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Chapter Text

“This,” Meta Knight drawls, "is ridiculous."

Jecra cranes his neck around from where he’s smushed himself against the rock-face to peer down at the shorter Knight, indignant. “It is not! You are just annoyed you didn’t think of it first!”

Garlude whirls from his other side, having previously been sneaking glances around the boulder they were hidden behind, and smacks the shield bearing Star Warrior in the back of the head. “Shh! We are hiding, you Knuckle-Head!”

When she turns back to her watch, the other two share a glance, chastised. Sometimes, when Meta Knight and Jecra can’t sleep, they try and figure out just how the woman manages to both snarl and whisper at the same time. It’s like the hiss of a battleships automatic door mashed together with a dog’s low grumble. Jecra had pencilled in Garlude’s Mad Voice as the 48^th Universal Mystery in one of Meta Knight’s Encyclopaedia’s the nerd likes to read, having crossed out Interdimensional Planetary Alignment and the Effects on Local Gravity Fields.

Jecra got a bowl full of Hygyean White Brandy in his breakfast when Meta Knight found out instead of the milk he had been expecting. The liqueur was famous for its burn, and the shield-bearing Knight has made quite the spectacle of himself in the canteen that morning.

Worse, Jecra doesn’t know what bothered him more: That he had no proof Meta had done it, or that Meta had wasted half a bottle of White Brandy making Jecra think he’d been poisoned.

The way Meta Knight’s eyes brighten ever-so-slightly behind that mask of his makes Jecra scowl. “It will work, Bright-Eyes.” He’ll be damned if he lets his midget companion mar his confidence, even if the puff is likely right.  

“A simple myth, surely?” Meta Knight presses, seeming concerned that this whole thing could end badly for the lot of them. The puffball pauses with a gentle sigh of resignation, albeit with a dash of poorly contained humour. “But, if you're really set on it, don't complain to me the next time we pass through a town and you can't afford a drink.”

Smug level: Intense.

Jecra huffs, pulling out a carefully hoarded gold coin. “After this, you are going to owe me that drink.”

Garlude seems to have come to some sort of decision and turns back to the two, and Jecra senses that it’s now or never. Meta Knight will let this slide just to watch the fallout, Garlude will not.

Before the lavender fighter can stop him, Jecra leaps up onto the boulder currently shielding them from enemy sight. The sight of several hundred, small rodent-like demon beasts, meet him as they turned to gaze up at him in unison, astonished at his sudden appearance. They had unintentionally trapped the trio against this hiding spot, wedging the Star Warriors between the demons and a cliff; with freedom several hundred demon beasts away.

The beasts were small, weak, and undeniably stupid, but their numbers were not something to shake a stick at. Sometimes, it’s the small fry that do the most damage.

The creatures ripple like a wave across a sea, before they fall eerily still, realisation beginning to settle in their tiny brains. Jecra uses the sudden quiet to thrust his hand into the air, thousands of eyes following the gesture in bewilderment, attention drifting from attack to confusion.

“Look!” Jecra exclaims, the blasting sunlight gleaming off the small reflective coin. “Shiny!”

Garlude's splutters of disbelief are drowned out by a collective entranced “ooh,” from the demons. It’s such a bizarre sight that she forgets to be angry about it.

Conscious of the tiny attention spans before him, Jecra waves the coin like a stick in front of a dog, before casting his arm back and hurling it straight off of the cliff with a rather harried “Fetch!” 

Another, briefer, bout of baffled silence rattles the area; and for a moment it seems Meta Knight’s doubts were well founded. The coin flips through the air, flashing in the light, before it’s beyond the cliff edge and out of sight.

Garlude is beginning to remember to be angry.

Then, as one. The demons scramble after the coin in a mad dash, throwing themselves clear off the cliff's edge in their utter enthralment of getting the shiny object, trampling any of their hapless companions that can’t move fast enough.

Those that hadn't heard Jecra or seen the coin, seem to follow their brethren off the edge out of what must be only instinct, until not one was left.

Leaving three very gob-smacked Star Warriors waving away the dust.

“I-I can't believe that worked” Jecra mumbles from above. Meta Knight and Garlude only stare at the recently vacated cliff-top in weary disbelief. Regaining composure in a desperate scramble, the shield bearing warrior leaps to the ground to whirl on Meta Knight. “Ha! I told you that it would work! Lemming demons do jump off cliffs!”

Meta Knight and Garlude can’t even spare him a glance, still eyeing the expanse before them as Jecra howls his way back to their make shift camp across the now vacated strip of land between it and the boulder. The confidence rolls off him in obnoxiously loud waves.

“I-I thought that was just a myth.” Garlude manages weakly, voice cracking under the strain of what she has just witnessed. It was…stupid, and juvenile, and dangerous, and yet infuriatingly effective.

Meta Knight sighs for the third time in as many minutes. “That’s it, Garlude. We're never going to hear the end of this.”

--

Chapter Text

Well, this was not how his plan was supposed to go.

It’s terribly inconvenient and just a bit above a sensible level of humiliating.

With a grunt, Jecra slams his shoulder yet again against a pile of boulders that he can't see, in the vain hope his attempt might shift the weighty objects. “Ow...” he groans pathetically, the stone blockade remaining firmly unmoved under the warrior’s ninetieth effort. They’re not moving just to spite him, Jecra decides. Probably bribed by Nightmare to be as much of a nuisance as possible.

'This,' he grumbles inside his head, 'is because of the thing with dyeing Percival’s cloak pink, isn’t it, Nova?’

“This is entirely your fault,” his comrade pipes up in the darkness, the only light in the darkened chamber coming from the soft glow of his two amber eyes. Perfectly protected behind his silver mask of course. If the comment hadn't sounded so wry, Jecra might have laughed at the image of two floating eyes roaming around the darkness behind him. Well, laughed or screamed, now that he thinks about it; to be honest it sounds a bit terrifying and looks it too.

Instead Jecra rolls his eyes as the twin amber glow floats to his left. “How was I supposed to know they'd shoot another bunch of boulders in front of the ones we'd already dropped to keep them out? How was I supposed to know we’d end up stuck in this pitch black, freezing, dark, damp, murky cavernous hole?” His tone borderlines shrewish, sarcasm eating each syllable. His shoulder aches like murder.

The eyes float to his right as Jecra rams his other shoulder against the offending mass of stone, grunting at the contact and consequent throb. “You could help you know,” the taller fighter adds dryly. The golden glow seems to gain a pink tint of amusement at his failing efforts, Jecra’s getting too tired for it to truly irritate him.

Meta Knight watches his friend through the dark, or at least, listens to the area where he could hear his companion to be. Jecra isn’t sure how well Meta Knight’s mask helps his eyesight in the pitch black. There was a time years ago that the puffball’s night vision was great, but those days are long gone now. “Oh no.” Meta Knight chimes in, amused. “I know a pointless effort when I see ...or rather... hear one. But you will be explaining to Garlude why she had to dig us out.”

