right; otherwise, you wouldn't be listening.
Taranza ignores it, straightening as the engraved doors to the extravagant drawing room open - silencing his inner demons.
"Poyo! Good afternoon, Tazzy." Kirby bounds from them, bubbly and bright as they heave the doors without letting them drag across the floor. It speaks of strength as Kirby easily closes the doors without struggling, skipping towards Taranza to plop down beside him.
Taranza scootches away, feeling uncomfortable being so close to the god killer. Kirby frowns, but does not comment on it. Taranza would be surprised if Kirby could be tactful. They are probably just sad he is not as happy as they want him to be. As everyone is who has to deal with him. He can hear his coworkers talking behind his back, and though most of their gossip is fear, often what is not said fills in the blanks. He is depressing to be around. He does not have the foggiest clue why King Dedede wanted him to babysit Kirby.
If anything, Taranza's fingers dig into his arms. He wants to be far away from Sectonia's executioner.
Taranza plasters on a fake smile. It feels like clockwork with how many times he fakes being happy. It is a well-worn mask, polished for this new life but truly not that much different from the one he wore since forever. He cannot recall when he first put it on and does not care. It serves its purpose well, even if it hurts a little every time he puts it on.
He waits for Kirby to take the initiative. That is how his life has been. Wait, counter and spin the situation to his hand, letting others make the decisions and retrofitting them to his tastes. Throughout his stay here, there was not a moment if he did come across Kirby m that the child was not bothering him, constantly badgering him to do something together or share their snacks with him. He declined every time. Now that he has no choice but to spend time with them, it is unusual for Kirby to be so silent.
They just stare from the corner of their eyes, heavy dark blue trained on him with an unreadable expression. It is shy of staring but just as unnerving, especially from the powerful cherub-like creature that fought tooth and nail to take him down. Kirby chews at their fingernails, and it is as intimidating as them squaring up their fists for a fight.
"Alright! Kirby, what do you want to do today." Taranza awkwardly breaks the silence, unable to take the tension anymore. His voice is shrill, and he cringes as it bounces off the walls with an intensity that could break glass. Kirby does not seem to mind, thinking about their words long and hard. They comically cross their arms and tap their chin, staring at the ceiling. Their feet swing to and fro, and they hum deep in their throat.
Taranza watches it happen, wondering if Kirby's actions were always this practised.
"Picnic, poyo!" Kirby shouts not that suddenly. They pull a wicker basket out of their null space, looking mighty proud at the feat as they present it to Taranza.
Taranza blinks, uttering a quiet ‘huh’. He did not know Dreamland did picnics with such primitive tools, too. However, the latter should not surprise him after living a month or so in Dreamland. In Floralia, wicker baskets were reserved for clergy because it was custom to braid them as a monk. They could only be sold, not made by commoners or noble hands. Children made smaller, grass-wicker baskets to hold offerings. Taranza uses dimension magic to keep all his stuff on him, especially for picnics. Not thet he had many of those, with his busy life.
But he and Sectonia went on a picnic once - on one of the few days they could take a break from respective duties. He still remembers the colour of the dying sunset descending below the clouds as Sectonia laughed at his jokes - delicately nibbling on a tiny cake. Her musical laughter still rings in his ears.
"Oh… I suppose we can do that." He mumbles, clawing back to the present. He cannot get lost in the past lest he be tempted to stay in and drown in the following misery. His dreams never stay sweet. Everything always eventually rots.
But, he looks down at his glances, grimacing. Ugh , why did I wear my Monday's best? My clothes are going to have grass stains! They're impossible to clean out. Not even magic can save me. He thinks, staring at his clothes - especially his gloves. He is already burning through the staff's supplies of white gloves - he does not want there to be more reasons why he is an outcast.
Kirby glances at his hands, bemused. As if reading Taranza's thoughts, they lift the cover of the picnic basket, allowing Taranza to see inside.
"Oh! I brought a blanket; doncha worry, Tazzy! It wouldn't be a proper picnic otherwise, po!" They declare, beaming at their own thoughtfulness.
"Ah. How surprisingly considerate of you." Taranza mutters, not having expected that. Kirby does not seem like the type after all. Still, it is a good surprise.
"Hehe, he." Kirby giggles angelically- not registering the back-handed compliment. Taranza supposes it is for the best, even as it was an unintentional insult. Kirby being angry with him is the last thing Taranza wants.
Tarnaza stands up, dusting off his trousers.
"I assume that means we should get a move on. Are you ready to go, Kirby?"
"Yeah!" Kirby nods vigorously, jumping off the couch and landing seamlessly on their two feet. Taranza looks down at them, realising how small the child actually is. Many Dreamlanders are short compared to him, with an expectation of Dedede. But Kirby, at their young age, only comes to his sternum. In their overalls and beat-up red sneakers, they scream non-threatening. Taranza almost wants to cry. This kid took down a goddess, and from Dedede's talks, short mentions of their previous adventures and accomplishments, the bosses Taranza set up to fight, and Sectonia are not the only things Kirby has defeated.
Aurellia give me strength. Taranza prays.
Kirby takes the wicker basket, swinging it from side to side. They stare at the coffee table, stars in their eyes at the snacks on top of it.
"Oh! I'm going to take this food with us. Not like anyone else is going to eat them, poy ." Kirby decides, shoving the finger food and packaged teatime biscuits into the basket - none too gently. For a second, Taranza considers reprimanding them like a child from Floralia. But the words fall silent on his tongue. He does not feel comfortable saying no or lecturing Kirby. Not when Kirby looks back at him with a sunny smile and rushes to the door. Capable of messing him up for simply looking at them wrong
"Eh, well, I guess so." Taranza's stomach clenches. He does not want to go anywhere with Kirby. But he already agreed to this. So he follows behind as Kirby waits for him at the door, shuffling on their feet. Brimming with excitement, Taranza can only associate with the young spirit of a child.
