Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s been thousands, perhaps a hundred thousand, of years since Neptune has chosen this orbit.

Certainly, it has granted his wish of being isolated from everyone else he has ever known. Perhaps… a little too well, for there is nothing here but frosty wastelands and sheer, absolute loneliness. He is only accompanied by the inescapable nothingness, the corpses of moons and planets he used to create the Kuiper Belt, and the little, smaller planets now hiding inside the Belt. Most of these small planetoids had been neutral since the war started, except for Pluto and Eris, thus, they’ve been banished to the outskirts of the solar system by Jupiter, never to bask in the sunlight for eternity, nor to interact with them unless necessary.

He hasn’t seen Pluto, or Eris for so long. The last time he saw either of those two, Pluto was being pulled into orbit by a ‘planet he thought never to see again.’ The confession from the small planetoid made Neptune go mad with paranoia and anxiety. He's not the most anxiety-ridden planet in the solar system — that honor goes to Jupiter — but stars did that make him tremble.

He's gone, and so is Tyche. They both probably fucked off into the nowhere abyss beyond the cloud. They are no longer welcome in the solar system. Not if Neptune can't help it.

…

Why does he feel so unsure?

The combined gravities of the Sun, Jupiter, and Saturn were more than enough to not only exile them from beyond the Kuiper Belt but rid them entirely of the Sun's essence. Sol has told him some time before, privately after a Solstice gathering, that Shiva still lingers. Beyond the Kuiper Belt, near the Cloud, orbiting him but coming and going whenever he pleases. It is clear that he has no care for his orbit due to no longer being under the surveillance of the Sun. He is gone for now, and who knows where he went?

Neptune should be more vigilant— the Kuiper Belt is dense and vast, but the scouts he’d arranged to guard its outermost boundaries have always reported strange sightings from the cloud, a looming shadow, menacing eyes glinting amidst the fog. Some of the more superstitious little planets in the vicinity of the outskirts believe this is Hades’s ghost, but such a phantom only exists in Jupiter’s mind.

He softens at the thought of Jupiter. He misses the giant, but he does not love him. He was a valuable friend when he’d been Hades’s intimidating guardsman while Jupiter had been the forgotten, almost-blind assistant of the Celestial Monarch. However, he supposes he could not save him in the end, and Neptune had decided to distance himself from the utter clusterfuck that the solar system has now become. Neptune has been the support of two giants all his life while he supported himself. Is it not fair to ask for a reclusive orbit, away from those who've overwhelmed him?

He merely wanted to get away from Uranus and his invasive, personal relationship with him. However, he has replaced a slowly maddening codependent relationship with an insanity-inducing frosty loneliness all around the Belt. He could not even rest soundly, always hearing an entity intruding on the eerie silence that the edge of the solar system is known for. His eyes continue to dart around the nothingness of the abyss.

Although, he isn’t alone for long. And no, not when the planetoids come and visit, giving him reports about what they see in their orbits, but rather, in the form of a new celestial body forming within his orbit.

Suddenly, Neptune had two moons— he named them Proteus and Larissa, and, like any other moon, they expected him to teach them anything he knew. However, unlike all other moons he'd had the displeasure of talking to, their maturity was not… up to standard. They are endlessly naive, unbearably so, that the questions of their existence, the nature of things, and their orbits around him. He couldn't possibly take care of them; he could get Charon's help, but she is usually with Pluto all the time. And he doesn't show up unless he has to, fearing the Ice Giant’s strength and ferocity.

Their childish whining and naivete become nothing but a static, disgruntling annoyance to him, and he so badly wants to crush them and turn them into space debris around the Belt, but he refrains from doing so. They are innocent, and they should be spared the horrors of who Neptune was during the war. They’ve already been asking about it— fucking Eris and her big mouth just couldn’t help saying shit about him to stupid satellites who shouldn’t know much.

However, their presence within his orbit has decreased his chances of being lonely, despite being forced to spend time with them against his will. How come, out of all the planets who have been granted moons, he has to end up with the short end of the stick? Jupiter’s moons are valuable assets during the war and serve as his assistants. Saturn’s are useful companions for being as outlasted as their planet, and Uranus and Gaia? Self explanatory. But… he'd take Proteus and Larissa rather than be lonely any other day.

