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Meta Knight had no final words when he fell. Rage had consumed him, made him shake and move so boldly on his feet that he barely noticed when the ground beneath him disappeared. He tried to scream but only succeeded in getting a mouthful of the toxic air that surrounded him and made his lungs ache. On instinct he had opened his wings to fly, but they stayed helplessly still as he tumbled down into the pitch black nothingness below.
The last thing he heard before he collided to the ground was Galaxia’s mournful cry. His dearest friend was still tucked in his paw when everything faded away, even his dying grip unable to let her go. She was saying something, something so frantic and full of remorse, but the words fell on deaf ears.
He wishes he knew what she said. He wishes she was there. She would have answers to all of this.
There was far too much time and silence in the underworld. His newest companion, Papi, couldn’t even begin to fill the nothingness with his talking. Hailing the knight as a hero for slicing away some simple bats, the butterfly trails the air behind him as he walks. The fluorescent blue butterfly would burst with conversation like a man starved. He says he’s been here for so long he stopped counting. He says Meta Knight should stay with him too.
The thought of it consumes him as he walks in the endless fields of dull blooming flowers. Dying was never an option for him. There was no death in his endless years spent in the shadow of the dark wizard. Death did not come for him when his ship fell from the sky and crashed into the sea. It did not even come when he begged for it in the clutches of a woman who sang and sang and cut him open and put him together wrong. For it to finally get him from a careless fall…it could not happen.
Surely Kirby was waiting for him. They would be worried if he did not come back soon for their training together. Void, he did not even want to begin to think about how his crewmates are handling his absence. They had just begun to stop looking at him like he might disappear any moment after the events of the Haltmann invasion. And the king-
”Our tower is too high? Bah-! It’s not high enough! Let’s continue until we shake the heavens, huh Mety?”
The flowers surrounding them are bulbing dangerously, unmoving in the still air. They were the only way to tell passing time in this desolate place. How had he spent a full day on foot without noticing? There was no ache in his feet, no sleep in his eyes. He pauses, and it is just long enough for Papi to flutter down to his eye level and take notice.
“Let’s rest Meta.”, His soothing voice offers, as if he knew his thoughts.
“No.”, He says, eyes searching their surroundings behind his mask. There had to be more than this. More than gray flowers and a sky without a sun or moon and no way home.
“You may not feel tired now, but you should still rest.”, Papi urges, flying down and landing on his right pauldron. His soft glow is pleasant in the lifeless land, but it does nothing to quell the tide of urgency in the knight. “Please?”
The knight should refute, but instead he stills. It would do no good to continue aimlessly as they were. There was no end to Hell. A sick feeling forms inside of him. No, he couldn’t lose hope. There had to be a way out.
“You should sit by this tree.”, The butterfly offers, flying gracefully. He follows. The trees in the underworld were few and looked devoid of life. He places his gloved palm against the trunk, almost hesitant to lean against it for fear it might turn to dust.
“What do you like to eat, Meta Knight?”, Papi asks. He must see it too.
He was far too deep in thought to be embarrassed that the delicious sight of his favorite chocolate parfaits popped into his mind. There was hardly a peaceful night he could go without them, but it was an unfitting sight for a warrior to indulge in such a sugary treat. It was why for years he tried to keep his unbefitting habit a secret best kept in the dead of night when everyone slept. But of course, as they always seemed to do, his crew saw right through him. They had surprised him with a parfait just the way he liked it one of his birthdays, pulling him back when he tried to discreetly use his cape to teleport away.
He thinks about the sandwiches Kirby would bring from the castle kitchens to share after they were done training. He would have to swipe one before the child accidentally ate all of them on their own. It gave them time to sit with one another, and would often end with Kirby taking a nap under the watch of the knight, or the two of them reading together.
He thought about the buttery short-bread cookies Dedede would put into his hands when the two discussed matters in the kingdom. His king always seemed to have a tin of them somewhere within arms reach, and whenever he ate he wouldn’t let up until he fed the knight one bite of whatever he was having. It was surreal, how close he got to the man. There was a time he thought he was just another selfish ruler on a doomed planet. But now, he could think of no one else perfect to swear his allegiance to, to trust his heart with.
The memories don’t make him hungry. Another side effect of being part dead he supposes. Still…the hanging fruit calls out to him.
“What do you like to eat?”, He repeats the question back. He didn’t say anything aloud to answer the question, but the butterfly does not seem to mind at all, making a loop in the air.
“Red! But I like yellow too.”