" Poyon !" Kirby giggles, reaching for Taranza's hand. Taranza retracts his palm, cradling it with two of his magical ones as he keeps his left side tight against his body. The sunny rays of the day feel cold as he watches the happiness slip from Kirby's face. They stare at him, unblinking. Kirby looks down at their hand in confusion. Only pink skin stares back at them, crossed with nicks, scars, and a smattering of freckles. They look back at Taranza, their brows furrowed.
Taranza does not know what Kirby sees, but they nod, skipping ahead without a word. The shadows retreat back into their hiding places, but Taranza only lets go of his held breath when Kirby rounds the corner. He lays a hand on his chest, his stomach turning in knots. He should feel ashamed of his reaction, mortified even. But how can Taranza be ashamed when not even a mighty queen like Sectonia could stand up to Kirby? The very thought of Kirby touching him gives him the chills.
Taranza brings his hands to his face, willing the trembling to go away as he closes them, his knuckles turning white under his gloves. Kirby's hands killed Sectonia. This child slayed the queen and my best friend. The person I cared most for. I might combust if they were to touch even a single millimetre of my carapace; goddess forbids they nick a sensory hair. Taranza thinks. But I promised to look after them today. As much as he wants to hide and cower, Taranza does not want Dedede to be angry with him. Or worse, disappointed. He can take anger but cannot bear the thought of King Dedede being disappointed in him.
He hurries after Kirby, steeling his nerves. Taranza fought Kirby once, and although they could have ended him easily, they spared him. Because as terrified as Taranza is, he knows there are rules to the madness that is Kirby. He just has to find them.
Kirby waits for him in the grand throne room. They smile upon seeing him, continuing along towards the main exit.
"So, where are we going on this fine day." Taranza slots himself next to the youth, drowning out the stillness with chatter. Anything to fill the dreadful silence. Perhaps it is not scary for such one as Kirby, who impossibly smiles wider, still as innocent as a button. But it is to Taranza. Taranza sees people eye him warily. He closes his eyes on the back of his head.
"Outside!" Kirby answers, thanking the guards for opening the doors for them. Taranza only nods, not comfortable acknowledging them directly. He wants to think they opened the doors for him because of his class, as servants used to do back in Floralia. But he knows all too well that is not the reason. The door is simply too heavy, although Taranza could manage the feat alone with his magic - it would be a hassle for ordinary people. Taranza is born of diluted noble blood, but that hardly matters anymore now. Not as the bottom-of-the-rung criminal.
"Where outside?" Taranza tries again, his polite smile straining. He thought he was being clear. Apparently not so.
Kirby hums, dashing forward to twirl and dance under the archway to the front gate. Taranza surveys the courtyard, deciding that they must be picnicking here. And if they are not in the royal garden. It is an easy exit towards it - they can easily slip by the right and enter it from the side-
"We're going to Green Greens! It's a perfect picnicking spot."
"Where is Green Greens?" It is definitely not in the castle unless it is a nickname. The possibility of leaving the castle behind hits Taranza like a sledgehammer. They are not slowing down, and it is clear from Kirby's enthusiasm as they near the gate - they are going outside.
Oh, it was not literal. We are going outside the castle. Taranza muses hysterically.
"Green Greens has rolling hills, endless skies, and nothing else but grass and flowers for miles unless you count the forests, Wispy Woods, Rick, Kine, Coo, Gooey and my house! But you won't have to worry about Whispy. You're peachy as long as you don't enter any woods or harm a tree." Kirby giggles, repeating the last word to themself. It is not a surprise, as they look hungry at the mention of food - even if it was by their own creation.
Taranza does not know the people Kirby mentions, and he does not care for them, but rather the prospect that they are leaving the castle—the very same place he has been banned from leaving ever since his imprisonment. As kindly as they have treated him despite his wrongdoings, Taranza is still a criminal doing his sentence. He is not a free man.
He mulls over it, unsure how to break it to Kirby. Any other child would be disappointed and throw a temper tantrum. Taranza is equipped to deal with that, even if he would rather not. As much as he loves kids, he cannot deal with the messy side of child-rearing. He never had to, only seeing children at their best behaviour as a priest and when meeting royalty as a child himself. He was an only child, so his experience is limited. But he has heard horror stories of how catastrophic some kids can be. There is a reason, after all, why being a nanny is a job, much less why some parents stay at home to take care of their children rather than being at work all day like their partner might.
For Kirby, that might ring through tenfold. Taranza does not want to see Kirby at their angriest.
"I cannot leave. It's a part of my punishment, Kirby. We shall have to keep ourselves entertained on the castle grounds. I am sure there are plenty of quaint spots for a picnic around here." Taranza says to the point. A child like Kirby must appreciate such a direct approach. As nonsensical as they can be, children need structure. Taranza cannot let his beliefs get in the way. Even though he is still very much of the opinion that Dedede and Meta Knight could have done more to teach Kirby manners and poise. Kirby barely looks like royalty, much less acts like it. He is ashamed, for Kirby's sake.
Finding Kirby a future spouse will be such a hassle. Poor King Dedede. For his majesty's sake, I hope Bandana Dee inherits the throne. He is such a responsible chap. Taranza sighs.
Kirby cocks their head, bemused, They stop short from the gate. It is open with only two guards, keeping out everyone who is not supposed to be there. And no doubt, if Taranza were to cross that imaginary line, they would apprehend him. He would rather not chance such an encounter. It will be a mortifying experience, to say the least.
"You can leave," Kirby says.
"No, I cannot." Taranza counters snootily. Kirby pouts, giving Tarnaza an annoyed look. It is gone in a second but sticks in Taranza's mind. For as brief as it was, it is the first time he has seen Kirby disgruntled.
"It's simple. You take a step, then two and viola! You're outside. As easy as pie, poyo." They say, demonstrating by placing one foot in front of the other. Kirby waves their hands, jazz hands style, their basket hanging off the crook of their elbow. They inch towards the entrance in a non-too-patient manner.
Taranza scowls. Kirby does not understand his situation.
"No! Not literally! I can't leave as per my sentencing. KIng Dedede forbids it.” He says sharply, indicating such by slicing his hands in the air, like a blade to a ribbon. He bristles, aggravated.
