Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Per·en·ni·al - (of a plant) lasting for an indefinitely long time; enduring / (of a person) apparently permanently engaged in a specified role or way of life.

Bloom - (of a plant) the state or period of flowering / (of a person) to come into or be in full beauty or health; flourish.

It’s after Kirby’s exploits in another world that Taranza first learns of it.

He’s telling the Star Allies all about his adventure, detailing the second half of it, more specifically, when it comes up. He describes having already defeated the villain— the evil ‘other half’ of his new friend, only for it to have continued to cause trouble from beyond the grave. He talks about following it into a world of its dreams and it attempting to attack him there, only for something strange to have happened… something he still can’t quite make sense of.

“A butterfly,” he explains. Bright orange, beautiful, and just a little eerie. It fluttered in through the window and landed on the nefarious ‘Fecto Forgo,’ absorbing it, seemingly, before taking on a new form. 

It sprouted hands— spread its wings. An ethereal mask cloaked its face, and then it was something like Kirby… an ‘Astral,’ that is.

Kirby hadn’t known what was happening, but had had little time to react. Abruptly, the strange being attacked him.

It hadn’t uttered a word, but its intentions were clear nevertheless… it was issuing a challenge, and although Kirby couldn’t tell what the stakes were, he knew they were no doubt serious.

An intense battle— one of the more terrifying he’s ever encountered, he describes. He details hellfire and transcendental swordsmanship. Tornadoes, teleportation, and strange specters. 

Fecto Forgo. It was as if the being had captured its spirit. It was able to bend it to its will… use its powers against Kirby. Even the otherworldly alien that had managed to brainwash an entire planet was but an ant in comparison to whatever this creature was.

Not that that had deterred Kirby. He’d bested the butterfly. With a swing of his Galaxia replica, he’d struck the all-powerful being down. It had exploded into brilliant light, yielding, then leaving Kirby be.

…All the same, he admits that he got the sense it wasn’t giving it its all. He insists that the being was never trying to hurt him— just test him, in some way.

And Magolor has an inkling as to how.

He doesn’t voice it, of course, until Kirby’s finished telling his story. But as soon as he’s done recounting his rescue of the Beast Pack leader Leon and his later encounter with ‘Chaos Elfilis,’ he speaks up. 

“Sounds like Morpho Knight, to me.”

“...Morpho Knight,” Kirby’s new friend, Elfilin, repeats, nose anxiously twitching, “...What’s that?” 

“Only one of the most powerful beings in the universe,” Magolor replies. “They say it’s existed since ancient times… that it’s the embodiment of death itself. Whenever a person’s time has come, it arrives— a fluttering fiend sent to take them to their final resting place.”

“Oh, be serious, mate!” Daroach pipes up. “Don’t go scaring the kids with your nutty tall tales.”

“It’s not a tall tale!” Magolor insists, ears pinned back. “It’s a legend that goes back to the times of Halcandra!”

A moment of silence. Doubt hangs in the air. But just as soon as Daroach has opened his mouth to respond, someone interjects.

“He’s telling the truth.”

It’s Zan Partizanne.

“Lord Hyness has mentioned it before,” she says, voice grave. “And not only that, but I met it myself, a very long time ago, when I teetered on the precipice between life and death. My sisters will tell you the same.”

A nod from Flamberge, then from Francisca.

“I saw it when swallowed by fire.”

“And I saw it when buried in snow.”

“Not only that,” Zan Partizanne adds on. “But we saw it when we were devoured by Void Termina, too. Flitting amongst the darkness, there to collect our souls. If you hadn’t intervened when you had, it no doubt would have succeeded.”

At that, Magolor gives pause. He cocks his head.

“Wait… seriously? And you’re sure of that!? I’m sorry. It’s just… if it had been there, then I feel like one of us would have noticed it.”

“Yes, I’m sure. You’re not the one who was on death’s door, were y-?”

“Gooey noticed!”

Zan Partizanne stops— turns to face the friendly Dark Matter.

“I’m sorry… you what?”

“Gooey noticed,” he reaffirms. “He saw the orange butterfly. It fluttered all around, and he remembers thinking it was strange. No-one else was paying attention, but at the very end of the battle, it landed on Void Termina’s head. Void Termina stopped moving after that. Everything was quiet. Gooey was relieved, because he got the sense it wasn’t suffering anymore.”

“I… suppose that makes sense,” Magolor finally admits, hand on his chin. “Although I must admit if that’s the case, I’m disappointed I didn’t see it myself. Oh, what a missed opportunity! It’s not every day someone encounters Death.”

“Death…” Elfilin murmurs, voice trembling. “I still don’t get it. Why would we have encountered something like Death?”

“Well, you said that you’d killed this ‘Fecto Forgo,’ correct?”

“Y…- yes, but that still doesn’t explain it attacking poor Kirby!”

At that, admittedly, the group gives pause. Although Magolor just as soon perks back up.

“Kirby,” he says. “You said you had a feeling that it wasn’t trying to hurt you, correct? Merely testing your mettle?”

“Mmhmmm!”

“What are you suggesting?” Meta Knight asks. “Why would a being like that be interested in assessing his strength?”

“Well… I’m inclined to believe this had something to do with that Leon fellow… the one who had his soul shattered into hundreds of pieces,” Magolor admits. “It’s less common, but there are also stories of Morpho Knight challenging people to win back the spirits of those on the brink of death, and so perhaps Kirby was fighting for the Beast Pack leader’s life as opposed to his own.”

They’re words that hang heavy in the air. Ominous. Foreboding. Is it really possible that Kirby encountered the angel of death? Possible that he nearly lost a new friend?

It’s something no-one wants to dwell on for long. They’re quick to change the topic. 

Tail swishing, Elfilin says, “W- well, I’m glad Kirby was able to defeat it, then! I don’t know what we’d have done if we didn’t get a happy ending…”

Letting out a laugh, Dedede responds, “You kiddin’ me? Of course Kirby was able to defeat it. That kid could beat anything! It don’t surprise me one bit he showed the grim reaper what for. Only question is what the heck he trounces next. I’d say a god, but… wait! He’s already done that. Nothing can slow that little demon down.”

Kirby starts to protest, insisting he had everyone else’s help with Void Termina, but Elfilin just as soon lets out a surprised squeak.

“A god!?” he asks. “W- what do you mean by that? What on earth were you doing before I met you, Kirby!?”

Another laugh from Dedede as the group launches into regaling Elfilin with the story of their triumph against the Jamba Cult. Magolor plays up just how cool he was while Rick describes the team’s daring exploits. Bandee explains their journey across the galaxy and Marx gives every gruesome detail of just how bone-chilling Void Termina was, all the while sporting a wicked grin. 

Elfilin is terrified but enthralled. Soon enough, he’s caught up in the tale, and it’s as if he’s forgotten about Morpho Knight entirely.

 It’s as if the entire group has. 

…Or at least, almost the entire group. Taranza still can’t quite shake the implications of all of that from his mind.

Death is… a being, not just a cold, unfeeling concept? Death can be battled? Defeated? Does that mean Death can be persuaded?

No. That’s not even a question. Kirby did persuade Death. This ‘Leon’ could have died, but Kirby fought to sway it. He made Death give him what he wanted. He overcame what was supposed to be a universal constant.

Taranza hadn’t realized something like that was possible.

…Death: that which he despises more than anything— who has caused him so much heartache. What would happen if he were to encounter it? Could he persuade Death, too? Could he right an unforgivable wrong?

His mouth feels dry. ‘No, certainly not,’ he thinks, but all the same, his heart skips a beat. There’s no way— it just couldn’t happen, but all the same…

What if?

It’s a strange, exhilarating thought. It feels unfathomable, but beguiling nevertheless. For all he’s come to terms with his tragedy, he never truly gave up hope on a miracle happening, and this could be it. 

He could save that person. His best friend. The love of his life.

And so when the group starts to disperse, content with what they’ve heard of Kirby’s latest adventure, he pulls Magolor and The Mage Sisters aside.

“Can I ask you an important question?”

Zan Partizanne quirks a brow. Skeptical, she asks, “What is it?”

“This… Morpho Knight you mentioned. How exactly would one go about meeting it?”

At that, Magolor stops. As Taranza’s words sink in, he stiffens.

“Wait,” he says. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m incredibly serious,” Taranza responds. “I need to encounter this being. I can hardly even believe you knew of its existence and didn’t tell me.”

“Well, first of all,” Magolor says. “I didn’t know anything! For all I cared, Morpho Knight was just a legend. And second of all: If you’re intending to do what I think you’re intending to do, then drop it. It’s not going to work.”

“And why ever not!? It gave Kirby what he wanted.”

“You’re not Kirby. Dedede wasn’t exaggerating when he said that kid is extraordinary. You are not going to be able to do what he did. You can’t beat the grim reaper.”

“You don’t know that!” Taranza insists. “I’m the most powerful mage in Floralia. I have a near-mastery of Soul magic. I’ve been a prodigy since I was a child, and I’m one of the people who helped out most during that adventure to defeat Void Termina. Don’t underestimate me.”

“I’m not underestimating you.”

“It certainly feels like it.”

“All I’m saying, from one Icarus to another, is that you’re not untouchable, and trust me when I say you don’t want to fly too close to the sun.”

Taranza’s eyes narrow.

“One Icarus to a…-” a pang of anger. “ This isn’t like that at all! This is-”

“Wait,” Zan Partizanne interjects. “I’m not sure I’m following. Why, exactly, would you be attempting to battle Morpho Knight?”

It only makes sense. The Mage Sisters are aware of his tragedy, but not to the same extent that Magolor is. They don’t know just how far he’d be willing to go to get what he wants.

“For Sectonia,” he says. “My queen. Perhaps, if I were to defeat it, I could win back her soul. Perhaps, I could return her to life.”

At that, Zan Partizanne’s expression shifts. She exchanges an uncomfortable glance with her sisters, confusion morphing to incredulity. 

“If that’s the case, then I’m afraid I have to agree with the egg. People don’t come back from the dead.”

“You three came back from the dead.”

“No,” Zan Partizanne responds, gravely serious. “We didn’t. We almost died, but we didn’t. Lord Hyness rescued us while we were on the brink. The same goes for this ‘Leon.’ His fate wasn’t yet sealed.”

“W- what about that ‘Chaos Elfilis’ Kirby mentioned? Fecto Forgo was dead! How did it come back?”

“Did it come back?”

“It escaped Morpho Knight, if nothing else.”

“It created a temporary pocket dimension in the coliseum, then got absorbed. To me, it sounds like that was just an extension of its dreamscape.”

“Not to mention how Elfilin played into all of this,” Magolor tacks on. “I don’t fully understand the mechanics of two beings sharing one soul, but I can only imagine its other half being alive helped do something for Fecto Forgo.”

By now, Taranza is getting upset. Why can no-one else see just how groundbreaking this could be?

“Even if it is different, I won’t know until I try. We don’t know of anyone else who’s attempted this before! And so how are we sure it’s not possible?”

“Because people aren’t routinely coming back from the dead,” Zan Partizanne says.

“Most people don’t know about Morpho Knight! And even fewer people are strong enough to defeat it,” Taranza argues.

“And you believe you’re one of those people?” Magolor asks, ear twitching. “Listen, dude: I hate to rain on your parade, but as the Morpho Knight expert here, this seems like a bad idea. I just want you to be careful. You don’t know what you’re getting into."

Taranza glares, fists bunched.

“I could, if you were willing to help me ou-”

“Woah, woah, woah!” a voice interjects. “What’s goin’ on over here? You guys are the last folks I expected to see butting heads.”

It’s King Dedede. He and a few of the others must have overheard their conversation, because he, Kirby, Elfilin and Susie have approached. They look various degrees of concerned as they glance at Taranza and the group.

“No-one’s…” Taranza takes a deep breath— shakes his head. “No-one’s fighting. I was merely attempting to discuss something with these four.”

“‘No-one’s fighting,’” Magolor repeats, tone snide as he rolls his eyes. “Yeah, except you and the grim reaper if you get your way.”

“Pardon!?” Susie asks.

“Taranza wants to summon Morpho Knight! Deliberately! And agitate it!” Magolor says, throwing his hands up. “Even as the dude who wishes he could meet a being like that, just by virtue of how cool it would be, I know that’s a terrible idea. Will you tell him that’s a terrible idea, Susie!?”

“That’s a terrible idea!” A voice squeaks.

But it’s not Susie’s. It’s the voice of Elfilin, hovering above Kirby with his tail twitching nervously. 

“T- that thing was so scary, Mister Taranza. Maybe even scarier than my other half, and that’s saying a lot!” His eyes are wide and frightened. “Why would you want to fight an awful thing like that?”

It’s fair of him to ask. As Kirby’s newest companion, he knows nothing about Taranza or his past.

Putting on the most child-friendly tone that he can, Taranza responds:

“A long time ago, a good friend of mine got sick and had to go away. And this friend was… very important to me, so I was hoping I could convince Morpho Knight to bring her back.”

“Oh…” Elfilin responds, and for the most part, he seems to be satisfied with that answer.

Not so much everyone else.

“Bug boy,” Dedede says. “Don’t you think that sounds dangerous?”

“Of course,” Taranza replies. “I’m not foolish. All the same, though, it’s a risk I’m willing to take. I mean… what if it’s possible? What if I can save her? If that were the case, and I didn’t at least try, I’d never be willing to forgive myself.”

“But you don’t even…-” Susie’s voice wavers. It’s as if she can’t begin to comprehend what Taranza is saying. “You don’t even know if she’d be herself, do you? What if you went to all of the effort of bringing her back, and she was still cursed? Don’t you think that’s a possibility you should keep in mind?”

A pit in Taranza’s stomach. He knows why Susie is proposing there’s a chance of that happening, but all the same, he doesn’t even want to think about it.

“She wouldn’t be,” he insists. “I’d ask Morpho Knight to fix her.”

“Is that even something it can do?”

“W- well… I’m not entirely certain, but all the same, I…- I don’t care! Even if she were to come back like that, surely I could find a way to fix her now that I know what’s wrong. I’d just have to… to…- maybe I could destroy the mirror. Or- or what if I defeated the being who cursed her?”

“You don’t sound very certain,” Susie says. “Maybe you could destroy the mirror? Maybe you could defeat the being who cursed her? You don’t know any of this for certain.”

“Even so, don’t I…-” Taranza’s voice trembles, but just as soon turns firm, “Don’t I have to try? You all know how much she meant to me. I got her murdered. I’ve been looking for a way to undo that for years. I might have finally found a lead. I can’t not follow it! She’s depending on me.”

But for all his conviction, none of them seem moved… at least not in the sense that they agree with him. At most, they’re staring at him with varying degrees of pity. 

…They really don’t get it, do they? 

Taranza starts to grow desperate.

“P- please!” he says. “Just try and place yourself in my shoes. K- Kirby! Wouldn’t you do this for any of your friends? Dedede— wouldn't you do this for Kirby, Meta Knight , the Waddle Dees? Magolor, you’d try to rescue the Dream Team or Marx, wouldn’t you? Francisca, Flamberge, Zan Partizanne— surely if it was one of your sisters you’d act in a heartbeat! Susie-”

His expression falls. He hesitates. Susie is staring at him blankly. 

The words die in his throat.

No, he can’t wield that dagger against her, not even right now. All the same, though…

“She’s my most important person,” he whispers, hanging his head. “I’m begging you… please help me try to rescue her.”

A heaviness hangs in the air. The group shifts uncomfortably— unsure what to even say.

“Taranza,” Susie murmurs finally. “You can’t rescue someone who’s dead. You’re just going to get yourself hurt if you refuse to accept that.”

“We know she’s important to you,” Dedede agrees. “But you need to remember you’re important, too. We wouldn’t know what to do if something happened to you. And anyways, do you really think Sectonia would want you to put yourself in danger?”

Taranza’s lip quivers. His eyes water. He can’t stand the way they’re talking to him. It feels as if they think he’s foolish.

‘I’m not foolish,’ he thinks, blinking back tears. ‘I’m devoted.’

“And so you’re telling me you’d give up?” he asks, anger growing. He points a finger at Dedede, Magolor, then the Mage Sisters. “You’d abandon your people, your friends, your sisters in their time of need!?”

“Woah,” Dedede says. “Don’t put words in our mouths!”

“But that’s exactly what you’re saying! Unless your loved ones are somehow more important than mine? W- what? Did she do too much to be worth saving? Was she too mean for you? Even though none of that was her fault!? Even thou-"

“Taranza!” Magolor snaps. “Stop. This has nothing to do with any of that. You’re taking this far too personally. We aren’t doing this because we don’t care about you or don’t care about your queen. We’re doing this because we’re using our brains and can tell that you’re just going to get yourself hurt if you act rashly. None of us want that.”

Zan Partizanne nods.

“We will not be helping you ‘meet’ Morpho Knight, and that’s final. Get a hold of yourself.”

A lump in Taranza’s throat. He struggles not to cry. Feeling angry and despondent all at once, he looks over the group.

“And so none of you…-"

His heart sinks. He realizes not a single one of them is going to yield. Kirby and Elfilin stare at him, eyes wide and concerned. King Dedede and Susie won’t look him in the eye. Magolor and Zan Partizanne are glaring. Francisca and Flamberge exchange a guilty look, but don’t dare speak.

“...Fine, then. I’ll do it by myself!”

He grabs his cape and turns, struggling to breathe as he turns away and storms off. 

“You’ll do… what!?” Magolor calls after. “Come on, Taranza! Stop it! You know you’re not thinking straight-”

“Give him his space,” Zan Partizanne mutters. “It’s not like there’s anything he can do on his own. He’ll cool down with time.”

And so no-one follows after, even as Taranza leaves, seething. Perhaps they want to, but even they can tell it wouldn’t do any good.

‘Good,’ Taranza thinks. He wants to be alone right now. He’ll show them. He’ll prove just how powerful he is. There’s plenty he can do on his own! And he’s not going to just run and hide if there’s something he can do to help the person he loves.

…There has to be something he can do to help the person he loves. 

But as he makes his way back to Floralia, he becomes less and less sure. What if his friends are right? What if this is a hopeless endeavor?

No. He won’t even consider it. He feels bad for worrying them, but he doesn’t care what they think just this once. He knows they’re not trying to hurt him… that Magolor, Dedede, Susie and even the Mage Sisters just want what’s best for him, but in this instance they don’t know what’s best for him. They don’t know what he’s capable of!

Still, by the time he’s reached the castle, he’s sniveling, and he hardly even knows where to start.

He heads to the castle library, hoping he’ll find something there, but as he flips desperately through the pages of books detailing bygone Floralian history and legends from centuries past, he discerns nothing. They have much to say about the origins of the Sun Stones, about the creation of the Dreamstalk seed, and even the brief arrival of a mysterious, technologically advanced people… but they don’t so much as mention a ‘fluttering fiend.’

At most, there are allusions to butterfly imagery being associated with death or myths of people glimpsing one after near-fatalities, but that’s not enough. He doesn’t need imagery— he doesn’t need glimpses… he needs to speak with Morpho Knight!

Magolor mentioned Ancients, right? Not ancient history, but the Ancients? It would only make sense if they left the most detailed records on this thing— that’s what they did— but there’s very little about the Ancients to be found. The ‘mysterious, technologically advanced people,’ mentioned in Floralian tomes… they were dismissed about just as soon as they arrived.