Still, their light-hearted presence still doesn't help rid of his anxiety. Every day he grows colder, the sunlight he'd use to help train and spar with the other giants is now just a faded ray, only reaching him during summer. He is not used to the grotesque cold in this orbit, and he feels as if his fingers have become nothing but frozen crusts. He swears he has gotten slower, a bit stiff in the thousands of years he's been slowly rotting in his orbit.

Slowly but surely, this orbit has become not only lonely but maddening as well.

He could even hear the debris around him speak, whispering his regrets, names, titles, and whatnot. Now he knows how Jupiter feels when he is alone with only his thoughts as food for entertainment. Neptune could not help but always stare intently beyond the belt, as if waiting for something to come out, to face him.

He who carries the trident.

Poseidon.

Ariel, the lion of Jupiter.

Leader of the Corpses.

The grip on his trident grows firm, shaking slightly from how strong the grasp is. His eyes darted everywhere, wondering where the voices came from.

Could it be—?

“He always comes and goes. I don't know where he runs off to, but right now, he is vacant. He's not watching us.”

Neptune laughs, his facade as the fierce warrior protector of the solar system slowly cracking. He is so cold, so lonely, so alone.

“As if he'll forget about his revenge!” He screams out loud to no one in particular, feeling a smile crawling upon his face. It wasn't the same smile he uses to tell Uranus that everything will be alright. He twirls his trident around threateningly, before striking at a meager asteroid whose surface looks like a face sneering at him. “Shiva, I know you can hear me from over the other side! I will fucking kill you if you ever cross this star-damn line! Then I'll cut your core into tiny pieces and feed it to my moons!”

Maybe the meat of Shiva will help his moons not bother him when they want to stray from their orbits. He wants them as far away from him as possible. Maybe they'd actually grow smarter.

“I'll destroy you, Destroyer!” He vows, striking another asteroid, and then another, and then another, as he begins the first of many manic dances across his orbit. He twirls his trident around, not as a weapon, no, but rather as a toy he's having fun using. He continues to laugh, trying to be rid of these whispers swirling inside his head, of the sneering faces following him wherever he goes.

The Kuiper Belt is not a good place.

“Neptune? Neptune!” The voice of… a planet calls for him (was that his name? Stars, he hasn't heard it in so long…), trying to take him away from his ruminations. However, it is too late for the giant— his reverie and sanity have now mixed together, but his disgraceful thoughts cover his entire brain rather than actual coherence.

He blinks, one eye following the other. His moons, seemingly having multiplied after a million years (... or more, Neptune lost count a long time ago), were off bothering Charon and Pluto somewhere. His eyes land on the planet with a deadpan, slightly disappointed expression, and he cannot help but wonder what she'd been doing there.

“... What were we talking about?” He asks with long, distinct pauses between those words. It's… hard to articulate words when all the vocabulary you've been taught is suddenly not entering your mind, slowly being forgotten. He starts to tap his foot against the vastness of space, his eyes looking around.

She sighs, fingers combing her white hair. “Sedna and Salacia—”

He laughs. It sounds natural, always laughing or letting out an optimistic noise. It's to combat the drab of the Kuiper Belt. “Who are they again?”

The planet — does she have a name? He can't just keep calling her ‘the planet!’ — balks at him. “I mentioned them in my latest report a week ago and you've forgotten them immediately?” She is filled with ire, but he's not sure if it's a good or bad thing any longer.

Neptune begins studying his hair. It's gotten long and very messy. Can't find a barber here in the wilderness, hah!

“A week? You know a lot of things change in a week!” He exclaims, giving her a playful frown. “Just tell me who they are and get to it!”

Admittedly, he's not sure what these reports are for any longer. He's sure it had importance millions of years ago, but now he sees it as a way to interact with any other entity near his orbit. His dear moons, Proteus, Larissa, Thalassa, Galatea, and Naiad, were good company, but their childish whimsy quite contrasts with his serious job of… of…

Great, now he can't remember why he placed himself here.

A sacrifice? A banishment?

… Well, not like he'd know, or even bother to remember.

“Sedna and Salacia are few of the planetoids stationed somewhere outside the Kuiper Belt,” the small planetoid in front of him explains as if she's lecturing him for the umpteenth time. “And they've spotted some… anomalies from beyond the solar system. They're not sure who it could be, but sometimes, in the obscurity of the Cloud, they see a silhouette.”

