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Meta Knight stands before his general, back ramrod straight and his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He tries not to pick at the peeling leather or adjust how the scabbard rests against his leg.
It’s still too big for him, despite his general repeatedly telling him he’ll grow into it.
His general sits at his desk, hands tented beneath his chin and elbows resting on either side of the paperwork he was looking through. Orders, by the looks of it, ones to the troops stationed on the neighboring planet.
Deep shadows are carved into his general’s face, the flickering candle the only thing illuminating his office. In the past few years, it looks like he’s aged centuries. Sadness lingers in his gaze; it sharpened when he looked up at Meta Knight’s approach.
There has always been sadness in his general’s eyes for as long as Meta Knight had known him.
But there’s something unusual about it, something new. It’s only recently that Meta Knight has taken note of it, but a sharp undercut of guilt filts on the edges. Meta Knight doesn’t understand it because his general isn’t doing anything wrong.
It’s not his fault that his wings make him look like something they should be fighting. Meta Knight is lucky that it’s taken someone this long to finally point it out.
(It didn’t take him nearly that long to realize it; he knew, instinctively, when he first set his gaze on the Starbound race that he was something different.)
His general’s eyes narrow and his wings shift ever-so-slightly behind him, the shadow dancing along the wall behind him. He doesn’t make a move to speak, to address why he singled Meta Knight out tonight.
Meta Knight digs his fingers into the leather wrapped around the hilt of his sword. “General, you called for me?”
— —
“It doesn’t matter because there’s no way for me to figure it out.” Meta Knight wraps the dimensional cape tighter around himself. It doesn’t bring the same comfort that it used to. With Galacta Knight so close to him, some of the faint splattering of stars return to the fabric. “You must be able to understand that.”
Galacta Knight frowns at him with deep confusion. “But you can. It’s not even that hard.” When Meta Knight just sits and stares at him, eyes narrowed and brows knitted beneath his mask, Galacta Knight latches onto his wrist and pulls him towards the window. “C’mon, I’ll show you.”
“Are you sure?” Meta Knight begrudgingly lets himself be dragged towards the window. He doesn’t let the tentative flicker of hope bubble in his chest, grabbing it tightly with both hands and smothering it. He can’t risk it. “You know….what I am.”
Galacta Knight huffs and gives Meta Knight a flat look over his shoulder as he’s slipping out the window. “Fatuus eques, es Astris Rentinentur. You’re still—how do you put it—a Starbound. You still have your star.”
Meta Knight opens his mouth but the question dies on his tongue. He doesn’t want to hear that Galacta Knight is lying, that he’s just trying to get Meta Knight to believe in something he knows is wrong. That Galacta Knight was wrong, despite being the one of the two people on this planet that could possibly sense that. “We’ll see.”
Galacta Knight grins at him, just edging on teasing. “Don’t be so worried. I know what I’m talking about.”
Meta Knight doesn’t return the grin but he does shake out his wings and joins Galacta Knight on the other side of the window. Galacta Knight guides Meta Knight high into the sky, letting Popstar spill out in front of them. “Where’s the highest place that we can land?”
“There are the mountains,” Meta Knight points out the locations as he speaks, “but they’re often covered in clouds. Dyna Blade resides there as well. There’s also Nutty Noon, the tower itself is tall.”
Galacta Knight takes off towards the tower, loosening his grip so Meta Knight can pull away and they can fly without getting their wings caught within each other. The flight to the tower is short and by the time they reach the top, it is firmly night. Stars explode across the sky and the moon hangs low against the horizon.
Galacta Knight lands in the center of the tower and scans the sky. He gestures for Meta Knight to join him and points upwards. “That is where the astra creātiōnis are. You could call them origin stars in Common.”
Meta Knight looks between where Galacta Knight is pointing and and him. He doesn’t see anything more than the large expanse of empty stars. He doesn’t sense anything either. “I can’t sense them.” He tries not to let bitterness bleed into his voice.
“Well first, your mask is probably blocking some of the magic.” Galacta Knight flicks the side of Meta Knight’s visor and he does everything in his power not to flinch. “That visor of yours filters it out.”
Meta Knight narrows his eyes, trying to determine the validity of his claim. This would be one of the tamer ways Galacta Knight has tried to get him to remove his mask.
The Aeon Hero isn’t lying. Galaxia’s presence flickers in the back of his head and Meta Knight doesn’t miss the way Galacta Knight’s expression shifts.