They showed up on Planet Popstar, dazzling the people of both Floralia and Dreamland with esoteric marvels and all sorts of miracles, then invited them to join a vast web of intergalactic societies. They said that they were interested in transcending the limits of mortality… creating a truly utopian world, and that the people of Popstar could be a part of it. But when the Floralians and Dreamlandians— once connected by a marvelous sky bridge known as Nutty Noon— met to discuss it, they decided they wanted no part in the Ancients’ elysium. 

All they wanted was to continue to live their peaceful lives, and so although some of the denizens of Popstar left with the Ancients, the majority remained… plagued by a strange feeling that the Ancients would inevitably bring nothing but trouble, even despite their otherworldly wonders.

And, truthfully, the people of Popstar were probably right. There’s a reason why both Dreamland and Floralia continue to exist today whereas all of the Ancient societies have fallen. All the same, though, just this once, Taranza wishes they’d heard them out— clamored for more of their knowledge. Perhaps, then, he’d have something to work with!

…Is he going to have to raid Magolor’s library? No. That’s not even possible, is it? Magolor’s ‘library’ is no hall of books, at least for the most part. Magolor’s library is a database, and that database belongs to a living, breathing spacecraft. Surely the Lor would tell on him!

Even if she wouldn’t, could he really go against Magolor like that? What if he found out? Would he be angry with Taranza? Yell at him again? H- he doesn’t want to destroy their friendship!

‘Hyness, then,’ he thinks, but his heart just as soon sinks. That won’t work, either. It doesn’t matter if he’s an Ancient. The Mage Sisters are his pupils— he’ll no doubt have the same opinion as them. He’ll tell him he’s being foolish… that he’s not thinking this through.

Teardrops stain the page of the book opened on his lap. He hiccups and buries his face in his hands.

Why can’t his friends see that he is thinking this through? He knows the risks, he just doesn’t care. He owes her! If only they could just see that. They know how much he’s suffered, don’t they? Just how much he cared? And so why? Why won’t they just help him out!? If they’re so scared of him getting hurt, they could help him prepare. Maybe he could do this if he weren’t alone!

Frustration and shame as a sob rises in his throat. He hugs his chest tight, burying his face in his scarf.

He can’t believe he got his hopes up. And for nothing. He’s not even going to be able to try, is he? He’s failed Sectonia yet again. She’s going to stay dead. Because of him. Because he’s incapable! Because of stupid, worthless, PITIFUL Taranz-

A thumping at the window.

His train of thought grinds to a halt.

He remains still for a moment, convinced that, perhaps, it was a mere figment of his imagination. But then, just as he starts to let out a low whimper, it happens again.

More thumping.

His gaze flickering towards the window, Taranza rises. He hates to be seen like this, but all the same, it’s vital he investigates. 

And shockingly, sure enough…

He has visitors. 

Flamberge and Francisca are peering through the glass, the former rapping the window with her fist.

“Spider-man!” she calls, “We’ve gotta talk.”

Bizarrely, Zan Partizanne isn’t there with them. She’s nowhere to be seen… a peculiar sight when he’s almost always encountered them together in the past.

“Where’s… where’s your sister?” he asks, approaching the window. “What are you doing here?” his eyes narrow slightly. “S- she didn’t send you to supervise me, did she?”

The thought alone leaves a bad taste in his mouth. Does Zan Partizanne really think he’s that helpless? Does she not trust him to make his own decisions? What? Is she intending to ‘stop him by force’ if he’s too rash?

In response to his words, however, Flamberge’s face twists with disgust. 

“Void, no!” she responds. “What do you think we are? Just her little messenger girls? We’re here on our own business.”

“Your… own business,” Taranza repeats, voice tentative, “Which is?”

“We thought about what you said some,” Francisca admits. “And we want to help.”

“H- huh!?”

Taranza is… grateful, don’t get him wrong, but he hadn’t seen that coming at all! What does she mean they want to help? Everyone had seemed so opposed to his plan just a few hours before. Did something change?

“You told us to put ourselves in your shoes,” Flamberge says. “And we did. We thought about what it would be like if it were our most important person depending on us, and… you were right. We would do the same thing. I don’t care what everyone else thinks. If something happened to Francisca or, heck! Even stubborn Zan, I’d burn this whole world down just to make sure they were alright. Knowing that, I didn’t want to spit in your face.”

“‘Sides,” she continues, rubbing at her shoulder. “You said you were gonna do it anyways, yeah? That no-one was going to stop you? If that’s the case, then you might as well be supervised. It’s like Lord Hyness always said when we were little kids: ‘If you’re going to practice dark magic or get plastered, it’s best to do it in front of a responsible adult.’ Not that you’re not an adu…- I’m sure you get my point! It’s a metaphor. What I’m trying to say is we’ll aid you.”

Taranza’s lip quivers. He can hardly believe it. He’s… not alone in this? He might actually be able to meet Morpho Knight? There’s a chance he can save Sectonia?

He’s so overjoyed he doesn’t even bother to question the veracity of something like Hyness saying the word ‘plastered.’ None of that matters right now!

“T… thank you so much!” he shouts, scrambling to the window. Tears well in his eyes as he presses his hands to the glass. “I… I cannot possibly express just how much this means. If there’s anything you ever need from me, I’ll return the favor, I swear.” He glances over his shoulder, fidgeting restlessly. “Should I let you in? Oh, please let me make you some tea or something to show my gratitude! T- then we can- um… how are we going to do this actually? Is there a spell, or…?”

“Something like that,” Flamberge responds. “All you need to know is we think we have a plan as for how to go about this. No need to let us in or make us anything, though. As flattered as I am that you’re appreciative, the last thing I’d want is to be drenched in your snot.”

She thinks for a moment, letting out a ‘hmmm.’

“Listen,” she says. “How about you just come to Jambandra tomorrow morning? We’ll have everything ready then. Tonight, just try and prepare yourself, then get some rest.”

Francisca nods. 

“Be ready to fight,” she warns. “If you intend to try and defeat Morpho Knight, then you’re going to need to do your utmost. Death will not go easy on you, and we cannot help. This is something you are going to have to do on your own, and it is something very dangerous. Please be well aware of that. If anything happens, let it be known that we did warn you. We are not assisting out of a blind faith you’ll succeed, but rather an understanding of your devotion. Is that clear?”

“Of… course,” Taranza replies, and while for a moment he’s anxious, his eyes just as soon narrow. He balls his fists and gives a determined nod. “I understand the risks. I know what I’m getting into, but I still want to give it my all.”

“Great,” Flamberge says. “Tomorrow, then. Meet us at Jambandra at the crack of dawn. Bring whatever weapons you have and anything you think you’ll need. We’ll take care of the rest, including making sure Zan doesn’t get in your way.”

“F- fantastic,” Taranza says, nodding yet again. “I’ll be ready, then. I won’t keep you waiting. T- thank you yet again for this opportunity! I promise I won’t waste it. I’m truly indebted to you. I know I already said this, but I meant it: if there’s ever anything you need…”

“Then we’ll cash in on your courtesy,” Flamberge replies. “But for now, there’s no need for that. We’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Taranza says. “See you then.”

And with that, Flamberge and Francisca leave. They remind him once more to be prepared for anything, then depart. 

Taranza watches them go, heart pounding in his ears. Then, he falls to the ground and lets out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a happy sob.

He can’t believe it. He can’t believe it! It’s not hopeless after all! Someone believes in him.

He knows this might not amount to anything… that his two new allies may not be able to summon Morpho Knight, or that it might not yield even if he meets it, but all the same, he’s elated. It’s been so long since he had a lead to follow to undo his mistake. He’d almost given up. But right here, right now, he can finally place his faith in a miracle again. He’s found a definitive goal he can fight for.

And if he manages to prove himself…

Well he might just manage to bring his best friend— the love of his life home!

He basks in the thrill of that for a moment, before forcing himself to rise. He can’t cry or celebrate yet. He needs to get prepared. He told Francisca and Flamberge he’d be ready, and so ready he will be.

He picks out the weapons he’ll bring. He’ll be focusing on spellcasting primarily, of course, but he wants to be ready for anything. Kirby mentioned that this Morpho Knight was a sword wielder, yes? Then he’ll bring his own sword, that way he can parry its blows. 

He’s nowhere near as good a swordsman as his late queen, but he’s no amateur, either! He spent quite a bit of time practicing with her back in the day. If he dusts off his skills, he’s sure they’ll be enough to leave an impression.

Kirby also described fire, so Taranza mulls over a way to take care of that. As a Bloom Magician primarily, he’s well aware his elemental magic won’t be able to assist him there, and he doesn’t think Soul magic will be much use either. He’ll have to think outside of the box.

What’s good against fire? Water, obviously, but he doesn’t think bringing a pail of it will help him much against the grim reaper. He’s also seen ice used to put it out, but…-

No! Wait, that’s it!

He can vividly recall Blizzard magic being used to douse flames during their adventure to collect the Jamba Hearts, and not just by magicians. There were instances wherein there was a spot only Meta Knight could reach, so Daroach enchanted his weapon— scenarios where there was something only Susie could do, but she had to rely on Adeleine painting an Ice Dragon first to upgrade her blaster. It’s not just wielders of a specific type of magic that can utilize it.

If willing, magicians can enhance another person’s weaponry. And so that’s what he’ll have to do!

Francisca said she and Flamberge wouldn’t be able to help Taranza out during the actual fight, but he doubts she’ll have any problem with temporarily imbuing his weapon with her magic. And if that’s the case, then he’ll have at least something he can use to stave off the flames.

Of course, he’s not entirely satisfied with that… he’d like to find a way to blow them out, too, if need be, but one thing at a time.

He wonders what he should wear. He’s not the type to don armor, obviously— it interferes with his ability to move too much, but if he really might see Sectonia again, should he put on something special? He doesn’t want to show up looking like some careless lout who he tossed on the first thing he saw. He wants to impress her— look like a hero! He should pick out formal wear or something.

Then again… maybe that’s not a good idea. That might interfere with his ability to move, too, and anyways, pretty much anything he picks out risks being destroyed during the fight. He’s probably going to look a little battered either way.

Ah, that’s okay, embarrassing as it is. He could be dressed in rags and have them torn to shreds by Morpho Knight for all he cares as long as he actually gets her back. That’s what’s most important. He can worry about looking dashing later.

‘...Dashing.’

Admittedly, he hesitates for a moment. Part of him is worried that she won’t be happy to see him no matter what he looks like. Their relationship was pretty bad by the time she died. There were a lot of hard feelings— not to mention the fact that he got her killed. What if they reunite and she scorns him?

He shakes his head.

No. She won’t do that. Not the Sectonia— Joronia that he knew. She wasn’t in her right mind during the last few years of her life. She was warped by forces beyond her control. It’s easy to worry, but he needs to remember that if he does this right, she’ll be herself again. He won’t have to worry about something like that. 

And besides, does it even really matter? She could tell him off— decide that she never wants to see him again, and he’d still be happy as long as she was alive. It would hurt, sure, but what matters most is giving back what he stole from her. What matters is ensuring she has a future.

He decides he’ll just wear his usual outfit. It has the two things that are most important, after all: the cape she commissioned for him and the red scarf that was once part of a two-piece set commemorating their friendship. Surely seeing those things, she’ll know everything will be okay.

And everything will be okay. She’ll probably be confused at first— maybe a little scared about all that happened, but that’s alright. He’ll hug her tight and kiss away her tears and then he’ll take her home. They’ll return to the castle together and live the life that was taken from them. He’ll introduce her to all of his friends and they’ll get along great. She’ll be happy. Both of them will. 

She might not be thrilled to be an Arachnid again… that is, if she is one. He’s not sure exactly what it is Morpho Knight can do. He’d prefer to see her returned to her original appearance, but if she can’t be, that’s okay. He’ll love her in any form she takes. He just hopes she won’t be too gutted if she does indeed end up going back. She was always a little insecure, even before the mirror, and so those feelings might resurface, especially after being someone else for so long. 

But if they do, he’ll help her work through them. He swears it on his life. He’ll never let her feel the way she did when she decided she had to change ever again. He’ll ensure she sees what he sees— make it clear beyond a shadow of a doubt that she’s the most beautiful girl in the world. That’s something he well and truly believes.

He… regrets not making that known. He regrets not doing enough to convince her of that. There are so many things he’d do over if he could. And this just might be that opportunity. He might really get a second chance. He might be able to right his wrongs— do everything he’s spent years wishing he’d done back when he still had the chance. He might get to apologize to her. Tell her that she’s important and that she’s needed and that she’s loved.

He wants that more than anything. He wants his happy ending with her. He wants them to never have to worry about any of that ever again. For the both of them to finally be free.

‘Please, Morpho Knight,’ he thinks, slipping into bed after a long day of preparation. ‘I’m begging you, just give me what I want. We’ve suffered enough. She’s suffered enough. I have to save her, and so just this once, make an exception. Let me see her again. I promise I won’t mess things up a second time. If you give her a chance, I’ll make the most of it.’

But Morpho Knight doesn’t respond. Taranza won’t receive any answers until tomorrow. For now, all he can do is dream.

And dream he does, with hope he hasn’t felt in years.

Chapter Text

True to his word, Taranza shows up at Jambandra first thing the next morning. He wakes up just before sunrise, grooms himself, then grabs his things and begins the journey. Thankfully, with magic, it’s easy to reach even the planet that’s so far away.

Francisca and Flamberge are waiting for him outside of the main base. They wave as he crosses the metallic courtyard and makes his way to them.

“‘Bout time you showed up,” Flamberge says. “I was starting to wonder if you were having second thoughts.”

“No, not at all,” Taranza says. “This is… the most sure I’ve ever been of anything. Thank you yet again for providing me this opportunity.” 

“Of course,” Flamberge says. “I’m taking it you’re ready, then?”

“More or less,” Taranza says. “Although I was wondering if I could ask for a small favor.” He turns towards the other sister. “Francisca, would you be able to enchant my weapon?”

Francisca quirks a brow. 

“Kirby mentioned Morpho Knight used fire,” Taranza explains. “And so I was thinking… um, perhaps some Blizzard energy would be able to assist me in my battle. I’m not asking you to help me fight, just to give me a charge.”

“I see,” Francisca says, tilting her head. “...I suppose I don’t see why not. Hand it over.”

Taranza does as instructed. He passes the sword off to Francisca.

A sharp crackle as icy energy consumes it. When she returns it to Taranza, it’s frigid to the touch.

“Thank you,” he says, attempting to get used to the bitter cold blade now clasped in one hand. He gets the sense that if he weren’t wearing gloves, it would be enough to give him frostbite… or at the very least, leave ice clinging to his fuzzy paws. 

It’s good though, he thinks, that the temperature is so intense. He’d been a little worried that Morpho Knight’s fire would be able to melt the ice, but it seems nothing would be able to thaw a frost like this.

“If that’s all you needed, then we should head to the Divine Terminus,” Flamberge says. “I’d prefer not to spend too much time hanging around.”

“Let’s go,” Taranza agrees. “I’m ready.”

As they make the trek, Flamberge explains, “We’ve got almost everything ready. When we get there, there’ll only be a couple things we need to do. We won’t be able to stay with you throughout the entire ritual, though. We talked it over, and we think there’s less of a chance of Morpho Knight showing up if there are a whole lot of people, so you’ll have to do the last few things on your own. Is that alright?”

“Of course,” Taranza says. “Just give me instructions and I should be able to get it figured out.”

The Divine Terminus is more or less how he remembers it: an eerie glowing altar leading up to a platform. With the Jamba Heart no longer resting there, said platform seems startlingly empty, although upon closer inspection, Taranza notices sigils scratched onto the floor.

They’re drawn onto the floor of the main altar as well, almost blending in with, but distinct from the pattern that’s quite literally embedded in it. Said pattern glows an ominous indigo, contrasting the bright red flicker of strange, claw-like structures that stretch into the sky.

…Not exactly the most cheery place, is it? He supposes it’s a fitting stage for a battle with the grim reaper, but he feels a little bad that if he’s going to bring Sectonia back, it’ll be in such a frightening environment. Not that he can complain too much. Beggars can’t be choosers, after all. If this terrifying altar will grant him the power to return the person he loves to life, then he’s grateful for it, foreboding scenery and all.

“So… uh, how do we start?”

“Well,” Flamberge says, retrieving a piece of chalk from her pocket, then looking at Taranza. “First, we’re going to want to-” 

She stops, expression morphing to an exasperated grimace as she peers over his shoulder.

“Ah, crap.”

“What?” Taranza asks, frowning. “What is it?”

That’s when a voice comes from behind him.

“You two were up to something. I knew it!”

Taranza’s heart sinks. And sure enough, as he turns around, he comes face-to-face with Zan Partizanne.

Not that she pays him any mind. She shoves past him and makes her way straight towards her sisters, electricity crackling as she says, “What were you thinking!? You’re smarter than this! Did you seriously intend to let him use our holy ground as an elaborate stage for his unnecessary attempt at suicide? And without even asking Lord Hyness? You should be ashamed of yourselves!”

Flamberge bristles. 

“Yeah?” she asks. “And why? You know as well as I do that he’s going to try it either way. He may as well be somewhere he’s supervised!”

“Oh, supervised is what he should be, you’re right. But not like this. How he should be supervised is-”

“Girls! Girls!” a voice interjects. “Please don’t fight! There’s no need for this. Kindly take a deep breath and then explain what’s going on to me, if you will. Zan Partizanne filled me in on some of the details, but I’d like to hear the full story before I pass judgment. What exactly is this?”

…Hyness. He’s also here. Zan must have brought him. There’s a real look of concern in his eyes as he surveys the group.

Not that Flamberge answers his question. Instead, glaring at her sister, she shouts, “You can’t believe me? I can’t believe YOU! You brought him here!? Why!?”

“Because I knew you might listen to him! And besides, this is his business. This is his altar, after all, isn’t it!?”

“It’s all of ours! Void, you’re such an insufferable snitch! Do you know how to do anything without running and hiding behind the old man? Why does it even concern you what we decide to do!?”

“It concerns me because if you get that imbecile murdered, then the Star Allies are going to blame all of us for it!”

Taranza feels his heart sink as he listens to them bicker. Are… they going to be stopped before they can even really try?”

“Girls,” Hyness repeats, louder this time. “Quit it. Stop with your squabbling and tell me calmly what is going on!”

Flamberge and Zan Partizanne both continue to seethe, but Francisca turns towards him and, finally, provides an explanation.

“Yesterday, Kirby gathered the group to tell us about his adventures in an alternate dimension. While detailing them, he described an entity we believe to be Morpho Knight, and this was the first time most of his allies had heard of its existence. This amazed and captivated them. Him, especially,” she points at Taranza, “Who decided it was crucial he meet the being.” 

“Long before he met us, he lost a person dear to him,” she explains. “He intends to battle Morpho Knight in an attempt to win back her soul. We’ve no idea if this will work, and initially Flamberge and I had no interest in assisting him, but, eventually, he managed to convince us.”

“...Convince you,” Zan Partizanne repeats. “How?”

“With what he said!” Flamberge replies. “When he asked whether or not we’d do that for each other. The answer was yes, and so I couldn’t turn him down. I wouldn’t CARE if it was ‘an unnecessary attempt at suicide—’ if it were you two depending on me, I’d risk my life in an instant! Who am I to tell him he can’t do the same for someone he loves!?”