Neptune grips his trident tighter, his eye twitching.

Could it be…

Him?

He may not remember his name any longer, lost to the crumbling vestiges of his mind, but he can still feel the danger he poses a threat to.

Most notably his cousin. Uranus has a lot of things on his plate right now, and the threat of him returning could further worsen his already failing health.

He's not going to put everyone in danger.

Not against a planet besotted by revenge.

Neptune, for the first time in a few thousand years, has a serious expression on his face, jaw set. “Tell Sedna and Salacia and the other planetoids living in the Kuiper Belt to prepare for someone entering the solar system by force. We can't let him destroy the balance of your community… um…” He fails to find a name to pinpoint to the planet.

“My name is Eris,” she replies, that same disappointed but deadpan gaze directed at him. “And I will tell the others what you told me. Thank you for your time.”

He laughs, tilting his head. “No, I thank you for your time to visit me!” Even if it's for ‘business purposes.’

To his disappointment, Pluto and Charon too think it is best to leave. They bid farewell to the moons, and a timid goodbye to Neptune, who smiles at them as they return to their orbits in the Kuiper Belt.

Neptune is, once again, alone.

His moons do not leave him a satisfactory companion, as they embrace him with their small, weak arms and kiss his cheeks as a form of greeting, using him as some sort of monkey bar as they situate themselves into the incredibly lonely orbits they inhabit.

Once more, he becomes a prisoner of his own mind, the life he has chosen coming to bite him.

If only Uranus was here. Perhaps he could be of help. But of course, he won't be, always with Gaia or endearing himself to the new moons he's created in his orbit.

Alone again.

Neptune knows who is and is not a member of the outer reaches of the solar system. Even if he can no longer distinguish what is reality and what is illusion, he can sense a foreign Celestial body when he feels one.

He's become accustomed to the comings and goings of the Kuiper Belt. He knows where the planetoids such as Pluto, Eris, Makemake, and Haumea call home, and Sedna, Salacia, Orcas, and the others’ orbits. So far from the Sun, they will never see again, yet willing to serve and investigate what lies beyond everything they've ever known. All so he will not come back.

He clicks his tongue, shaking his head from left to right. A smile crawls upon his face, unhinged but genuine. Some of the other planetoids, such as Haumea and Orcus, who have not quite seen Neptune in what must be a long time, flinches back at the display of large, sharp teeth flashing. Eris and Pluto glance at each other with levels of concern and sympathy. Being away from the Sun's influence for a giant could be so… delineating. His hair, stray strands falling across his face, neglected and unkempt, no longer harboring the sapphire blue sheen he is so proud of, looks beyond the Kuiper Belt.

The rest of the planetoids watch, not making a move. Even if Neptune has become cordial with them, more eccentric and fun, he is still the same Ice Giant who created the Kuiper Belt, spreading the corpses of fellow planets and moons alike as a warning never to cross with the allies of the new Celestial Monarch.

His eyes roam around, trying to mark off any form of anomaly, or oddity in the area.

Nope!

None!

Nobody there!

Wait.

Silence befalls the crowd gathered, as Neptune takes a step forward.

He lifts one of his fingers and then makes a motion.

Suddenly, out comes a planet that does not evoke a sense of familiarity or need to remember, because, in his head, he has not met this stranger before.

And, even if memory fails him, there are others around to tell him if this newcomer is a native of the solar system… or not.

The newcomer, oblivious to the danger he is in now, simply coughs looking around, wanting an escape route.

“Well, what do we have here?” Neptune muses, kneeling so he can meet with this planetoid eye-to-eye. He tilts his head, studying the stranger. Indeed, he has a porcelain surface, the warmest, thickest clothes anyone could embroider, tousled white hair covering the sheer fear gathering around his eyes, and yet…

He lacks the essence of the solar system.

Of all the auras present, his is absent.

The being looked scared, gradually intimidated by what looked to be the largest being he may have ever seen.

Well… Neptune is glad he is still able to inflict fear and intimidation in the cores of planetoids. Especially a strange aberrant like this one.

