Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

█████,

When you wake up lying among the ruins of Divine Terminus, you will be alone. If only you truly understood why.

Flamberge and Francisca are already gone. They left together without skipping a beat. It saddens me that they didn’t wait for me, that they departed without so much a goodbye, but I understand why. Perhaps they feared my devotion to you would remain even after the calamity we brought upon the world. They’ll never know how wrong they were, but it’s for the best, I tell myself. They deserve happiness together more than we do. I’ve always known they were always too good for you, anyway.

I, too, intend to depart from the Jambandra Base, and will be long gone by the time you wake up and read this. Part of me wanted to do the same as the other sisters and disappear without a trace, but the smallest shred of sympathy for you prevented me from doing so. Against my better judgement, I told myself you deserved a proper goodbye. 

You don’t, █████ . And yet here I am.

As I sat alone with your unconscious body surrounded by what remains of the chapel, I recalled a time when your heart glowed with purity and kindness, and not with vengeance and anger. Once upon a time, I thought you to be my savior, someone I looked up to, someone I worshiped. Now, staring at the husk of a mage who breathed purpose into me, I am only filled with fear of your anger when you awaken. I am filled with shame knowing I once devoted my life to a foolish sorcerer who nearly brought about the destruction of the world as we know it. And, in spite of myself, I feel the slightest pang of pity. 

But I can justify your madness no longer. I cannot continue to cross my heart and make false promises to myself. No longer can I remain among your ranks, knowing the person you have become, and knowing the evil you have brought about within yourself. I have seen my hero crumble and wither away into a shadow of himself, driven to madness by his own conquest for power. I did nothing to stop it then.

That is the thing that haunts me the most, █████ . We could have saved ourselves. I could have saved you. You could have saved yourself. We could have made our beds and we lied in them. Instead, I allowed you to plunge further into your madness, and, when I came to my senses, I awakened to a world engulfed in smoke and shadow. Even before now, there were days where I wished I could have helped you, but how could I help someone when they’ve fallen into a hole so deep that there’s no way to reach for their hand and grab it? Better yet, how could I help myself before that same hand pulls me down with it? Once upon a time, I lied to myself a million times, insisting to myself that I could never bring myself to betray you. 

Those days were long ago, █████. I am a very different woman now than the one who you rescued atop the thunderstruck mountain. Long ago, I wanted nothing more than to release myself from this strange world. Now, however, I want nothing more than to live a life free of guilt, free of fear, free of the darkness you instilled within our hearts and within your own, even if it means it’s one I have to live alone. The world you sought to destroy is beautiful, █████, and it’s time for me to see that for myself. It’s time for me to move on, because if I don’t move on now, I may never will. I shiver at the thought of my life ending with nothing I’ve devoted my life to but a shattered sorcerer and his deranged acts of vengeance and sorrow. My life cannot end bound to “Lord Hyness”... and I hope yours doesn’t either.

When you read this, you may want to scramble to your feet and start searching for me, or maybe Francisca or Flamberge. I will warn you once and once only; do not try and search for any of us. It will be in vain. The other two have found peace beyond Jambandra with each other. Peace is something I hope awaits me beyond the walls of the chapel as well. But none of us can have peace with you, not in the sad state you have trapped yourself in. So please, don’t come looking for Francisca, or Flamberge, or me. For my sake, for theirs, and for yours.

Don’t try until you can remember my name. Don’t until you can say your own.

Even after all of the pain you have caused us, I still hope one day the person who saved my life atop the mountain can roam this world again. I hope that person finds peace the same way his subservients will. Until then, however, I hope you learn something from the barren world you wake up to. 

Jambye, █████. 

- Zan Par

Chapter Text

For all of the strange happenings and shenanigans that occurred in Dream Land, for all of the chaos that unfolded on a seemingly annual basis, one thing that never seemed to change was the weather, and how it was rarely a letdown. 