“But he’s not going to…-” Zan Partizanne lets out a frustrated sigh. “Flamberge, he’s not going to get what he wants! If it were us, I wouldn’t want you to recklessly put your life on the line for me. I’m sure his queen would feel the same.”

“Maybe, but he still deserves to make his own decision. If he wants to, then I’m not going to stop him. Even if we don’t help, he’s still going to try and find a way.”

Zan Partizanne turns towards Taranza, eyes narrowing. 

“You need to understand you are taking a monumental risk for what may as well be a shot in the dark. You could die.”

“I’m aware,” Taranza says. “And I don’t care. This is something I’m willing to fight for. I want my happy ending. Maybe you can’t understand, because you already got your miracle, but this is something I need to do.” His heart is pounding in his ears, but all the same, he won’t stand down. “You followed him until the end, didn’t you?” he asks, glancing at Hyness. “Even when it was dangerous? Even when you knew you’d get hurt? How is this any different?”

That gives Zan Partizanne pause. She sputters just a little— searching for words. It’s not that different, and she no doubt knows that, but it’s not as if she can call that behavior of hers foolish. Even now, it’s more than clear she doesn’t regret it. 

“Hyness… was alive.”

“And if he weren’t, I’ve no doubt you’d be in my shoes,” Taranza argues. “A person can be your whole world. You know that. I know you do.”

“Yeah,” Flamberge says. “C’mon, Zan, even if you wouldn’t be willing to do it for us, you’d do it for him, wouldn’t you?”

Zan Partizanne startles.

“Hey! Don’t…” suddenly, her voice is smaller. She shoots Flamberge a wounded, guilty look. “I would do it for…- you’re not any less important than him! Don’t say that.” She then turns back towards Taranza, expression hardening.   “All I am trying to express, as an outsider looking in, is that this is dangerous. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I would do the same thing for my sisters and Hyness. But as the person who is not in that situation, I have the ability to see that this is wasted labor, whether I’d be able to discern that ‘in your shoes’ or not. I… understand how truly painful this must be, Taranza, but-”

“No. Don’t ‘but’ me,” Taranza replies. “As the ‘person who is not in this situation,’ you don’t understand how painful it is, and you don’t have the right to tell me how to feel. Your sisters are right. If I can’t do this here, I can and I will find another way.”

Zan Partizanne meets his gaze. He thinks she expects him to buckle, but he’ll do no such thing. There’s a fire burning in his chest.

Her expression falls.

“...There really is no convincing you, is there?” she asks. “Fine, then, but don’t say I didn’t try. And heed my warning when I say you’re not going to get what you want. Francisca and Flamberge were young when they met Morpho Knight. I wasn’t. I know what it’s going to tell you.”

“No you don’t,” Taranza says. “I’ll prove you wrong, I swear. I won’t just come back alive, but I’ll come back alive with my queen.”

He’s not sure how likely that actually is. He knows full well that Zan Partizanne may be right and he may fail, but all the same, he won’t admit that to her. He needs to believe in this, for Sectonia’s sake and for his.

He turns towards Hyness.

“It’s okay if I do this, yes? You’ll allow it?”

Hyness thinks it over.

“...This girl, she’s very important to you, yes?”

“More than anything,” Taranza breathes.

“And you understand what you are getting into?”

“Of course.”

“So be it, then. I’ve no intent to stop you. I do not disagree with Zan Partizanne’s assessment that this will likely not work, but all the same, the heart wants what it wants, and sometimes one must do something foolish to try and reconcile with themselves after great suffering. I merely hope you do not walk away from this with regrets. Remember: do not do anything you cannot take back, and if you do not succeed, do not blame yourself. The world we live in is oftentimes unfair and ruthless.”

He says it as if Taranza doesn’t already know that. He’s well aware the world is unfair. He’s been burned by it himself. If he hadn’t been, he wouldn’t be standing here right now. He doesn’t believe in miracles because he’s a fool. He… knows more often than not things don’t work out. He believes in miracles because miracles are all he has left. Without hope, he’d have nothing.

“I understand,” he responds. “I understand, and I’ll follow your advice. Thank you for this opportunity. It means more than I could possibly put into words. I promise I won’t waste it.”

A pause. He turns towards the Mage Sisters.

“And I… apologize if I caused trouble between you three. I never meant to make you fight. I hope there are no hard feelings.”

Flamberge shakes her head.

“Nah,” she says. “This happens a lot. Zan and I don’t always see eye to eye. She thinks she’s always right because she’s so used to being the boss. Doesn’t mean I don’t love her.”

Zan Partizanne’s eye twitches. 

“Flamberge… often makes foolish decisions, and I wish she’d just talk to me instead of going behind my back, but she’s right. I love her too. Trust me when I say we’ve had much higher stakes arguments than these.”

But Francisca must soon decide that’s enough sentimentality. She turns towards Taranza and asks, “Are you ready?”

Taranza nods.

“I’m ready.”

“Wonderful,” she says. “I’ll go get the Nruff, then.”

“The… what?” Taranza starts to ask, but just as soon shakes his head. 

There’s no point in questioning what it is the Mage Sisters are doing. They understand this better than he does. All he can do is follow their lead.

And, so, without another word, Francisca wanders off. 

As she takes care of that, Flamberge finishes drawing the symbols on the floor. They take on a faint purple glow as she connects the last line. 

A foreboding energy permeates the air, leaving goosebumps on Taranza’s skin. He swears he can hear whispers echo in a tongue he doesn’t recognize. 

Flamberge floats to the main platform and moves around a few things before turning to Zan Partizanne and Hyness. 

“You two mind helping me open the portal? It might be sort of difficult to do solo.”

“We’ll assist,” Hyness says, stepping forward. He motions for Zan Partizanne to follow. 

She hesitates at first, but eventually does as instructed. She won’t disobey her master, especially now, having accepted this is going to happen with or without her. She bows her head and makes her way up to the platform.

There, all three of them clasp their hands in prayer. They murmur, then begin to chant. 

The whispers grow louder. Gradually, the sigil takes on a more luminous glow. It runs from the altar up to the platform, crackling with a dark energy as they recite primeval words. 

Flickering particles permeate the air. Taranza swears he sees the claw-like structures curl towards the altar. The ground rises, then falls. It’s as if the landscape itself has started to breathe.

The glow is brightest near the very edge of the platform. From where he stands on the altar, it’s bearable, but up near where the cult members stand, it’s practically blinding. The brilliant light seems to swallow everything. Taranza feels himself shake.

But Flamberge, Zan Partizanne and Hyness don’t so much as flinch. They chant with more and more passion, their voices seeming to become one as they resound off the walls.

Then, a flash. A flash and an overwhelming, extraordinary noise. It’s a deafening ‘WOOSH!’ and a billow of energy that just about knocks Taranza to the ground.

But, barely, he catches himself, and when he peeks open his eyes, the radiant light has ceased. All that remains is the now once-again faint glow of the sigils on the floor. Even the whispers have receded.

Still, the three of them succeeded… for now they stand in front of a strange, swirling vortex. Each of them steps back, staring at it for a moment, before returning to the main altar and reconvening with Taranza.

Each of them is breathing heavily. Whatever ancient, no-doubt eldritch magic they used has taken a toll on their bodies.

Still, they seem satisfied. Flamberge wipes sweat from her brow.

“Been way too long since we’ve done something like that,” she pants. “Glad to see our dark magic still has some practical use.”

Taranza gazes into the portal, awed by its unearthly presence. The violet colors that make up its body swirl into a dark abyss— a gulf of pure nothingness that threatens to swallow anything that dares wander too close. 

“What… is that?” Taranza asks. “Will we be going in?”

“Void, no,” Flamberge says. “First of all, we won’t be doing anything, but second of all, don’t you even think about venturing in. We definitely won’t be seeing you again if you do that.”

“That portal leads to a space between dimensions,” Hyness explains. “A domain closer to the Hades which Morpho Knight inhabits. If it wishes to enter our world, then it will be able to do so through that. Of course, it would be able to access our world either way, but this is a passage deliberately conjured for it.” 

“Think of it a bit as a beacon,” Zan Partizanne explains. “A summoning. Now, Morpho Knight knows that it’s wanted. The only question that remains is if it will answer the call.”

Taranza nods. He… thinks all of that makes sense. 

He’s more grateful than ever he came to the Mage Sisters for assistance. Or- well, that they came to him offering it. Something tells him that this is something that wouldn’t have been able to be done in any other location— by any other people.

He bows his head and recites a silent prayer of his own. 

‘Please, Morpho Knight,’ he thinks. ‘They’ve helped me this much… so I’m begging you— answer my call. I’ll do anything.’

Shortly after, Francisca returns with the ‘Nruff’ she mentioned; which is to say a squealing, desperate animal. It thrashes in her arms, although she doesn’t dare yield, unblinking as she reconvenes with the group.

“I see you’ve already gone to the effort of opening the portal,” she says. “Wonderful. Then there’s only one last thing for us to do, I suppose.”

She makes her way towards the center of the altar, nodding her head at Zan Partizanne— a silent instruction.

Zan Partizanne nods back before retrieving something from her robes. It takes Taranza a moment to realize what it is, but as soon as he sees it glint in the purple light, it sinks in. It’s a dagger she’s retrieved. 

“What exactly is this?” He asks, cautiously approaching the group. “I thought you said we’d already created a beacon.”

“Yes,” Zan Partizanne says. “But it’s best to leave an offering as well— an incentive for Morpho Knight to answer our prayer and join us in this world. Do remember: it’s Death we’re dealing with here. There’s one way more proven than any other to coax it.”

…Ah, and so it’s a sacrifice. He supposes that makes sense, too. A tad gruesome, but if that’s the price that must be paid, then so be it. 

Zan Partizanne slits the Nruff’s throat and pins its head down. Briefly, it struggles, but just as soon falls still as blood loss takes its toll. Red seeps into the crevices of the altar and smears across the sigil. 

Carefully, Francisca lays the Nruff down. Then, the entire group turns towards Taranza.

“It’s best we go now,” Flamberge explains. “We’re going to want to be out of here before this thing dies. The rest is up to you, bud.”

Taranza bites down on his lip. Admittedly, he’s a little bit nervous to be left alone in a menacing place like this. The ominous crackle of the portal and the weak gasps of the Nruff are enough to make his blood run cold.

But he’s known since the start that this last part would be something he had to do solo. He can’t back down now. The Mage Sisters and Hyness have already done so much for him. He won’t take that for granted… especially not when Sectonia is depending on him.

A nod.

“Very well then. Be on your way. Thank you once more for assisting me with all of this. It well and truly means the world to me. I promise I’ll make the most of it.”

“I’m sure you will,” Flamberge says. “...Good luck. I really do hope you get what you want.”

“Be careful,” Zan Partizanne warns, “Don’t get cocky. Remember what you’re dealing with. And if you do need to back down, there’s no shame in that. There are people waiting for you. Please come home to them.”

And then, before Taranza can respond, she turns and skulks off… no doubt in hopes it will allow the severity of her words to sink in. 

Sink in they do. A knot sits in Taranza’s stomach as he watches her go. Still, he puts on a brave face and gestures to the others as they depart.

He’s alone.

The Divine Terminus is eerily quiet. Taranza’s heart thumps in his chest.

He looks towards the portal, but it doesn’t seem anything has shifted. It’s the same dark purple void it was minutes before, distorting the air around it, but yielding nothing as it swirls. 

His gaze flickers towards the Nruff. It’s stopped moving now, but still hasn’t died. Weakly, its chest rises and falls as blood spurts from its throat. 

He feels just a little bit guilty. It’s a sacrifice he’d make a thousand times over if it were necessary to resurrect Sectonia, but all the same, looking death in the eye like that is disquieting. Is the Nruff afraid?

…Was she? She had to be, didn’t she? Who wouldn’t be in those circumstances? Then again, maybe she didn’t even realize what was happening. It was all so fast. He hopes it didn’t hurt— that she died quickly— as opposed to having her death be a long, drawn out spectacle like this.

However… he knows there’s no chance of that. Even if her body perished quickly, Sectonia’s spirit died a slow, agonizing death. It’s not as if it happened all at once, her corruption. He witnessed it himself. She slipped through his fingers so gradually that he didn’t even realize until it was too late. She lost herself over the course of years, and she no doubt had no idea what was happening, either. She was paranoid and angry most days… probably scared out of her mind. She tried to mask it there near the end, but he saw the way she trembled with desperate adrenaline. Even her bravado couldn’t hide her suffering.

What a terrible fate. He can’t believe he subjected her to that. He didn’t mean to, of course, but all the same, he wishes he’d at least realized. Maybe if he’d destroyed the mirror, he could have intervened before things got so bad. Maybe she would have even gone back to the girl she used to be.

…He’s not sure. Either way, he feels responsible for her anguish. That’s why he’s here right now, trying to save her. It’s not just that he wants his friend back— although that certainly plays into it. It’s that he knows that he owes her. He put her through the most horrifying thing imaginable. That’s something he’s obligated to undo.

Eventually, the Nruff runs out of fight. As Taranza’s lost deep in thought, it gasps one final time, then goes limp. Its eyes glaze, and what was once alive is now nothing more than a corpse.

Once more, he looks towards the portal.

Is… nothing going to happen? It feels as if something should have changed by now. Where’s Morpho Knight? Surely it knows he’s calling out to it. Has it decided to turn its back on his plea?

A shiver runs down his spine. No. This can’t all have been for nothing. He’s desperate, and so please…-

Something comes through the portal.

At first, he fears it’s merely a trick of the light. The orange flicker is small enough to be mistaken for an ember. But as it flits closer, the sight is unmistakable. An unassuming, yet strangely brilliant, butterfly flutters through the air, passing Taranza by and landing on the now-deceased Nruff.

A white glow. Both it and its victim are swallowed by ethereal light. In front of Taranza’s eyes, the Nruff disappears. Whatever energy once sustained it is absorbed by Morpho Knight... and as Morpho Knight collects its debt, its body shifts. It grows to be more than a mere butterfly— sprouting hands and feet as it spreads glimmering wings.

When the light fades, there stands an Astral. Or at least… something that vaguely resembles one. Upon closer inspection, it’s clearly an imitation. The proportions are off. There’s an otherworldly sense to its piercing white eyes. This is a being unlike Meta Knight or even Kirby.

An unwitting shiver runs down Taranza’s spine. Suddenly, his whole body is trembling. The mere presence of the being is truly overwhelming. It’s as if his spirit itself is screaming for him to flee.

But he forces a breath, pushing down the air that feels trapped in his lungs. He ignores the thumping of his heart and the way his blood’s run cold. He cranes his neck, even despite fear, and looks Morpho Knight right in the eye.

“I have a plea for you.”

He doesn’t stammer. His voice doesn’t shake. He’s perhaps the most frightened he’s ever been, but exhilarated all the same. It’s as if the adrenaline transforms into sheer determination. Morpho Knight is really here. It’s standing in front of him. He wasn’t even sure he’d get that far, but he’s made it.

He’s one step closer to reuniting with the person who’s everything to him… quite literally his entire world.

“My queen-” he breathes.

Morpho Knight stops him right there.

“There is no need to elucidate,” it says in a voice that’s booming, yet a whisper. It’s as if a thousand spirits are speaking in harmony, a discordant chorus of souls. “I know why you’ve summoned me, Taranza.”

…It knows his name. There’s something so ominous about that. Simply hearing it said leaves his hairs standing on end. Still, he supposes it makes sense. Of course, it’s acquainted with him. It’s acquainted with everyone.

“If you know why I’ve called you, then do you intend to let me prove myself?” He asks, ears ringing. All at once, it’s as if he’s starving. Morpho Knight is right there. There’s an insatiable fire burning deep within his soul. “Do you intend to let me fight for my queen?”

Terror turns to anticipation turns to intoxication. He’s so close to what he craves, he can practically taste it. Eager tears well in his eyes.

‘Sectonia,’ he thinks. ‘Sectonia. I promise I’ll bring you home.’

But for all his fervor, Morpho Knight doesn’t so much as stir, and when it responds, its answer is the one thing Taranza was hoping he wouldn’t hear.

“No,” it says flatly. “I do not.”

Taranza’s heart plummets. His body tenses. His breath catches in his throat. He’s still trembling, but it’s not in a good way. He can hardly believe his ears.

“W- what do you mean!?” he asks, frantic. “No!? You- you can’t say no! Why did you come here if that’s your answer!? A- are you saying you don’t even intend to allow me to try and fight? Why not!?”

He blinks quickly. His eyes sting with tears. All at once, he’s hyperventilating. This can’t be happening. He was so excited to see Morpho Knight. Was it seriously all for nothing!?

“I cannot disrupt the cycle of life and death,” Morpho Knight says plainly. “Not for you, not for anyone. The sole reason I have ‘come here’ is to put an end to this absurdity. I knew you would not rest until I heeded your call, and so here it is— my response to your plea: what has happened has happened. There is no changing that. The sooner you accept that fundamental truth, the better. You must cease this fruitless endeavor.” 

No. Nononononono. It can’t be saying that. If death can’t help him— isn’t willing to, then what possibly could? That insinuates there’s nothing he can do. That this fate is set in stone. He can’t possibly accept that!

“Please,” he begs, tears trailing down his face now. He clasps his hands, desperate.  “Make an exception just this once! She… she wasn’t supposed to die! All of this only happened because of me. If I hadn’t… if I hadn’t messed up, then she’d still be alive. I condemned her to this! You must show mercy!”

“I ‘must’ do nothing,” Morpho Knight responds, eyes narrowing. “I am under no obligation to you or to anyone else. Your suffering is not unique. You are not the only person who feels you’ve been wronged. Everyone has regrets. I understand your sorrow, but I will not make an exception for you. You are the only person here who ‘must’ do anything, and what you must do is yield. You are wasting your breath.”

Taranza’s panicking now. He feels weak. His head spins. He searches desperately for some sort of argument as Morpho Knight stares at him with those cold, uncaring eyes.

“What- what about ‘Leon!?’ Kirby said you let him live! You allowed Kirby to fight for his soul! Why is he special!? There’s no reason I shouldn’t be able to do the same!”

“Leon,” Morpho Knight responds, “Was alive. He had not yet breathed his last. You are presenting a false equivalence.”

“What… what about Fecto Forgo, then!?” Taranza spits. “Kirby told us you allowed its spirit to escape you! That its essence lives on in its other half, Elfilin! That horrible thing died, didn’t it!? Its physical form was annihilated! Yet it lived on as a spectre!?”

“Fecto Forgo’s continued existence was an anomaly,” Morpho Knight says with a twitch of its wings. “That’s why I came to collect its soul. When it escaped me, however, I had no concerns. I knew that your ‘Kirby’ would take care of the problem. I did not need to hunt it because I knew he would. And as for Fecto Forgo’s ‘essence,’ there is none. Fecto Forgo as Kirby knew it has ceased to exist. It is no more than a piece of its other half’s spirit now. Its mind has been laid to rest.”

Taranza hates the way it talks to him. It’s looking down on him— he knows it is. It thinks he’s irrational, doesn’t it? It thinks he’s stubborn.

He can’t believe it’s saying the exact same things that the others were. He didn’t want to accept that they might be right. He really, really got his hopes up, only for them to be crushed.