“Ƴㄖᵘ Đㄖℕ'𝐭 𝕓ⓔⓛㄖℕᎶ 𝒾ℕ 𝐭ｈ𝒾丂 丂𝕐丂𝐭ⓔΜ, Đㄖℕ'𝐭 𝕐ㄖᵘ?” He asks, his voice growing distorted as he can feel his divine form shifting into the one form no other giant could do. He could feel his face elongate, a new set of mouth forming from the base of his jaw, opening up and exposing a set of ridged teeth, as if eager to devour this trespasser. He sees nothing but his prey, incredibly scared, trembling, and gasping for stardust.

He does miss this. The feeling of fear feeds him.

“Look, sir,” the planetoid tries to reply, but it is filled with multiple stammering that Neptune himself has grown bored of scaring him. “I–I ain't mean to end up here. I was just roaming around the cosmos and got pulled into your orbit by your gravity. I'm not here for anythin’ else!”

“You're all alone?” Eris asks skeptically. “You don't have a star you can orbit around.”

“I– I left my star to—”

“𝓼Ø 𝔂Øย'я𝑒 𝐚 ⓡØ𝕘ย𝑒 卩ᒪ𝐚𝐍𝑒𝐓? Ꭵ𝐍𝐓𝑒я𝑒丂𝐓Ɨ𝐍𝕘.” Neptune’s smile grows wide, and it frightens the planetoid so much that he tries to run. Unsurprisingly, he could not go beyond a distance. He is stuck running in the same circle for eternity. He tilts his head as one of his clawed hands grabs his form, making him gasp for air, utterly surprised. “ץØย'я𝑒 𝔀Ɨ𝐓𝓱 𝓱Ɨм. Ｔ𝓱𝐚𝐓'丂 𝔀𝓱𝔂 𝔂Øย'я𝑒 𝐚 ⓡØ𝕘ย𝑒 卩ᒪ𝐚𝐍𝑒𝐓. ץØย 𝔀𝑒я𝑒 丂𝑒𝐍𝐓 𝓱𝑒я𝑒 𝐓Ø 丂卩𝔂 Ø𝐍 ย丂!”

The planetoid looks horrified as Neptune’s face morphs into something indescribable, his hair writhing wildly as if they are the wisps of nebulae, roaming across the galaxy. “N–no, I don't know who you're talking about, but I swear I—”

A hoarse, dry but loud laugh erupts from Neptune, who once more tilts his head at an even odder angle. “Ꭵ'м 𝐍Ø𝐓 𝐓𝐚ⓀƗ𝐍𝕘 Ć𝓱𝐚𝐍Ć𝑒丂. ץØย 𝐚я𝑒 𝐍Ø𝐓 𝐓Ø 𝓱𝐚ям 𝐚𝐍𝔂Ø𝐍𝑒 Ɨ𝐍 𝐓𝓱Ɨ丂 丂Øᒪ𝐚я 丂𝔂丂𝐓𝑒м. Ꭵ ĆØยᒪ𝓭 𝐓𝑒𝐚я 𝔂Øย ᒪƗм๒ ⓕяØм ᒪƗм๒, ๒ย𝐓 Ꭵ 𝐚м 𝐍Ø𝐓 𝐓𝓱𝐚𝐓 ⓀƗ𝐍𝓭 Øⓕ 卩ᒪ𝐚𝐍𝑒𝐓 𝐚𝐍𝔂 ᒪØ𝐍𝕘𝑒я. Ꭵ 𝐚м 𝐍Ø𝐓 ᒪ𝑒𝐓𝐓Ɨ𝐍𝕘  𝔂Øย 𝕘𝐚ᒪᒪƗｖ𝐚𝐍𝐓 𝐚ĆяØ丂丂 𝐓𝓱𝑒 𝕘𝐚ᒪ𝐚x𝔂 𝐓Ø ᒪ𝑒𝐚Ⓚ Ɨ𝐍ⓕØям𝐚𝐓ƗØ𝐍 𝐓Ø 𝐓𝓱𝑒 𝓭𝑒丂𝐓яØ𝔂𝑒я.”

A new pair of arms emerge from his sides, filled with razor-sharp claws enough to split a planet into two, exposing their cores. He uses them to grip the planetoid, who struggles against the hold. He uses one of his talons to puncture his skin, smiling as liquids and squelching have resulted from his horrendous display. The other dwarves watch with horrified, apprehensive looks on their faces, pitying the poor planet they assume had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. He successfully cuts off a piece of his flesh, mouth drooling, as he dangles it near the outsider's mouth.