Kirby blinks, dropping the jovialty.
"Did he?" Kirby asks.
" Yes ." Taranza grits out. He is done with this discussion. It is one thing to entertain a child's delusions but another for Kirby to play with his lack of freedom. It makes Taranza's blood boil.
But Kirby does not seem to notice how they angered Taranza despite his sour face. Taranza clenches fists to prevent him from accidentally letting go of his magic. He does not want a repeat of the garden incident. Even if, currently, he would love nothing more than to see Kirby flounder against his magic. Show them what happens if they continue to make fun of him.
"Hmm, I'm sure he told me it was fine as long as I, Dedede, Bandee or Meta was with that it was fine. And I'm here, aren't I, poy ?" Kirby says simply, not intimidated in the slightest.
Taranza does not blink, coming down from the simmering heat that overtook him. He shakes his head, his eyes out of his sync as he composes himself. He stands up straight, dusting off the imaginary dust, and promptly folds his hands.
"Oh, I… had forgotten." Taranza murmurs, coughing in one floating hand and willing the embarrassment to disappear.
Kirby smiles, unbothered by Taranza's near outburst. They are not the type to linger or taunt Taranza about his mistakes. Kirby does not have a mean bone in their body. Taranza does not know what is more upsetting, whether Kirby's mannerisms are intentionally aggravating or the thought of Kirby being capable of such slyness.
"That's alright. I also forgetful sometimes, hehe." Kirby giggles, already forgetting about the tense moment. They skip over the castle's threshold, waiting on the other side.
Taranza marches over to the gate and passes with no trouble. Still, he studies the guards. Not able to shake off the imaginary alarm bells ringing for breaking a rule. They stare at him, bored. The guards seemingly do not care, glancing at Kirby instead, who happily toddles away., leading Taranza down the sloping road.
Taranza sighs. This is going to be a long day. Better get it done with then. He muses.
They enter town. Taranza's apprehensiveness quickly melts away to silent awe. He had only seen Dedede Town from the castle's balcony and the higher-level windows. To see it for himself up close rather than through a window is a different experience. Despite the name, the mountainous village is lively, more like a city than a town. The colourful buildings are cheerful, with round, kaleidoscopic roofs and cute elegant signs denoting shops and businesses. The citizens mile about jovially and calmly, doing their daily routine as if it is just another Tuesday. And Taranza supposes it is just another Tuesday for them. They do not know a criminal walks in their midst, staring at them with open wonder and curiosity.
Up close, the differences between the architecture of Moonlight Capital are striking. They look so simple compared to the gothic structures he is used to. But strangely, their simplicity is elegant. It is not as daunting as the carved arches or heavy crystalline metal Floralia uses. It feels like a breath of fresh air. Taranza's heels click against the cobblestone path, sticking close but not too close to Kirby. Their close proximity itches, but he also does not want to lose them in the crowd.
To Taranza's surprise, nobody recognises him. They stare with bemusement. But no fear. He supposes he looks odd, but he spots some insect-like people amongst the people here. Perhaps he does not stick out like a sore thumb as he thought he did.
How strange. I thought King Dedede would have plastered my face everywhere to ensure that people would know who to watch out for if I did escape. Or attack. Taranza thinks, his gaze lingering on Kirby. Perhaps they do not worry about me because I am with Kirby.
Kirby's presence is a buffer as they greet and skip down the path. They never stay longer than a hello. The most distraction Kirby allows themself is to stare hungrily at food in window displays and whenever someone walks around with food in hand. They do not even stop for some commoners' glamouring to talk to them. Kirby simply shakes their head and continues downwards, determined to reach their destination.
Taranza only pauses when they arrive at the shopping district, studying the fountain in the middle of a quaint little plaza. Cafes and restaurants surround it. But the crowning jewel is the stone structure of the fountain. He would chalk it up to it as just a fancy fountain with a magical staff-shaped stone, water pouring out of the star at the top. But he narrows his eyes.
He has seen the design of the fountain before. He is sure of it. Only it was not this greyish stone, glistening with droplets and fuzzy moss. The emblems are carved into the wide basin or not for decoration. It is a replica of something. But Taranza cannot recall what.
Taranza quickly hurries after Kirby once he notices they are gone, flying after them as he spots their pink mop all down the town's entrance gates. Dedede will have his head if he loses Kirby - even if they are competent enough on their own. Regardless, he cannot disappoint his king.
Tarnaza's thoughts halt as he catches up to Kirby, ignoring their sunny look.
My king…? Dedede is not my monarch. Sectonia is...
His head becomes silent, unwilling to ponder further than that disturbing thought.
The rest of the journey is uneventful. It is a very long trek towards Green Greens. It takes them all of noon and well into the afternoon to reach it. Taranza has no idea how Kirby does it every day when they finally arrive at the supposedly perfect picnic spot. Taranza would not bother to go to such great lengths for leisure if he were in Kibry's shoes. Although, with his teleportation magic, he never has to walk out this far again. He has seen this place now and mapped it out in his head. If he wants to ever return to this place, for some ungodly reason, he can.
But the scenery on the way here took his breath away. Taranza knew Dreamland was big. He recalls calling it paradise when he first came here, high on victory and loss. But to see such great swaths of land up close, lush forests and acres of free grass - it sang deep inside of him. Floralia could only dream of such a luxury with their crowded islands. If his people saw this place, they also would believe the holy land was down instead of upwards into the heart of the heavens.
Taranza shakes his head. They are not his people anymore. Even if he were to consider himself still a part of them. No doubt they renounced him the second he fled. Perhaps much earlier, after he executed the rebellion's leaders. It has been much longer since he stopped enacting the people's will. Way before Dreamland and her heroes came on stage.
He desperately tries not to think about that as he curiously studies the ruins and temples afar, morbidly curious about what they once had been before nature overtook them. Taranza itches to explore, his inner historian excited to discover something new. But he is a dutiful man before he is a scholar, and he follows Kirby up the hill under an apple tree, overlooking the vast rolling plains Kirby raved about.