…How stupid could he be?

“Please,” he repeats, now out of justification. He has no other argument— no intelligent thing he can say. All he can do is beg. “Please. Pleasepleasepleaseplease! You don’t understand! She’s everything to me!” A sob, then his voice is a wail. “I need her!”

He needs her and she needs him. She’s depending on this. H- he can’t fail. He’s already done so so many times before. He owes her her life— the life that was unfairly stolen from her! There’s so much she never got to do!

But Morpho Knight remains unmoved. Giving Taranza a pitying look, it murmurs, “You ‘need’ nothing,” before turning its back. It takes a step towards the portal. “You are nothing more than a naive fool with a selfish wish. A wish I will not grant. You’ve no choice but to move on. It’s that, or never truly live. I suppose ultimately it’s up to you,” Its wings twitch once more. “Either way, goodbye. I will not be telling you this again.”

With each clunk of its boots, Taranza feels more and more sick. Death creeps further and further away, and with it it takes Sectonia. It takes his hopes— what he thought might just be his miracle.

His lip trembles. His vision blurs with tears. Well and truly, Taranza feels inconsolable. It’s as if he’s about to faint.

Yet, as Morpho Knight spreads its wings and prepares to fly through the portal, he feels the tiniest hint of something. His grip on his blade tightens. His expression twists. Despair morphs into fury and defiance. 

And before he knows what he’s doing, he rushes the being. He shoots webs to block off the portal, then with all the force he can muster, he slices his sword across Morpho Knight’s unarmored back. 

Black ichor drips to the floor. 

For a moment, the Divine Terminus is utterly silent. Taranza is acutely aware he’s done something he cannot undo.

Still, he forces a snarl.

“You’re not getting away from me that easily,” he says, eyes narrowed— hands trembling. “I want a fight, and I will get one. I don’t care if you never intended to indulge me. I’m giving you no choice. Sectonia is my queen, and I will not be giving up on her so easily! I’ll rip her spirit from your hands by force if I must!”

It’s hard to breathe. Even now, his whole body is screaming for him to run. But he doesn’t dare budge. Even with angry, terrified tears welling in his eyes, he stands his ground.

…He knows he might die here. He’s aware now that this thing is much more powerful than he’ll ever be. But all the same, he couldn’t just let it leave, and so if he must die, then so be it. At least if he does, he’ll perhaps see…-

No. He shouldn’t be thinking like that. Zan Partizanne’s words ring in his ears as he shakes his head. He doesn’t intend to die. Not to the grim reaper. Not to anyone.

He’s coming out of here alive, and he’s taking Sectonia with him.

Morpho Knight’s wings twitch once, then twice. As its wounds close, slowly, it turns to face him… and when it does, its expression is no longer pitying. There’s anger behind those eyes. It no longer sees him as just a clueless, desperate mortal. Finally, it regards him as an opponent— an equal.

A sword manifests in its hands as it rises into the air. Threateningly, it spreads its wings.

“...You really don’t know when to quit, do you?” it asks, voice low and outraged. “I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this, but I suppose you leave me no choice…”

All at once, a raging fire surrounds the Divine Terminus. The stench of death fills the air.

“Very well, then! Try and prove yourself to me! I’ll make you regret your folly!”

Chapter Text

As the battle begins, Morpho Knight doesn’t so much as give Taranza a chance to react. It dives towards him with blinding speed, slicing his side and rushing by before looping back around. It gets another hit in on his shoulder, ripping through his shirt and leaving deep gashes in his skin. Then, it attempts to strike him head on, lunging for his chest with a merciless precision.

Just barely, though, Taranza deflects. He leaps back, blocking its sword with his own. The force with which it attacks is enough to thrust his blade away near-instantly, but at the very least, he’s not hit again. 

He trembles, but blinks the tears from his eyes. Now isn’t the time to be afraid. He has to focus!

He unleashes a blast of Soul energy, attempting to knock Morpho Knight back and put space between them. He has experience fighting those who use melee weapons, and as a magician, he’s well aware his best bet is to whittle it down from far away. He’ll still have to keep its mastery of hellfire in mind, but he isn’t nearly as afraid of that as he is of its otherworldly blade. 

As soon as the Soul energy dissipates, he fires two orbs of pure magic at Morpho Knight— trying to disorient it. With wings beating, though, it’s only phased for a second. It fires two crescent-shaped shots from its sword, then vanishes as he puts up a mystical shield.

Taranza’s heart pounds. His gaze flickers. He fears for a moment that Morpho Knight’s left, but soon realizes he can still sense its presence. It’s hiding somewhere, waiting for him to let his guard down.

A sudden whoosh from behind him. Having teleported where he couldn’t see, Morpho Knight pounces, slashing at his back. It slices one, two, three times. Taranza attempts to whirl around, but only ends up getting struck from the front. He’s tossed to the floor by the force of the blow.

His vision swims. He grits his teeth. Already, his body is sore. But Taranza doesn’t slow down, putting up yet another shield as Morpho Knight swings its sword. His hands shake, but he refuses to buckle. He stands, darts to the side, and then swerves towards Morpho Knight. 

He motions to slash at it, but as it raises its sword to parry, he fires a web. He wraps it in magical silk before grabbing a hold of the makeshift cocoon. Morpho Knight is far from fully constricted, but he’s at least able to fling it into the air, volleying balls of spectral energy at it as he does. 

The web rips as Morpho Knight flares its wings. The air vibrates, and a horrible, disconcerting sound rings out, loud enough to feel as if it’s piercing Taranza’s skull. 

His vision swims. He stumbles. Suddenly, he doesn’t know where he is. He’s acutely aware he’s in a fight, but for just a split-second he doesn’t remember why. He can’t piece his thoughts together. The smell of smoke is overwhelming. His body is weak and dizzy. Why does his mouth taste like rot?

A hard impact. The breath is knocked from his chest. He feels a sharp pain as something slices open his chest, then he’s sent flying. He tumbles through fire, body burning. He gasps with pain. It’s agonizing. He hasn’t felt something that seared like this since… since…-

That’s right! All at once, he comes to his senses. It’s as if lightning flows through his veins. He catches himself as he arcs towards the other side of the Divine Terminus, just barely able to avoid striking the floor.

Sectonia. That’s why he’s here— what he’s doing. He’s come to receive his miracle. To save her! Bring her back from being that person!

His vision clears. He shakes his head. He can’t believe Morpho Knight was able to disorient him that badly for a moment. No doubt it used powerful Soul magic to wrench control of his body and addle his mind, but lucky for him, sentiment was enough to snap him out of it… and two can play at that game.

Gripping his sword, he leaps towards the flames. He uses its frosty blade to slice a path through the blazing wall and back into the arena. He adjusts his scarf with one hand, patting down the spot where it’s singed at the edges, and uses his other hands to conjure ethereal puppet strings.

They snare Morpho Knight’s wrists and ankles. Then, while it’s momentarily shackled, Taranza fires yet another volley of magical orbs at it before rushing in and slicing its side. It lets out a startled grunt.

Still, it’s not restrained for long. Flaring its wings once more, it snaps the puppet strings as easily as it did his silk, a hot white glow in its eyes.

Barely, Taranza is able to leap back in time to avoid its sound wave attack. The horrible noise still echoes through the Divine Terminus, but it doesn’t drill through his skull or distort his mind. He heaves a sigh of relief.

Not that that means he can let his guard down for long. Morpho Knight disappears once more, and while he whips around, prepared to meet an attack from behind, it strikes him with a force he wasn’t ready for, sending him tumbling. He sputters for breath.

Morpho Knight takes ample advantage of the opportunity, launching into the air, firing three crescent shaped shots at him, then swooping, sword held out and prepared to slice open his vulnerable body. He only manages to save himself at the last second, rolling out of the way, desperately sitting up and wrenching a replica Dreamstalk from the ground, hitting Morpho head on and briefly disorienting it.

While it’s reeling, he launches another barrage of webs, attempting to restrain it as he darts away. He circles the edge of the arena and fires orbs of magic. 

It shakes itself loose, chasing after before vanishing into air. This time, Taranza is prepared to meet it, a blast of pure energy exploding around him as it reappears. 

Morpho Knight is knocked back, and Taranza once again takes the opportunity to run. His lungs burn, but he continues to fire magical shots.

Morpho Knight shakes its head, easily darting out of the way of his attacks, before teleporting to the other side of the arena. 

Taranza’s unsure of what it’s doing at first, but its intentions just as soon become apparent. Its sword splits into two, then lengthens, becoming two unfathomably large blades. They easily stretch the entire length of the arena— looming over him. He’s able to dodge out of the way of the first as Morpho Knight slams it down, but he’s not so lucky as to avoid the second. It hits him head on, leaving a wound running from his cheek to his abdomen as he’s slammed to the ground. Then, without mercy, Morpho Knight brings down its swords twice more, this time to his sides. 

Fire erupts from the ground where it leaves ragged gashes in the stone, creating a towering wall of flames that surrounds Taranza. It quickly closes in on him, threatening to immolate him outright if he doesn’t move. 

His body screams as he forces himself to rise. Hemolymph drenches his clothes, leaving even his precious scarf sticky and wet. His vision blurs, this time with no outside force contorting his mind. His mouth tastes like death, and he can no longer tell if it’s merely a byproduct of Morpho Knight’s presence or a sign that something is very, very wrong.

Still, he leaps forward, just barely avoiding the inferno as it closes in on him, heart throbbing in his ears. He ignores the way the world briefly flashes black and casts a healing spell— hoping the impromptu effort will be enough to at least get him by. 

Morpho Knight offers him no such respite, though, stabbing its sword into the ground as fiery tornadoes swirl across the battlefield. Taranza’s given no opportunity to stitch his wounds, once again forced to focus on dodging. At this point, he can barely even get in an attack.

Now, more than ever, his flight instinct kicks in. There’s a primal sort of fear as smoke chokes his lungs and hemolymph drips down his chin. 

‘RUN!’ his brain screams. ‘RUN!’ 

It’s not too late— Morpho Knight would probably be willing to spare him if he surrendered. He’d have to beg, maybe, but surely he could escape with his life by yielding. He could get away from the agonizing pain and the horrible stench of death.

The mere thought only steels his resolve all the more, though. As terror propels him, he thinks ‘Is this what she felt?’ and is once again certain.

She experienced something awful, unfair and cruel. He has to make it up to her.

He manages to stop the bleeding some, teeth grit, but he’s growing exhausted as he evades the neverending onslaught. His mind races and he trembles with desperate adrenaline. He assesses the situation. 

This clearly isn’t working. It’s as if he’s hardly even left a scratch on Morpho Knight. Each wound he’s opened has long since healed. It swoops effortlessly around the battlefield with the same ease it did at the start of their battle. He’s not going to win this as a war of attrition. 

He’s got to change tactics. 

If it can heal, then he has to ramp up the speed of his attacks. His best bet is to overwhelm it. For all of its otherworldly presence, it clearly isn’t completely invulnerable. Not only did Kirby defeat it, but Taranza’s managed to take it by surprise several times now. If he can catch it with its guard down, perhaps he can unleash an onslaught on it. He just has to find an opportunity.

He’s well aware that he risks taking a serious blow by focusing on offense, but all the same, his careful ‘slow-and-steady’ method has more than proven it isn’t going to work. If he keeps up what he’s currently doing, he’ll run out of either energy or hemolymph long before he can defeat Morpho Knight, and so, risky or not, it’s not as if he has much of a choice.

He searches for an opening. Morpho Knight is extremely agile, and so it’s not easy… but eventually he finds what he thinks might just be his chance. Morpho Knight fires a volley of crescent shots at him, then dives, sword extended as it lunges his way. 

Taranza has no doubt Morpho Knight expects him to either dodge or block— it’s what he’s done this entire fight, after all. And for a moment, Taranza does feign shrinking back, but just as soon as Morpho Knight is upon him, he leaps forward full force. 

His sword clashes with its and he unleashes a blast of powerful magical energy, launching it into the air. But instead of taking the opportunity to get away like he did in previous scenarios where he stunned Morpho Knight, he continues the assault. He launches webs into its eyes, blinding it, then rushes by and slices at it with his sword, aiming directly for its wings. 

He plunges his weapon into his back before attempting to bind it. Firing even more webs, he catches Morpho Knight in his net, flinging it full force towards the floor. Then, he pounces just as soon as Morpho Knight frees itself, sword arcing towards its face.

Morpho Knight’s blade meets his, though, blocking his attack, and just as soon as Morpho Knight was in his grasp, it’s gone. It vanishes, leaving Taranza alone to anticipate where it’ll strike from next. 

He prepares a burst of magical energy, but isn’t ready as Morpho Knight reappears right in front of him far faster than he expected, slashing at his face. Then, pulling its weapon back, it launches him into the air, sending him tumbling. 

This time, it doesn’t wait for him to hit the floor. Instead, rushing by, it slices at him once— twice, before catapulting him even further up. Taranza gasps helplessly for breath. 

From there, it’s a volley of blows. Morpho Knight strikes him a third time. A fourth. A fifth. It’s as if it’s assailing him from all sides. Faster than the eye can see, it slices him mercilessly, practically mincing him with a brutal precision. 

Taranza screams. As he feels Morpho Knight rip open wound after wound after wound, he attempts to put up a shield, but he just can’t find the opportunity. Its attacks are too swift. His head spins as his body goes limp. His vision blurs.

Then, after what feels like an onslaught that will never end, Morpho Knight raises its sword far above its head, sending Taranza flying towards the floor. He impacts with it hard, a cloud of dust exploding around him as he hears something crack. 

Was that the ground or his body? He can’t tell.

Taranza lies in a puddle of his own hemolymph. By now, his vision doesn’t just blur— it’s swimming. He fades in and out of consciousness, unable to breathe as his head throbs. Feebly, he gasps.

No. Nonono. This can’t be happening. 

With what little strength he has left, he pushes himself from the ground. Trembling, he staggers towards Morpho Knight.

By now, it’s touched down on the ground. It doesn’t so much as blink as he lurches its way. With cold, unimpressed eyes, it’s clear it no longer sees him as a threat.

“...What are you doing?” it asks flatly. “Can’t you see you’ve lost?”

“N- no I haven’t,” Taranza chokes, coughing desperately for breath. “I still need to-”

“You need to do nothing!”

Morpho Knight rushes towards Taranza, once more slashing at him and sending him tumbling to the ground. Then, it grabs him by his collar, pulls him in close and presses its sword to his throat.

“I can’t help you,” it growls. “This was a wasted effort from the start. If you submitted, perhaps you could have escaped with your life, but you refused, and now you’re just going to join your friend. Are you satisfied with that? Did you get what you wanted?”

Taranza hears whispers. Spectral butterflies flit at the edges of his vision. He can hardly see. His body feels heavy and cold.

Morpho Knight’s breath is hot on his face. His wounds ache as they press against his ravaged clothes. By now, his heartbeat isn’t deafening. Instead, it’s a dull, unsteady thump.

Did he really fail? After all of the stake he put in this? He resolved he’d get his way, but what is he supposed to do now? He can barely even move. Is Morpho Knight right? Is he going to die for nothing? Perhaps that’s what he deserves after Sectonia died for the same, but even so, the mere thought makes his body tremble. 

What…- what are his friends going to think? They’re going to be upset with him— angry, even— aren’t they? They told him this would happen… he just didn’t want to believe it. But they were right, weren’t they? He’s just. Not. Good enough.

He’s just weak, foolish Taranza.

Still, even with Morpho Knight’s blade pressed to his throat, it’s not just fear or even self-pity that Taranza feels. There’s still a sense of bitterness burning deep within him. This isn’t fair. He deserved better. He doesn’t want to die like this. Then, he’ll be no-one’s hero. Just another casualty. 

He…- he can’t. He won’t accept that. Maybe he is foolish, but all the same, he wants his happy ending. He’s fought so, so hard for a miracle! He won’t let anyone— not even death take that away from him now!

Once more, puppet strings shackle Morpho Knight’s limbs, but this time with twice the intensity. Its eyes widen as it releases Taranza’s shirt, then staggers back, movements unsteady and awkward. Its wings flare with surprise. 

It struggles to break free, but Taranza puts all of his waning focus into maintaining his grip on it. It takes all of his energy just to do so. His head throbs as his spirit and mind clashes with its. The whispers grow louder. He can tell he’s contesting with something truly otherworldly, but all the same, this is a battle he’s not willing to lose.

“Of course I’m not satisfied!” he gasps. “And of course I haven’t gotten what I wanted! But that’s exactly why I can’t surrender! I told you what I desired, and I’m getting it!”

Abruptly, Morpho Knight’s hand jerks. At Taranza’s command, it flings its sword to the side, a clatter echoing as it skids across the floor. 

For a second time, Taranza forces himself to rise. He crouches and picks up Morpho Knight’s sword. 

His vision’s still swimming. His body feels drained as he drags it along. Still, he staggers towards Morpho Knight, attempting to heal his wounds as much as he can with what little time he has. 

Then, he lunges.

He swings its blade wildly. It’s an onslaught based on pure adrenaline and anger. There’s no ‘strategy’ to it— just him, the sword that feels unfathomably heavy, and the force which he hates more than anything: Death. He strikes it as hard as he can, taking his anger out on his opponent, and although the puppet strings soon break, something else fractures as well. A bloodthirsty swing, then a snap. 

Two orange halves clatter to the ground.

Morpho Knight’s mask— he broke it. 

Taranza freezes. He gets a glimpse of Morpho Knight’s face… or more aptly, its lack of one. With no visor concealing it, the illusion shatters. Those piercing white eyes were nothing more than a mirage. Its actual face…-

A dark vortex of agonized souls. Expressions warped with misery. Constantly shifting, yet invariably petrifying all the same. Taranza gazes into a horrifying, eldritch abyss. He looks that which is actually death in the eye— no mirage shields him. He wonders if within that abyss is the spirit of the person he loves. 

His blood runs cold. Still, though, he moves. He’s all the more determined. He knows this is his one chance, and so he slashes at Morpho Knight’s ghastly face before tackling it to the floor. Briefly, they tumble, then he pins it. His body presses against its as puppet strings once more shackle its wrists.

Briefly, it struggles, but when it doesn’t manage to escape, Taranza lets out a snarl. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, voice cold, “Can’t you see you’ve lost?”

Morpho Knight’s wings twitch. For a brief moment, the vortex stirs, but then it falls still. The faces disappear and all that’s left is a black void.

 With a sigh, Morpho Knight lowers its head to the ground.

“Very well, then,” it says. “I yield.”

In a flash, it vanishes from under Taranza. It reappears to his side, mask once again concealing its face. It snaps its fingers and its sword disappears, fading from Taranza’s grip.

“You… yield?” Taranza repeats, hesitant. He can hardly even believe what he’s hearing.

“While I cannot truly be defeated, you bested me in this battle. You surprised me. That is not something that happens often. It’s rare a mortal gets the better of me. Your spirit must truly be something special. As such, I see no point in continuing this fruitless affair. We’ve reached a stalemate. You’re earned your survival.”

Once more, Morpho Knight is looking at Taranza the way it did at the start of the battle. There’s a begrudging respect to its gaze. 

“My survival,” Taranza says, head spinning. He squints. His vision has begun to clear some now that the battle’s ended and he can heal himself, but all the same, he’s admittedly disoriented. “...And hers too, correct?”