Meta Knight stifles the sigh building in his chest and pushes his mask up on his forehead. He’s lucky that Galacta Knight didn’t catch him after he removed the bandages around his right eye.
He looks away before Galacta Knight can ask the question he sees burning his gaze, the question he knows he wants to ask every time he can convince Meta Knight to remove his mask. Meta Knight tries to find the spot Galacta Knight was pointing at, but the sky still looks the same.
Galacta Knight takes Meta Knight’s hand and guides it to a point in the sky. “The astra creātiōnis are there,” Galacta Knight says quietly. He moves Meta Knight’s hand slightly to the right. “That’s where my star is.” He moves Meta Knight's hand again, far to the left. “That’s where Kirby’s star is.”
“Do you know where mine is?” Meta Knight asks, barely above a whisper.
“No.” Galacta Knight lowers their hands. He won’t meet Meta Knight’s gaze. “It’s hard to find another Starbound’s star for them.”
“But you know where Kirby’s is.” Not even Meta Knight knows where that is, and he was there when Kirby first landed. Out of all of them, except for maybe Kirby, he should know where Kirby’s star is.
But he doesn’t.
“Only because Kirby told me.” Galacta Knight frowns, and his voice wavers ever-so-slightly. “You can’t sense them….can you?”
“No,” Meta Knight admits, ignoring how the singular word burns in his mouth.
“Your Warp Star can guide you.” Galacta Knight pauses for a moment and gives Meta Knight a long look. “You do know that they come from your star, right?”
“I do.” Meta Knight knows his knowledge of the Starbound is lacking compared to Galacta Knight’s, but even he knew that. “But I don’t have mine.”
It feels like a betrayal to say the words aloud.
Apparently, the only thing he was found with was the dimensional cape. By that point, he already had his wings and had long since lost his ability to summon it.
Galacta Knight withdraws his lance. Meta Knight instinctively dips his hand into his cape, wrapping his fingers around Galaxia’s hilt. But Galacta Knight only holds the weapon between them. “We can use mine. It won’t be as easy as using yours, but it should still work.”
Meta Knight eyes it warily. “Why?”
“It may not guide you directly to your star, but it can guide you to mine and you can sense how it should feel. Once you do that, finding your star will be easy.” Galacta Knight shifts his grip, sliding his hand back so Meta Knight has space to hold near the base. “C’mon, it won’t hurt to try.”
Meta Knight extracts one of his hands from his cape and rests it against the hilt of Galacta Knight’s lance.
Instantly his vision explodes with magic. He snaps up, taking a step back to steady himself. Most of the sky is the same, the stars blank and empty without Starbound to fill them, but there are a few bright bursts of color.
He finds Galacta Knight’s star first, the color just as vibrantly pink as his lance and bursting with the powerful magic that surrounds him. Nearby are the origin stars, a pair of twin stars entrapped in an orbit around each other.
Then, he finds his star. It’s close to the origin stars, close enough to be obscured by one of them, but resoundingly there.
The dread and fear weighing down in his chest loosens. He has a star.
He had a star.
“I found it,” Meta Knight breathes, in awe.
Galacta Knight starts speaking but all Meta Knight can pick up is the excitement in his voice. He focuses on his star—his star, he still can’t believe that he has a star—falling back on instincts that he thought he had long since forgotten.
It’s easy to determine when his birth was, the stars remembering everything he has long since forgotten.
He first gets a sense based on how long it’s been since an orbit has been completed by the origin stars, a measurement of time that was so instinctive he doesn’t need to think about in the way he does for Popstar’s measurement of time.
He translates it into the time he’s used for over half his life but had never felt more foreign. “It’s in a couple of days—my birthday.”
Galacta Knight laughs, a large smile pulling at his lips. “Well then, I guess our timing was pretty good.”
Meta Knight no longer tries to fight the small smile threatening to break out across his face. “I guess it was.”
— —
His general nods, something sharp cutting into his expression. Meta Knight can’t read it. “Yes, take a seat, please.”
Meta Knight frowns and unease flickers in his chest. Usually, his conversations with his general don’t take longer than a few minutes.
Usually his general wouldn’t call him here with such late notice. The messenger has to scramble to find Meta Knight, interrupting him in the middle of a training session claiming that this all seemed urgent.
With the way that his general won’t stop staring at him with this sad, guilty look, Meta Knight can understand why the messenger thought that.