Taranza stares at everything around him, reminded of his first arrival. It feels like so long ago when he landed here with Kirby and King Deddede after that neverending night. The sight is no less magical. The breeze tousels his hair; he tucks a strand behind his ear, not needing to turn his head to look everywhere with his 360-degree vision. He breathes in deeply, smelling the wildflowers decorating the hill. Taranza peers up at the sky, unable to help himself. The Dreamstalk still blossoms, strengthened by archaic magic in a forever bloom. But he cannot see his beloved homeland. The clouds hide Floralia away from the earth. The fluffy clouds do not give in even on a clear blue day. Only the giant beanstalk denotes where it should be, a dead giveaway to anyone who knows what led it to take permanent residence in Popstar's skies.
Kirby does not seem to care about Taranza's wistfulness, placing the picnic blanket, plates, cups and cutlery down. Still, they sit with their dirty shoes on the linen, plopping down with a bounce.
“Po yo yon, pup oooplah! All set up!" Kirby sings, waving their hands excitedly as they finally take out the food - the main show.
Taranza startles - so lost in his thoughts. He does not need Kirby's prompting, knowing that if he does not react fast enough, he will not get any food from the picnic. Not that Taranza wants to eat; he does not feel hungry right now.
"I know you like fancy schmancy stuff, so I made finger sandwiches. There is nothing fancier than finger food!" Kirby declares, clumsy fingers assembling the food they brought along on a plastic plate. Taranza cringes at Kirby's organisation skills but says nothing of it. He does not want to discourage the youth's efforts. He gingerly takes the offered plate, studying the finger sandwiches. They do not look half bad, if a little smushed and messy from Kirby's antics. He is more surprised at the prospect that Kirby made these.
Taranza stares at Kirby's hands, noting the slight tremor. It is not from a past injury, as far as he knows, nor is Kirby nervous. Taranza is unsure if Kirby is capable of worry. But something in him tells him that Kirby is banned from the royal kitchen.
"You made these?" He asks in disbelief. Cooking and baking is a delicate but rewarding art. Not necessarily a hobby, he expects from as unorthodox as a princex Kirby is. Yet, it is a wonderful trait to have. It certainly would make Kirby a hit amongst future suitors. However, Taranza feels bad that anyone trying to court Kirby would find themselves at the end of Meta Knight's sword before they could even attempt to court Kirby.
Although without Meta Knight, Kirby is a force to be reckoned with. With time, their reputation will precede them. As attractive as the idea of a powerful royal spouse is, there is a fine line between the power to flaunt and to destroy. Their good qualities might not be enough to sway any royal prospectors to Dreamland's cause once Kirby hits their majority.
Kirby cradles their plate close to them, their expression blank.
"Eh, well, poyo." They begin, an anxious grin creeping on their face, "Bandee made these before he left this morning. But I gathered the ingredients! I'm not allowed in the kitchen." Kirby bares their teeth in a half smile, not unkindly but not cheerful either. It surprises Taranza, and yet, he understands somewhat. Kirby's expressions are foreign to him, and their expressions are even stranger. But the flashes of awkwardness make them feel mortal. Relatable almost.
Taranza chuckles behind his hand, unable to believe he thought that. It seems I was right. They are banned from the kitchen. Taranza muses.
"And fruits, poyo ! You can never go wrong with fresh fruits and lemonade." They announce excitedly, already forgetting about their banishment of all kitchens in the castle.
"That is true." Taranza readily agrees, taking the pitcher offered to pour himself a cup.
Taranza eats in silence while Kirby rambles. He only half listens as Kirby regales him with their adventures or the events of the past weeks. He cannot keep his attention on what Kirby says - caught in a stream of thought. He nibbles on his food, his appetite never returning. It has been lacking since everything went down. He is happy to be able to eat, at least without throwing up.
He feels disconnected from reality, Kirby's voice coming as if he is underwater. Being here in the open, with nothing to distract him, gives him no reprieve from the alien and cold feeling that has been with him ever since he could process what happened that dark day. Every day, Taranza feels like he will wake up back in the Imperial Palace. As if this is a long, extended dream, and the next time he opens his eyes, he will be back where he belongs. At Sectonia's side, convincing himself, he is happy as he slowly works himself and Floralia to death.
He is unsure if he could choose - which one he would prefer to be the dream. This strange land where he is a nobody criminal working off his punishment or the misery of being the state secretary. At least Sectonia would still be alive. I was unhappy but didn't mind because she was still there. I could still have done something.
Time passes in the blink of an eye. The sun is lower in the sky than when they started their picnic, and Kirby has long since polished off their share of the food. Not that Kirby took long to inhale all the food and the rest of the lemonade, but some of Taranza's share still sits uneaten on his plate.
He feels untethered from the ground. As if he will drift away if he lets go of the cord named guilt. He would call himself unstable, but it is a strangely calm feeling. Numbness, he is no stranger to it. But at the same time, another emotion clogs his heart valves.
Taranza grips his shirt, the slow thrum of his heart pulsing against his fingers. If his heart stopped right now, he wonders if he would even care enough to do something about it.
Kirby studies Taranza. Taranza did not notice, too caught up in his head, but Kirby had stopped talking long before Taranza stopped pretending to eat and drink. They watched and waited, wondering what to do. Kirby lays down on the picnic blanket, staring up at the blue yonder - reminded of their adventure high up in the sky and the horrible feelings that come with it.
"Do you regret what you did, poyo?" Kirby asks suddenly.
"Wha-what?" Taranza gapes at Kirby, not expecting such a severe question nor how easily it slips past them.
"Do you regret what you have done?" Kirby remains unbothered, staring with deep blue ocean eyes. Deep and dark, threatening Taranza to drown if he stares too deeply - daring him to lie.