Morpho Knight’s quiet for a long moment. Slowly, that reverential expression fades. With pitying eyes, it shakes its head.

“I’m afraid not.”

Taranza’s heart-rate spikes. He glares as he sits up.

“What do you mean ‘I’m afraid not!?’” He asks, clawing at the ground. “I defeated you fair and square! I did exactly what you demanded of me!”

“I demanded nothing of you,” Morpho Knight responds. “Last I checked, it was the other way around. I never once told you that if you defeated me I would grant your wish. That is an idea you came up with. Your victory was impressive, but all the same, I cannot help you.”

Taranza rises.

“T- then we’re not done here!” he spits. “This fight isn’t over! I’ll-”

“No,” Morpho Knight interjects. “I will not be humoring this. I am no longer interested in punishing you for your insolence. You may be strong, mortal, but you’d best remember you cannot force me to do anything. And besides, even if I wanted to assist you, don’t you understand the meaning of that word? When I say ‘I cannot,’ I mean ‘I cannot.’ It is not that I am choosing to spurn you. I’m incapable of doing what you ask of me.”

“I meant what I said when I told you there is a very careful balance between life and death,” it continues. “That balance cannot be disrupted. Not by me— not by anyone. What Death has taken, it cannot safely return. That is the unfortunate truth of our reality. I sympathize with your plight, and I respect your resolve, but there is nothing that can be done. The sooner you accept that, the sooner your own spirit will be allowed to heal.” It turns— shakes its head. “I am sorry.”

“Go home,” it says. “Recuperate, then leave this awful place. I hope, if nothing else, you have found closure. Now, you know you’ve done everything you could have. Rest easy, knowing that fact.”

‘…Rest easy,’ it says. What a joke! How is he supposed to rest easy knowing that!? He doesn’t want to hear he did everything he could! That means he’s out of options! If Death can’t help Sectonia, no-one can. There’s nothing else he can try. She’s just gone. Forever! And no matter where he looks, he won’t find his miracle!

Tears well in his eyes. He chokes back a sob. He fought the grim reaper and won, and it still wasn’t enough? He can’t believe it. All of his friends were right. They’re going to say ‘I told you so.’ They’re going to say ‘You did this for nothing.’ ‘We all knew you’d fail from the start, Taranza, and you should have, too.’

That’s not fair! It’s not Sectonia’s fault she died! This is all because of him! He’s the one who got her killed! It was his mistake that drove her mad— ruined her life. Why is she the one who has to suffer for that? 

He’s a murderer and there’s nothing he can do to absolve himself.

Taranza trembles. He feels dizzy as Morpho Knight steps away. It tells him to accept this, but how can he? Maybe he doesn’t want his spirit to heal!

…His spirit. 

His breath catches in his throat, and before he even knows what he’s doing, he reaches out a hand.

“WAIT! What if I made you a trade!?”

At that, Morpho Knight stops. 

Inquisitive, it turns back towards Taranza.

“A trade?” it repeats.

Nodding, Taranza responds, “W- what if I offered up my own spirit!? You said that you can’t bring her back because it would disrupt the balance of the universe, correct? Then what about a soul for a soul? T- to even things out. You said that my spirit had to be something special, didn’t you!? Then surely it has to be strong enough to allow for her resurrection!”

His breaths quicken. He’s not even fully sure what he’s saying. The words just come out. In one last, desperate, ditch effort, he tries the very last thing he can think of. 

And to his surprise, Morpho Knight doesn’t refuse him outright.

Instead, gaze flickering his way, it asks, “You’re aware of what would happen to you without a soul, correct?”

“I’d… die, I’m sure,” Taranza mutters. “But that’s okay. I…-”

He hesitates. Can he really say that with confidence? Is he content to give up his life? It’s only fair, he thinks, seeing as how he’s the one who got Sectonia killed, but all the same, the thought does scare him just a little. What would his friends think? Would they be angry? He’d hate to hurt them.

But it’s not like he’ll have done what they expected him to, is it? They were afraid he was going to throw his life away for nothing… that he was going to get killed for something meaningless. This would be the opposite of meaningless. He’d be trading his life for the most precious, irreplaceable thing possible. He’d be repaying his debt.

‘…How would they treat her?’ he has to wonder. Would they be unkind to Sectonia? Would they think this was her fault? He likes to think they wouldn’t, but it’s hard to know for sure. And what would she think? They were friends once upon a time, correct? How would she feel if he were to die? Would she blame herself? Be angry with him? She’d have to, right? If she were herself, then surely-

Herself. Stars, it’s selfish, but he really does want to see her again… the Sectonia that he remembers. He wants to see her smile. He wants to hear her laugh. He wants to bury his face in her shoulder and tell her she was gone for far too long. Then, he wants to wipe the tears from her eyes and say that it’s okay, though. That she’s going to be alright. He wants to tell her she’s home now and she has nothing else to worry about.

He wants their happy ending.

Is there really no way to achieve that? He’ll… make the sacrifice if that’s what it comes down to, but, surely, there has to be another way. What if…-

Wait. A memory. Something he hadn’t considered before crosses his mind. His mouth feels dry. His heart races. Maybe there is another way.

“W- what about half of my soul!?”

At that, Morpho Knight cocks its head. 

Incredulous, it asks, “Half of your soul?”

“It’s… it’s possible, isn’t it!? For one spirit to sustain two beings? That thing Kirby fought! It split into two different people, and that didn’t disrupt the cycle of life and death! Surely you could do the same to me… split my soul in half and offer it up to her! That way we could both live. Like those things did!”

“‘Those things,’” Morpho Knight says prudently, “Were borne of a truly incredible magic being. Elfilis’s soul was remarkable.”

“Mine is, too, though, isn’t it!?” Taranza asks. “You said I did something special— that almost no mortal had bested you before, but I did! That has to count for something. I’ve always been a prodigy at magic. Surely that means my spirit shines bright!”

“...You heard what state Elfilis’s halves were left in, correct?” Morpho Knight asks. “The smaller one lost its memories. It couldn’t feel anything but shallow kindness. The larger was left in an even more pitiable condition. It, quite literally, could not survive without the aid of the prison its captors left it in. It was unable to feel anything except misery, fear and malice. Even if I were to perform a more even split— with luck keeping your mind and feelings in-tact— you’d no doubt be left an echo of what you once were.”

“You are offering up half of your very being,” it says. “Your lifeforce. Your strength. Your magic. You’d likely lose almost all spellcasting abilities you have. You’d be fatigued, easily injured and weak. No doubt, you’d die young, your vitality itself stolen from you by a person you could just as easily leave behind. Are you really okay with that?”

Taranza can’t believe what he’s hearing. Not just the fact that Morpho Knight genuinely seems to be considering his offer, but that it still somehow has the ignorance to ask him if that’s a sacrifice he’s willing to make. Has it not already seen the lengths he’d go to? The risks he’s taken, even knowing they might not pay off? Of course he’s okay with that. He’d be willing to sacrifice anything! At least as long as…-

“She would be herself, right?” he asks, voice slightly quieter. “You could return her to what she was? I’d still do it if you couldn’t, but…”

Admittedly, the thought is a little bit frightening. Sectonia was unhappy like that, wasn’t she? He doesn’t want to make her suffer. If he’s only going to have half of his power, would he really be able to help her? He wants to believe there’s a way to undo what was done to her, but he’s not sure, and that perturbs him.

“I can remove the rot,” Morpho Knight responds. “Which is to say, yes, I can purge her soul. What I cannot do, however, is undo what she’s done and become. Even without the decay, she’ll no doubt be affected by the things that happened to her… which is to say ‘irreversibly changed.’ She’ll forever carry the memory of what she’s done and the feelings she felt doing those things. She may not be the person you remember or are hoping to see. Is that something you’re alright with? Are you still willing to pay the monumental price?”

“Of… course,” Taranza says, and he hardly even has to think it through. What is Morpho Knight even saying? Of course things will be a little bit different, he’s aware of that, but she’ll still be his Sectonia— his Joronia— deep down! He’d accept her in any way, shape or form. That much he’s sure of. All that matters is that she won’t have something else twisting her feelings and manipulating her thoughts anymore.

“I see,” Morpho Knight says. “I must admit, that’s an answer that puzzles me, but I accept your offer nevertheless. Just this once, I will assist. Usually, this isn’t something I’d be willing to do, but I’m curious to see how this will play out… and you’re right when you say you have a truly shining spirit. I just hope that it will continue to shine after this, and that you won’t come away from it with regrets.”

‘Not in a million years,’ Taranza thinks. He could never, ever regret this. After failure, after failure, after failure, after failure, he’s finally going to be able to see his most important person again. He’s going to get to tell her that he’s sorry! That he loves her! And a thousand other things he never got to say! This is more than he ever could have possibly asked for. He doesn’t care what it does to him. He’s certain his spirit will only shine brighter, at least figuratively, with his best friend and queen by his side.

“Thank you,” he says. “Thank you.” And then, there are tears welling in his eyes. He wipes them away, though, and lets out a giddy laugh. “Thank you so much! I don’t know how I can ever make it up to you! But I won’t regret this, I promise!”

Morpho Knight hardly seems moved by his gratitude. Its wings twitch.

“You’re ready, then?” it asks. “...I can do what you ask whenever you’d like. Perhaps it would be best if you healed yourself first. This could be difficult on your body.”

Truthfully, though, Taranza can hardly even feel his injuries, and not just because he got the opportunity to patch them up some. He’s on cloud nine— the most impatient he’s ever been. At most, he’s just fatigued, and even that seems to be drowned out by anticipation.

It doesn’t matter that he’s injured. It doesn’t matter if this hurts. He can take care of all of that later. As of right now, though, he just wants to get Sectonia back as soon as possible. It’s been so long! He doesn’t want to have to wait a moment more! 

Admittedly, he’d have preferred to look a little more dashing— his clothes are shredded, he’s covered in hemolymph, and his hair is no doubt a mess— but there’s nothing that can be done about that. He doesn’t want to leave to get changed… what if Morpho Knight were to change its mind!? That’s something he absolutely cannot risk. Just this once, he’ll have to forgo being well-groomed. He can only hope Sectonia will understand.

…Sectonia. Sectonia. Stars, he can hardly believe it! He’s really going to get to see her again. He feels nervous and giddy and proud all at once. He has no idea how this will go—  what she’ll think of him— but that’s alright. Because at least she’ll be there. She’ll be alive and breathing and able to smile. He’ll have saved her— the person he killed.

“I’m ready,” Taranza says, giving a smile and a nod.

“Very well then,” Morpho Knight says. “Brace yourself. Like I said: I have a feeling this may hurt.”

Then, it plunges its hand into Taranza’s chest.

His eyes widen. Briefly, he questions how it’s so easily able to reach through his skin as if it’s not there at all, but he’s just as soon distracted by a sharp, overpowering sensation. His body locks as he feels Morpho Knight take a hold of something deep within him. 

His jaw drops. Involuntarily, he spasms.

He’s not even sure how to describe it. It doesn’t hurt— that’s not the right word— but it paralyzes him. It feels as if Morpho Knight has seized all that he is, and as it starts to pull, he can’t help but choke. 

Taranza’s body is electrified. 

His spirit strains. Desperately, it tries to resist the tug, and as it does, it’s stretched thin. He feels dizzy— has to fight for breath. It takes all of his strength just not to fall to the floor. It’s like nothing he’s ever experienced. 

Morpho Knight yanks, ripping its hand out of his chest. For a brief moment more, there’s a tautness, then something snaps. Taranza convulses as the most intense feeling yet wracks his body. His vision flashes white. A sharp sensation streaks through his temple. He lets out something between a gasp and a scream. 

…But, then, the feeling stops, and once again, Taranza can move.

Even so, though, it’s as if he can’t catch his breath. His body feels heavy. Weakly, he shivers, now acutely aware of an emptiness inside of him. And no wonder, for when his eyes flit towards Morpho Knight, he can see it clearly… 

It succeeded. Held in the palm of its hand is the other half of his soul.

It’s a small, glowing thing. Mostly yellow with a purple core. It burns and flickers, looking almost like a strange ember as it sways in Morpho Knight’s grasp. Part of Taranza is surprised that something like that was actually inside of him, but another part of him recognizes it innately… all-too-aware of the absence of its warmth. 

A snap of Morpho Knight’s fingers, and something else appears. Another soul manifests in its opposite hand. 

This one is dark. There’s almost no glow to it. If Taranza squints, he swears he can see glimpses of the same yellow-purple shades, but they’re almost too dull to make out. They’ve been swallowed by an inky blackness… an insatiable shadow that overwhelms and muddies everything around it.

He feels a shiver run down his spine. 

But Morpho Knight closes its palm, and as it does, dark particles slip through its fingers. A soft glow as, slowly, it returns the corrupt soul to what it once was.

Or at least… a fragment of it. When Morpho Knight opens its palm, a tiny, pitiful thing rests within it. Even just half of Taranza’s soul dwarfs the paltry shred of Sectonia that remains. 

It flickers dimly, colors dull and lackluster.

Taranza feels tears well in his eyes. Is that really all that’s left? That’s what he made her? A sick, guilty feeling as it struggles to burn. He can’t believe he did this. That he came so close to killing everything that she was. 

If she hadn’t died when she did, would there have even been anything for him to save? Or would even this have been impossible? Just how close did she come to being devoured entirely? Asphyxiating out of existence? 

‘Ohhhh, Sectonia,’ he thinks, biting down on his lip. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.’

But she’s still there— his intrepid queen. Despite everything, the littlest part of her remains. She must have fought so hard. She must have suffered so much. 

He promises that after this, he’ll never let her suffer again. He’ll protect her. He’ll ensure that she’s happy and safe. As much as seeing this hurts, it only strengthens his resolve all the more. Now he’s sure he made the right choice.

Morpho Knight brings the two souls together, and gingerly, the larger swathes the smaller one. It cradles it, once again giving it form, and then, finally, it’s able to burn. It burns bright— brighter and brighter— lifting up into the air, then starts to shift. 

It takes the shape of a person… or, well, a hundred different people. Sectra, Papillon, Mantidae… it shifts between them and many others— each and every body Sectonia stole— before finally settling. Six hands emerge from the light. Long, curved horns come into view. 

Tears well in Taranza’s eyes. Lip trembling, his heart swells. As the light fades, an Arachnid is revealed… an Arachnid he’d recognize anywhere. Who’s irreplaceable, unforgettable, breathtaking… and after all these years, she’s home.

He stares at her face— the face he never thought he’d see again— the face of his beautiful spider, and feels his heart race. It’s actually her, isn’t it? The woman he fell in love with, as opposed to the person she thought she had to become. 

He can’t believe it. She’s here!

As she’s lowered to the ground, he rushes to catch her. It doesn’t matter how weak he is— it’s just second nature. He could be bleeding out and he’d still come to cushion her fall. 

Her eyes haven’t opened yet, but as he touches her, she’s warm. Undeniably, her chest rises and falls. Whimpering, he buries his face in her shoulder and pulls her in close. 

He takes it all in: the floral perfume scent of her soft, silky hair and the warm sensation of her familiar, fuzzy body. He basks in it, sniveling, before forcing himself to pull away. Then, he gives her a gentle shake.

“Sectonia,” he whispers. “Sectonia.”

Initially, it’s almost the words ‘Joronia’ that leave his lips, but he stops himself. ‘No. Not yet,’ he thinks. As happy as he is to see the person he remembers, Sectonia is the name she was going by when he last saw her. Even if she changed it while she wasn’t in her right mind, he’ll respect that, at least until told otherwise.

And besides, it’s not like something like that actually matters. He doesn’t care what she’s called! All that’s important is that she’s here.

A quiet, disoriented groan. Almost too low to hear at first, but then slightly louder. Sectonia stirs, face bunching, before, blearily, her eyes flutter.

“Ta… ranza?” she asks, confused.

He nods, giving her a teary smile. Even just hearing her voice feels unreal. It’s scratchy and soft— the intonation of a voice that hasn’t been used in years, but it’s hers. 

Oh, what a miraculous sound. 

“Yeah,” he says. “It’s me.”

“What’s…-?” Sectonia squints, tensing just slightly. “Where am I? Why are you…-?” she drifts off, then, suddenly, tears away. Her tone is shrill and panicked as she asks, “Where’s that thing!?”

“What thing?” Taranza asks, concerned but gentle. 

“Th… the-” Sectonia trembles, eyes narrowing. “The pink thing. The hero. The insurgence. It…-” abruptly, her gaze flickers. “Wait. No. You… you helped it,” she murmurs, tense and suspicious. “W- why did you help it? What did I…-?” She stares at Taranza for a moment, as if trying to process something. Then, with a gasp, she pulls back further, asking, “D- did I do that!? Why would I…-!?” 

She covers her mouth with her hands, blinking back tears. When she next speaks, her words are hushed but desperate. 

“What’s going on!?”

It only makes sense she’s confused. The last thing she remembers is fighting Kirby, betraying Taranza, and getting betrayed in return. When all of that happened, she was in a different body. She had a different mind. She was running on mania, anger, and adrenaline, and not only that, but she died. 

This all must be very disconcerting and scary.

Hovering closer, Taranza says, “Hey, hey. Everything’s okay. There’s no need to panic. I can explain everything. The hero isn’t here right now. You’re safe.”

But Sectonia doesn’t seem to relax. In fact, she looks cornered. As Taranza approaches, she edges away, eyes wide and mouth agape. Her hands quiver.

“D- don’t…-” 

Her voice is quiet and weak.  

Taranza stops, frowning… and as he does, he comes to a harrowing realization. The way she’s looking at him, the way she’s shaking…

Is Sectonia afraid of him?

“W- wait… I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispers. “I’m sorry about what I did, but please don’t…-” a lump in his throat. Ultimately, all he can bring himself to do is repeat it, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

But as he does, Sectonia looks startled. She stares with watery eyes.

“That’s not…- why would I…? I’m not-” she stumbles over her words, eyes narrowing, before shaking her head. Then, she says louder, “I’m not scared of you! That’s not what I…- you’re not answering my question!” Pointing a trembling finger, she asks, “Did I do that!? Tell me! O- oh stars… why did I do that?” She clutches her head. “What’s wrong with me!?”

It takes Taranza a moment to process what she’s even talking about, but as his gaze drifts down, it sinks in. His hemolymph soaked shirt, torn cape and wounded body… she’s assuming they’re the result of something she did. From her perspective, she just attacked him. If she was willing to launch him off a balcony, after all, what else would she be willing to do?

“H- hey! No. Nonononono,” he reassures, creeping forward. “You didn’t…- you have the wrong idea. I- I’m okay, and you’re not the one who did this to me.”

He searches for Morpho Knight, but it’s already gone. It slipped away while he was occupied, having done its job and more. Taranza supposes it makes sense, but all the same, he wishes it had stuck around for just a little bit longer. That would certainly make explaining all of this easier.

Because it’s clear Sectonia doesn’t believe him. She stares at him with suspicious, frantic eyes as she responds, “B- but I remember it! I-”

“You attacked me,” Taranza confirms. 