Meta Knight carefully takes the sole seat in front of his general’s desk, adjusting his scabbard so it doesn't dig into his leg.
His general is watching him. He straightens up and drops his hands against the paperwork on his desk. “I have orders for you, important ones, but first….” His general reaches down and pulls something out of his desk. The fabric shimmers in the low light and spills across his hands like liquid night. He holds it out and Meta Knight watches as stars drip down the fabric. “Here.”
Meta Knight stares at it. It’s certainly a gorgeous cape, regal even with the gold trim running along the edges. But he doesn’t know why his general decided to give it to him. “Why?”
— —
“Meta Knight.”
Meta Knight turns from his place standing on the Halberd’s bow, tightening his grip on his cape. A chilled sea breeze blows across the deck, stirring the fabric around his feet. Vul walks towards him with a curt wave. Meta Knight returns it with a brief nod. “Captain Vul.”
Vul huffs a laugh and leans back against the nearby railing. “Weren’t you the one who said that titles didn’t hold that much weight?”
“When they’re undeserved.” Meta Knight watches Vul out of the corner of his eye, keeping an eye on the ocean beneath him. Not that there’s any need to, the water is placid and calm.
Vul shakes his head, but the grin doesn’t drop from his face. “I heard your birthday is comin’ up.”
Meta Knight isn’t surprised that Vul already knows, despite it being a half-a-day at best since he figured out himself. “I see that Galacta Knight was busy.”
“It was Kirby, actually.” Vul’s grin stiffens, just enough for Meta Knight to pick up on it. “He was scrambling to get something together with such short notice.”
“I see.” Meta Knight wraps his cape tighter around himself, letting the fabric settle him. Galaxia’s presence flickers in the back of his mind, steady and constant.
Vul narrows his eyes and the smile slips off his face. “We’ll only celebrate it if you want to. No offense, but I can tell you’re not one for parties.”
The fact that Meta Knight appears to have never told them his birthday hangs heavy between them.
“I don’t mind.” And Meta Knight finds that what he’s saying is true. Here, with all the people he can tentatively call friends, wouldn’t be unbearable. “I’ve never really celebrated it before.”
“Not once?” Vul gives him a look like he doesn’t really believe him. “If you’re truly as old as you claim you are, you must’ve celebrated it.”
“I am.” Meta Knight frowns. He obviously can’t explain how he didn’t know when his birthday was until last night, not without getting into information about the Starbound that he isn’t even sure about himself. “And I did….celebrate it. Once.”
Meta Knight tries not to think about it. It was the night before one of the days he will never stop regretting.
Vul tightens his grip on the railing, but doesn’t press the subject. “If there’s anything you want to do, just let us know. I know Kirby would be happy to do anything you want.”
Meta Knight lets a small smile rise unbridled on his face, thankfully hidden by his mask. He’s certain that Galacta Knight will find a way to mess up whatever he tries to plan, no matter what he tries.
He finds that he wouldn’t mind that.
“Cake. Strawberry cake.”
“I don’t think there’s an event that Kirby hosts that doesn’t have strawberry cake,” Vul says seriously, missing the inside joke that Meta Knight didn’t even think he’d pick up on. Meta Knight doesn't think Galacta Knight has even seen strawberry cake before. “And speaking of Kirby….”
Meta Knight turns around to follow Vul’s gaze and see Kirby sprinting down the Halberd’s deck. He’s trying to look serious, with his eyes narrowed and brows pinched, but it’s foiled by the large grin breaking out across his face. “Meta Knight!”
Something heavy lands next to Meta Knight and he can feel the flap of large wings. “You told Kirby, didn’t you?” Meta Knight asks.
There was no need for a question but Galacta Knight takes it as one. “You weren’t going to.” Despite having retrieved his mask from where he stored it in Meta Knight’s room, Meta Knight can hear the grin in his voice.
Meta Knight concedes with a nod of his head.
“Meta Knight!” Kirby calls again, closer now. “Why didn’t you tell me your birthday was in two days!”
“I forgot,” Meta Knight says plainly, having years of experience hiding his emotions from his voice to hide the teasing edge from his voice.
Galacta Knight, on the other hand, bursts out with laughter beside Meta Knight.
“You did not!” Kirby is laughing now too, stopping in front of Meta Knight with his arms crossed over his chest.