Jecra freezes in the blackness, the sudden silence from his armour alerting the other Knight of the action. Images of a tired, dirty, angry, Garlude floods Jecra’s mind.

“Anything but that!” the man wails, pounding on the cave-in with every ounce of strength he has, “she'll never let me live it down!”

--

Chapter Text

Garlude was always warning Jecra not to get too confident in a battle, but something about the marvellous way her plan was coming together made it hard not to be a hypocrite. Glancing to her right, she caught a flash of golden as a purple blur rocketed down from the sky and took out several enemies in one long sweep, before returning to another area of undefeated demon beasts.

Jecra, to her left, was also clearing through his section of creatures with admirable ease. The pack they had encountered had been many times their size in numbers but that was quickly depleting.

Killing one last beast, she turned to greet the winged Knight as he also finished his section. “Well, a success. Don't you think?” she found it hard not to grin.

Jecra picked this moment to waltz over, sword resting on his right shoulder. “Damn right it was!”

Meta Knight's eyes flashed a sudden deep purple. “Erm...Garlude?”

The woman didn't hear him over Jecra's excited chatter, “and to think, I was worried this was a trap!” the yellow haired warrior laughed, sheathing his sword.

A blast of energy collided into the ground a few meters from Jecra's back.

Sighing, Jecra re-drew his sword, “I'll be quiet now” he groaned, tilting his head to look at the approaching wave of demon beast forces that had been waiting for them.

--

Chapter Text

“Sir! An enemy force approaches from the front, they'll be within sight in a minute or two.” With a rushed salute, the small mouse like Star Warrior Pip scampered away from the group.

“Attacking from the front? That's bold even for Nightmare.” Meta Knight noted quietly, glancing at the ninja opposite him. Something about Yamikage put him on edge, he was an admirable warrior and though not exactly friendly, was companionable enough. But something about the way he stared at the Knight left him uneasy. Meta Knight is a warrior that relies on honed skills and tactics above most anything else, but he also trusts his instincts. Something about that ninja grates.

Still, the ninja nods, “I agree, a diversion perhaps?” His deep voice gaining hesitant nods from Sir Arthur and Jecra.

Arthur sighed. “I've yet to know Nightmare attack without one when we've set up a strong hold like this. A diversion is how we'll treat this! Gather your squadrons and prepare a defensive perimeter all around camp, Yamikage will you send out scouts to find the main front?”

Yamikage didn't answer, but disappeared in a blast of smoke.

Coughing, Jecra pouted as he waved away the smoke, “Stupid Ninja, with their stupid smoke bombs.”

“Jecra! You get to handle the diversion.” Sir Arthur reprimanded, growling at the younger warrior even as he complained to Meta Knight that the diversion wouldn't be a challenge.

Five minutes of uneasy restlessness in camp later…

“Meta Knight!!” Jecra all but screamed. “I take it back! Come help me!”

Meta Knight sighed from his spot at the camp's right defensive line. “Not a diversion then...”

–

Chapter Text

“Are they ever going to stop?!” Jecra whined, the barrage of energy shots was pounding the boulder they were sheltering against, the speed of them not allowing enough time to counter the three small, but powerful beasts responsible.

“Why don't you ask them!” the winged Knight snapped, slightly sore that one of the shots had been lucky enough to take off his sword sheath. It had come entirely too close to his wing that one, and the loss of his favourite sheathe had not left him in any sweet mood.

“I'll make you a new one, Meta Knight” Garlude adds somewhat dryly. “When we get out of this, that is. We need to use teamwork here.” Her own slightly agitated tone managed to cool his temper a little, but not completely free it of spite.

Jecra grinned a little at Meta Knight's ire, it was hard to annoy Meta Knight to the point where he would snap at you. Jecra knew this intimately; it was his sole goal in life when the fighting lulled in camp, it was the best way for them both to remain sane in this stupid war.

Still, occasionally, Meta Knight's anger could morph into some… unpleasant consequences for the shield bearing warrior.

Still grinning, Jecra turned to the irate Knight. “What we need is a good distraction, a fast one, at that.” He added suggestively; the three of them knew Meta Knight was the fastest, and making Meta Knight do all the hard work here was something Jecra was very much up to accomplishing.

So, what came next surprised him.

“Good idea,” the Knight snarled with a tone that was entirely too pleased, shoving the yellow-haired warrior out of the shelter with is foot.

Jecra gave a shriek of surprise, his sudden appearance causing a brief halt in the onslaught of energy balls at the demon’s surprise, and it was just enough time for Jecra to regain his head, lunge forwards and quickly slice them apart.

Still a little stunned at what had happened, with his heart jack hammering away, Jecra turned to his previous shelter as his two companions appeared. Meta Knight appearing far too satisfied and Garlude far too amused.

Settling his adrenaline rush, Jecra gave them a shrewd glance, “that was cold Meta Knight even for you.” He drawled with a dramatic flair of unreal dejection at the end. “I could have been shot!”

“It was fast wasn't it?” was all the Knight said, stalking his way passed his friend with an unmistakable air of 'Come near me again right now, Jecra, and you will limp home.’

Garlude laughs at Jecra's dejected expression. “He knew you would be fast enough. And really, that one was your fault.”

–

Chapter Text

“Do you really think Jecra is all right?” Garlude asked the Knight quietly, peering out of the tree line they were currently concealed by, “Jecra's been gone for nearly ten minutes, all he had to do was scout the area.”

Meta Knight sighed to himself, “It's not Jecra I'm worried about, it's whatever he's going to drag us into I'm worried about. I could've sworn I heard him trying to draw something’s attention a moment ago.”

Garlude manages a smile up at the Knight perched a tree branch above her. “Do you remember last time, when he fell in that river and then the waterfall? He was only supposed to get some fire wood.”

“I wish I didn't remember, I am not a personal airship for that dolt to call upon every time he decides to fall off a cliff.” The Knight scowls, drawing a soft laugh from below him.

Smiling at the memory of a bedraggled Jecra being unceremoniously dumped on the floor by a seething Knight from several metres up, Garlude glanced back at her long-time friend, “Come now, you two are-”

Her teasing sentence was broken off by a series of explosions heading towards their location. The cause for them dashed out to greet them in the form of a puffing Jecra. “Ha, found you! Finally!”

Two, large, dragon-like demon beasts erupted from around the corner Jecra had appeared from.

“I thought you said you were not going to draw their attention!” Garlude hollers in irritation, pulling out her sword before smacking the other warrior around the back of the head with the pommel.