“W- why!?” Sectonia asks. “I didn’t want to…- I wouldn’t have wanted to…- why did I want to do that!? I- I hated you so much. Why did I hate you so much? I-”

“Sectonia,” Taranza says. “It’s okay. Please, just let me explain. Yes, you attacked me, but you didn’t do this, and you had your reasons. You’re not going to hurt me. I know you’re not going to hurt me, and so I’m begging you… let me help.”

He hovers forward— takes one of her hands and strokes it with his thumb.

“You’re going to be alright.”

It’s only as he touches her that she actually seems to take a good look at her hands. Her eyes widen. She breathes a sharp breath.

“I’m…-” she trembles, and for a moment, she almost seems ready to tear away again. But then, with a nod and a whimper, she begs, “P- please do explain. I… I don’t know what’s going on. None of this makes any sense…”

Wiping at her eyes, she hangs her head.

Taranza wonders where the best place to begin is. Truthfully, he didn’t really think it through. He thinks some part of him assumed she’d come back with some understanding of the terrible thing that happened to her, but evidently not.

“I know,” he says softly. “I know. Sectonia… you were- you were sick for a very long time. You were sick and you couldn’t think right. That’s why you did those things. That’s why this is all so confusing.”

“I was sick?” Sectonia asks. “...What does that mean?”

“It means…-” Taranza searches for words. “Sectonia, do you remember that mirror I got you?”

“My mirror?”

“It was bad. There was something dark inside of it. B- bad people. Who wanted to hurt you. Hurt us. And those people were poisoning you. They were doing something cruel to your heart. Twisting it. Making it so you couldn’t think straight. They did that for years. That’s why you…-” a pause. “How much do you remember? From after I gave you the mirror?”

“How much do I remember?” Sectonia asks. “I remember everything. I…-” she stops. A look of horror crosses her face as it dawns on her just what she’s done. “I- I started stealing bodies. I had to fix myself. Then I got rid of everyone— the entire royal court. I killed or possessed them all, even my…-” She pauses, trembling, “No. Nononono. That doesn’t make any sense. Why would I…-? A- are you sure it’s because of something like that!? I was just…- I was scared. I knew they already didn’t like me and that I’d done something bad and I knew that if I didn’t get rid of them first, they’d get rid of me. I had to!”

She says that, but it’s clear she doesn’t believe it. She gasps for breath.

“...T- then, everything that happened with the people of Floralia. The subjugation of the Insectoids. The takeover of the People of the Sky. They deserved it, I know they did, but did I actually kill that many people!? T- the executions in town square… l- lopping the head of the leader of the People of the Sky off myself. Why did I…-? Oh, please tell me I’m making it up!”

Taranza, though, can do no such thing. Instead, simply continuing to stroke her hand, he repeats, “You weren’t in your right mind. You were sick.”

“Sick is an understatement!” Sectonia cries. “T- the whole time I was doing it, I kept…- how many bodies did I even steal!? W- why am I this again? I was something completely different. I- I was perfect. I thought I was perfect. Why did I think I was perfect? I was…- I was…-”

“They tried to overthrow me,” she continues before he can respond. “T- that’s how that thing got there. They summoned it. I told you to stop it, but you got the wrong person. That’s why I…-” she drifts off, lip quivering. She stares at Taranza for a moment before tearing her gaze away. Weakly, she hiccups. “I hated you. I hurt you. A- and it wasn’t the first time. I hated you for so…- why did I keep saying those things to you!? Did I seriously think you were…-?”

She doesn’t finish the sentence, but he can tell what she’s thinking. The word on the tip of her tongue is ‘ugly.’ That, or some variation of it. Those were Sectonia’s favorite words. She used them to refer to everyone— ‘hideous,’ ‘disgusting’ and the like, but Taranza especially. She saw him as a lot of things towards the end of her life: incompetent, foolish and bothersome… but ugly most of all.

And truthfully, he isn’t entirely sure she was wrong, but now’s not the time for that, so, gently, he squeezes her hand. 

“Someone else was forcing you to think those things,” he insists. “It’s not your fault.”

“It…- it felt so real, though,” Sectonia insists. “So earnest. So…- I- I could have really hurt you! Some part of me was hoping I’d…-”

Her eyes widen with horror. She covers her mouth with a pair of hands.

Taranza has a feeling he knows what she’s thinking there, too, but even he can’t bear to put it into words. Instead, simply shaking his head, he says:

“It’s okay. You didn’t do that. I’m okay. I’m right here with you.”

Her eyes flicker downwards as he once again strokes her hand with his thumb. 

When she next speaks, her words are disbelieving.

“H… how? How are we…- what is this place!? How did we get here? Why are you hurt!? Why am I…-?” 

Her breath hitches. Her hand goes stiff. 

Trembling, she whispers, “That thing…- it…- I assimilated the Dreamstalk, right? I was trying to swallow everything. I- I kept trying to kill it, but I couldn’t. I came close, but then the false hero…- then you…-”

She falls silent. The next part, she can’t bring herself to say aloud, but he can tell she remembers it. Her expression twists with fear. 

But soon, that fear fades to despondency, then quiet sorrow.

“I remember… burning,” she says quietly. “I was so tired. It hurt. It hurt so, so much.”

Tears trickle down her face. Taranza reaches to wipe them away, but hesitates, unsure if he even has the right. His hand feels heavy in hers.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to, but I just couldn’t…- I couldn’t let you hurt anyone else. It was so bad by that point. You-”

“Don’t apologize,” Sectonia interjects, giving him a sharp, tired look. “Please, just answer me… what happened to me? Why am I here?”

Taranza supposes there’s no avoiding it any longer. Truthfully, he admits:

“You died. You’ve been gone for… a very long time, Sectonia. Too long. But I’ve spent that entire time looking for a way to bring you back. I never gave up on you. Especially after not learning what happened to you— after learning that everything that happened was my fault. I searched and I searched and I searched, and I finally found a way to save you. I did it. You’re here.”

“I summoned the grim reaper and I defeated it,” he explains. “I challenged it, and we fought, and I won. I…-”

A pause. There’s something else he did, but he can’t say it, can he? Sectonia’s already so distraught. If she were to learn he sacrificed half of his soul on top of everything else, she’d be devastated. She’d think that she stole something from him, even though he offered it up willingly. 

“I demanded your life back,” he says simply. “I convinced it to give me what I wanted.”

It’s not a lie, is it? He… did do all of that. He’s just leaving some of the details out. And he feels bad about it— he really does— but it’s necessary, he thinks. The last thing Sectonia needs right now is even more of a guilty conscience. 

Maybe… he can tell her the truth later, but not right now. Not until she understands that none of this was her fault.

“The… grim reaper,” Sectonia repeats, stunned. “You fought the grim reaper? W- what!? How!? Is that why you’re…-?” Her lip quivers. She stares at his hemolymph drenched clothes. “...Did it do all of this to you?”

A nod.

“It did,” Taranza says. “But it’s okay. I’m alright. It was… a difficult battle, but I pulled through. I had to. For you. To bring you home. So we could be together again. Be happy.”

He reaches out a hand to cup her face— strokes her cheek with his thumb. Desperately, he tries to provide some form of comfort. He can’t stand to see her cry. He doesn’t want her to look at him with such scared, sorry eyes. He wants her to know that, for all that happened, she’s safe now. 

Still, she doesn’t seem to relax. Not really. Instead, quietly, she says, “...So you’re saying I turned into a monster? That some evil thing twisted me, and I became unrecognizable? You’re saying I hurt everyone around me… you, especially, and that I died? That you…- you had to get rid of me just to keep yourself safe? That even despite all that you never gave up on me? That you put your life at risk just to try and save me?”

Her voice shakes.

Taranza nods, though.

“I did.”

Sectonia’s mouth opens, then closes. She stares at him, dumbfounded. Tears well in her eyes as she whispers, “...Why?” and then, before Taranza can respond, again— louder, “Taranza… why…-?” 

Her breath hitches. Suddenly, her eyes narrow.

She pulls away with a scream.

“Why would you do something like that!?”

“What do you mean!?” Taranza asks as she tears her hand from his. “Why wouldn’t I!? You-”

“Turned into a monster!” Sectonia shouts. “I’m a monster! I… I don’t deserve to be alive!”

Taranza’s heart rate spikes.

“H- hey!” he sputters. “Don’t say things like that!”

“It’s true!” she responds, hyperventilating. As he tries to approach she recoils, staring at him with wide, frantic eyes. “I shouldn’t be alive. I shouldn’t be alive. What were you thinking!? A- are you stupid!? Why would you do something like that for someone who doesn’t even care!?”

“Sectonia!” Taranza begs. “D- don’t say that. You care. You’re just…- you’re stressed right now, and I get it! But you need to calm down! Everything’s going to be okay-”

“No it’s not! How could it possibly be okay after that!? Y… you saw what I became, didn’t you!?”

“That wasn’t you!”

“Yes it was!”

“You weren’t in your right mind. None of that was your fault! I’m not mad at you, Sectonia!”

Once more, as Taranza reaches out a hand, Sectonia tears hers away. His mere approach seems to terrify her.

“You should be!” she insists.

“No I shouldn’t! Sectonia, calm down. You’re not thinking straight!” he says as he tries to grab her. “Everything’s going to be alright. You’re going to be alright! It’s over now. You’re you again! This is your happy ending!”

At that, Sectonia freezes. Taranza is able to grab hold of her hand. There’s a dark, eerie look in her eyes, though, as her gaze meets his. 

And when she next speaks, it’s in a voice that isn’t hers.

“...What don’t you understand about ‘ MONSTERS DON’T DESERVE HAPPY ENDINGS!?’”

Wings flare. Fangs recede. Her hand grows in his ‘til it no longer fits. As her scream echoes, something strange happens to Sectonia’s body. 

Taranza’s eyes widen, and before he knows what he’s doing, he tears away. He doesn’t even mean to— it’s just instinctive. He can’t not shrink back with horror hearing that euphonious, eerily smooth voice.

‘No. Nononono,’ he thinks. ‘This wasn’t supposed to happen! Why is she-!?’

It’s his turn to freeze. For as he gets a good look at her, it registers. Despite that voice— the voice that he’d recognize anywhere— and the way her hand twisted to dwarf his, it’s not a Sectra he’s staring at… at least not completely. Something else stands in front of him, unmistakable, yet unfamiliar all the same.

Purple eyes contrast fuzzy skin. Slender, graceful hands seem out of proportion in comparison to a tiny body. Her horns have shrunk. Antennae sprout from her forehead. Ethereal wings twitch fearfully as what just happened seems to sink in for her as well.

Sectonia stares at her hands, quivering. She sounds lost and afraid as she whispers “What…?”

As her breathing quickens, her body reacts. A wave of yellow travels across her fingertips, engulfing brown fur. Her body starts to grow.

“ What is this!?” she screams, recoiling. “What’s happening to me!?”

Taranza doesn’t know. It’s like nothing he’s ever seen. Rapidly, her body morphs, overcome with anguish and panic. Her horns shrivel entirely. By now, she towers over him.

Still, he races to her side. He disregards his shock. It doesn’t matter if he’s scared right now. It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t understand. Regardless of what she looks like— whatever’s happening to her— that’s still his Sectonia, and he has to help her.

“H- hey-” he says weakly. “Please don’t…- calm down! Everything’s going to be okay! You’ve just got to…- just got to…-”

He can’t find the words. What is he supposed to say in a moment like this!? 

Hopelessly, he grabs at her hand, praying touch will at least ground her, but Sectonia’s body doesn’t relax. Her wings continue to thrash wildly, and as he touches her skin, he can feel muscle writhe beneath the surface. Her body’s unsteady— erratic.

Her antennae grow and shrink. The yellow reaches, but never quite swallows, the entirety of her face. She rips her hand away from Taranza, staring at him with fearful, desperate eyes.

“What did you do to me!?” she sobs.

What did…- what did he do? He didn’t do anything! Or at least… he doesn’t think! His heart catches in his throat. He feels sick as Sectonia stumbles away.

“I… I don’t know!” he admits. “I don’t know. I didn’t mean to! I’m sorry!”

But sorry means very little at a time like this. Sectonia trips over herself and collapses to the floor. 

As she stares at her trembling hands, suddenly, they start to contort, then something rips through her skin.

She lets loose a horrified scream. 

At first, Taranza can’t even tell what it is— that which now threatens to overrun her body on top of everything else— but as another sprouts from her neck, it clicks. He’s seen these before, hasn’t he?

Dreamstalk flowers. They litter her with every terror-stricken breath. Roots snake through her skin. Petals flourish, magnificent and grotesque all at once.

“T- Taranza! Make it stop!” she begs, gaze flickering his way. “Taranza do something! I’m scared!” 

But what can he do? Taranza’s utterly petrified. What’s going on!? What did he do wrong!? This was supposed to be their happily ever after, and so why…?

Sectonia crawls towards him, reaching out a desperate hand. Tears streaming down her face, she cries “Taranza!” one final time…

Then, she collapses.

Taranza’s blood runs cold. That’s enough to shake him from his stupor. He races to her side, kneeling, then fumbling for a pulse. 

‘No. Nonono. Please, no,’ he thinks, quivering. ‘Please don’t give her back to me only for it to end like that! I don’t think I could take it!’

Fortunately, he finds what he’s looking for. Sectonia isn’t dead, thank the stars. The rise and fall of her chest, however ragged, is enough to reveal that. 

There’s no denying something is wrong, though… horrifically, fundamentally so. Even in unconsciousness, Sectonia’s body doesn’t return to a stable condition. She’s still some amalgamate, trapped in a state ‘in-between.’

She more resembles a Sectra than an Arachnid, with the slender body and delicate face of one, but silver hair falls past her cheek and patches of brown fur splotch her skin. She has antennae, but they’re too small, as are her wings. Six slim, graceful hands lay motionless by her sides.

She is, of course, covered by flowers. They bud from her palms, her chest— even her face. There are roots coiling just beneath her skin. 

A pit in Taranza’s stomach. A sense of dread. 

What went wrong? What did he do!? He didn’t realize things would turn out like this. He just wanted them to be together… and so why? What happened!? Is Sectonia going to be okay? 

Even now that she’s fallen still, he can’t rid his mind of the sound of her screams. She’d been so scared. Did what was happening to her hurt? It had to, right? For her to react in that way? Beg him for help? 

The worst part is he didn’t even know how to. He froze up completely— stood paralyzed while she shrieked his name. She must have been in agony, but all he could do was stare… idle uselessly like he always has.

Even now, he doesn’t know what to do. His head feels light. It’s difficult to breathe.

He…- he needs help.

Trembling, he picks Sectonia up. Her body’s heavy and his is weak, but that doesn’t matter. He lifts her, pulls her in close to his chest, then makes a run for it, dashing straight towards the main Jambandran base. 

“Help!” he screams. “Help! Francisca! Flamberge! Zan Partizanne! Anybody! Please!”

If they can’t fix this, he doesn’t know what he’s going to do.

Chapter Text

“Help! Help! Something went wrong!”

The Mage Sisters and Hyness are stunned, to say the least, when Taranza returns. They’re situated just outside of the main base, perhaps having been waiting for him, when he makes his way to them, frantic and screaming.

“Help!” he repeats. “Please! I don’t know what happened! I think she might be hurt!”

He’s, of course, still holding Sectonia. She lies motionless, yet remains deformed, cradled in his trembling hands.

“What’s…-?” Zan Partizanne’s eyes widen. Her body jolts. “Wait. You actually managed to resurrect her!? How!?”

“Does that matter right now!?” Taranza shrieks. “Just do something!”

Zan Partizanne seems almost too shocked to object. Simply giving a stiff nod, she looks Sectonia over, as do her sisters and Hyness.

A sense of disbelief and horror. Francisca covers the lower half of her face with her hands.

“...Holy Void.”

“What happened?” Hyness asks. “Did she return in this state?”

Taranza shakes his head, tears welling in his eyes.

“No!” he says. “E- everything was normal at first. She was just…- she was just a spider! But then she got upset with me and her body started to change and… and… and-”

He can’t even get the words out. His stomach churns when he remembers her scream. How is he supposed to say he saw flowers burst from her skin?

“Hey. Deep breaths,” Flamberge says, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “Just explain calmly.”

“I- I don’t know how to explain, though!” Taranza replies. “I have no idea what happened! She just…- she just…- she started changing and I couldn’t even do anything. She was begging me to help her, and I didn’t know how!”

“Why is she unconscious?” Zan Partizanne asks. “Did she pass out?”

“I think so,” Taranza says. “S- she was so scared. She also didn’t know what was happening to her. She-”

“Don’t spiral,” Flamberge says. “Thinking about that isn’t going to do either of you any good right now. Focus.”

But Taranza isn’t sure how to. He can’t help but whimper as Hyness takes one of Sectonia’s hands, peering at it uncertainly.

“Her soul,” he says. “Did you manage to cleanse it? That was your goal, yes?”

“I- I think,” Taranza says, giving a shaky nod. “M- Morpho Knight said it fixed her… I saw it purge all of the darkness. She…- she got angry with me, sure, but…-” his breath hitches. “Why? Do you think she’s still-?”

“No,” Hyness says. “If that’s the case, then it sounds like the corruption should be expelled. Even so, though, I can’t help but wonder…-” he tilts his head. One of his ears twitches. “You Arachnids, you are parasites, correct? That’s how she ended up in the state she was in at the end of her life?”

Taranza tenses. Intentionally or not, those words have a sharp edge.

“Don’t call her a parasite!” he yelps, eyes narrowing as he pulls Sectonia in close. Although he just as soon realizes Hyness meant no harm and says, softer, “...W- we can steal bodies, though, yes.”

“That’s what I thought,” Hyness replies. “Then, perhaps, it’s connected to that. If her mind has been returned to what it once was, but her body still carries the imprint of other creatures, I could see that having adverse effects.”

“Nothing like this ever happened before, though!” Taranza insists. “I mean, she stole…- it had to be at least a hundred bodies! She never ended up in an in-between state!”

“Being rescued from the brink of death is something that can do strange things to the body,” Hyness says, gesturing towards the Mage Sisters. “...I can only imagine being rescued from actual death would do the same. Especially if she’s experiencing a severe cognitive dissonance.”

“Cognitive dissonance?” Taranza asks.

“Your friend was someone very different last time she was conscious. You’ve forced her to go back to who she was before that. No doubt, she’s having a difficult time grappling with her feelings and memories. Her sense of identity is most likely shattered. She almost certainly has no idea who or what she is. Perhaps her malleable body is personifying that turmoil.”

A knot in Taranza’s stomach. He stares down at Sectonia’s face. 

Uneven patches of fur, mismatched features and flowers violently tearing through her skin. Is Hyness implying…-

Is he saying that this must be how Sectonia sees herself on the inside?

Taranza thinks he’s going to be sick. T- that can’t be true. She can’t be in that much distress— he won’t believe it! She doesn’t deserve to view herself like…- like…-

“Can it be fixed?” he asks. “I mean…- will it go away? S- surely as her identity reconciles with itself, she’ll…-”

He drifts off. The expression on Hyness’s face isn’t an encouraging one.

“Unknown,” he says. “It’s unclear if her identity will even be able to reconcile with itself in the first place. For now, all we can do is try to calm her and see if it has any effect.”

He turns towards the Mage Sisters.

“Francisca, prepare a bed. Flamberge, take her to it. Zan Partizanne, you keep an eye on the young man.”

Taranza tenses.