“I didn’t know you could make a joke,” Vul adds with a teasing edge to his voice.
“I can’t,” Meta Knight deadpans.
Galacta Knight wacks Meta Knight with one of his wings, light enough that the feathers tickle the back of his neck.
“So,” Kirby draws back their attention, unable to remove the levity from his voice to imitate something more serious. “What do you want to do for your birthday?”
Meta Knight looks straight into Galacta Knight’s eyes. “We need to have strawberry cake.”
“Strawberry cake?” The teasing edge that is always lurking in Galacta Knight’s voice drops away to reveal shock. “There’s something like that? Meta? Are you lying to me?”
“If you promise not to be your usual—” How does Galaxia put it? “—irrītans eques. There will be.”
Kirby and Vul give Meta Knight a blank look, but Galacta Knight gives him a look of mock offense. Laughter breaks through as he speaks. “Did Galaxia tell you that one? Tell her she’s a improbum gladium.”
Tell the eques sine cerebrō that he needs to come up with better insults.
Meta Knight has a feeling that everything is going to be fine.
— —
His general’s expression twists in a way that Meta Knight has learned to mean he’s concerned. About what, Meta Knight could never decipher. “You’ve been here long enough for your birthday to pass. None of us know when it is, but I guess now’s as good of a time as any.”
Meta Knight just looks at his general, eyes narrowed slightly and lips pulled into a small frown. Conceptually, he’s aware of what his general is talking about. Starbound don’t typically celebrate their birthdays, especially when they’re at war, but every so often the cafeteria will be serving sweets or someone’s favorite meal if they insist long enough.
Meta Knight never saw the point. Surviving that long wasn’t something that should be celebrated. Him surviving that long shouldn’t be celebrated.
He says that much to his general.
His general sighs, the long-suffering kind that only Meta Knight seems to bring out of him. “You’re allowed to think you’ll survive this.”
“I think,” Meta Knight says mildly, taking a deliberate second to choose his words. “We both know what hope like that does to us.”
There’s the hope that they’ll stop Nightmare. There’s the hope that there will be something for all of them to go back to.
There’s the hope that they won’t come out of this so warped that they’re unrecognizable.
(Meta Knight had let himself dream of all of these, once.)
— —
Meta Knight finds Galacta Knight sulking outside the kitchen doors. Now sulking isn’t often used to describe the greatest warrior in the galaxy—or ex-greatest depending on who you’re asking—but it’s the only fitting term.
Meta Knight stands over Galacta Knight, who’s sitting against the wall across the kitchen door with his arms crossed over his chest. His mask is pushed up over his horns, forcing his vibrant hair to frame his face. Meta Knight pulls his cape around himself. “Did you get kicked out of the kitchen?”
Galacta Knight looks up at him with a flat look. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
“Did you?” Meta Knight asks again, mildly.
Galacta Knight leans back against the wall, his horns thumping against the metal. “Fine. I was kicked out of the kitchen. Happy?”
Meta Knight continues to peer down at him. “I think that’s a record.”
“Like you get to talk. I’m pretty sure you’re banned for life from that place.”
Galacta Knight isn’t exactly wrong, the last time Meta Knight tried to cook anything it had Sailor Dee running for Vul or Sword Knight or anyone responsible enough to stop him, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“Did you attempt to try the cake?”
In one fluid movement, Galacta Knight stands and draws his lance. Meta Knight stumbles back and dips his hand into his cape, wrapping his hand against Galaxia’s hilt. Her presence bursts to life in the back of his head. Are you fighting with the Aeon Hero now of all times?
Meta Knight draws her from the folds of his cape.
“This conversation is pointless,” Galacta Knight announces, as if that wasn’t the entire point of small talk.
“You would rather fight?”
Is that even a question you should be asking?
“Like you wouldn’t rather fight than talk.”
Meta Knight knows he was being hypocritical but he doesn’t see the need to be called out on it by both of them. Meta Knight settles into his stance and tightens his grip against Galaxia. From across the hall, Galacta Knight grabs his shield, the barest hints of magic flickering in the air.
The doors to the kitchen slam open before either of them could move.
Sword Knight is standing between them, hiding most of the room from view. Kirby is trying to peek over his shoulder and Blade Knight isn’t far from them. “If you want to spar, please don’t do it in front of the kitchen doors.”