“𝓌𝓱𝐚𝐓’丂 𝔂Øยя 𝐍𝐚м𝑒?” It sounds so innocent, but it is not.

He gulps, not wanting to offend the giant even further. “My name's ꇓꇓꇓꇓꇓꇓꇓꇓ.”

Neptune chuckles. “₮ⱧɆ ₦₳₥Ɇ ł'VɆ ₱ł₵₭ɆĐ ØɄ₮ ₣ØⱤ ɎØɄ ₩łⱠⱠ ฿Ɇ ₥Ʉ₵Ⱨ ฿Ɇ₮₮ɆⱤ ₮Ⱨ₳₦ ₮Ⱨ₳₮. ₦Ø₩ Ɇ₳₮ Ʉ₱, ₥ØØ₦.”

Neptune is chuckling to himself again. Could you blame him?

He's finally going to have a surprise for his moons once he returns to his orbit!

Not just another trinket that was a gift courtesy of the dwarves, of course not, but a brand new playmate!

He can't wait to see the faces of Proteus, Larissa, Thalassa, Galatea, and Naiad.  They're going to flip out and then call him the best planet they've ever orbited!

As soon as he enters his orbit, his wild hair dragging from underneath him, he catches the attention of his moons, playing together a game with so many rules that Neptune has forgotten what most of it signifies.

Proteus catches sight of him first, his eyes widening and his smile mirroring Neptune’s own. “Neptune’s back!” He announces, immediately, the first to run towards Neptune. The giant laughs, bringing out another set of arms to come and carry his newfound children. They were all so sweet and innocent— as he had once been, when he'd just been a fledgling planet created from the residual of the Sun, Uranus coming to help and guide him to understanding the fundamental parts of his existence. He resolves to do the same to his moons, but of course, he will not be alone for the ride.

Larissa, the most observant of her siblings, finally notices the bundle Neptune is currently carrying with his upper arms. “Neptune, what's that?”

He laughs, such a reaction always coming naturally to him. “I brought you guys a new playmate! He'll be entertaining you all when I'm not around due to orbital reasons!”

A chorus of cheers erupts from the moons, as they climb up his set of arms to see who their new playmate would be.

“What's their name?” asks Galatea, completely excited to play with the moon once he wakes up.

Neptune smiles, tilting his head. “Triton.”

Chapter Text

Darkness. He has been surrounded by the same void for eons.

He can’t remember when he was created, or the feelings that have surged within him when he was formed. It must have been millions of years ago, yet he seems to have forgotten everything as he roams the vast cosmos. While he cannot remember his origins, assuming he was created by a star who deemed him too tiny to have any use, ejected him out of the system he once had partaken in, yet he did not care much about seeking out his origins either way. He was made, and then he was rejected, forcing him to search for a source of light in the dreariness of space. The illumination of distant stars makes the small planet all the more bitter; these stars could have been his.

But, with his speed and trusty vision despite the darkness and cold surrounding him, he rockets through the galaxies, searching for some semblance of home, or a community he can belong in.

Spending so many years in abrupt darkness could make even the most hardened and jaded planets or entities yearn for some form of interaction. Whether it be a black hole consuming his very essence, or a supergiant star devouring him whole, he would want someone to talk to in his final life.

He runs. Runs and runs, never caring if his core has frozen solid from having not been exposed to a star in a long time. None of the stars he had encountered in his journey were fond of his presence in their system. Centuri hauled him out of her system, and so did Proxima. It was as if he was a threat to their star system when he was simply a lost planetoid looking for somewhere to call home. Well, until he remembers how much he loved racing and returns to the freedom and greatness of the galaxy.

There is nothing holding the planetoid back. No star to drag him into orbit, nor a planet around to force him to stay. He is unbound, and while lonely, he has, perhaps, seen so much of the universe. He is now known as the traveling Rogue, telling tales of the things he's seen or heard. He is rumored to have gone to the edge of the Universe, but he knows that it is impossible. However, one day, he will have traversed the many units from the beginning to the end of the Universe. Maybe, once he crosses into the threshold and restrictions of their very creator, will he see everything he has ever known disappear into black matter. He has figured out its purpose, after all.