“For once I would like you to come back without bringing something with you that wants to eat us.” Meta Knight dead-pans, gliding down from his perch to Jecra's other side. “But I suppose that's wishful thinking.” 

-

Chapter Text

“All right, so what do we have?” Meta Knight asked, his two comrades glancing dishearteningly at each other before looking back to the Knight. They were deep in enemy controlled land with no way to call reinforcements with the base camps radio damaged, and they were far from being well equipped. Not to mention pretty much surrounded by enemies.

Garlude sighed lowly, glancing about their arid location. “About, enough water for a day...” she paused to think, before eventually shrugging. “Nothing else. I lost my pack in the last attack.”

Jecra shrugs weakly. “I have a smoke bomb that I…borrowed...from Yamikage?”

Meta Knight fought the urge to sigh. It was a near thing. “Definitely in Nightmare territory then. I'm beginning to sense a pattern here.”  

Suddenly, Jecra's cracked radio piece crackled to life. “M-ta...-ght? Gar-ude? Jecra? C-n you hear me?” the static filled voice of Sir Arthur cleared a little as the trio shuffled to catch a better signal. “What is your location?”

Just then an explosion rang out in the same clearing, attracted by the signal coming from the radio.

“Did you just see that explosion?” Garlude asks dryly, drawing her sword.

“I see,” Arthur replied enduringly, glancing into the far distance to see a faint smoke cloud rising above the dead tree line. “Only you three could get so far into a combat zone by accident.”

Jecra held up his shield hand, even though Arthur couldn't see it, and drew his sword with the other. “For once though, completely not my fault.”

--

Chapter Text

This wasn't how Meta Knight planned this day to end.

Well, who plans to have their day end by being shot out of the sky?

Not him at any rate.

Jecra had spotted his injured comrade falling from the sky and had cleared a path through the torrent of small fry demon beasts to get to the place where he predicted the Knight would land. Garlude had gone off with that sneak Yamikage to scout the East, and it was just the two of them here now.

Meta Knight's left wing had taken a full hit and was now unbearably painful to move. His right wing was not so incapacitated, and by spinning and twisting his weight onto his right, he managed to descend in a series of wide spirals, slowing his speed enough that the landing itself didn't add to his injury. After all, if you know how to fly, and you live life in a war zone, you will get yourself killed if you haven't practiced such free falls.

Jecra was by his side by the time he hit the ground, and no demon beast could get within three feet of him while he recovered himself as best he could. “Meta Knight! Are you all right?!”

The Knight glared at him, eyes flashing red through their previous pained shade of deep orange. It always makes telling whether the Knight is injured or not a pain in the ass, it’s so close to the usual gold.

“Getting shot hurts, Jecra!” Meta Knight thunders.

The shield wielding fighter chuckles in relief, if the puff could be snarky, he was all right. “Well, anyone can lose focus in a battle, happens to the best of us,” he teases, poking fun while hacking a beast apart that gets too close to the Knight while he regains his feet.

Meta Knight growls as he unsheathes his sword, his wing stinging abominably, and while injured, he can't shield them with his cape. Still, his friend's irritating spiel helped to draw his attention from the blood running down the leathery skin. “I do not lose my focus, Jecra.”

“Sure, you don't.” Jecra sings, obnoxiously, tossing a glance at him, now back to back with the Knight. It was a tight formation they had used many times when the other was injured. It’s easier to support their team mate's weakness if they were closer together. Meta Knight was too busy taking out the three beasts coming at his side to take notice of his friend's scrutiny.

– Two Hours Later--

The pair of star warriors limped back into the designated meeting point turned camp site, a small wilting glade carefully hidden from watchful eyes and difficult to find if you didn't know it already existed. Garlude jumped to her feet and rushed over, Yamikage merely rolling his eyes in irritation; this scene was one he had seen too often, although usually only one was limping.

“What happened?!” The lavender fighter exclaimed, examining the way Meta Knight's wing hung limply and Jecra's rather obvious limp, making him lean on the Knight to walk properly.

“Bright eyes got shot.” Jecra rushes dryly, eager to get a word in first.

Meta Knight glowers nastily, eyes flashing. “And this idiot got himself pummelled saying that exact same sentence to me earlier instead of watching his enemy.”

“I do see what you mean though, Meta Knight” Jecra chuckled painfully as the pair made their way over to the camp fire to relieve Garlude's worried fretting, “It does hurt.”

 --

Chapter Text

It was nice to finally camp down for the night.

Garlude examined their surroundings; a small open field surrounded on one side by a rising cliff face, and on the others, by an extensive imposing forest.

It had been a hard-won space. When they had arrived, it had been under Nightmare's control and they had been fighting for it most of the evening. Eventually, the demon beasts had been defeated and the stragglers fled. The area around them had been scouted and secured, leaving the trio of warriors feeling both relieved and exhausted.

Still, the defeat of the beasts at least meant that they weren't hiding in the shadows tonight and could have a hot meal.

The mood of the day had lightened immediately and Meta Knight and Jecra had soon begun throwing playful jibes at each other again, leaving Garlude feeling content and relaxed. An increasingly rare feeling these days.

Their soft group discussion was broken suddenly as a demon beast flew out of a nearby tree and landed quite matter-of-factly, next to their camp fire.

It's dizzy appearance and sudden shocked expression, (If a winged-gecko demon could look as such) made it clear the thing had just woken up, and had no idea it was no longer standing in Nightmare's territory.

The stunned silence and consequent stare down lasted far longer than what all of them later thought it should have done.

Garlude growls incredulously across their small fire, “Jecra, I thought you scouted the Northern border!”

Jecra stood in agitation, stooping to grab a stone and hurling it at the demon beast with a sudden howl of annoyance. “Go on! GET!” The beast was so shocked and confused it screeched in pain and fled into the night sky, desperate to get away from these three heavily armed lunatics.

“It's not my fault that thing didn't know we secured the area!” Jecra defended after the thing had left their sight.

Meta Knight just drank his tea, having never had to put it down in the first place (one does not waste the first hot cup of tea one has had for two weeks), deciding it wasn't worth the effort to face palm. 

–

Chapter Text

“If I never see a mountain again it will be too soon.” Garlude groans loudly, cursing the mission that had deemed they trek to the peak of this barren heap to retrieve some sacred jewel or another. Why not send someone with wings to get it?

Meta Knight holds up his hands in surrender as Garlude suddenly seems to peer at him. “It's too far even for me. I don't want to be here as much as you.”

“Too far?” Garlude's tone turned to a chime of amused disbelief.

The Knight smiled beneath his mask. True, it wasn’t too far, more perhaps, too tiring and risky in such a dangerous area. “Too far.” The Knight returns anyway, seeing the woman’s cocked eyebrow, a tell she knows better. “Speaking of too far, however…” His eyes flash pink in amusement as Garlude glances back at Jecra instead of pressing about the previous subject.