Taranza considers it. It would be easy to lie. No doubt someone put Kirby up to this. Using children to gain information is cowardly and disgusting. But the coldness inside Taranza subsides a little bit. From what little he knows of Kirby, they do not follow orders well. For them to be so direct and yet not waver - he does not think someone told Kirby to do this. The Dreamlanders are relatively simple folk. Even Meta Knight has a code of honour. He would not be so sly to use Kirby this way, and he hardly thinks King Dedede would, too. He is too good-natured to do that.
"... every day." Taranza answers, almost a whisper in the breeze.
Kirby bobs their head.
"Would you do it again?" They ask.
Taranza’s incisors dig into his lip.
"No! I would never do that again! The pain I brought people was immeasurable. I pay my sins tenfold if I could spare people from my mistakes." He replies swiftly, so quick to absolve his guilty conscience.
Taranza looks at Kirby. Kirby's eyes are grave.
"Hmm., that's a lie, isn't it." They say.
"...yes. I suppose that makes me a terrible person." Taranza sighs.
"I don't think so," Kirby replies. Their soft tone infuriates Taranza.
"Why pray tell, would that not make me terrible?" Taranza huffs.
Kirby takes a moment to think about their words, almost daydreaming. Taranza waits patiently. He does not mind the slow pace. It beats being interrogated. Kirby is terrifying.
"You still regret it, doncha? And you're doing your best now. I don't like what you did. But it's bad to be stuck in the past." Kirby explains, taking time to formulate their words. They seem to struggle to articulate, almost like they must translate their words before speaking. Their faces draw in annoyance when they cannot find the perfect word to use.
"I don't think you're terrible." They shrug.
"I am horrible, Kirby. A monster!" Taranza harshly claims, venom in his voice, "You wouldn't understand. You're a child. When you're older, you will understand the pain and devastation I have caused, and you will hate me. Like everyone else does." Taranza yanks at his hair, turning away from Kirby. He stares in the distance, screwing the eyes on the back of his head shut. Unfortunately for him, he would perfectly know what Kirby is doing. Sometimes having eyes on the back of one's head sucks.
"Don't put words in my mouth, poyo!" Kirby yells back, taking a moment to breathe and calming down immediately, "And I don't hate you."
"As if you know what it's like to hate." Taranza scoffs, undermining the child. Pain comes with age. What does Kirby know, who is so carefree and young? Blind to the harshness of the future. Still filled with potential and not broken like Taranza. Oh, how he longs to return to the past to live without worries. Kirby is lucky, and Taranza despises them for it.
Kirby glares at Taranza and still does not rise to the bait. They keep to their spot on the blanket, drumming their fingers against their leg. The wind ruffles their hair.
"I do! I hate people leaving behind trash and when people steal my food." Kirby gets a dark look in their eyes, their pupils nearly washing away the brilliant blue of their irises. Sunken into old memories.
"And I have hated people before." They bite out, making Taranza open his eyes in shock and actually look at Kirby - truly look.
"Really? You out of all people?" He asks incredulously.
"I still do sometimes…" Kirby murmurs, thinking back to the hot rage that consumed them—the dull shine of black hair and an identical face and red eyes. The almost unnatural instinct to kill and fight overtook all of their sense. Of a childhood friend who betrayed them, of how they came to regret slaying him to rescue Popstar from a stolen wish.
"And I know that's wrong, so I try to do better. For their sake." Kirby averts their eyes, forcing their face to stay blank. They do not want to think about them .
Kirby shakes their head, their eyes boring into Taranza.
"Do you want to be forgiven?"
Taranza stares at Kirby, shocked by the rapid fire of grave questions a child should not be capable of. It comes so out of the blue that Taranza feels his mind going topsy-turvy. Are all Dreamlander children like this? No wonder they are so terrifying . Taranza shudders.
"O- Of course I want to be forgiven! What kind of question is that?!" Taranza laughs awkwardly, "What kind of person would not want to be forgiven?"
"Well, poyo , it just sounds like you don't think you deserve to be forgiven." Kirby exhales, sitting upright. Their gaze focused far into the distance, unseeing.
"What." Taranza simply utters, flabbergasted at the ancient look in Kirby's eyes. Far older than time or space, than their tiny body that cannot be older than twelve years old.
"Forgiveness is a process," Kirby says, their fingers twiddling with the stems of the daisies. It takes them a bit to fit the stems into the small holes, and each time Kirby misses, annoyance passes over their features. Taranza recognises it and, for a second, fears for the flower fields' destruction. But instead of getting angry and rampaging, Kirby takes a deep breath and tries again. Before long, a daisy chain the length of a bracelet hangs from their fingers. They continue the same process, failing and trying again even if it would take someone else less time to achieve the same results. Maybe even neater results. But that does not seem to be the point, "- for everyone involved. You can't force it because then it means nothing, poy . It takes time."
Kirby smiles gently. It is the first time Taranza has seen a bittersweet expression cross their face. Kirby always seems to have only two emotions, three if you count hunger as an emotion: joy and anger. But now, Taranza is awed at the melancholic veil that befalls Kirby.
Kirby hums with a little 'poyon', finishing their daisy chain. Kirby gestures for Taranza to give them his wrist. Taranza obeys them, quizzically eyeing the strange child. Not able to help the jolt of fear spiking in his chest. But Kirby just ties the daisy bracelet around his bony wrist.
"Tadah! What do you think?" They grin brilliantly, rivalling the dying sun. Taranza wrinkles his nose, feeling the flowers with the pads of his fingers. He cannot feel their texture, but it does not look half bad. Some petals are a little crooked, and the pollen stains his gloves. But Taranza does not mind it for once, lost in an old memory. He used to do this, too, as a child. How long was that ago?
Taranza cannot remember.
"It's… nice. Did you say your prayers before plucking the flowers?"
Kirby pauses.
"... what is prayer?"
"Uh, wha- you can't be ser-! Okay, one thing at a time," Taranza takes a deep breath, "In Floralia, when you cut, pluck or uproot flowers to plant them somewhere else, you say a quick prayer. They are like words that are supposed to invoke protection and gratitude."
"Oh, like magic!" Kirby cheerfully exclaims.