“Wait, what? ‘Keep an eye on…’ a- are you implying you’re going to separate me from her!? Why!? She needs me right now!”

“It will not be for long,” Hyness reassures. “It’s just for the best that she's given some time to get her bearings. Please remember that you are likely the person she holds the most complicated feelings towards. She will not be able to think straight in your presence. Allow her to orient herself, then try talking with her once more. Do not worry, we will help her calm down.”

Taranza frowns. He won’t deny he’s a tad hurt by the implication that seeing him would upset Sectonia. But then again… maybe Hyness has a point. It was remembering what she did to him that made her spiral, after all. Perhaps his presence would just make things worse.

“F- fine,” he says. “You can take her. But… be gentle, okay? And if anything happens, come get me right away! I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to her.”

“Don’t worry,” Flamberge says. “We wouldn’t let anything happen. All we’re gonna do is talk her down. We’ll come get you as soon as she’s placated. I’m sure she’ll wanna see you then.”

Taranza nods, passing Sectonia over to Flamberge. For all of her reassuring words, though, he’s still worried. He wishes this was something he could take care of.

It’s not, though. His initial reunion with Sectonia made that more than evident. He’s going to have to rely on others to get her the help she needs.

“T- take care of her, okay?” he instructs. “And if she asks for me…-”

“If she asks for you, we’ll get you. Don’t worry,” Flamberge reassures. She shifts slightly, trying to find a comfortable position with which to hold the much larger Sectonia. “But for now, just try and relax. We’ve got this.”

Taranza doesn’t think he’s capable of relaxing right now, but he forces a nod anyway.

“...Very well. I’m trusting you with this. T- thank you for assisting.”

“‘Course,” Flamberge says, then she turns back towards Francisca and Hyness. “C’mon. Let’s get inside already. Don’t want her to wake up before we’ve got her settled.”

They murmur in agreement. They shoot Taranza one last pitying look, then amble off, taking Sectonia with them.

Taranza feels lightheaded. Now that the panic has faded, it’s been replaced with a sense of uneasy exhaustion. The tension doesn’t fade. It’s hard to shake the persistent feeling that something is very, very wrong.

He’s dizzy. His body is weak and fatigued. Is it just the anxiety, or-? No. Surely not. He hadn’t realized it in the moment— he’d been fueled by adrenaline, but carrying Sectonia took a lot out of him. Even now, he pants for breath.

…The price of sacrificing half his spirit, no doubt. He’s not sure if it’s simply his imagination, but now that Sectonia’s been carried away from him, he swears he can feel the empty cavity carved out deep within his chest. It reminds him ‘something’s missing.’

Briefly, this unnerves him, but he just as soon shakes the trepidation. Even for all the ways this has gone wrong, he still doesn’t regret his decision. The sensation is simply something he’ll have to get used to. It’s not like it’s any worse than the emptiness he felt without Sectonia there.

And besides, it’s not as if he’s given long to think it over, anyways. After a moment, Zan Partizanne says, “We should probably go inside as well. You’re going to want to get those wounds of yours looked at.”

“O- oh,” Taranza says. “There’s no need for that. I’m fine, really.”

“You just fought Death,” Zan Partizanne replies, unconvinced. “You’re not getting out of this. Come on.”

And so she drags him inside, taking him somewhere where she can assess his injuries.

“See?” Taranza says, removing his shirt. “I’m alright. I was battered, certainly, but I’ve already taken care of it. I’m quite a competent Soul magician, you know. Well-versed in healing spells.”

Zan Partizanne squints. It’s hard to deny his claim, sure, but it’s more than clear she’s not satisfied with that answer. She looks over his body.

“...These are really all the wounds you got dueling Morpho Knight? It’s less than I expected.”

“Only because I saw to mending them,” Taranza replies, shrugging. “It was much worse in the heat of battle.”

He doesn’t dare tell her just how close he came to death. All that would do is cause her to chastise him, and he’s not particularly interested in a lecture. It’s not like it even matters, anyways. He won, and so there’s nothing to worry about.

Zan Partizanne tilts her head, still deep in thought.

“And you’re certain that what you fought was actually Morpho Knight?” she asks.

“What else would it be?” Taranza replies. “I got Sectonia back, didn’t I?”

“...That you did,” Zan Partizanne says flatly. “Which is what I’m still trying to make sense of.” An incredulous look. “I can’t help but get the sense you’re hiding something from us.”

“Pardon?”

“I don’t believe you when you say you simply fought Morpho Knight and it gave you what you wanted. That’s not how this sort of thing works.” She crosses her arms and stares. “What did you actually do?”

Taranza shifts uncomfortably.

He has no intention of telling her. Like he said: he’s not interested in hearing a lecture. What happened stays between him and Morpho Knight.

“I didn’t ‘do’ anything. I won Sectonia’s soul. That’s all.”

With a huff, he pulls his shirt over his head. He puts his scarf back on, then rises.

“If you’re just going to interrogate me, then I’m not interested. I’m going back outside.”

“I’m not interrogating you,” Zan Partizanne insists, eyes narrowed. “All that I’m saying is that something about this is strange. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that there’s no such thing as miracles.”

A twinge of irritation.

“...Bold, coming from you,” Taranza mutters under his breath.

“Excuse me?” Zan Partizanne asks.

“Nothing,” Taranza says with a frustrated sigh. “Just… drop it, okay? I’m not interested in having this discussion.”

He means it when he insinuates she doesn’t get to point fingers, though. What right does she of all people have to say there’s no such thing as miracles? Her very presence constitutes as one! Not only did she narrowly escape death as a child, but the Star Allies dragged her and her entire family out of Another Dimension, where they no doubt would have perished if left alone. He doesn’t want to hear her say ‘miracles don’t exist,’ because they do. She got hers, and now Taranza has gotten his.

…This is a miracle. He still well and truly believes that. Yes, he had to make a sacrifice, and admittedly things aren’t perfect, but Sectonia’s alive— that’s all that ultimately matters.

The two of them might just need some time to adjust.

Zan Partizanne sighs, but doesn’t argue further. She can no doubt discern he has no intention of humoring her. Arms falling to her sides, she relents.

“Very well then. I just hope you didn’t do anything foolish, Taranza. The last thing you need is even more regrets.”

Taranza glowers.

What a ridiculous notion. ‘Regrets?’ How can she say that with her whole chest!? There’s absolutely no reason for him to have regrets, even knowing what he knows! He’s well aware of what he did, and he doesn’t care. Maybe she would think it foolish if he were to share, but it’s not foolish… not to him. It’s the most earnest thing he’s ever done, and he’s proud of himself for it.

As long as Sectonia ends up being alright, things will end up okay. 

And she will end up alright… she has to.

He’ll show Zan Partizanne that his conviction isn’t going to waver. Just wait and see.

“Hey, can you hear us?”

“Everything’s okay, you’re safe now.”

“You’ll be alright, but you’ve got to get up.”

“Nnnghh…”

Sectonia’s head is spinning. She flinches as she stirs.

Something warm and soft is the first thing that she notices. Draped over her shoulder, it shelters her. It takes her a moment to process what it is, but when it clicks, she frowns. She feels one antenna twitch.

…A blanket.

Why is she in a bed?

Blearily, she forces her eyes open. The light of the room is blinding, but she has to know what’s going on.

Three hazy figures are standing in front of her. It takes a moment for her vision to clear, and when it does, it doesn’t alleviate her confusion. There’re faces she doesn’t recognize peering at her.

“Good. You’re awake,” one stranger says. “Your friend was very worried about you.”

Her friend? What are they…-?

Her blood runs cold. She bolts upright.

“T- Taranza… where is he!?” she demands. “I didn’t harm him, did I? Where am I!? Who are you people!? What did you do with him!? What’s-?”

“Hey,” another stranger murmurs. “Deep breaths. Taranza’s just fine. He’s our friend, too. We’re not going to hurt him, or you, for that matter.”

She says that, but Sectonia has never seen these people in her life. W- what reason does she have to believe them!? She feels her heart race as she stares at their alien faces. Uneasily, her wings twitch.

Her… wings.

Wait. Why does she have…-? Or, no, why wouldn’t she have…-? Why is it that she’s so surprised all of a sudden over them!? Hasn’t she always had these?

No. That doesn’t feel right. A distant memory. Someone is pleading, begging for her to show mercy. They say that there’s nothing they’ve done to deserve this— that they’ve never been anything but nice to her.

Their wings are twitching— no, thrashing— in the same panicked way.

A name on the tip of Sectonia’s tongue.

Sec… tonia? I- is that even right? Now that she thinks it, something about it feels off. Is that actually her name? It isn’t, is it? Or… well, it is, but it wasn’t always. She used to be…-

All at once, it hits her. They were just talking about this, weren’t they!? She and Taranza! He said that…- that something had twisted her heart. That she’d become…-

A monster. That’s right.

Her breath hitches. The memory of something else… something that feels like a bad dream bubbles to the surface. Her gaze flickers downwards.

As she’s met with the sight of a hand she doesn’t recognize, she lets out a scream.

She’s worn a hundred different skins— had a hundred different hands, but none quite like this. With long, slender fingers it should be the hand of a beauty, but it’s not. It’s covered in dark, scraggly fur… fur that feels so out of place, yet familiar all at once. Off-putting, unsightly claws… claws that shouldn’t mar a hand like this do so anyways.

As her fingers twitch, it feels as if she’s watching someone else move.

Which part of this is most unfamiliar? Does it even matter!? Something is horribly wrong. Her wings thrash. Eight pairs of eyes widen. Her body feels too small and too large all at once.

…Something crawls beneath her skin.

‘No. Nononono. This can’t be happening! Not again!’

She turns over her hand, quaking. She wants to believe she won’t see what she fears she’ll see, but sure enough, there it is. Flowers poke through her flesh.

As her breathing quickens, they unfurl. She lets out another scream.

“W- woah!” one of the strangers says, jolting as she starts to hyperventilate. “Don’t flip out!”

Another nods, adding on, “Everything’s going to be alright. We can explain-”

But their words do very little to comfort Sectonia. In fact, as they draw nearer to her bedside, she only feels her heart beat faster. They seem to loom over her, staring at her with those unfamiliar eyes.

Staring. They’re staring. Their collective gaze drills into her as her body contorts, and in sinks mortified terror.

“DON’T LOOK AT ME!” Sectonia shrieks, pulling the blanket up over her head. She huddles under it, cowering. She doesn’t know who these people are, but what she does know is she doesn’t want them to see her… not like this! No-one can see her like this!

She’s hideous. Frightful, grotesque. Deformed! And why!? What’s happening to her!? Why can’t she control her body!? She gasps for breath as she feels her thorax contract. Her hair withers. Roots twist beneath her skin.

She claws at the bedsheet, tearing it with those mismatched, gruesome hands. They convulse with panic, hardly even feeling like hers. Tears streak her face.

“What did he do to me!?” she cries, shivering. “Make it stop! I’M SORRY!”

She clutches at her head, sobbing.

She’s not even sure who she’s apologizing to, just that this is a punishment, no doubt. Her ugly heart has finally caught up with her. They’ve come to make her pay. It’s as if there’s a hundred hands reaching up— trying to break away— tearing through her skin. They won’t recede until they’ve swallowed her entirely.

She feels faint. She’s sick to her stomach. She wonders if she’s going to die again… if her discordant, stolen body will just give out.

“I’m sorry!” she repeats. Again. Again. Again. “I’m sorry! Please leave me alone!”

The strangers murmur fearfully. It’s clear they’ve no idea what to say. And how could they!? There’s not a single thing in the world they could do to ease her pai-

“Miss Queen!” a voice interjects.

Sectonia freezes.

“You must stop! You are making it worse! No-one is doing this to you. You are doing it to yourself, and it will not cease until you’ve relaxed!”

…She’s doing this to herself, he says. Is that true?

Quaking hands. Pounding heart. Does it even really matter? Either way…

“I can’t relax!” she cries. “I- I can’t control it! I’m afraid! It’s turning me into a monst…- no! I already was! I am a monster! A- a bad, hideous, terrible…-”

The words die in her throat. Panic is replaced by guilt and shame as she buries her face in her hands. Weakly, she sobs.

“...I’m a monster,” she repeats. “I’m broken and I’m not supposed to be alive.”

Her wings shrivel. Horns burgeon from her head. She wipes pathetically at her eyes.

She feels ashamed to be crying in front of these strangers, but what else can she do? How couldn’t she cry at a time like this? She curls in on herself, trembling with each sniffle.

She’s scared. She doesn’t know what’s happening to her. Her memories don’t add up, and her body feels alien. Why is she even here?

More uncomfortable murmuring. She can tell the strangers are uncomfortable.

“...Hey, don’t say that,” one responds awkwardly. “That’s not true. Your friend… Taranza, he doesn’t think so.”

As if that would comfort her. Hearing that, Sectonia’s chest just aches more.

A mix of despair and indignance. 

She responds, “Well, he’s wrong! He’s… he’s…-”

She drifts off. She just can’t bring herself to say it. The word on the tip of her tongue is ‘stupid,’ but what right does she have to call him that after everything she put him through!? She doesn’t get to insult him! She’s done that enough!

“He’s deluded himself,” she decides on, eyes watery and voice sharp. “He doesn’t know who I am. Not at all.”

A pit in her stomach. Even just stating it makes her feel lost and sick. ‘He doesn’t know who she is…’ it’s true, isn’t it? But all the same, it wasn’t always. Once upon a time, he was the only person who understood her— the only person who could see her for what she was.

What’s happened to her!? Has she really been made that unrecognizable?

Another sob as she hangs her head and buries her face in those out-of-place hands.

“Don’t…- don’t…-” the stranger searches for words. “Don’t cry. C’mon, just breathe. Lord Hyness is right. You’re only going to make it worse if you keep flipping out. Inhale, then exhale.”

Sectonia’s lip quivers.

“I don’t know how-”

“What!? Yeah you do. Just follow my lead. Breathe in…-” a moment passes. The sound of a deep breath. “Then out. Simple as that.”

Sectonia doesn’t want to follow along. What right do these people have to command her? But she doesn’t know what else to do. M- maybe they’re right… maybe it’ll fix her body, and so awkwardly, she follows the stranger’s lead.

She takes one shaky breath in, then out. Another. She forces herself to still.

“See?” the stranger says. “...Doesn’t that feel a bit better?”

She’s not sure. Her heart rate has calmed slightly, but all the same, the tears don’t dry. When she even begins to think about her situation she feels her body quake once more.

“I’m still scared,” she admits in a small voice. “I- I still don’t know what’s happening. Why I’m-”

“Don’t,” another one of the strangers interjects as her breaths start to quicken. “You’re just going to make yourself upset again. We can explain some.”

“...You can?” Sectonia asks.

“Yes. Isn’t that correct, Flamberge, Lord Hyness?”

“We can. That is, if you’re ready to listen.”

Is she ready? Admittedly, the prospect feels a bit overwhelming.

“O- only if I don’t have to come out. I still don’t want you to look at me.”

“That’s just fine. Stay under there as long as you need. We can explain.”

“How much do you know?” Another stranger asks. ‘Lord Hyness,’ she believes… the same one who insinuated she was the one doing all of this earlier. “Did your friend explain your situation to you?”

A small nod.

“Mmmm…” Sectonia says. “He told me I was cursed. T- that I did a lot of bad things… even hurt him. He told me that I died. I can remember it, too: dying. It was…-”

Her voice wavers. There’s this terrible lump in her throat.

“Don’t think about it,” the stranger who’d talked her through breathing instructs. Flamberge? “That doesn’t matter right now. You’re not dead anymore, are you?”

“No.”

But that’s the problem, isn’t it? She’s supposed to be. It would only be right. She should be dead, and the only reason she’s not is…

“He fought the…- he said he fought the grim reaper. He said that he demanded my soul back. He was covered in hemolymph. He seemed really hurt. W- where is he, anyways!?” her heart races. “Is he-”

“He’s fine,” Flamberge says. “We already told you that. Taranza is perfectly okay. Zan Partizanne is taking good care of him. He certainly didn’t seem to be on death’s door or anything when we saw him. More than anything, he was just worried about you.”

Worried about her? Why, though? She still doesn’t get it. Why would he go to such a length?

“I… I hurt him, though.”

“While you had, like, bees in your brain! He understands that that wasn’t actually you.”

Wasn’t actually her? Do these people seriously believe that, too? Taranza seemed to think the same thing, but that’s just not true, is it? That… was her. She can remember it so vividly. Those were her feelings. Those were her thoughts. Those were her actions, too. They just came from some dark, sick, twisted part of her.

“Taranza loves you very, very much, it seems,” the third stranger says. Sectonia’s still not sure she’s gotten her name. “He’s been looking for a way to bring you back for a very long time.”

‘…A very long time.’

“H- how long has it been?”

“Years,” Hyness says. “Much has happened since you died. All the same, your friend never gave up on you. Your passing must have hurt him deeply.”

“You can’t be serious,” Sectonia breathes. “Years!? Why didn’t he move on?”

“Did you even hear what Francisca said?” Flamberge asks. “He loves you. Of course he wasn’t willing to give up.”

They… they need to stop saying that. ‘Loves?’ What a weighty, unreasonable word. No one could love her! Not after what she became! What she still is!

“Why, though?” she asks. “I- I don’t get it. After everything I did, how could he still-?”

“Miss Queen,” Hyness interjects. “...What you must understand is that the heart is not always rational. If faith runs deep enough, then someone can and will love even a person who has hurt them. All you can do is try to accept that absolution with grace.”

“B- but what if he gets hurt!? What if-”

“Do you want to hurt him?”

“...Pardon?”

“Do you want to hurt him?” Hyness repeats.

Sectonia shakes her head.

“No, of course not.”

“Then don’t. Simply do better.”

But is it really that easy? Is it really within her control? S- she still doesn’t even know who she is. What if she drowns in herself again?

She wants to argue, but no words come out. ‘These strangers wouldn’t understand,’ she realizes. They didn’t see how she treated him. Of course they’re audacious enough to say such ignorant things.

She forces herself to keep silent, at least in that regard. She ignores the way the mere thought bears down upon her like a crushing weight.

Instead, she mutters, “...It sounds like he’s suffered a lot. Was he truly grieving me all that time?”

The thought alone makes her feel ashamed and a little bit indignant. What undeserved, ignorant tears.

Still, the strangers attest.

“Yeah. I mean…- don’t get the wrong idea,” Flamberge says. “It’s not like he was miserable all of the time. It just… seems like he really missed you. Your absence weighed heavy on his heart. But that’s not something you have to worry about now, is it? You’re here. For that alone, I’m sure he’s happy.”

“Perhaps the happiest he’s been in a very long time,” Francisca agrees.

Happy? How can he be happy? To see the person who hurt him so badly returned to life? And like this, no less. Not only is she misshapen, but she’s ungrateful. The first thing she did was yell at him for his kindness. It’s hard to imagine how she couldn’t have, seeing as how naive it was, but even so, her chest feels heavy with guilt. She must have… really upset him.

He expected something else, didn’t he? Something kinder. But he didn’t get what he was hoping for. The girl he truly cares about hasn’t returned, not in body or mind.

Still, she wouldn’t put it above him to be at least a little joyous, even in the face of such disappointment. He always has been willfully ignorant like that— her foolish, softhearted Taranza.