The yellow-haired fighter notices and hurries to catch them up. “Don't tell me you two aren't bored of walking up hill yet?” He challenges as a defence for his lagging.

Garlude snorts. “If Meta Knight can walk up this hill despite usually being able to fly, so can you.”

Jecra slung his arm over the Knight's shoulders. “I never said I couldn't, Garlude, I just don't want too. Haven't you two ever noticed we always seem to be trekking up things?”

Meta Knight found it harder to shrug with Jecra leaning on him, but he still managed it. “It could be worse, you could be walking up this with Pip or Rapid fire.”

Pip was a good guy, just a little naïve and too eager to please everyone. He wasn't a strong fighter and was one of the youngest, but every time he came on a mission with them he had a habit of wandering into danger. Rapid fire was a nickname for Sir Falspar who was a good fighter, but could talk anyone's ear off.

Jecra grinned in agreement, “you know what? I'm suddenly enjoying this trip.”

-

Chapter Text

Meta Knight would never admit it, but he really hated walking long distances. Even more so if he had to walk to said place because flying would put him under enemy attack.

“I need you to meet Yamikage at the forest crossroads.” Sir Arthur had told him, something about an important message or something or other the ninja had discovered.

Meta Knight would have been much less reluctant to go if the area wasn't swarming with insect-like demon beasts practically patrolling the sky.

Why can’t the ninja carry this message stealthily to him? Why does a winged Knight have to walk to a concealed ninja?

Trekking along this small forest path, uphill, to make things more irritating, was only increasing his uneasiness that something was wrong. Wrong and aggravating.

An hour later though and his instincts had been wrong. Despite the urge to get in the air, the path was seeming like the safer option now, better still, he was only a few minutes from the meeting point.

A rustle in a nearby bush halted his rising opinion of this walking business.

Alert, the Knight drew his blade.

Stalking towards the noise, a sudden flash of light caught his attention and his eyes widened in surprise behind his mask. The Knight shot to the side, avoiding a sudden barrage of shots as he drew closer, his speed throwing off their aim. Making quick work of the creatures, the Knight grumbled to himself “Damn snipers. Damn walking...”

He tilted his head, glancing up the path he had yet to walk down.

“Damn ninjas…”

-

Chapter Text

“Th-This is a, ah!... A really stupid plan, Jecra!” Meta Knight’s halting complaints didn’t seem to register in Jecra’s brain.

Or maybe they did, Meta Knight considered, they just rolled around in Jecra’s empty head and fell out the other ear.

…Nova, he must be in bad shape if he’s starting to think such things.

The taller fighter was heaving a new set of sparkplugs from the wreckage of a nearby aircraft that had been shot down some weeks before. Wrenching them free, Jecra hurried over to their own equally battered, but much less fried aircraft. They themselves had crashed (or rather, been shot down) a few hours earlier and Jecra had since set about tearing out bits of both engines in a frantic rush to get one working.

Engineering wasn’t a craft that Meta Knight had ever pictured learning, but they were all handy mechanics nowadays. At least, they could handle quick fixes to the bare bones of a craft. Living as a soldier in an interplanetary war, you kind of picked up a thing or two about fixing ships. Meta Knight was better with spaceships than planet bound planes, but he couldn’t really see that well right now at all, so it’s not like he would be much help anyway.

The Knight had even been sketching blue prints recently about a battleship he had in mind.

Call it a hobby of his, it’s not like he’d ever have the resources to build it.

His battleship would be damn hard to shoot down.

“Meta Knight!? Bright Eyes, you better stay focused or so help me I will melt your mask and use it to solder this wreck back together!”

The Knight grumbled, prying open eyes he didn’t remember closing. “Idle th-threats!”

Jecra came crunching over, he’d been at this for the last two hours now, uneasily waiting for the kill shots to come from the sniper vantage points around them. It’s a miracle they haven’t been found yet.

It was a miracle Meta Knight had survived the crash.

They had been returning to base, this small two-seater the last functioning plane of this outpost; the next one a four-day drive away. The Anti-Aircraft Demon Beasts or ACDBs, (which was Pip’s name for them and it had accidentally stuck… much to Jecra’s amusement as it wasn’t even a correct acronym) had been unexpected this far into GSA territory, even worse they had gotten a decent hit in, getting the chain of one of their weapons stuck around one of their propellers.

And Meta Knight had freaking jumped out to fix it. As if that was something people did mid-flight.

Jecra still couldn’t get over the memory of the puff turning to him, handing him his head set with a blasé “hold this,” before launching himself out of the freaking bay door.

No warning. No nothing.

Poof.

No more Meta Knight.

To be fairer to the smaller fighter, it sounded stupider than it really was. The Knight had freed the trapped rotor blades, the plane righting its steep angle with the extra lift. There was easily a tonne of medical and food supplies loaded on this flight, and the outpost would be in dire straits without it.

Jecra had killed one of the attacking beasts with the only weapon the aircraft housed, the remaining beast bellowing angrily. Meta Knight’s wings had been getting one hell of a work out trying to fly fast enough to get back inside the plane, but he’d gotten a hand back on the bay door frame and was reaching for the inside of the plane to close the ramp when the remaining ACDB had hit them with a blast of who knows what.

The plane went down into the treeline, Jecra fighting for a full three minutes to stay airborne. Somewhere in that time there was the sound of Meta Knight hitting the bay door button and the metal screeched closed despite the heavily damaged frame. Jecra hadn’t known what had happened back there when the explosion hit, but Meta Knight never made it back to the cockpit before the plane hit the floor.

It wasn’t until a little later, when Jecra wrenched himself aching from his seat and stumbled down the leaning ship to the ramp, that he saw how battered his companion was. Cut and bruised just about everywhere, the Knight had been out cold. The rough landing no doubt had done more harm than good, but it was then that Jecra understood that his idiotic companion must have intercepted the attack. It hadn’t destroyed the ship because it hadn’t entirely hit the ship in the first place. It had hit something with a much thicker skull.

Jecra would later admit to himself that he hadn’t quite shouted like that at anyone before in his entire life when the Knight groggily came around. Meta Knight’s first words didn’t help: “…Di-did I stop it? I hate walking.”

It took a while for Jecra to shut up again after the yelling started.

“Insubordination.” Meta Knight had managed, with the kind of teasing resignation of someone who knew what they had done was idiotic, but would do it again in a heartbeat if he had to. His eyes had initially deepened to pained orange, before gradually paling to a light yellow, silvering at the edges. Jecra’s heart had somersaulted, because every time Meta Knight’s eyes paled that badly he’d ended up in some form of medical care. And right now, the puff was covered in more cuts and welts than Jecra would have had fabric to stem if he wasn’t surrounded by medical supplies. But still, he was no doctor, and one deep cut on that left wing just would not stop bleeding.