“What…?”, The knight asks.
“Flowers- I love to drink the nectar.”, Papi says and realization dawns on the knight. Of course. Him and the butterfly would not eat the same things. He wonders why the butterflies back on Popstar would not talk the way he does. He gazes at the endless rows of flowers devoid of color. Did the color really matter that much in the taste?
He grabs the fruit from the tree.
The skin of it was dull, but it felt ripe in his paw. It was a mockery of the colorful and bright fruits that bloomed on the trees of Dreamland. On sunny days he would swoop up and pick a few, skinning and cutting them to share with Bandee and Kirby who would run themselves tired on the grassy fields as the king napped in the background.
Their laughter rings in his ears even in this desolate place . They had grown up so much since he first saw them. Dedede had a bet that they would grow even taller than him. But he would never get to see them grow older stuck here-
“Meta Knight…”, Papi says cautiously as the knight holds the fruit. It feels heavy in his paw.
No. That would not happen. A warrior like him could find a way out of this.
Carefully pulling up his mask from his mouth, the knight brings the fruit to his lips and sinks his teeth into it. It tastes bitter, overwhelming his taste buds that expected something sweet. He nearly spits it out, but he resolves himself and swallows.
Silently, the butterfly watches, his glow less prominent than before, dimming into something that more resembled the gray of the flowers around them.
He takes another bite. It does not make him feel better.
“How was it?”, Papi asks quietly, different from his excited tone before.
“We need to keep going.”
He lets the barely eaten fruit fall from his paw and to the ground, discarded wastefully, but he can’t bring himself to care. There was no time for idleness. Picking a direction, he keeps moving.
It was not the fault of the flowers to keep blooming. It was what they did, the way of life, or in this case death. Yet, he harbored a growing anger at them and their cycle as they moved along with time. Why did time exist in death anyways? Why was it marching on without him, his soul somewhere so far away from home.
The flower’s cycle told him that he only had a day left. A day until his body would succumb to the poison and pass away.
“Meta Knight. What did you do when you were alive?”, Papi asks. His voice has turned cheerful again, but his fluttering around was subdued.
“I manage a fleet of knights. I am the head knight of a kingdom.”, He says. “Which is why I must hurry back.”
“Would it really be so bad…If you stayed here?”, Papi asks hesitantly.
“Yes.”, He says.
“But Meta Knight…”
Before Papi could finish his thought, a flash of color appears in the corner of the knight’s eye, red and golden and near blinding in the midst of seeing diluted colors for days. Papi gasps, landing on Meta’s shoulder as if to hide from the light. Fluttering from afar, an orange butterfly moves gracefully.
“What is that?”, He asks, Papi shushing him at once before answering in hushed whispers.
“That is the one who makes great warriors die, who brings people down here.”
“Death…?”, Meta connects, gears turning and hope rising in him. “And how does it do so?”
“It goes to those who cry out in pain and ends their suffering.”, Papi says. “It is scary.”
The words make his spirits glow with hope once more. Of course.
Death would go to the living, draw in on their world as they collected someone new. With bounding steps, the knight runs through the flowers, Papi is yelling something in alarm. He doesn’t stop, does not slow, following Death on its trail until he swears he could reach out and touch it. There is more light against the wall as a doorway opens for the butterfly.
This was it. He could go home.
Relief floods him, makes it easier to breathe. He steps, jumps, and tumbles towards the escape.
With a heavy thud, he lands against it, the space of the opening hard as a rock.
No. Why couldn’t he go through? With both his palms he hits against it, unable to break through whatever force was holding him back. The opening begins to dissolve, to fade closed into the rock it was before.
“Wait-!”, It is a desperate plea that surprises even himself, but he is too numb from a growing terror to care.
The orange butterfly turns into a golden light, passing through with no problem. When the light dims, there on the other side he could not reach, a knight adorned in fire and intricate armor looks back at him, golden eyes piercing from behind its mask. A chill shocks through him at the intense gaze.
Death had bright eyes. It had short legs and arms and was round like him. It was a starborn.
Before he could say more, the opening shuts, leaving him there with his hands against the rock.
This couldn’t be it. This could not be the end.
“Meta Knight-”
“When does it usually come back from these trips?”
“I…I try not to go around it too much. But…it varies a lot I guess…”, Papi says.
“I have to find it once it does. If it does not see me, I can find a way through.”, Meta reasons, getting back onto his feet.