"Ehhhhh, yeah, sure. It's like magic." The inner priest inside Taranza feels like dying. But then again, Kirby is a child. He supposes to them it would seem like magic. He will teach Kirby about prayer and religion when they are older. If he were to teach them now about divinity and creation, he is sure Kirby's head would explode. Although, he wonders. To a god killer like Kirby, would religion even matter?
He will have to talk with King Dedede about it. Taranza feels that introducing Kirby to his religion would be a bad idea. Especially after all the doubt plaguing him. As much as he prays to Aurelia still, and with all the good he has done, how did he wander onto such a corrupt path? He is not sure what to believe in anymore. But that does not change his views on tradition and his people's customs. They will always be his, if he likes it or not.
"What do you say ?" Kirby prompts, and Taranza obliges.
"OH! Uh, it's rather simple. Well, It's in Floralian, but the words are 'thank you for your fruits of sacrifice; we shall not squander the gift of life nor take more than we need'. It's important to respect all life. Flowers and plants nourish us, and we shall repay back in kind. Always show your respects when gathering or using resources. Especially after hunting game."
"Game? Why would I be hunting for a game? Is it a special edition of a video game?" Kirby asks, befuddled.
What is a video game? Taranza wonders, but he shrugs. That does not matter right now.
"I will explain to you when you're older. Just be grateful for every meal you have. You get to live like this because of what came before." Taranza's wording is not the best, but Kirby does not seem bothered by it, mulling it over.
"Makes sense, poyo. I wouldn't like it if someone did not appreciate the work I put into something." Kirby concludes.
"That's a good way to think about it." Taranza nods.
"Goody!" Silence overtakes them. But Taranza is not sated.
"Kirby… what did you mean with your words?"
"Hmm? With the flowers?"
"No, about forgiveness."
"Oh! You just don't sound, uh…. You don't sound like you're ready to forgive yourself. So, being forgiven by someone else wouldn't matter." Kirby shrugs. They pause, thinking over their words again.
"Not that people should forgive you, for your sake! You must work towards forgiveness, not wait for others to forgive you. Or you get stuck waiting for a long time." They add, nodding firmly, looking proud of their nugget of wisdom. Perhaps any other day, Taranza would be in awe of it for a child like Kirby to know so much and be so wise. He would not believe it if he were not sitting here, witnessing it with his own ears and eyes. But this is today, and he feels wrong in his body.
"But don't I deserve to suffer? It's karmic justice for everything I did." All Taranza feels is frustration, for as much as he agrees with Kirby, something broken and ugly protests. He stands upright, his arms jerkily gesturing to the air as his hands try to illustrate his crimes. His horns buzz, frazzled and upset.
Kirby cracks open an eye, assessing the situation. They relax, not feeling the telltale start of a battle breaking out even as highly strung Taranza seems.
"I don't know what karma is, poyo . But I do know nobody deserves to suffer! Even you, Taranza." Kirby says. Taranza whips around to look at them, incredulity plastered on his face. Too lost for words at how ridiculous Kirby sounds.
"You regret your actions, and that's good enough for me. You're already doing everything to become a better person. There is nothing else for you to do." They continue. Their sentiment is so simple it boggles Taranza's mind. He sits back down on the picnic blanket, thinking long and hard about Kirby's words.
"Repent and move on. Is that what you're saying?" Taranza asks to clarify, wondering if it really can be that straightforward.
"I don't know what that means, but I agree with the moving on part!" Kirby hums, a little giggle slipping past their lips. They lean over to sit upright, tapping their cheek, "That's a word I will have to ask Bandee about. Although Meta is more likely to know… Hmm."
They pull out their cellphone, scrolling through their contacts.
"I can also ask Fluffu." They glance at the horizon, noticing how far the sun has dipped, slowly changing to twilight colours rather than the trusty blue of day, "Or maybe not."
Kirby turns around to look at Taranza. He never noticed, but Kirby does not look him in the eyes. At first, he chalked it up to Kirby, not knowing his white eyes are magic and unseeing, just like everyone else thinks. Only his golden eyes function like actual eyes. But their eyes flicker to stare into Taranza's gaze at his temple before focusing on his horns instead. It is a curious tidbit he files away for later.
"I'm alright not being forgiven until you're ready, or never." Kirby murmures. Unbothered and carefree, having come to peace with what Taranza cannot comprehend. It bewilders him.
"What are you talking about? It should be me who asks for your forgiveness. You didn't do anything wrong. I am the one in the wrong here! I kidnapped his majesty, I used him like a puppet, I led people to their deaths, I didn't save Sectonia! I destroyed everything around me!" Taranza shouts, holding his breath and only letting go of it as his chest burns.
"Poy. I took someone precious away from you. I would not be so kind as you are if one of my friends died." Kirby speaks truthfully—a spark of anger at the possibility of that happening invading their peaceful attitude. There is no telling what Kirby would have done. But Taranza can guess that if one of their loved ones died that day, Sectonia would not be the only confirmed death that day.
Kirby blinks away the thoughts, giving Taranza a stern look.
"You do think I did wrong," They argue firmly, slamming their hand on the ground. It does not shake as Taranza expected. Kirby is unlike Dedede, whose muscles and strength can make the ground shiver. But it makes them no less powerful, "but I don't mind that."
The breeze cards through their hair, but Taranza cannot feel it. His lip curls, biting deep into the flesh of his cheek. I hate you. He thinks, flooding with anger. But he looks at Kirby and their serene face. To their undisputable youthfulness and sincerity. He feels his anger redirecting its course, targeting the only person he has left to blame.
Himself.
"It should not have been your choice to take her life. I hate this; I hate that Secotonia is dead and Floralia is in turmoil. I hate that you, a child, made that decision. " Taranza sighs, biting back tears, "But I do not hate you, even when I want to. I really want to hate you."
But the tears slip by anyway. Taranza cannot do anything to stop them.