Hence the frantic fixer-upper going on.

“N-now who’s not f-focused?” The knight drawled, wincing with the deeper breath his amusement had cost him.

Jecra blinked, before glaring. “This convoy just became a Med-Evac. And I know how much you hate those, but I also now know how much you hate walking, so it’s your lucky day! Because our options are restricted to exactly those two choices.” He paused to finish his adjustments to the new power supplies he had attached from the older wreck. “Unluckily for you, I hate walking too, so Med-Evac it is and you don’t get a say.”

Meta Knight grimaced at the younger man’s cheer of success when their craft powered back up. His head was absolutely killing him, and if Meta Knight could hear him over the enormous bells ringing in his ears, then he was sure any enemies nearby could too. “J-Jecra, you can’t just…just strap another engine on and, and hope.” Moving was unbearable, but the Knight put as much effort in as he could spare without his vision whiting out to try and stagger upright. When he couldn’t do it, he gave up on common sense altogether and forced himself to move, injuries be damned-

His arm is broken, oh his arm is very broken.

The rest of him feels just as glorious.

Oh, and now he can’t see.

Jecra is yelling again.

-

Now it sounds as if Garlude is shouting as well.

His surroundings are different, he must have lost time.

Meta Knight isn’t sure why the woman is bellowing about them crashing a plane in the training ring, and the Knight also doesn’t really know what Jecra has done to the thing to make Garlude’s voice go that shrill, either… But he wishes they could have this argument someplace it won’t cause his pounding head to explode like it’s threatening too.

He must mumble as much, because Sir Falspar’s yelling joins the fray along with that of their resident Chief Medical Officer. The yelling stops abruptly, which is nice, because this damn medical tent is more comfortable than he remembers it being…Not that he remembers how he got into it, but that’s all semantics he doesn’t care about right now.

-

Two days later, the next bout of yelling is directed at his face.

Part of Meta Knight feels guiltily like he deserves it.

Most of him though would do it again in an instant.

If only because he really does hate walking.

 -

Chapter Text

Rain.

Rain, rain, endless rain.

Garlude is sick of it.

Three hours of it now, and worse still, there is nothing to shelter under for miles.

Sure, there are rocky outcrops that rise like broken columns every now and then, but none that give any actual cover from this forsaken storm beating down on them. The water is icy, sinking into layers of armour and clothes alike, chilling the skin and making fabrics sticky and heavy.

Garlude hates being wet for anything that isn’t a hot shower. Not that you see many of those in war zones, but still, at least she can choose when to immerse herself in any frigid water in camp. This rain is plain torture.

Her hair is wet. Ugh. Awful.

Jecra looks like a petulant child. At first the rain had bolstered his bored mood, the shift in weather reawakening his attention from the glazed thoughts of marching. Then the rain hadn’t stopped falling.

Now his usually blazing yellow shock of hair is plastered against his head, stray strands sticking to his mask in a chaotic pattern of gold and silver. The shivering is making his armour rattle.

She would be complaining about the sound if hers wasn’t adding to the noise.

When they reach the next rock tower, the miserable pair slump down at it’s base. If that damn wind wasn’t blowing the rain every which way, they could have hidden out in the sheltered side, but alas, when was the Galaxy ever that kind to them?

Meta Knight had earlier tried to lighten their dour complaints by voicing that at least Nightmare’s forces would be suffering similarly; but the pair had mainly glared and stomped onwards. Garlude had had to put up with Jecra’s bitter complaints that the weather was accepting Nightmare’s bribes to freeze them to death for a full half-hour before that rant lost its steam.

Meta Knight hadn’t tried again.

It’s not as if Meta Knight likes being wet anymore than they did, Garlude reluctantly admits to herself as she and Jecra huddle beneath the stone tower. The Knight himself was a foot or so away from the stone face, looking skywards for who-knew-what.

The Puffball didn’t like being wet at all. But he also didn’t feel the cold as badly as they did.

Meta Knight’s kind were resilient, long-lived, and hardy to both damage and environmental shifts. It was one of the reasons they made such fearsome warriors.

But it was damn irritating if you were stuck here shivering next to him.

It’s not something Garlude is proud of, after all, just because he’s resilient to this cold, that’s not to say he’s impervious. Eventually this constant soaking may break even his admirable resilience.

Sighing to herself, Garlude lets Jecra press against her side, trying to conserve heat. His shield had made a good umbrella for him for a while, but inevitably the weight of it had proved too tiring for such a long-winded storm and eventually he had to resign himself to getting wet. Besides, the wind was blowing the stuff everywhere, most of him was wet long before he gave up.

A particularly fat droplet ran down her spine and the women shivered harder. Stupid Nightmare; she bets those damn Demon Beasts are having a freaking tropical heatwave wherever the heck their base is out here in this rapidly forming lake. Maybe Jecra is right, maybe the weather isn’t neutral, maybe it does accept bribes.

Maybe it’ll listen to some threats, then.

Absurd as it is, Garlude bowed her head and resolved to list as many obscene threats as she could think of for a creature capable of stopping this damn rain. It was harder than she had anticipated, what harmed the weather? What could stop this freezing constant onslaught of awful wet shrapnel?

What Could-

Wait a minute.

Has it stopped?

The woman tries to stop her teeth chattering as she lifts her head, droplets rolling off her chin. Jecra, beside her, does the same.

No. It’s still raining.

But Meta Knight has moved. Lost in her thoughts about revenge against a fictional weather master, Garlude hadn’t heard the puffball move. He’s walked a step or two closer to complete their triangle, close enough that she wouldn’t have to stretch her arm to touch him.

The rain runs in rivers down the leathery skin of his wings, the limbs unfurled half-open above the two other Star Warriors against the stone. It’s not entirely perfect, the wind getting the occasional droplet in, but most is blocked by the living weather-guard and Garlude can’t quite stop herself from slumping in relief for the reprieve.

Jecra laughs quietly from her other side, swiping the water from his face and revelling in the way it isn’t immediately replaced.

Meta Knight is getting all the wetter for keeping the other two dry, his wings revealed robs him of his cape to shelter under, but the slight rose tinge around the edges of his eyes give away what his silence does not. He knows they are feeling it worse than him, and despite his often (and worryingly increasingly) distrustful behaviour of new warriors, Garlude knows he is a Mother Hen of those he cares about. Even if he were to claim otherwise.

If he gets sick for this though, Garlude is going to kick his ass.

After all, she’s a Mother Hen too.

-

Chapter Text

It’s strange, Garlude decides, how non-combatants describe battle-scenes in literature.