“Meta Knight…”, Papi wavers before what sounds like a small sob comes from them. His heart sinks before the butterfly even continues his words. “I- I’m so sorry! I thought there would be no hope for you, and I wanted a friend. So I- I let you eat that fruit!”
“I don’t understand…”
“I just wanted to go home…but there was no way home. So when I saw the flowers- I drank the nectar. And I wasn’t allowed to leave. When you eat here…you belong to death. You can’t leave-”
He shakes his head, hands trembling as he takes in the information. There were no absolutes in this world. No matter what happened, what he faced, it would always turn out well in the end. This had to be the same.
But death was absolute wasn’t it? Maybe it was the only thing that was. And now, he has become ensnared in it.
“I will speak to it.”, He says, voice cold as he turns away.
“I am sorry…”, Papi says, voice trembling with his crying.
“I am not angry.”, He says. A lie for now, but it would do no good to harbor ill will towards the butterfly. Perhaps it was a selfish thing to turn a blind eye to Meta damning himself, but the loneliness here. It must be unbearable. And to dwell on anger would do no good for him now.
“Really?”, Papi sniffles. “Then…I will make this up to you. I promise you! You are my friend now…”
Silently, Meta sits down amongst the flowers, hands gripping his cape like a vice. Somewhere, in the skies of a planet of dreams a crew weeps over the still body of their captain.
Like a shooting star waltzing in the air, the butterfly of death comes back into Hades. It bursts like fire, becoming ash and turning into that other form in an instant, bright and tall. It is like staring into the sun; it is much too bright.
He stands from the flowers, Papi hiding somewhere amongst them to hide from the being. The other stares at him before walking closer.
“This is strange.”
Its voice was warped at the edges, not natural, but it did not surprise him. There was nothing natural down here.
“I need to go back.”
“Straight to the point.”, It says back, stepping closer to the knight. “Do you know who I am?”
“Death.”, He says, the word heavy on his tongue.
“I go by many names.”, It replies. “They call me the judge, the dream eater. Knight of Doom.”
“A fellow knight then.”, Meta says.
“Yes. I go by Morpho Knight.” The confirmation makes the other knight stand taller.
“If you truly are a judge, then you will judge my situation wisely. I am not meant to be here.”
“I judge character, Metamorphosis. Not life or death.” He stills, eyes widening.
“How…” Nobody but a few know of that name.
“I know who you are, Meta Knight. Child of the stars, son of Nightmare.”, It says easily, going on despite the way the knight tenses. “The strongest warrior in the galaxy.”
“That title is not mine.”, he says.
“I know. You share it with someone else I know well.”, It says.
“I need to go back.”, He repeats, cursing himself for how his voice sounds less confident than before.
“You forfeited your life to me. There is no going back.”
“There must be.”, Meta Knight says, growing impatient. There is an alarming dread growing inside of him, making his vision swim. If he was alive he would surely be struggling for breath. He clenches his fists. Now is not the time to show weakness. “How about we wager a bet?”
“You have nothing to offer.”, Morpho says plainly.
“I do. I may not be alive as of now, but my memory is. My men saw the passageway. So has my liege and our-“ -son, he almost says, but such thoughts are dangerous right now-friend.”
“And?”
“If you claim to know me, then you must know them. You know they have conquered gods. They have been to worlds it should not be possible to go to.”, He says almost fondly.
“You think they could make it here.”
“They will.”, Meta Knight says. He could only hope to Void that they have not tried already. “As long as they remember our bonds of friendship, I am afraid they will keep seeking me.”
“You have a lot of faith in them. To come down here would be suicide.”, Morpho says.
“I know.” If this were just years ago he would have surely been alone, or at least he would have believed it to be true. Now there are people close to him, people who know him truly. It took a lot of work to get to that point. Many arguments and fights that make him embarrassed now.
But Kirby would jump headfirst down here. Just as they always do when trouble comes to anyone they consider a friend. And with them the king who he has harbored feelings for.
“Fight me. A duel between two knights.”, Meta Knight finally says. “If I am to win, you will allow me to leave freely. If I am to lose…you may erase every trace of me on Popstar. Including memories. Then…nobody will disturb your peace down here.”
Its glowing eyes blink at the knight before it almost raises its head, wings fluttering behind its back in clear interest.
“No one is truly dead until they are not remembered.”, Morpho warns. When the other knight says nothing, it hums, bringing out its sword and slicing it clearly in the air as it gets a grip on it. “Very well. If this is what you desire.”
With a flick of its hand, something cut through the air towards the unsuspecting knight. Quickly, Meta Knight catches it before it can hit him, holding onto the offending item. It was a sword.