Today was no exception, from the looks of things. The amber sun hanging above radiated with a hazy early-afternoon glow, a beacon at the forefront of a cloudless cerulean sky. The warmth bestowed upon the countryside was a comfort, never intrusive enough to bring about discomfort for those who took the time to appreciate the great outdoors. The prairie, an ocean of green from afar, was dotted with multicolored plants and flowers, almost shimmering in the sunlight with health. A gust of late summer breeze rippled through the vibrant leaves coating the trees surrounding the outskirts of the kingdom. The faint whisper of the sea from afar, brewing without crashing, soaked the soft sand in its serene allure. This was Dream Land on a good day; good weather, and good times to be had. There was not a care to be had in the world.

If only that were true, the blue bandana-toting Waddle Dee thought to himself as he trotted up the mountainous path leading up to the hulking castle atop it. 

On any other day, maybe a few months ago, Bandana Waddle Dee would have gladly indulged in the lovely weather his homeland offered this particular afternoon. Maybe after alleviating himself of his duties around the castle for today, he’d visit the Dream Land beaches, or perhaps Cappy Town to enjoy a nice long meal. Maybe he’d simply take a walk outside of the kingdom for the afternoon and just relax on his lonesome. 

Recently, however, any previous inclination the Waddle Dee may have had towards enjoying himself had been absent for some time now. 

The ancients know he’s tried. Rick and Adeleine kept reminding him to take a break from busying himself with the king’s matters twelve hours a day, seven days a week. Maybe his friends were right. Actually, no, of course they were. If they weren’t, Dee probably wouldn’t have spent so much time trying to kick back his feet and stop worrying for a change. Not that he was able to bring himself to do so.

He just couldn’t do it. No matter what he did or how he did it, every one of his attempts at relaxation felt… wrong. Dishonest. Unearned. It didn’t feel right to pretend he deserved to rest after what happened. To pretend everything was normal. Bandana knew it wasn't, as peaceful as everything had been the past few months, as little there had been to worry about, as easy as it was for everyone else to have gotten back into the swing of their everyday lives. There was almost something uncomfortable, something the Waddle Dee couldn’t shake from his mind, about how everything seemed so peaceful– too peaceful–ever since he and his allies returned home. 

Ever since they returned home one fewer.

The Waddle Dee shook the thought from his head. No, he thought to himself as he hopped up the last few steps leading to the front of Castle Dedede. You will not let your own downpour ruin another perfectly good day. You’ve had plenty of time to sit around and feel sad about everything, but everything is fine now. I mean, look around!

Look at the sky. What do you see up there?

Bandana glanced upwards, scanning the horizon. The sky was perfectly clear, only occupied by the sun and the faint outlines of flying birds. No airships. No crash landings. No mechanical titans. No darkness. Just a perfectly blue sky on a perfectly good day. 

Yeah!, he nodded to himself. Today is gonna be a good day. And if it isn’t, then there’s always tomorrow, right?

Absorbing his own silent motivation, Bandana Waddle Dee turned his gaze toward the set of doors towering over him, took a deep breath, and walked through the entrance to Castle Dedede.

Stepping into the castle’s bustling main hall, Bandana could instantly tell it was business as usual for the king’s staff. The main room and hallways were swarmed with his fellow Waddle Dees, moving from room to room tirelessly, juggling just about any matter their ruler apparently couldn’t handle himself. Some carried mail and packages, others mops and buckets, others still platters of food yet to be prepared. There were even some obscured by the mounds of paperwork or books they happened to be carrying on them, wobbling side to side to balance their own weight.

Bandana sometimes wondered what kind of king Dedede would have been if he didn’t have (in the Waddle Dee’s humble opinion) the best staff a ruler could ever ask for. He liked to think that, without them, he wouldn’t be a king at all.

With a hearty wave to all of his Waddle Dee compatriots, Bandana began dashing up the main staircase, stamping a mental marker on the location of the king’s throne room. The amount of time he had spent wandering the Castle Dedede halls meant the spear-wielder had not only memorized the sprawling mansion’s layout, but the king’s tendency to linger inside of certain rooms depending on his mood and the time of day. The king’s throne room was the main event of the castle’s highest floor, and Bandana couldn’t imagine his boss lounging around the dining room if a meal hadn’t yet been prepared for him. 