It’s understandable, of course. You can’t drop a writer into the centre of a war-zone just so they can get the details correct. There’s a jarring, chaotic lack of control that swallows soldiers on the front lines, the type that Garlude doesn’t expect an author to be able to capture. You try and bury information not relevant to you as best you can in the mayhem, trying desperately to focus only on your orders, friends, and staying alive. Throwing an untrained civilian into that Hell would only lead to one more tally in the body count.

Even so, there are some things she wishes would be discussed more often.

Firstly: It’s true that the noise of a gunshot or an energy blast can be horrendously loud. Enough to burst ear drums and discombobulate you, leaving a soldier a sitting duck. Yet often the biggest tell to how close a projectile comes to ending your life is often in the shock of blisteringly hot air that tears past your skin in its wake.

Secondly: it’s not the projectile with your name etched into the side that you should be worried about. It’s the one that addresses the battlefield with a generic and very loud “Good Morning, Everyone!” you have to worry about.

You can be the most skilled swordswoman on the field, but a directionless blast won’t care either way.

And today is just one of those days.

It’s perhaps mid-day by this planet’s standards when things turn sour, which isn’t all that helpful to reference, as mid-day on this world has been going on for at least six hours now. Utral is a small blue previously uninhabited planet, nestled between two larger dead worlds in a system an infuriatingly long way away from backup.

Of course, it is. They wouldn’t be the team that they were, if safety was close by.

Sir Arthur had heard reports of a Demon Beast squad being spotted there by long-distance scouts and had sent possibly the most-injury prone team ever to serve in the GSA to tackle it. Which was due in part because they were also an exceedingly highly achieving team, but mostly because the planet was uninhabited so the property damage Jecra could manage should be non-existent. If not entirely impossible.

One discovery of a suspicious outpost being constructed, likely for mining a valuable resource, and a very unlucky moment of a Demon Beast looking up at just the wrong second later, and voila, one battlefield.

Perhaps 'battlefield' would be a bit of an exaggeration based on numbers alone. Three Star Warriors against roughly fifteen Demon Beasts of varying strength levels could be described as maybe a skirmish, or even plainly as a fight. Odds are tricky to base on only numbers alone in wars like this one. Over half of the beasts on Utral are of average strength; boundary guards strong enough to take out untrained individuals easily, but not so complicated that they can’t be produced quickly. Certainly not made for trained adversaries.

The remaining few are a mix-mash of powerful muscle to clear rubble, and savage ferocity to deal brutal damage on trespassers and keep the lower beasts in line.

Jecra had spotted two of the heavier hitters making a snarling bee-line for the Star Warriors and grinned like he’d been presented the best gift of his life. He’d patted Meta Knight’s pauldron, pointed at the threats, and with far too much glee pulled his mask down and hared off to meet them. The shield-bearing fighter had been itching for a brawl the whole way here, and Meta Knight hadn’t been in the mood to spar much before they’d left.

The puffball himself had been at Garlude’s side for a few minutes, the two warriors coming together into a familiar dance. Five of the smaller beasts had been slain under their teamwork, before the only three flight worthy beasts of greater power began heckling the duo from above. The ensuing dog-fight left Garlude’s small area of control as Meta Knight vanished in a sudden hurricane of dust and wings, growing tired of the ariel taunting.

An explosion rang out later from somewhere over yonder, followed by Jecra’s cheerful yowl of delight. At least someone was having fun. Garlude was too put-out they’d been spotted in the first place to have much fun; if there had been anything of intelligence in the newly constructed tunnels, it’d surely been destroyed by now.

Time passed both in dragging, aching bursts, then with manic, breakneck speed as the fight ebbed and flowed. Howls and clangs of steel jarred the dusty silence that usually haunted the grounds of this empty planet. By the time only five beasts remained, at least in Garlude’s sight, Jecra was across the way from her again, taking out the last bulky ground-bound heavy hitter with a well time Rising Break. The smaller beasts had initially been disorganised and vicious, but with the fight seeming to wind down elsewhere, it appeared the survivors had realised some co-operation came with benefits.

The effort to maintain distance from the beasts’ claws while she waited for an opening to strike increased as their tiny brains began to find some measure of harmony amongst themselves. And then, to Garlude’s mild surprise, Meta Knight landed quite matter-of-factly on the shoulder of one snarling beast.

Its raging colleague took one glance across at him, and tore its fellow monster apart, so desperate in its rage to reach the enemy that it cared little about the screams of its brother. Meta Knight hopped off the mauled beast, the second creature’s claws missing by scant inches, and watched impassively as Garlude relieved it of its head. The two surviving beasts didn’t miss a beat, pressing forwards.

Then something whistled.

For a split second, the lavender swordswoman thought it was Jecra trying to call their attention. But, the sound was shrill, an eerie noise that pierced Garlude’s instincts like a razor-sharp epée. Then it fell shockingly silent, a blast of hot air blistering past the woman’s neck, followed by an almighty crack!

Garlude threw herself left to the ground, lucky in a small boulder giving a shallow amount of cover on the otherwise open space immediately around them. An explosion roared to life some distance away. The shock of heat left a sharp, unpleasant itch against her skin where the projectile came close. The knowledge of how near she’d come to losing her life smashed her focus like a sledgehammer. Gritting her teeth she forced her emotions down, battle-experience was a hard-won victory, and it was serving her well now.

Jecra must have seen the drama, because he fires off two Smash Punches towards the new tunnels. The blue fire vanishes into the opening and something just under the shelter of rocks explodes violently, sending the opening to the tunnels crashing in on itself. And well there’s one issue solved.

So of course two more issues land with dull thuds on their metaphorical doorstep.

Garlude has barely made it back to standing, grip on her Knight sword biting her hand even through her gloves, as she peers warily over the top of her shelter.

The two beasts seem oblivious to the small new silver objects and the sound of the distant cave-in, but Garlude isn’t. Meta Knight had avoided the brief barrage of automatic energy blasts from the concealed canon in the caves Jecra had destroyed, but the silver objects have landed at his feet.

Several things register at once.

The first is that the objects must have been cast from the tunnel just before Jecra destroyed it. Which means they were airborne for a second or two already.

The second is that they’re lucky impact with the ground wasn’t enough to detonate them out right.

The third is that Garlude is semi-certain that they’re magical energy explosives rather than shrapnel based, which means her boulder may be enough, and that usually you have five seconds to throw them back.

The fourth is that Meta Knight is both much too far away, and much too close.

Two seconds airborne, three seconds left to act.

Three seconds.

It sounds like such a short time. Yet, three seconds is enough time to claim thousands of lives, it’s enough time to save them, too. It’s enough time to teleport, it’s enough time to get airborne. It’s enough time to throw a shield. It’s enough time to properly guard, with enough magic and motivation.

Three seconds can allow a life-time.

Today, perhaps one was faulty. Perhaps the impact with the ground damaged them. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.