He did not have Galaxia and her power in these depths, but that did not matter. For the sake of his life, he would win this fight, there was no other option.
Testing the weight of the sword in his hand, he stands ready, feet digging into the ground as he gets in a ready stance, his wings out. Morpho’s eyes shine, his own form circling. Meta Knight almost expects another warning from Death, but of course it does not offer that. Striking, it soars, Meta barely having a second to dodge the wrath of its sword.
“You think I know you from your draw with the Aeon Hero.”, It says nonchalantly as it keeps attacking, Meta constantly kept on his toes from the onslaught. “But you are wrong.”
“I do not follow.”, Meta says. He attempts a tornadoing attack, but with a careful sword strike the other knight stops it.
“When a great warrior cries out in agony, I pride myself in being there to give them a way out.”, Morpho says, the most words it has spoken since their meeting. The ground cracks beneath them at the weight of their sword attacks.
“I have not died before.”
“Yes. And that was a mistake.”, It says. Its bright wings spread as it takes off in the air, its sword emitting light before it is pointed towards Meta and shoots three beams. The knight on the ground manages to evade the first two, but the last one hits him, his body flying at the impact.
It does not hurt, but still, his body feels lethargic as he pulls himself off the ground, using his sword as leverage to get him up. There are feet by him. Death looms over him, offering a hand. He pushes it away, quickly getting up.
“This fight is not over!”, He says despite his weakened state.
“This is what prevented me.”, The knight says again. “Even when you cried out, your screams endless in that lab where she pulled you apart, your soul would still not leave.”
“What-”, Horror dawns on him at those words.
“You were meant to die there. But you were stubborn.”, Morpho continues. “Just as you were when your ship fell and you crashed into the sea.”
Their swords clash.
“Or when you were defeated by your mirrored image-”
The hits are relentless, Death not letting up with an unimaginable strength. Still, he stands his ground, uncaring that the blows hit, that he felt so tired.
“How many times will I be forced to tango with you, Metamorphosis? Since your creation I've been forced to watch your descent. This is where it ends.”
Finally, it spins, and lands home, Meta’s mask splitting in two at the impact of the blade. It knocks him back, his back skidding along the floor, flowers crushes under his weight.
“I am not finished.”, He says through grit teeth. His vision spins and grows spotty at the edges. “I am not finished.”
“Rest, warrior.”, Morpho says. “No harm will come to you anymore. You have fought enough.”
Despite his efforts to keep them open, his eyes close on their own accord, his limbs feeling much too heavy to lift up from the ground. The words attack his senses, nearly make him mad. He could not stop fighting. There were people who depended on him, people who cared for him.
As if sensing this dilemma, the Butterfly of Judgement puts a hand over his, its glowing eyes piercing.
“No one will hurt from your absence.”, It says. “That is why you wanted to make this deal, wasn’t it? Selfless to a fault.”
The hand leaves him, leaving him alone among the flowers of the dead.
“Rest.”
He has no choice but to close his eyes and drift away.
There is no telling how long he had slept. Despite the rest, his bones still felt heavy, his heart a stone in his chest. Papi flutters nearby, as if keeping watch over the wayward knight, waiting for any sign of his wake.
“You are a good fighter.”, He says. “I have never seen anyone land a blow on it.”
“I have lost.”, He says. There was nothing else to it. And with it, he lost his life. It is a hollow feeling, to be so thoroughly far from those he loved. The crushing weight of it makes him wish to sink into the ground and decay. He had failed them, and for that he had lost the right to be in their thoughts. They would never know him, not anymore.
After all his faults, all his mistakes, was that not fitting?
“Meta Knight. I’m sorry.”, Papi says softly. For his loss, or for letting him eat the fruit, he is not sure why the butterfly apologies. He says nothing, letting the silence answer for him.
“Won’t you please get up?”, Papi asks. “You’ve been asleep for days. Those who lay like this down here…they forget themselves.”
“Have you seen it? Since our fight?”, Meta asks.
“No, but-”
“Then leave me be until its arrival.”, Meta says bitterly. “I will win the next fight. And I will go home.”
“Meta Knight…”, Papi says sadly before he settles down on a flower next to the knight. “Ok. You rest then. I’ll wake you when I see it, ok?”
“Thank you…”, He says, feeling suddenly apologetic for his earlier tone. The emptiness in his chest felt unbearable now. Without a heart beating there, without the knowledge that there were people waiting for him, staying awake seemed like a chore much too large for him to handle at the moment. “Just a bit more rest.”