Nevertheless, all these thousands of years running and hiding from supergiant stars or black holes, or even the whispers of quasi stars, wishing for him to come closer, has made him feel fatigued. His core feels like it wants to give up, even just for a moment, so he listens to the vibrations within his surface.

The planetoid stops in front of a thick curtain of ice, rocks, and debris swirling around him. If he can squint his eyes, he finds a small ball of light from beyond the cloud, but he can't help but be wary of how unreachable such a Hypothetical star is.

“You’re an outsider.” He hears them speak before he feels their presence, a gravitational pull he has become used to Escaping. He's not going to be some planet's pet kept on a leash. Of course, the entity with the pull seems to have realized his struggles and let him go.

The smaller planet takes this chance to scoot far away from this entity, which he is now sure is a planet. A giant from the looks of it, but not as big nor massive as some other planets he'd come across in the past. And, it seems he'd succumbed to the darkness of their surroundings without a star to guide them in their orbits. From afar, they blend in their dark environment, with only shades of blue permeating from their surface of ice and storms. There is a grotesque, disgusting scar with the shape of an ‘x’ carved onto one of their eyes, and they notice that he notices.

He coughs awkwardly. “Sorry.”

“You look like you've been running forever.” Their voice was as melodic as most black holes, but he couldn't help but sense a tinge of bitterness within that smile. “Do you need a home?”

Yes, that is what he wants to say, but something about his person is… off. He is not like any other Rogue exoplanet he's ever had the pleasure of meeting. They have a hidden agenda, and the planetoid doesn't want anything to do with it. “Just a place to stop by, then I'll be on my way.” It wasn't a lie, nor was it the truth either. Loneliness has a tight grip on him, and it refuses to let him go.

“There's a star system beyond the Cloud,” they speak, hands with sharp claws pointing towards the little speck of light beyond all this dust. “The planets inside are hospitable. They'll let you stay.”

Perhaps he shouldn't have heeded his offer of knowledge. But his core is tired from all the wandering these past millennia without stopping other than small breaks, and he can feel himself slowly withering away. He needed someplace safe that offered him an amount of light and safety before taking off into the galaxy once more. He looks towards that small, dwindling light, knowing it is a star bigger than what it seems to be. He would prefer making the strenuous trek towards that star than staying with this shady entity. He gives him bad vibes.

“If you know there's a star system there, how come you're not anywhere near it?” He inquires, his final question to this planet.

The entity tilts his head, the X carving on his surface seemingly expanding. “Why would you want to know?”

He shrugs, turning away from the exoplanet. “Sorry for digging up old wounds then. I'll be going and leaving you to do… What you want.”

Without looking back, the smaller planet moves to cross the threshold of the Cloud, feeling their eyes still on him as he passes.

Every streak he makes across the Cloud, he grows nearer to the end of this egregiously complicated curtain. He had even talked to some of the comets who willingly stayed within this zone, and they spoke of a war having ravaged this side of the galaxy. It makes the planetoid worried; had that entity who had offered them haven with this utterly shady conceptual solar system deceived him? Nevertheless, when he looks back from where he started, there is nothing but neverending wisps of ice and rock floating around. He has traversed this far; he can’t just give up.

Finally, he seems to have reached the exit of this annoying, confusing Cloud, and onto what appears to be a belt filled with dust, icy objects, and even rocks floating around, blocking out the traces of the star that they revolve around. He almost thinks it acts like a boundary, a way to keep out strange exoplanets. Or rather, keep those within the system from ever coming out.

But for the traveling rogue, he is not one to back down from a challenge. He’s seen many strange things in the galaxy he lived in. A literal wall separating him from the inner star system will not make him stop. It’d be a great source of information to tell other exoplanets who are wondering what other systems are doing.

Shifting into his divine form, one he has not changed into for an uncountable number of years, he lets his fingers touch the first asteroid currently floating in this belt. Such contact leaves him gasping, his eyes growing wide as an influx of memories that were not his envelop his mind. Crushed cores, sharp teeth, the visage of a trident twirling before hitting its target…

So buried deep in the memories of this one little crushed rock, he did not notice that he is starting to be dragged, far, far away from the edge of the belt and into the inner part of the star system he’d been trying to access.

His fate has been sealed— there is nothing the galaxy can do for this planetoid as he awaits his chains.