Sometimes, one second can be your life-expectancy.

Garlude later doesn’t recall that single second very well.

The sound of the explosion never registers in her head. The pressure of the energy detonating, the heat and the chaos, it tears at her senses, rips them away from her and then smashes them back into her brain out of order and painful to touch. The sound of it was lost, though she knows it happened because Jecra is fuzzily at her side now and is noiselessly shouting to be heard.

The world darkens, dust churned up and turning the six-hour mid-day sky almost black. Jecra tugs at her wrists, mask wedged up above his electric hair, eyes round and worried.

“Thisn’a,’” she growls. The grumpy word falls out of Garlude’s mouth without permission as she battles her confusion and struggles to set the world straight.

Jecra stills, tilting his head ever-so-slightly, the way he does when he’s misheard something, or confused. “’Slowly?’” he asks, loudly.

“’S what I said, isn’t it?” Garlude mutters, bitter that Jecra is asking clarification from her, when he’s the one who’s not visibly staying in focus.

Her tone does a curious thing, drawing an anxious, but fond smile to the other’s face. “You’re mixing your languages, Darlin’,” he explains, casting his eyes around as if searching for something important.

Jecra only calls her pet names when he’s really out of sorts. Usually she’ll clout him for it. Which means something is really, really wrong. The sudden bite of adrenaline seems to do the impossible in the dim world. It snaps her senses back into order. The fear on his face doesn’t abate the way it should, she’s dazed, not dying. So what else-

Meta.

Garlude scrambles to her feet. Jecra complains, loudly, if only so she can definitely hear his unimpressed swearing and steadies her wobble. Her head thumps, heat spreading through her body with a nasty, almost violent tingling. For a moment she feels breathless, heart pounding, a throbbing pain behind her eyes. It takes a moment to fight off the black-out’s advance and ‘that’s another thing about books’ she thinks half hysterically, ‘it’s only ever about the black dots.’

A demon beast erupts from the dust cloud to the right, teeth huge and gleaming even in the choking air. Garlude’s brain is still firing back up, and it takes until that second for her to realise her Knight sword isn’t in her hand.

Jecra is an easy-going guy. He’s hard to truly faze on the battlefield when it comes to an opponent. He’ll over-react, and complain, and laugh, and make light. But there’s a reason he’s on this team. There’s a reason Meta Knight, Sir Trust Issues, first chose this absolute idiot to be someone he lets his guard down around. There’s a reason Garlude knows she doesn’t need to move.

The taller fighter barely twitches at the sudden enemy lunge, and for once, there’s no joke on his face. His team is in shambles and he’s their last shield against new assaults. It’s a heavy-set creature, where it came from is anybody’s guess, which is a concern because they only counted five larger beasts and Garlude thought they were all dead.

Jecra can’t pivot or it’ll crash straight into the dazed woman at his back, so he makes his own lunge forward and cracks his shield into the thing’s eye socket with all the strength he can muster. The thing erupts an ear-splitting caterwaul, neck straining against the impact, body twisting awkwardly under the force and missing Garlude as it scrapes off Jecra’s shield and slams to the ground. His sword quickly makes short work of the impact-dazed monster, leaving Jecra wincing outwardly for the vicious bruising he’ll likely get on his shield arm and shoulder.

“Gar, you okay?”

Stumbling a bit, coughing through the dust, Garlude nods her head and slowly feels more like herself. “Not dead, good enough for me.”

Some of the fear eases off Jecra’s face, he hands her his jewelled sword, and scans the thinning darkness for their missing team mate. “What happened? I was too far away to see.”

Snarling, the swordswoman swings the weapon in a few quick arcs to adjust to the increased weight, before limping into the gloom. “Energy grenades,” she spits, “Meta was right next to them.”

Jecra sighs, “of course, he was.”

Garlude thinks the tone is a bit rich, coming from him.

A sudden clash of metal on metal penetrates the silence like a thunderclap, maybe thirty feet South from the Star Warriors’ position, followed by a breathy screech and crunch of earth. The breeze is beginning to clear the field, and without the murk, silhouettes of nearly ten large beasts begin to manifest around them.

“Drawn by the explosion?” Jecra wonders out loud at her side, taking a stance as the nearest beast turns to snarl.

Garlude winces with the weight of Jecra’s sword, an ache growing in her shoulder that must have come from the blast. She swaps hands, relieved it’s pain free. “Must have been some in the tunnels, I imagine the cave-in caught their attention and took a bit to break through.”

Six of the creatures seemed preoccupied with something else further away, but the thinning gloom makes it difficult still to see exactly what’s happening. Garlude will eat Jecra’s shield if it isn’t Meta Knight.

Jecra has a bit of a habit of turning into an absolute bear if one of his team mates is injured. So much so that Garlude feels almost a little superfluous as the taller warrior falls back onto his Fighter abilities and starts breaking bones with his fists. He’ll barely let one stray close enough for her to strike and it’s both very endearing and incredibly annoying.

So when he freezes mid step, Garlude is startled that suddenly she finds herself having to lunge forward to parry one of the two remaining beasts’ blows lest it take off his head. With a heave and wince, she manages to deflect the impact onto the second creature and there’s a brief reprieve as both collapse into a tangled heap of malice. “Jecra! What are you-!”

The wide-eyed shock on Jecra’s face stilts her complaint, and she follows his stare down to his foot, which is resting lightly on top on an odd, faintly curving piece of, what is that? Black metal? Glass? It’s cut into an odd shape and seems to be badly broken on one side. Why is Jecra so worried about a-

The realisation hits harder than the earlier explosion had. ‘By Nova that’s a piece of Meta’s visor.’

Which means, Meta Knight is fighting blind.

It’s only been a year since Meta Knight has returned to fighting on the front lines with the others. Everyone was simultaneously wary and stunned to realise the puffball intended to reject the medical discharge he had been presented with when it became apparent he had lost the majority of his sight. It took a long, long time for him to recover from his injuries, and then an even longer time of constant research and testing and failure. But the engineer, with the help of his Team and close friends, had eventually found a material that could both be fashioned into a lens to correct his lost colour vision, and was hardy enough to be battle worthy.

And now it’s lying broken under Jecra’s foot.

Anger tears up Garlude’s veins, burning far hotter than the missed shot that singed her neck. The sword in her hand gains a sleek, silver sheen, emotion powering and focusing through the weapon, concentrating into an accident waiting to happen.

There’s a scuffle of the two forgotten beasts snapping at each other as they regain their feet, and it’s the last noise they ever make as Garlude turns and slashes the blade across open space, a barely shaped sword beam tearing through both and a good portion of the cliff face nearly sixty feet across the field.

It leaves her huffing. She’s always warning cadets not to let emotions power their sword beams because of the vacuum it leaves in your soul immediately afterwards. It takes a moment or two to recover if you don’t focus properly. It’s hard to regret it, though, as she watches the creatures screech and die.