"You're just a child. A powerful and incomprehensible child but still a child. I shouldn't have made you do all of that. I shouldn't have followed Sectonia so blindly. I should have stuck up for myself and my people." The thoughts spill forth, and what he has been thinking and blaming himself comes out in droves. The tears burn against his carapace skin, staining his shirt. The snot dribbling past his nose is disgusting, and his collar is not saved from it when he wipes it away. He does not care.
"I should have seen sooner that the mirror corrupted Sectonia. Maybe then, this would have never happened." He mumbles to himself, forgetting the pink child seated beside him, staring in alarm and yet understanding. They know of the mirror he speaks of. It has been missing for a while.
I am made Sectonia this way. It is all my fault. But he does not dare to say it. He is sure that Kirby's mercy will disappear in the blink of an eye when he does. He is a monster, and nothing can change that.
Taranza cries, loud and ugly, holding himself tightly as he shakes. His horns and hair fizzle, coating the hill in a blanket of magic. Kirby keeps to their spot, a hand reached in comfort. But they do not initiate contact. They have seen others do it, and though their knowledge tells them they should, they listen to their gut. If they were in Taranza's shoes, they would not want to be touched right now. Kirby backs away, giving Taranza the space he needs. The spider wails, a dam flooding from the numbness he kept locked up tight. Even as time passed, the pain became no less potent or bitter. Ignoring it has made it stronger, and Taranza pays the price.
Taranza does not register when he stops sniffling, only when everything else is silent and staring at his hands. His gloves are ripped, revealing the hairy claws and hands underneath. He takes a long and hard look at all six of his hands. He curls them, coming to terms with their unblemished nature.
It happened; he is not the man he once was. He is nothing but a guilt-ridden magician, broken and lost.
He lifts his head; the effort makes him wince, but Taranza still pushes through, watching Kirby through a curtain of frizzy bangs. A curtain of silver, sparking with residual magic. And somehow, Kirby sits there, unbothered. Seemingly untouched by what is a shock to an ordinary mortal. Taranza chuckles humourlessly. Of course, they would be unaffected by his outburst. Taranza glances at Kirby's arms, expression sour at the silvery branches of an old lightning scar.
But Kirby is not completely invincible.
"You never needed a babysitter, did you?" Taranza spits out, disgusted he let himself be played. Kirby ran through Floralia, tearing the place in half and defeated the strongest person he knew at the time. They are not some kid that needs to be looked after 24/7. He did not want to argue with King Dedede. But right now, after seeing this mature side to Kirby - there is no way this kid needed supervision. Even if they did, there is no doubt in his mind if Kirby really wanted to get rid of him, they could do so effortlessly. Peacefully, too, as they have shown they are capable of it.
"Hmm?" Kirby hums. They scratch their cheek, seemingly not knowing what Taranza is talking about. Taranza groans, not understanding why Kirby acts like this. Until he remembers, he needs to be more transparent with his words.
"King Dedede, he requested me to babysit you today. I thought it was odd, but I had not thought much of it," Until now. Although saying the last bit would no doubt upset Kirby.
"Ah, that's how Dedede did it," Kirby shrugs. "I only told him I was sad you were avoiding me." They scratch their cheek, their cheery voice suddenly despondent.
"I would have let you alone. But you looked so sad. I wanted to cheer you up." They say, so simple-minded.
"Why?" Taranza questions, gobsmacked.
Kirby blinks, giving a sunny smile.
"Because nobody deserves to be sad!" Kirby declares, determined. They thrust their fist in the air, heroically posing and giggling as they fall back down. Taranza shakes his head, not fighting the smile on his face. It curls bittersweetly.
"I can think of a couple of people that deserve to be sad," He says. More than a couple, but Kirby does not need to know that.
"That's sad." Kirby frowns, wearing their emotions on their sleeve. What a poor, reckless child. I pity them. Taranza thinks. He wonders when Kirby's kind-heartedness will stop. Will it vanish as they grow up, realising that the world is not as bright as it looks through their bright eyes? Or is it in their character to trust and see the best in people? Only time will, and though Taranza thinks of them as naïve, he would prefer to stay on their good side.
"Is it sad?" Taranza queries anyway, curious why Kirby thinks that way. It is foolish, but Taranza wants to listen anyway. Nothing will change, so why not? He has had enough of silence.
Kirby bobs their head, taking their time - searching for the words to explain. They open their mouth with a big inhale, and for a moment, Taranza fears their supernatural power. Only hypernova mode does not activate. Only their words reach his ears.
"You think you deserve sadness and others to be sad too." Kirby pouts, the cogs in their brains turning. Taranza can see the steam blowing out of their ears - thinking hard.
"Don't you think people do what they do because they're sad, poyo ?" Kirby asks. Taranza moves in to correct Kirby. There are many reasons people do the things they do. But he takes a moment to consider it.
Taranza supposes truly happy people would not make others miserable. If Sectonia had felt comfortable being herself, she would not have made such a drastic heel turn - changing herself and the kingdom. Those bitter old people on the council would not be as catty as they are, and people would not be so harsh on others if they felt content. In the simple words of a child, if those who hurt people were happy, they would not have felt the need to inflict that hurt on others.
"If I could - I would take all the sadness in the world and chuck it in space! This way, people would not get hurt anymore." Kirby says, making a motion of chucking a ball in the air. They chuckle, perhaps realising how silly the thought is. Although knowing the sprout, Taranza bets more on the notion that Kirby thinks they are capable of it. The laughter is more of a nervous response.
Taranza soughs. On that, he would have to disagree.
"Those are some big aspirations. But don't you think people also learn from sad experiences?" He taps his fingers on the picnic blanket, closing every but one eye, wondering how such an intelligent child suddenly became simple-minded. Except, Kirby is a child. It is only natural for them to think this way. No, he is astounded at how emotionally mature Kirby is. The sudden confession of their dream is a slap in the face.
Taranza is conversing with a child. He knew that in the back of his mind and even said it as such. It is an interesting perspective.