He is broken out of this strange flashing of memories as soon as he realizes he has been dragged to the inner part of the belt, away from all the darkness and dusty clouds. Although, he is unsure if he could even count this as bright, as it is still dim and quite cold. Noticing other planetoids, some smaller than he is, he tries to escape, his confusion knowing no bounds. Yet, as he tries to run, it seems as if his speed has been limited to running around in circles.

Like he is being pulled by a bigger object’s gravity.

Gasping, he turned his head, noticing that the other planetoids were all encircling the only giant present. He did not dare meet his eyes, but from what he can see, his surface is blue. Not a bright blue of the stars he’s met, of course, but a shade of azure he finds deeply hypnotizing, as if he wishes to touch him to feel his warmth.

He hears the giant speak, but he can’t hear it, now understanding the situation he finds himself in.

He needs to get out of here, now.

But he is forced to watch the giant begin to morph, shedding away his beautifully crafted divine form into… something else. Something that he has never laid his eyes on before, a form so terrifying that, if he stares at him a little bit longer, he may as well lose his core. He barely registers the question being asked of him as he stares longer at the newly elongated eyes and a formed mouth at the maw.

He does articulate his reasoning, knowing this giant, and the other planetoids surrounding him, well… they are not so friendly with strangers. He should have never come here if he is met with hostile giants who could shift into a form more horrifying than what black holes sometimes take.

“Look, sir, I–I ain't mean to end up here. I was just roaming around the cosmos and got pulled into your orbit by your gravity. I'm not here for anythin’ else!”

“You're all alone?” One of the planetoids interrogates, her frown deepening. “You don't have a star you can orbit around.”

Ugh, it all comes back to the star that had ejected him, huh? He better make a half-assed excuse about it. He has no reason to talk about his life story when his core depends on getting out of this giant’s gravity. “I– I left my star to—”

“𝓼Ø 𝔂Øย'я𝑒 𝐚 ⓡØ𝕘ย𝑒 卩ᒪ𝐚𝐍𝑒𝐓? Ꭵ𝐍𝐓𝑒я𝑒丂𝐓Ɨ𝐍𝕘.” The giant’s smile grows imperceptibly wider, both sets of mouth showing large, sharp teeth. He wanted to run, but he could not. He is dragged back to the very same location he is pulled in over and over. He feels clawed hands, grinding on his surface, lifting him, and he grunts, trying not to show his fear. No other giant has ever manhandled him. This giant, he’s bad news. He is then forced to face the giant and his face, morphs into a crazed madness he only sees in white dwarves. “ץØย'я𝑒 𝔀Ɨ𝐓𝓱 𝓱Ɨм. Ｔ𝓱𝐚𝐓'丂 𝔀𝓱𝔂 𝔂Øย'я𝑒 𝐚 ⓡØ𝕘ย𝑒 卩ᒪ𝐚𝐍𝑒𝐓. ץØย 𝔀𝑒я𝑒 丂𝑒𝐍𝐓 𝓱𝑒я𝑒 𝐓Ø 丂卩𝔂 Ø𝐍 ย丂!”

He must be talking about the planet beyond the Cloud. He shouldn’t have trusted him if this is the problem he is getting into! “N–no, I don't know who you're talking about, but I swear I—”

A hoarse, dry but loud laugh erupts, and he shrinks back, trembling all over. Not from the cold, no, but from this macabre giant, buried deep in his paranoia. “Ꭵ'м 𝐍Ø𝐓 𝐓𝐚ⓀƗ𝐍𝕘 Ć𝓱𝐚𝐍Ć𝑒丂. ץØย 𝐚я𝑒 𝐍Ø𝐓 𝐓Ø 𝓱𝐚ям 𝐚𝐍𝔂Ø𝐍𝑒 Ɨ𝐍 𝐓𝓱Ɨ丂 丂Øᒪ𝐚я 丂𝔂丂𝐓𝑒м. Ꭵ ĆØยᒪ𝓭 𝐓𝑒𝐚я 𝔂Øย ᒪƗм๒ ⓕяØм ᒪƗм๒, ๒ย𝐓 Ꭵ 𝐚м 𝐍Ø𝐓 𝐓𝓱𝐚𝐓 ⓀƗ𝐍𝓭 Øⓕ 卩ᒪ𝐚𝐍𝑒𝐓 𝐚𝐍𝔂 ᒪØ𝐍𝕘𝑒я. Ꭵ 𝐚м 𝐍Ø𝐓 ᒪ𝑒𝐓𝐓Ɨ𝐍𝕘  𝔂Øย 𝕘𝐚ᒪᒪƗｖ𝐚𝐍𝐓 𝐚ĆяØ丂丂 𝐓𝓱𝑒 𝕘𝐚ᒪ𝐚x𝔂 𝐓Ø ᒪ𝑒𝐚Ⓚ Ɨ𝐍ⓕØям𝐚𝐓ƗØ𝐍 𝐓Ø 𝐓𝓱𝑒 𝓭𝑒丂𝐓яØ𝔂𝑒я.”