The dust cloud has almost completely lifted, daylight returning to the field and Garlude is relieved to see a distant flash of dark blue further away. The awareness that her closer companion hasn’t moved settles eerily against Garlude’s nerves and she turns back to Jecra with the intent to drag him hastily to Meta’s aid.

The blank look on Jecra’s face is enough to give her pause.

“Jecra, we need to help him, be angry later,” she snaps, knowing full well she’s a hypocrite.

His eyes don’t leave the visor and Garlude could tear her hair out with frustration. It’s terrible because she can’t hassle Jecra for this. Only Nova knows how any of the Trio coped with the last two years. Meta Knight’s injuries and sight loss came with catastrophic nightmares, unhealthy coping methods, a constant, anxious hyperawareness, and endless frustration and anger.

Jecra hadn’t always handled it well.

His eyes are blank because he’s furious.

“Garlude?!”

The call spins her automatically, Meta Knight’s voice is a relief to hear, even if she already knows he can’t be too badly injured if he’s still fighting. But it’s also tinged brightly with concern and worry. ‘Of course,’ she thinks, ‘he probably thinks I’m hurt or worse.’

The call jolts Jecra out of his memories and the two wordlessly tear across the brightening field towards their third.

It’s probably the dust cloud that had saved Meta Knight the most. The bright sunlight stings savagely against his damaged sight and the gloom of dust had given a reprieve. Garlude is unhappy, but not surprised to note various cuts and scrapes as they get closer. Meta Knight’s mask is cracked on the right side, but not broken, and his wings are bruising already, yet he doesn’t seem catastrophically wounded. Hardy puffball.

Jecra launches himself at the nearest beast to his shorter team mate, which was a terrible idea because Meta Knight has been training to fight blind based on sound and air movement against his sail-like wings. And then Jecra freaking tears through his reach like a really angry Wheelie.

Garlude is swearing under her breath as she swings Jecra’s blade to parry Meta’s rapier. Star Warriors can instinctively sense each other, but if you’re not actively trying it’s easy to miss. “It’s us, Meta,” she reassures, both relieved the shorter Knight can hold his own blind and concerned that her parry felt like it could easily have broken his stance if she’d tried harder.

Tentatively, Meta opens jarringly white eyes behind the cast shadow of his mask, Garlude doesn’t think she’ll ever not feel angry about what happened to him two years ago. She makes a point to shift her weight, blocking the sunlight to help his vision.

The puffball lets the rapier’s tip drop to the sandy floor, exhausted. “Are you both all right?” he asks quickly, eyes tracking in Jecra’s direction with each loud growl and explosion.

Garlude doesn’t get time to answer, Jecra is heckling two beasts, but the others are annoyed the new comers have interrupted their fun. One bounds forwards, a great lizard with large curving claws and a whip like tail. Meta Knight tenses and Garlude charges to meet it. They are powerful creatures, but not the brightest. It snarls its anger at the Star Warrior’s intercept and lashes its tail. The puffball remains standing still as Garlude’s opponent attempts to stay in one piece, and the swordswoman keeps track of Meta’s position as much as she can between strikes.

Not that he needs her “mothering” as he would call it. He’s been back on the battlefield for a year because that’s where he belongs. He’d torn his old self apart, rearranged the pieces, and forced himself back together as much as he could to get where he is now. Their help is actually making it more difficult for him to focus on the two beasts that charge him, because the noise they’re making are distracting him from the ones he needs to concentrate on.

It seems to take hours, but eventually, Jecra finishes his last Demon Beast with nothing to show for the effort but some bad bruising and a badly scratched chest plate. Free of his commitment, the still fairly angry shield bearer lays in to the one remaining beast testing Meta Knight’s defences, leaving the puffball to sigh in resignation that his team mate is stealing his victory, but is too tired to genuinely be aggrieved about it.

Garlude herself clears her to-do list and is relieved beyond measure that no more Demon Beasts have appeared. Aching, she limps over to Meta Knight, who has stabbed his rapier into the ground and is leaning on it wearily.

“Are you all right, Meta Knight?” Garlude asks, eyeing a particularly deep wound on the Knight’s dominant arm. “Those grenades landed almost on top of you.”

The Knight leans off his blade and carefully lowers himself to the floor, eyes closed against the light. Garlude eyes him, thinks it’s not a bad idea, and drops down beside him. It takes longer than Garlude would like for the Knight to answer. He’s never been the most talkative, but that he has to think through what he’s going to say makes her wary all the same.

“I have had worse,” he allows. Which is Meta Knight speak for ‘This is actually terribly painful, but realistically I’m not that badly hurt, and I’m not being tortured so all in all, shouldn’t complain because I don’t like attention and don’t want to cause hassle.’

“Sometimes, you can talk very little-” she starts, amused.

“-‘and say a lot,’” Meta Knight finishes for her. “So you often tell me.”

“Well, she ain’t wrong, Bright-Eyes,” Jecra laughs, noisily dropping to sit on the Knight’s other side, all three content to just take a moments rest, even if it is in the middle of the open on a recently won battlefield. “I… found your visor. It’s super broke.”

Meta Knight sighs, annoyed. “It was missing when I awoke, it was very disorientating.”

A rare admittance, and neither of the others say anything about it, because he could do with speaking more freely about things.

“Do you have a spare?” Garlude barely finishes the question before the puffball digs around in his magic Dimensional Cape relic and pulls out a shiny new dark visor. “Let’s get back to the ship and fit it, I don’t like being out here, we can just fly back here after.”

“It’s not like we’ll lose the element of surprise twice,” Jecra grins, before pointing off to their right. “I think I saw your sword back that way, Gar.” It doesn’t take a genius to realise Meta Knight isn’t thrilled to have them back-track on his account. “Besides, my shoulder is killing me, and I don’t wanna investigate those caves with ripped armour if I don’t have to.”

Garlude smiles to herself as Meta Knight lets Jecra help first him, then Garlude herself, back to their feet, before the trio slowly make their way back towards their ship, taking a brief stop to fetch Garlude’s wayward sword.

There are so many GSA soldiers who don’t understand how the Star Trio team function in the field. The personalities involved are contrasting, and even some of the other Star Warriors still quietly can’t quite bring themselves to fully trust Meta Knight, even if they can’t fault his skills.

But it seems pretty simple to Garlude. Their team is chaos, but it’s a harmonic chaos. Remove a single piece and it spirals out of control, but merely getting close enough to one of them to try means taking on the other two pieces as well. And good luck with that.

Nova knows what’ll happen if one of them is ever torn away from the others, Garlude somewhat selfishly hopes that if it happens, it happens to her.

She hopes it never happens at all.