One thing Bandana had learned since beginning his work for the king was the reactionary nature of the Dedede’s staff. Any displeasure or anger from the king tended to rub off quickly on most of his workers, and one look at a group of Waddle Dees could tell you everything you needed to know about what kind of state of mind the king happened to be in at the time. Now seeing very little panic amongst his Waddle Dee brethren, Bandana could only assume there was little bothering the king at this moment. Not that it surprised him, considering how uneventful things had been around the kingdom recently. 

About a minute and a full chest’s worth of oxygen later, Bandana Dee reached the top of the steps, out of breath but nonetheless ready to receive his assignment, whatever it might be today. After recuperating from his climb, the Waddle Dee puffed his body out and strode towards the doors to the king’s throne room. Being a little too short to reach the ornate door knocker, Bandana resorted to loudly tapping the butt of his spear against the entrance a few times to get the message across.

“Mhm.” A grunt came from the other side of the door. Taking it as a sign he was allowed entry, Bandana pushed the set of doors open with all of his might.

The king’s throne room was about as unnecessarily lavish and spacious as a room belonging to the king of Dream Land was expected to be. The chamber was practically an explosion of warm colors; the polished tiled floor alternating between soft yellows and ambers, the unusually tidy carpet leading to the throne was a faded vermillion, and the windows and tapestries were framed with gold–Bandana never bothered to ask if it was real or not. The crimson carpet opened up in an hexagonal shape at the throne’s feet with Dedede’s recognizable blue emblem in its center. Pale blue curtains and quartz pillars lined the back of the room. At the room’s forefront was the king’s throne, a cushioned bronze royal seat with a flimsy set of legs that Bandana waited for many years to give out under the king’s weight—to no avail, as funny as the sight would’ve been.

Lounging atop the throne was King Dedede himself, in all of his rotund glory. The avian royal wasn’t alone, as a pair of lowly Waddle Dees seemed to be tending to cleaning the carpet surrounding his throne of crumbs and fruit juice, likely from the king’s most recent snack break. If Dedede noticed them, his lack of acknowledgement of their presence was convincing.

Most days, the portly penguin would spend his time doing what he did best; absolutely nothing. However, today, the king seemed to be preoccupied for a change, for his attention was focused not on food or quiet, but a foreign-looking scroll laminated in a shiny silver foil. King Dedede’s reading glasses seemed to barely fit his round face, forcing him to hold the scroll with one gloved hand and his frames with another. 

“Ah, great king! Allow me to be of assistance!” Bandana exclaimed, beginning to rush to Dedede’s side to make himself useful. The king waved him off, however, his eyes barely straying away from the parchment to address the appearance of his spear-carrying cohort.

“Naw, don’t bother,” Dedede replied brusquely, removing and slipping his undersized specs into an empty robe pocket, and rolling the letter back up with a disgruntled maneuver of his hands. “Lord, would it kill those schmucks to write a lil’ bigger?”

“May I ask what you were reading, your highness?”

King Dedede shrugged with a huff, unsuccessfully giving the impression that his reading had left him unfettered. “Message from one of the planets over…  uh, Mekki? Mekkay? However ya say it?”

“Mekkai , do you mean?” The Waddle Dee corrected, trying to summon any memory of the mechanical metropolis. He had never visited Mekkai, but Meta Knight had an anecdote or two to spare from a visit he paid to the planet years ago. 

“Right, right, that’s it,” Dedede snapped his finger. “Get this, Dee. They’ve never bothered reaching out to us to offer any kinda aid or imports or whateva, but they have the nerve to come crawlin’ to us, beggin’ for us to get tangled in their problems? Like, what are we runnin’ here, a charity?”

Bandana’s eyebrows furrowed. He was plenty aware of the kingdoms from elsewhere on Popstar, and even those stationed on planets surrounding it, but their contact with Dream Land was scarce, limited mostly to trade propositions and peacekeeping advice. King Dedede would often let his financial representatives take care of the former, and perhaps Meta Knight for the latter, so it was rare for him to open his own mail. Dedede reading letters for himself usually meant one of two things; something very, very good, or something very, very bad. Based on the look on the king’s face, Bandana could only assume it wasn’t the former. 