A new pair of arms emerge from his sides, and Triton feels all of his limbs restricted by this new set. He tried to move, but he could not budge. He feels as if his core has been activated for the first time. He turns to the planetoids, who are all watching him and the giant locked in this new dance.

“Help… me…” He tries to eke out, but no one responds, watching with resigned eyes as they watch the display unfold. When he turns back to the giant, he is holding a piece of his surface, a laceration on one of his arms, his mouth drooling.

“𝓌𝓱𝐚𝐓’丂 𝔂Øยя 𝐍𝐚м𝑒?” He makes the sentence sound as if he is a kind benefactor when he is nothing like that.

He has not been asked this for a long time. He is surprised he has not forgotten it yet, the name that his former star whispered to him before he was ejected. Or maybe, it was whispered to him by the Milky Way itself. “My name's ꇓꇓꇓꇓꇓꇓꇓꇓ.” It sounds unused and foreign.

The giant chuckles. “₮ⱧɆ ₦₳₥Ɇ ł'VɆ ₱ł₵₭ɆĐ ØɄ₮ ₣ØⱤ ɎØɄ ₩łⱠⱠ ฿Ɇ ₥Ʉ₵Ⱨ ฿Ɇ₮₮ɆⱤ ₮Ⱨ₳₦ ₮Ⱨ₳₮. ₦Ø₩ Ɇ₳₮ Ʉ₱, ₥ØØ₦.”

Without any warning, another set of arms sprouts from his body, and it grips his face, claws digging onto his surface. His mouth is forcefully opened by these fingers, shaped like a silent scream as he struggles more and more, knowing what this means for someone like him.

Yet, despite all his resisting, fighting, and restraint, the giant jams his portion of skin in the maw of his newly found moon, the one that will help him keep the other satellites in check. Then, he forcibly closes his jaw, ignoring the fact that he begins to bleed, choking as the giant forces his mouth closed, waiting for the new, pathetic moon to swallow.

When he finally swallows, the giant smiles, whispering his name to all those who are willing to listen.

“TRITON.”

And the new moon, TRITON, closes his eyes and collapses.

“... Neptune has gone berserk. He’s kidnapped a planetoid and made it his own.”

“Does that mean that he is still waiting for us to cross the threshold?”

“It seems so.”

“He would have destroyed us first try if we ever touched one of those corpses.”

“He would have— it is why I sent him to see if he still takes this entire watchdog job seriously. I needed to know if we can enact our plan.”

“You’re not strong yet. You must devour more cores before you consider yourself powerful. And Saturn has yet to give you a go-to yet.”

“I am of the opinion that he has gone back on your promise.”

“He did not! Tyche, don’t you dare insinuate that!”

“Nevertheless, it looks like we are not returning to the solar system any time soon. Not yet, when Neptune’s mind is still intact, knowing that we are a danger.”

“We still have to wait for eons?”

“If that’s what it takes, then yes.”

“Not the best idea you have, but I’ll take it.”

When Triton opens his eyes, he is faced with a being that looks like a young, bright star, with so much potential to live for. He cannot remember anything, as if he is laid bare, like the very first time he has been created. Immediately, he jerks back, unsure where she came from, or…

Who he is supposed to be.

“You’re awake!” The little celestial being says, looking enthused and happy. Happy for what? “Neptune said that you might wake up soon, and he was right!”

“Neptune…?” He asks, a look of uncertainty filling his face.

This is wrong.

“The planet we’re orbiting, silly!”

… What?