Meta Knight collects himself, lower Galaxia but won’t sheathe her. He knows that Galacta Knight will take advantage of the opening. Galacta Knight slings his shield back but doesn’t sheathe his lance, likely for the same reason. “Fine.”
He takes off down the hall, latching onto Meta Knight's wrist and dragging him along. Meta Knight lets him, guiding him towards the training room when he inevitably gets lost. He can navigate galaxies with nothing more than his sense of direction but he still gets lost in the Halberd’s halls.
There’s something endearingly funny about that.
The moment they enter the training room, Meta Knight breaks away and snaps out his wings. He crosses the room with a single jump and turns to face Galacta Knight. “You have the first move.”
“You’re so generous.” Galacta Knight adjusts his grip on his lance, the metal gleaming in the harsh lights of the training room. He leaps across the room and Meta Knight brings up Galaxia in just enough time to catch his lance in her prongs.
Meta Knight throws the lance to the side using Galaxia and rushes forward towards Galacta Knight’s now exposed side. He’s careful with his movements, going just slow enough to guarantee that Galacta Knight will be able to dodge.
It’s such a far cry from their previous flights that it almost gives him whiplash.
He no longer goes to main or incapacitate, but rather jabs that are pulled away before any damage is done. He likes to think that Galacta Knight is doing the same, with the way his magic only dances in the air but never gets close enough to touch Meta Knight or how Meta Knight can parry his lance without having Galaxia nearly torn from his grasp.
With how their fight resulted from petty squabbles rather than true arguments.
Meta Knight doesn’t know exactly when the fight ends, but at some point they go from sparring to simply sitting across from each other on the floor. Galacta Knight pulls off his mask and drops it on the floor next to his lance and shield. Meta Knight had long since sheathed Galaxia, tucking her safely away in his cape.
Meta Knight grabs a water bottle from his cape and tosses it over to Galacta Knight. “Were you really kicked out of the kitchen?”
Galacta Knight catches the bottle and cracks it open. “No—I mean yes, technically, but not because of the cake. Someone needed to keep you out of there and it’s hard to pin down someone who has the ability to teleport.” He gives Meta Knight a look, revealing exactly how familiar he is with Meta Knight’s evasive capabilities.
Meta Knight acknowledges the barb with a nod of his head. “And you volunteered?”
“It was either me or Kirby and I think we both know what would happen if we had Kirby watching you.”
It wouldn’t end with Meta Knight being kept out of the kitchen, that’s for sure.
Admittedly, Meta Knight is a little curious about what’s happening behind those doors. He’s not exactly one for surprises and there was little that he explicitly requested. But he finds himself trusting them.
It’s a strange feeling, one that he hasn’t let himself truly feel in a long, long time.
Galacta Knight downs about half the water before standing and slotting his weapons back in place. He slips on his mask and Meta Knight resists the urge to fix his bangs. He knows that Galacta Knight doesn’t care. The only reason he brushes and ties it up in the morning is that it gets in the way of fighting otherwise.
“It’s about time for us to get going.” Galacta Knight holds out a hand and Meta Knight takes it.
“You left them waiting, didn’t you?” Meta Knight lets Galacta Knight guide him back to the kitchen.
Galacta Knight over his shoulder with a grin in his eyes. “Just a little.”
“That isn’t going to make Sword Knight like you any more.”
“Nōn rēferet. It’s okay.” Galacta Knight shrugs, nowhere near apologetic. “We’re going now.”
Meta Knight grins, soft and unrestrained.
Galacta Knight stops in front of the doors to the dining room, having gotten there without Meta Knight’s help. “Did you memorize the way here?”
“Maybe.” Galacta Knight steps back, letting Meta Knight stand alone in front of the doors. “Sword Knight was pretty insistent that I got this right without going in through the windows.”
Meta Knight pushes the doors open.
“Happy Birthday!”
Everyone is gathered in their dining room—his crew, King Dedede and a good number of the Waddle Dees Meta Knight has met, and Kirby and his friends—and food is piled high on the tables scattered around the room.
But, despite all the people packed into this room, it doesn’t feel overwhelming.
A large, silly grin splits Meta Knight’s face. “Thank you.”
— —
His general stands and approaches Meta Knight. He drops the cape in Meta Knight’s lap before he could protest. The fabric is smooth and cold against his hands, humming with an energy that matches the one from his soul. It’s far more stunning this close, where he can taste the magic in the back of his throat.
He doesn’t want to give it back.