“What exactly do you mean by ‘their problems’, sire?”

The penguin’s mouth thinned, as his eyes glanced at the folded scroll. “Somethin’ about chunks of their planet getting blown off and stolen by some spaceships? They think there’s some alien hogwash involved, and they want us to send backup. As if we can do anythin’ about it, right?”

Bandana thought for a moment before responding. “I mean, could we?”

“Rhetorical question, Bandee,” King Dedede said matter-of-factly. “What are a coupla Waddle Dees gonna do to a buncha space pirates a bazillion light years away? Wave their spears and scare ‘em away?” He managed to pull himself up from his throne, scroll in hand, and began hobbling towards the door. “Besides, not like we’ve got the troops to spare ‘round here. We let someone strand themselves in outer space for a year, we start askin’ for anybody to waltz in and take this place from us.”

There it was again. Talks of Dream Land being attacked, taken over, conquered. Talks of the possibility of some mysterious villain swooping down, turning the skies dark once more, and the kingdom being completely helpless to stop them, spoken exclusively in theoreticals and probably-nots. It scared Bandana Dee.

The idea of Planet Popstar falling under attack had grown less and less worrying with every unsuccessful attempt at launching an attack against the star-shaped planet, but a recent spike in prospective anxiety had emerged within Bandana Dee’s days and nights. Everything inside of the Waddle Dee was sure he was overreacting—after all, he could name at least half a dozen denizens of Popstar off the top of his head that could easily take on some kind of extraterrestrial threat. Despite his own self-reassurance, however, the dwindling scent of imminent doom remained pungent, and it was hard for Dee not to feel on edge most days. 

“… Right. My apologies, great king,” Dee bowed his head, hoping an apology would help purge his mind of any intrusive disquietude. “I assume this means you haven’t a plan of action for the people of Mekkai?”

Dedede handed the scroll off to one of the Waddle Dee servants still hard at work cleaning the floor; the Dee took it without complaint. “Like I said, not much we can do. Our hands are tied, not while…”

The king trailed off. Bandana didn’t need to do much thinking to know what Dedede was talking about. Or who. “I understand, sire.”

To Bandana Dee’s surprise, King Dedede let out a snort. “Why do you keep callin’ me that, anyways?”

A strange way to shift the topic, for sure, but Dee’s curiosity wasn’t something that often went unsatisfied. “Calling you what?”, he asked. “‘Sire’?”

“‘Sire’, ‘great king’, ‘your highness’… I definitely heard you drop a ‘milord’ last week,” Dedede elaborated with a look in his eyes Dee wasn’t quite sure he could read. Strange for someone who wasn’t all too subtle most of the time. “S’just… funny.”

What’s so funny about formalities? “Would you… rather me not refer to you as such?”

Dedede swatted at the air as if the question was a particularly pesky fruit fly, falling back into his throne with a heavy thwump! . “It’s, it’s whatever. Just thinkin’.”

Bandana tilted his head slightly, surprised by both the king’s unusually pensive demeanor and his own concern for what Dedede was thinking. Over their years of correspondence, Dee had never taken the king to be a man of nuance, but rather one of volume, of bluster, of completely unfiltered, off-the-cuff bravado. He had never seen the king so… thoughtful before. What was going through his mind? Was there something wrong?

Dee didn’t suppose it would hurt to ask. “Is everything alright, Dedede? You seem…”, the spear carrier took a moment to find the right word. “… ruminative.”

Dedede’s head picked up from its slump, his eyes narrowing into sixes and sevens at Bandana’s remark. “I seem what ?”

“Er! Well…”, Bandana quickly moved to correct himself, having forgotten in his own musings that Dedede was one of the least articulate loudmouths he knew. Smaller words would suffice.  “I’m sorry if I sound like I’m pressing, but I noticed you seem… quiet. That’s all.”

With one eyebrow curved into an upwards slant, the braggadocious King Dedede most knew and tolerated resurfaced quickly, almost as if nothing had changed in his disposition. “What are you, my doctor? I dunno if you sound more like Meta Knight or my mama,” the king guffawed. “I’m just fine, kid. No need to get your bandana in a twist.”