Next to his broken mask, he closes his eyes, the world fading once again.
“Prince Kirby, wait!”, a concerned voice calls behind the bounding monarch. Kirby laughs turning and smiling at his friend trailing behind.
“You know you don’t have to call me the title all the time, Bandee!”, They remind their friend.
“Well, I am just getting used to it!”, Bandee defends, catching up with them. It’s only been a week since Kirby was crowned as a prince. It has been a long time since King Dedede considered them to be his friend, his child, but now it was much more official.
The king has been sentimental like that for a long time. In Kirby’s youth they had many disagreements, but they had long since become friends and gotten along, especially in the face of enemies from beyond.
One day, when Kirby was younger, things changed further. The king suddenly grew depressed, forlorn, saying he was not sure why. The king would weep whenever he looked out the window and saw the moon. In the face of the sun, he would say there is something that was missing, something that made him so deeply empty.
Kirby had stayed with him, trying to get their friend’s spirits up along with Bandee. It took a bit, but the king had become close to himself again, ruling the kingdom as he did before. In return, the king was finally honest with the child.
“You know, Kirbs, if anythin’ were to happen to me, you would be the king of Dreamland. You know that right?”, He had said. As if anything of the such would happen to the king so soon. He did not even look old at all despite the years that have passed.
The coronation was pretty fun. They ordered lots of food, and Kirby got to sing a song that made the audience weep in tears quite literally! All of their friends were there. Even the royal knights who were so often in their ship in the sky came down to congratulate them.
They offered them to become the head of them, but as the first time they offered, Kirby refused.
As much as they liked swords, they did not see themselves as a leader of knights. The knights had a discipline in them that Kirby did not feel like matching. Honestly, they weren’t even sure why they were so serious nowadays. One day long ago they seemed to pull themselves together and take to the skies to watch over Dreamland quickly.
There was a time that Kirby might have said yes. They remember training alone in the art of the sword, waking up earlier than they would like and practicing with vigor. They are not sure why they even did it. They hated waking up early. But even still, the memory brought them an odd comfort.
“Slow down, slow down!”, Bandee suddenly screeches to the prince. They stop in place, looking at their friend confused.
“What’s wrong?”
“Don’t you see the hole there!”, Bandee screeches still, his arms waving. Kirby looks, mouth in an ‘o’ once they see what their friend was talking about.
In the plains of what should have been nothing special, a hole in the ground sits alone, nothing growing around its opening. The grasses seemed to die and go gray around it, as if something deep below kept life itself from forming near it.
They go closer, peering inside which causes Bandee to nearly shriek.
“Kirby, be careful!”, He says before his curiosity gets the best of him too and he goes to their side too. He squints in the darkness. “It’s pretty deep…Do you think a mole made it?”
“No, I have seen mole holes, and this one is too big.”, Kirby ponders. They sniff. “Does not smell good down there either-”
“Huh? I can’t smell a thing…”, Bandee says, sniffing loudly to try and catch a whiff of that pungent smell that they smelt. It smelt like chemicals, too awful to breathe in. Whatever was down there, it was nothing good.
They consider leaving it be. This hole must have been here for ages. If anything, they could just cover it up easy-peasy for it to be safe for passersbys who did not look where they were going like them just before.
Then, in the depths below, something seems to call out to them, a golden glow that could not be shrouded by the shadows.
“There is something down there!”, Kirby says excitedly. Before Bandee could ask what they had seen, they took in as big of a breath as they could before they took a step, their body floating down slowly into the darkness.
“Kirby!”, Bandee says concerned, but he had nothing to worry about. The cavern was definitely shrouded by something poisonous, one that could have gotten to them if they were not as careful as they were, but they easily make it to the bottom, the soft glow getting closer.
At the bottom sits a sword so beautiful and bright, the prince nearly opens their mouth in a gasp. It gleams, light pulsing as if saying hello. How long has it waited down here in the darkness? Waiting for someone to come and pick it up?
Happy to help, Kirby reaches out their paw, grabbing the handle of the magnificent sword.
Warmth washes over them, the light blanketing them like a hug. They still. This felt familiar.
”Oh little star. I have missed you.”, A woman’s voice says softly. Kirby blinks, thoughts scattered as they try to recall just where they have heard that voice before. It should surprise them, that swords can talk, that they could know them so deeply. Somehow, Kirby felt as if this was an old friend.
Cautiously, the prince pulls the both of them out of the darkness and into the light.