"Like?" Kirby presses, daring Taranza to think of one good, sad thing. But Taranza is not deterred, able to think of many instances where people found the power to take back their lives or flourish from a bad experience. However, explaining it to Kirby is another thing. He does not have the energy to explain his proverbs and metaphors nor the lingual skill to translate them. He thinks about King Dedede, who told him was not a good man back in the day, even as Taranza finds it hard to believe. He snaps his finger.
"Well… King Dedede, for example. He told me he… when the late queen passed away, he became ruthless, but even if it took him a while, he reformed himself and became a better ruler. It is not that his mother dying made him the good king he is today! But he moved on, learned and prospered."
"Hmm, I suppose. Dedede was…" Kirby trails off. Unconsciously, their hand wanders to their left elbow, scratching at the lighting scar. Kirby's eyes are misty, the rest of their face blank. Their nails scrape against the mark. They give no indication if it hurts or not.
"- well, I like the present him!" Kirby grins. It does not reach their eyes. Taranza does not linger on the mystifying reaction. It is not his place to dig deeper.
Kirby withdraws into themself, caught by an old memory. Taranza lets them be. The silence drones on as the wind no longer howls in his ears. The valley is silent and yet no less beautiful. It burns orange in the evening light, mesmerising Taranza once more. He touches the daisy chain wrapped around his wrist. Surprisingly, it curls around his fingers, the stems and petals having grown from his burst. He caresses it with the pads of his fingers, nudging the bulbs like a pet.
Tarnaza hums. He may not be able to hear flowers anymore. A gift he squandered once he renounced his priesthood. But he still loves them unconditionally. He brings his hand to his mouth, kissing them softly.
"Thank you" he whispers. Grateful for the gift Aurelia bestowed on the world and him.
"Taranza?" Kirby breaks the silence. Taranza glances over with calm eyes.
"Yes, Kirby?" He answers.
"Please be kinder to yourself."
Taranza frowns.
"I… I'm not sure I'm capable of that." He looks over the grass, imagining himself immobile on the grassy knolls. Unoving and yet unbothered, ignorant to the world and of strife. He finds nothing wrong with it and knows he should not think this way. Taranza expects Kirby to interject that he can always be kind to himself or give words of encouragement. But Kirby stares off into the purple-red sky, eyes unseeing.
"Sometimes, I don't know how to be that either."
Oh. Taranza leans back, overcome with unexpected feelings of camaraderie. I guess we are not so different after all.
"How about… if I try to do better, you do too. No moping for either of us!" Taranza grins, wagging his finger in an act of cheerfulness. Kirby stares with big eyes filled with stars. They nod eagerly.
"... poyo ! Let's do that! But that also means no forcing ourselves to be happy either, mister!" They tag on, springing upright with an excusing finger pointing Taranza's way. His mouth hangs open in surprise, a protest dying on his tongue before he can defend himself. Taranza knows all too well it is too late for façades. So he does not try, shaking his head.
"Fine. How did you know?"
"I know a fake smile when I see it, po !"
Kirby and Taranza laugh. The quietness is much more comfortable as it envelopes them again. Kirby is a much more quiet child than he expected, but Taranza does not mind it. Oh, he knows he will not always get along with them. But this is nice.
"Kirby?"
"Hai?"
"I am… happy- pleased that your fathers raised such a bright child. Your future rulership will be prosperous." Taranza compliments, being sincere for once. In Kirby's example, he offers an unorthodox thank you. he feels grateful for Kirby uplifting his spirits but would rather die than admit that truth.
It is silent, but it is a peaceful silence. And yet Kirby looks puzzled, their face contorting into many expressions before settling on bewilderment.
"Who?" Kirby asks finally after wrecking their brain. Taranza does not expect it, cracking his eyes open.
"Your parents? King Dedede and his husband, the consort prince, Sir Meta Knight? Do you not call them father? Or is one father and one dad?" He asks genuinely, curious about it himself. As improper as the pair is, it would be a good match if Meta Knight came from a noble house. Still, he does not see how they even got together. A king like Dedede would want for nothing. What did Meta Knight or his family possess that a king would wish to? Clearly, Dedede is the one in charge, so Meta Knight is the consort. Most places have the king's name, and the castle is modelled with him in mind. Dedede's mother's portrait hangs in one of the halls - King Dedede's rule must be from birthright.
Or, and Taranza thinks bitterly. Is it truly just love? He feared it when he first saw them together, being all sweet on each other. But the more days he spent here, the more he realises that there is truly nobody who could force Dedede to marry. It is good for them! But why could I not have had that? Why is Dreamland this paradise where contracts between noble houses and the royal family are unneeded and heirs are not demanded?
Taranza bites his tongue, changing the direction of his thoughts.
It would make sense if King Dedede preferred not to be called something so formal as father. It would be pretty in character. For Meta Knight, though, he seems refined, even if his etiquette around King Dedede is improper. He would prefer a barrier of formality, Although if Taranza had to make a guess. He would say it was King Dedede's idea to adopt Kirby. They get along so well like two peas in a pot.
But Kirby just looks more confused.
"Dedede and Meta are not my dads. They're my friends!"
"Whut? How-" Taranza sputters, his eyes wide as dinner plates. No, that cannot be! He has seen the way the four of them interact. They must be a family. Sure, Kirby refers to them as their friends, but that must be their quirk. There is no way an adult would be a friend with a child. Adults are too busy to be friends with kids. It is just not possible!
Kirby is quick to interject, not letting Taranza finish his thought.
"I don't know what a con-sort is, poyo, but I do know Meta is not a prince."
Taranza flinches. No, that cannot be right either. Perhaps Meta Knight simply did not want to get in King Dedede's way. It would explain how, despite absolutely loathing Taranza, Meta Knight cannot order his execution in Dedede's absence. It should relieve him. But the other possibility of that statement has Taranza scrambling.
"But they must be husbands-" He tries to reason. Because nobody is that sappy and happy and not married! How can any couple be together without the sanctity of marriage-
"Nope, poyo ! They have only been together for a year or maybe two. I don't really remember - time is difficult to keep track of. It was after a tournament if I remember correctly, and we were all competing for the yummy-"
"THEY'RE NOT MARRIED??!!!!"