But he knows he should, he knows that he doesn’t deserve something like this, something this powerful.
“I can’t take this.” Meta Knight tries to hold the cape out but his general just pushes his hands back to his chest.
“Don’t think of it as a gift then.” His general gives him a gentle smile, softer than anything Meta Knight has seen in his life. “Just that I’m returning something that’s rightfully yours.”
Meta Knight blinks at him in confusion but is helpless to stop his general from stepping away. He turns to his place behind the desk, a weight weighing on his expression despite the smile pulling at his lips. “It’s not going to bite.”
Meta Knight unfurls the cape, standing. He doesn’t know exactly how it’s going to work with his wings, most Starbound elect not to wear capes for this exact reason, but he throws it over his shoulders anyways.
The fabric settles against his shoulders and his wings slip inside. For a moment, he freezes—his general lied to him, his wings are gone, his wings are—but the weight of his wings are still there. Just not in the sense he’s used to. He sticks his hand into fabrics and watches as his arm disappears into the starry folds.
“It’s not a normal cape.” His general is grinning now, still softened and tinged with an edge of guilt.
Meta Knight wants to test its capabilities, desperately, but he knows that now isn’t the right time. He knows that his general didn’t call him here for just this, he said so himself.
Meta Knight draps the fabric over his arms and settles back into his seat. He presses any of the childish glee that bubbles up feeling the cape wrapped around his shoulders and schools his expression. “What are your orders?”
His general’s expression drops, leaving behind the raw stoicism that granted him his position. “Tomorrow, we’re going to start our assault on Nightmare’s forces. During this, there’s a town of demon beasts in disguise, a satellite base if the main one falls, that I need you to deal with. Can you?”
Meta Knight digs his fingers into the edges of the cape. The faintest hints of stars wink back at him. “Yes, without a doubt.”
— —
Long after all the festivities are over—Meta Knight was right, seeing Galacta Knight try strawberry cake for the first time was a gift in itself—Meta Knight finding himself standing on the Halberd’s deck, staring off into the water.
He still doesn’t understand how everyone could do all that for him. It was so much more than what he expected, so much more than what he deserved.
(There’s still a small part of him that whispers that his birth isn’t something that should be celebrated.)
That doesn’t change the fact that they did and something warm blooms in his chest at the thought.
“Still up brooding, Meta Knightmare?” Galacta Knight lands next to him, his mask gone and his hair loose around his face.
“Good evening to you too, Galacta.” Meta Knight finds himself loosening his own mask without prompting, dragging up to rest on his forehead.
“What’s got you up this time?” Galacta Knight gives him a look, his eyes glowing softly in the dark.
“It’s nothing much.”
“Like I believe that.” Galacta Knight wacks Meta Knight with one of his wings, feathers brushing against his back. “The last time you said that, I had to stop your brilliant idea of laying siege on Dreamland. Again.”
MK looks away, already regretting removing his mask and revealing his expression for Galacta Knight to see plainly. “It’s not like that.”
“I guess I can trust you, fatuum equitem.” Galacta Knight gives him a grin with teeth, revealing his fangs.
“What about you?” Meta Knight turns the question back on Galacta Knight. “Why are you here?”
“Well, it is incredibly lonely in your room without you in it, if you weren’t aware.” Galacta Knight lets his grin turn smug but it drops when Meta Knight only dignified it with a look. His expression turns more serious as the teasing edge bleeds away. He pulls out a small, folded piece of paper and holds it out. “Here, for your birthday.”
Meta Knight takes it and carefully unfolds it. It’s a note of some kind, written in Galacta Knight’s looping script. The first half is completely illegible but the second is written in Common. “What is this?”
“Vōtum. It’s a promise, no vow, to find your Warp Star.” Galacta Knight is dead serious, his voice steady. “No Starbound should be without theirs.”
Meta Knight carefully refolds the paper, his hands trembling. The warmth in his chest grows to the point he can feel it spreading through his limbs. He doesn’t know what to do with it, the emotion foreign. He tucks the vow in his cape. “Thank you.”
The two words aren’t nearly enough to convey Meta Knight’s gratitude. There is no clearer way for Galacta Knight to show that he full-heartedly believes that Meta Knight has a Warp Star, that it’s not something lost because of what he is.
That Meta Knight deserves to have it, despite what he is.
Galacta Knight smiles, soft and unbridled, and Meta Knight knows he’s aware exactly how much this means to him.