“Ah, that’s good, then,” Bandana Dee replied, although his prior concern wasn’t entirely diminished. You’re just overreacting, he told himself. You’re just reading way too deeply into him. Not everyone needs to be studied like a map, right?

...

Hm.

“Well!” The Waddle Dee straightened his body out, clasping his round hands together in front of him. He knew exactly the thing that would make clearing his head significantly easier.  “Is there anything you would like for me to get done around the castle done? Anything you need from me?”

Dedede leaned back in his throne, scratching his chin absentmindedly as he racked his brains to think of something. “Mmm… good question, actually. I don’t think there’s much that needs to be taken care of right now…”

“I’m sure there’s something around the castle that’s in need of attendance.” Come on, big guy. Give me something to do. Anything. Just say the word.

“Heh, most of the time I’d agree with ya,” the king admitted. “But I really can’t think of anything the other mooks aren’t already taken care of.”

Bandana’s foot began to tap a soft, restless pattern against the crimson carpet beneath him. “Well, what about... non-urgent?” 

His remark was enough to get King Dedede to turn his head, lifting his eyebrow in a manner that managed to convey both amusement and exasperation. “Why’re you so eager to get employee of the month all a sudden?” He asked, before adding, “Not that ya need to try, but…”

The Waddle Dee repressed a sigh, choosing to stay as firm and professional as he could. “I’m just here to do my job, sire.”

“Y’know a break wouldn’t kill ya, right?” Dedede leaned forward, resting his arms on his legs as he stared down his assistant. “Listen, I know you’ve got the whole ‘loyal servant’ thing down pat, and I’m not gonna pretend that I’m not your biggest fan for that reason, but…”

“I dunno, don’t you think you’re layin’ the ‘working tirelessly for the sake of our kingdom’ thing–”, the king continued, pitching his voice up to resemble Bandana’s in a manner the Waddle Dee couldn’t help but find insulting. “–on a little too thick?”

A hundred words approached Bandana Dee’s theoretical lips, all of them desperate to burst out and reverberate across the room, but not a single one left the Waddle Dee’s mind. The spear-wielder remained silent, glued to the floor without a retort to be heard. 

Bandana never found his relationship to the king to be all too tumultuous–at worst, he thought the king went too far with his anger every now and then, and, at best, he’d entertain the idea of the two being friends. But there was something about the way Dedede talked down to him sometimes, something in his commanding vocal and his condescending stare, that made Bandana shrink from Dedede’s closest cohort to a lowly nameless grunt. These rare moments made two things very, very clear. That one of them was the king of Dream Land; the other, little else but a common soldier with an exceptional lucky streak. 

The king of Dream Land smirked. “That’s what I thought.”

As Dedede put his arms behind his head, clearly basking in his victory, Bandana snapped out of his hazy weakness and rushed to stand closer to his podium. “Great king, with all due respect, it is my job as your royal assistant and personal confidante to ensure that I maintain constant vigilance, especially in the face of potential or imminent danger.”

“Do you see any evil forces charging at us from the sky, Bandana? Any blobs of concentrated darkness making puppets out of any and every person they see?” The king gestured towards the window, towards the crystalline blue sky, still devoid of darkness. “Everything’s fine, kid. No one’s in danger.”

“But-”

“Listen, bud,” Dedede swiftly interrupted his comrade, plodding over to the Waddle Dee and kneeling down to match his gaze. “I get it, y’know? I get it. It’s been a wild coupla months, things have changed around here, and you’re still on tenterhooks dealin’ with all of that. Which is fine. I mean, like I said, I get it…”

Bandana Dee needed to physically restrain himself from rolling his eyes all the way into the back of his skull. The idea of Dedede giving him a heart-to-heart was about as exciting as a glass of apple juice left out in the sun for too long. “Sire, it’s not about that–”

“Oh, don’t give me that, Dee,” the King retorted, his own eyes twirling upwards, as if to prove himself capable of what Bandana was not. “Let’s be honest with ourselves here, we’re all used to bein’ one big bucket of sunshine all the time. But you’ve been down and out the past coupla months, and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know why.”  

“And, no offense...” He continued, reaching an arm out to swipe the spear out of the Waddle Dee’s now limp grasp; Bandee staggered back, surprised and annoyed by the maneuver. “... But I don’t think working yourself senseless every day is going to put you in a better mood. At the end of the day, I can’t have my best Dee down for the count because he can’t just give himself a break. Do you catch my drift?” 

He caught it, all right. Caught like a mouse in a trap.

A fierce, long-dormant piece of Bandana wanted to be angry. Angry about the belittling way Dedede talked down to him. Angry about being treated like a child. Angry about the way the king was treating him like a soldier, as if they hadn’t spent so much time saving Dream Land together, as if he wasn’t more than just a nobody in a sea of identical Waddle Dees. 

More than anything, though, he was angry that King Dedede was right. 

His head fell. “… Yes, sir.”

King Dedede’s interrogative stance slumped into one of exasperation. “Oh, come on, Dee. I’m not screamin’ at ya, am I?” His voice softened, as he tossed Dee’s spear back to him; Bandana caught it in his hands without missing a beat, gripping it more tightly than he did before it was ripped away from him. “I know I’m, I’m no good at this ‘dealing with emotions’ mumbo jumbo, but…”

“I dunno. Still wanna look out for you, y’know?”

Deep down, Bandana felt some of his frustration redirect itself away from the king and towards himself. Don’t be stupid, of course he cares about you. Even if it’s a weird, disingenuous king-to-subject kind of caring. It’s still something. 

Again, in spite of how much of a bonehead Dedede was, the Waddle Dee couldn’t pretend the king was wrong about… well, anything. Being proven wrong didn’t make him feel better, but what was Bandana gonna do? Not listen?

Of course he was going to.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, wishing he could pull his blue headscarf over his whole body and disappear into the fabric. “Maybe you’re right. I just… don’t like feeling this way.”

“Doubt anyone does,” Dedede snorted, adjusting the shoulders of his majestic robe. “The key is to distract yourself from all that wallowin’. Whenever I was a kid, my old man used to say, ‘If you’re soakin’ wet and miserable, the first thing you need to do to change that is to stop sittin’ in puddles’.”

“So here’s what I’m gonna tell ya, Bandee. Go outside, touch some grass, absorb some sunlight, jump into a lake or somethin’.  Spend some time with your friends, if you wanna. Go do somethin’ fun, somethin’ that sets your head straight. And don’t come back to the castle and report for duty until you’re a little less doom and gloom.”

“Wait, you’re laying me off for the day?” Bandana Dee stammered, to which the royal nodded. “King Dedede, I’m not sure if that’s a good idea… for either of us. Don’t you… need me? You know, for… emergencies?”

The king’s answer came after a few seconds of consideration. He shrugged. “A little bit, maybe. Think of it as extra incentive to come back with your head in the right place, eh? Actually, no, if you want, think of it as an order. That’ll get ya to focus.”

The Waddle Dee wasn’t sure if his gut reaction was to protest Dedede’s command, or wonder aloud if he was really that subservient. Letting impulse decide how he acted wouldn’t get him anywhere in this conversation, though. 

“Well… in that case…”, Bandana started, a sheepish chuckle escaping him despite there being very little to laugh about. “Very, er, very well, then. I’ll, uh… stop sitting in the puddle, as you say. I’ll be on my way.”

“That’s the spirit, scarfhead,” King Dedede replied, his beaked lips curving into a grin, his answer dripping with self-satisfaction. “Go take the day to yourself. And don’t come back until your head’s in the game, aight?”

“Yes, sire.”

With one last disinclined nod at the smug penguin atop the throne, Bandana Dee turned his body around and strode across the bedraggled crimson carpet, following it across the room and towards the gilded doors. As he began to approach the exit, he couldn’t help but glance upwards at the ceiling, his eyes drifting towards one of the felt banners with the king’s insignia imprinted on it. His gaze fluttered from banner to banner, each time fixating on the gloved peace sign the king had claimed as his emblem. 

For a moment, for one inconsequential second, Bandana silently wondered to himself if the king thought about that day as much as he did. If he thought about Kirby as much as he did. If he missed him as much.