…After everything she’s put him through, she doesn’t want to let him down.

Maybe she can pretend. This will probably never be her happy ending— that much she knows, but all the same, perhaps it’s not too late for him to get his.

He deserves it after all, doesn’t he? It doesn’t matter if she’s scared. She… needs to try and get it together for his sake. So she can at least be some approximation of the person he loves.

A breath in, then out. Her limbs still feel heavy, but at least the tears have dried. Now all that remains is a sense of numb, contrite duty.

Her body has shifted some. It’s still not ‘normal—’ perhaps it never will be, but at the very least, it’s shrunk. The flowers have withered and disappeared. She bites down on her lip and feels one fang dig into it as she forces herself to lift the covers from her head.

She wants to hide… she wants to hide so bad, but she can’t, can she? That’s a selfish request.

“Can I… see him?” she asks, and to her surprise, the words come out in that awkward, scratchy voice. The insincere elegance has faded from her tone, replaced with a soft raspiness.

A knot in her stomach. She thinks she should be relieved— that’s the voice Taranza wants to hear, no doubt, but all the same…

(‘No. It’s alright,’ she thinks. ‘It’s a clumsy, ungraceful voice befitting a monster.’ And it’s not as if she enjoyed hearing the other voice any more. Its honeyed, dulcet sound couldn’t bring to mind anything besides cruelty.)

The strangers seem surprised to see her rise from her makeshift shelter. For a moment, they gawk, and she feels her heart sink, but just as soon they fulfill her request.

“Of course,” Flamberge says. “Let me get him.”

It’s strange getting a better look at her face. Initially, Sectonia’s almost inclined to think of a Person of the Sky upon seeing her, and for that, she feels disgusted, but upon closer inspection, it’s clearly not the case.

She’s larger. No flower petals adorn her head. Whatever she is, she’s clearly something else. Sectonia just isn’t sure what. She hasn’t seen anyone quite like her before.

The same goes for Francisca, who is practically her mirror image. She’s paler and her hair is a shade of bright blue as opposed to a fiery red, but other than that they may as well be identical. They have the same beady eyes and are dressed in matching clothes.

‘Lord Hyness,’ in contrast, may as well be their opposite. Sectonia hasn’t seen anything even loosely resembling him before. With blue, scaly skin, bulging eyes and a humongous nose, the best way she can think to describe him is as some sort of bizarre frog monster, and even that isn’t quite doing it justice.

What a strange bunch. Are these people really Taranza’s friends?

She isn’t given long to mull it over. Flamberge takes her leave, promising she’ll be back with Taranza shortly, and Sectonia’s then preoccupied with that.

Admittedly, she’s nervous. She’s the one who said that she wanted this, but there’s a lump in her throat. What is she going to say? Is she really ready to face him? Be seen? Like this?

She has to be, doesn’t she? They said that he was worrying about her. The least she can do is let him know she’s alright.

Or… well, awake. ‘Alright’ is another thing entirely, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Hey, lovebug! Your friend is ready to see you.”

Taranza’s head perks as Flamberge peeks her head into the room.

“She is? You mean she’s awake? She’s calmed down? She’s better?”

Nervously, he smiles. It’s hard not to get just a little bit excited. That’s wonderful news!

Flamberge seems a bit taken aback, admittedly, by his enthusiasm. When she speaks, her words are careful.

“Sort of,” she says. “She’s not completely better, but…” she drifts off before motioning a hand. “Well, you can see for yourself. Come on.”

Taranza’s heart sinks. The way Flamberge says that doesn’t fill him with confidence. Is… something still wrong? Is she still hurting?

Ah, he supposes he shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up. He knew going into this that it wouldn’t be easy. It only makes sense that Sectonia is scared… that she still needs some time to adjust.

‘That’s okay, though,’ he tells himself, shaking off whatever apprehension he feels. He was prepared for that. Whatever it is she’s going through, he’s prepared to handle it. They can work through this together.

And so he does as instructed, taking a deep breath, then following after Flamberge.

Briefly, he turns back towards Zan Partizanne, asking her, “Are you coming?”

She shakes her head, though.

“She’s probably going to want to talk to you alone. I can introduce myself later.”

“Right,” Taranza says. “I suppose that makes sense.”

He wonders if that’s all. Zan Partizanne has made it more than clear she doesn’t believe in his happy ending. Is she hesitant to meet Sectonia for that reason? Perhaps she thinks this will end poorly— that it’s best she keep her distance.

A brief pang of indignation. How dare she? It’s one thing to doubt him, but to doubt Sectonia too? That’s not okay.

Still, he doesn’t argue with her. He simply nods, then leaves with Flamberge.

It doesn’t particularly matter to him if Zan Partizanne doesn’t have faith in his miracle. The only person whose opinion matters in that regard is Sectonia, and she’s going to be okay.

…She is, right?

Of course she is. What is he even thinking? Flamberge said she was better. Not completely better, sure, but that still counts for something.

He tells himself that again and again as he follows Flamberge down the dark, eerie halls.

Everything’s going to be alright. It has to be alright.

They come to a stop in front of a closed door. 

Before opening it, Flamberge turns towards Taranza.

“She’s not hyperventilating anymore, but she’s still clearly grappling with a lot of dark thoughts. Additionally, she’s still…” a pause. “Well, y’know. I just wanted you to be made aware of that before we went in. Are you ready?”

“Of course I’m ready,” Taranza says. Her warning unnerves him, but he’s not going to back down. Sectonia asked for him, didn’t she? It’s his duty to answer her call. He doesn’t know what he’s going to see… what Sectonia is going to say, but whatever it is, he can’t run from it.

She needs him right now.

And so Flamberge opens the door, allowing Taranza to peer inside.

It’s a dark little room— gloomy like the rest of Jambandra. Still, even with just a few dim, crimson lights, he’s able to make things out. Francisca and Hyness stand by Sectonia’s bedside, and Sectonia herself…

Well, for a moment, with her head turned away from him, she almost appears to be well. Small once more with silvery hair and curved horns, she resembles the Sectonia he remembers. He can pretend her ‘shattered identity’ was no more than a bad dream.

Of course, the illusion just as soon dissipates. She looks towards Taranza and reality sets back in.

The left half of her face is bare, still covered in splotches of smooth yellow skin. Her hands are once again fuzzy, but remain misshapen. A single fang pokes out from the right side of her mouth and fuschia antennae bud from her forehead just above her upper set of eyes.

…Her eyes. That has to be what stands out the most. No soft glowing white or orange meets his gaze. Instead, they’re an unmistakable violet. Glossy and eerily alluring, they’re far too big for her head.

“...Oh, Taranza,” she says. “You’re here.”

She peers at him, and for just an instant, he’s unnerved. It feels… wrong to see the eyes he’s come to associate with hatred and malice plastered onto the face of the person he associates with anything but. Those can’t actually be hers, can they?

He just as soon feels bad, though. What is he thinking? It doesn’t matter what her eyes look like! All that matters is she’s here! How can he listen to that voice… that voice that sounds so small and uncertain and think that way? She’s no doubt already struggling enough. The last thing she needs is for him to go and make things worse.

And so he approaches, giving her a small nod of acknowledgement.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

A halfhearted shrug.

“...Alright,” she responds.

“That’s good. I’m… really glad you’re okay,” he says, making his way over to her bedside. “I was worried about you.”

And he means that. He was worried sick. For a moment, he was afraid he was going to lose her again. With that in mind, he couldn’t even begin to express just how happy he is to even see her breathing.

She averts her eyes, shifting slightly.

“...I apologize for earlier. I must have seemed very ungrateful.”

“What? No,” Taranza says. “It’s alright. Don’t feel bad. You were just scared.”

“Even so, I’m alive because of you. What right did I have to be angry over that? I should be… happy. You went out of your way for me.” A pause. “I heard about how much you suffered while I was gone. It must have been very difficult.”

“Yeah,” Taranza admits, and for a moment, his heart is heavy, but he just as soon forces a smile. “It’s okay though. You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

He reaches for a hand, squeezing it.

Then, he looks towards Francisca and Hyness.

“Could we have a moment? There are some things we should probably discuss alone.”

“Of course,” Hyness says.

He bows his head, taking a step backwards. He motions a hand. Francisca follows after as he exits into the hall, then shuts the door behind them.

Taranza turns back towards Sectonia.

“I figured you’d want some privacy,”

“...Mmmm,” she says, “I suppose so. They were kind, but there are certain things I’d prefer not to discuss in the company of strangers. Things they’d no doubt never understand.”

A pause. She sends a sideways glance towards the door.

“They said they were your friends, those people. Is that true?”

“Of course,” Taranza replies. “Francisca, Flamberge, even Hyness… they’re the ones who helped me bring you back to life. If it weren’t for their help, I might never have been able to encounter the grim reaper. I’m very appreciative of all that they’ve done.”

An illegible expression on Sectonia’s face.

“The grim reaper…- you keep saying that. What does that mean?”

“Death has a tangible form,” Taranza explains. “It’s this… this butterfly thing. Except it’s also not? It can shapeshift. It’s a tad hard to explain, but all you need to know is that I fought it and won.”

“...Right,” Sectonia says. “And that’s why you’re…-” her gaze drifts to his bloodied shirt, then the cut running down his cheek. “You’re hurt. It must have been a difficult battle.”

“Somewhat,” Taranza says. “It was certainly frightening, but knowing what was at stake gave me strength. There was no way I could forfeit when you were depending on me.”

Sectonia frowns.

“Mmmm. I suppose I’m just surprised, then, to hear that you were willing to go that far. That the grim reaper even saw it fit to bring back someone like me.”

“Someone like…-” Taranza falters. “What are you talking about!? Of course I was willing to go that far! You were the person I cared about more than anything! My precious queen! My best friend! My…-”

He hesitates. Is it really appropriate to say what he’s thinking? It feels imprudent, somehow, but if he really wants to emphasize just how important she is…

“You were the love of my life. I’d do it a hundred times over, if that’s what it took.”

He again squeezes her hand.

She freezes. She stares, mouth ever so slightly agape.

…But her body just as soon relaxes. She nods.

“I see. Thank you. That… means a lot. Especially after… well, after everything I did to you. It would have been fair to resent me.”

Once more, she averts her eyes. Yellow patches creep across her face.

Taranza’s lip quivers. He couldn’t possibly explain just how much it hurts to hear that. Resent her? He could never!

“No,” he says. “Not in a million years. That wasn’t even you! You couldn’t think straight. Someone was messing with your head.”

“...Still-” Sectonia says.

“No,” Taranza says firmly. “Hey! I want you to look at me.”

Sectonia’s gaze drifts to meet his.

“That wasn’t you,” he repeats. “None of that was your fault. Please don’t blame yourself for it. I’m not upset.”

He reaches out to cup her cheek— strokes it with his thumb.

“You’re you again. It’s all in the past.”

Sectonia’s frown deepens. For a moment, she looks ready to argue, but her body soon falls slack.

“...If you say so,” she mutters.

Taranza’s heart aches as he sees her gaze drift. He can tell she doesn’t believe him. He wishes there were more that he could do. It hurts him more than he could possibly put into words to see her hurting.

He supposes he’ll just have to say it again and again— as many times as it takes for her to believe him. Surely with enough time she’ll come to understand…

She didn’t ask for any of this. He means it when he says she’s not to blame.

“I know so,” he says, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

Her guilt doesn’t abate. Her hand shifts in his. He feels fuzz wither, replaced with soft skin. She doesn’t grow as she fidgets ever so slightly, yet the fang poking out of her mouth melts away as she tries to bite down on her lip.

Taranza doesn’t pull away. He keeps running his thumb over her fingers.

Still, he can tell she’s acutely aware of it… the fact that it’s happening and that he knows it too.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I know this probably wasn’t what you were hoping for, either. You must be disappointed.”

“...Disappointed? No, of course not.”

“I’m disgusting, Taranza. It would have been bad enough to have had to be a hideous spider or that terrible, self-centered monster… but something in-between? It doesn’t get worse than that. A fitting punishment, I suppose… I’m sure I deserve it after everything I did, but all the same, I feel terrible that this is what you had to see become of the ‘love of your life.’ You shouldn’t have to witness that.”

‘Hideous spider?’ ‘Self-centered monster?’

Hearing her say those things about how she was before would be bad enough, but hearing her say what she has to say about how she is now? You may as well have punched Taranza in the stomach. She asserts it with such conviction, too… certainty and resignation.

What an awful thing to be so sure about!

He feels even worse, now, for the way he reacted earlier. No doubt, he solidified this opinion in her mind. Did he wince? Did he stare? Did he make her feel as if she weren’t good enough?

…And here he was hoping that removing the mirror from the equation would be enough to remove her self-doubt. But it’s not that simple, is it? Not after the way it forced her to see herself. Not with the insecurities she already held long before he let that terrible thing into her life.

“Don’t say that,” he whispers. “Please.”

“Taranza,” she responds flatly. “Please don’t lie to me. I know what you’re thinking, and it’s alright. I…- I’ll try my best to get it under control. Those people said I was the one doing this to myself, and so maybe I can fix it. In the meantime, I just wanted to apologize.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for-”

“Yes there is. I’m not beautiful anymore… not in any sense of the word. And I’m sorry you have to see someone you hate when you look at me.”

Taranza stares.

“I don’t hate you . Not any version of you. I didn’t hate you, even then! A- and I meant what I said. There’s nothing to apologize for. You are beautiful,” His voice wavers. He squeezes her hand, “...Don’t say you’re not.”

A morose expression is replaced by a slightly softer one. When Sectonia next speaks, she doesn’t sound emphatic, simply tired.

“I already told you not to lie to me, and so… don’t. It won’t do either of us any good.”

Taranza wants to argue, but he knows it’s no use. It’s not as if she’ll believe him, and besides… if she were to look him in the eye and ask him to justify himself, what could he actually say? If he were to say ‘you’re beautiful,’ and she were to respond, ‘how so?’ could anything even begin to console her aching heart?

…Would anything even sound earnest? He knows it’s the truth, but even so, he’s getting used to this, too. If his voice were to waver, could he ever forgive himself?

“Well, if you feel that way, then I suppose that’s okay,” he says finally. “...I won’t try and force you. But I want you to know that sort of thing doesn’t matter. I don’t care how you look. I already said what’s most important: that you’re yourself. You’re you. The you I knew. Your heart’s been returned to you,” he presses his forehead to hers. “...What could possibly be more beautiful than that?”

After a moment of silence, he pulls away. He doesn’t want to overwhelm her. Still, he strokes her hand as he looks into her eyes… doesn’t let go entirely.

Her lip quivers. Briefly, she looks ready to cry. It’s clear she doesn’t know what to make of his kind words. Even now, she doubts their sincerity… thinks they’re undeserved— irrational.

They’re not, though. For all his uncertainties, that much Taranza is sure of. He… doesn’t know if any of this can be fixed. It would be nice, certainly, if only for what it would indicate about her mental state, but if it can’t be then… so be it. He’s still overjoyed. She’s here with him, alive and breathing. Nothing else could make for a more exquisite sight.

“I know things are scary right now,” he continues. “But we’re going to get through it together, like we always have. For as long as we’ve known one another it’s been the two of us against the world, hasn’t it? Able to overcome any difficulty? This is no different, I’m sure of it. It’ll all be alright. I’ll… I’ll take you home. And I’ll tell you about everything you’ve missed. I’ll introduce you to so many amazing people. It’ll get easier. We’ll be happy. We’ll finally be able to live the life we deserve.”

After all this time and suffering, they’re owed that. They shouldn’t have to cry a moment more.

“...Go home,” Sectonia repeats. “Where? To Floralia? S- surely the people won’t accept me, though. Won’t they be upset?”

“They don’t have to know. No-one has to know. We’ll live at the castle together, where no-one will bother us. And if anyone tries to, I’ll show them what for. I won’t let anyone hurt you. I promise.”

Never, ever again. He’s going to make sure that she’s safe— that she’s the happiest girl in the world from here on out.

“...Amazing people,” she comments next. She points towards the door. “You mean people like them?”

A nod.

“And so many others. I’ve made some truly wonderful friends while you were gone. They helped me through so much. I can’t wait for you to meet them. They’ll love you, I know they will. Magolor, Susie… even Kirby and King Dedede! They’ll be so happy to get to know the real you.”

He can’t wait to see the look on their faces. He’ll be able to say ‘I told you so.’ Finally, Sectonia will be more than a memory. She won’t be someone only he had the pleasure of getting to cherish.

“Are you sure?” Sectonia asks. “They’ve… also heard about all I’ve done, correct?”

“Well, yes,” Taranza replies. “...But they also know it wasn’t your fault. And besides, they all have pasts they’re grappling with, too. They’ll understand. They won’t judge you. No-one is going to judge you. I wouldn’t ever forgive them if they did.”

But that’s not something he’s worried about. All of the people who have been there for him, they’ll be there for her, too. They’ll see just how wonderful she is.

“And… this is really what you want?” Sectonia asks. “To return— live a life with someone like me?”

What sort of question is that?

“There’s not a single other person I’d rather have by my side.”

Gently, he tugs on her hand.

“Come on, let’s go back where we belong. As… long as you’re ready, of course. Do you feel okay? You don’t think you’re going to pass out again, do you?”

Sectonia shakes her head.

“No, I feel alright. Perhaps a bit fatigued, but… I’ll be fine. You’re right, we should leave this place. I’ve kept you waiting long enough.”

Cautiously, she rises. She pulls back the blanket, hesitates, briefly, then slips out of bed.

Taranza is prepared to steady her. He places a hand on her back.

“Thank you,” she says.

“Of course.”

Truthfully, she probably doesn’t need his help, but all the same, the touch is grounding. He wants her to know that he’s right here for her. That he’s never going to let go of her again.

“Well then, let’s go. I’m ready whenever you are, Sec…-”

He stops.

“Actually, I was meaning to ask you about that.”

“About what?”

“Your name. What is it you’d like to be called? Because I know you changed it, but… you also weren’t in your right mind. Do you want to go back, or…?”

Sectonia’s brow furrows. She looks troubled.

Taranza is quick to backpedal.

“I- it’s completely fine if you don’t want to!” he reassures. “I don’t care one bit. I just wanted to check and see what you were most comfortable with.”

“I know. It’s just…” Sectonia shifts uneasily. “I suppose I don’t really have a preference. Call me whatever you’d like.”

“...You don’t have a preference?” Taranza asks,

“Neither name feels particularly fitting. Sectonia is the name of a monster, which is to say perhaps one I deserve to be branded with, but all the same, I can’t say I love it. And as for ‘Joronia…’”

She pauses.

“Well, I’m not sure I deserve a name like that. It was a gift, after all. It seems rather rude to try and reclaim it after I so coldly threw it away.”

Taranza stares.

Is she… insinuating she doesn’t deserve it? That he’d think the same? He’s the one who suggested the name when she first came out, and so to call it a gift she discarded…-

“Hey. Don’t…- you shouldn’t think like that. As the person who bestowed you that name, I still think you more than deserve it. You weren’t in your right mind when you changed it, and even if you had been, I wouldn’t care! It’s not some right I get to revoke! Please don’t see it as something you’ve no longer earned. It doesn’t have to be earned at all. A- and besides, I still think it’s plenty fitting…”

Sectonia’s eyes narrow just slightly.

“...Do you now?” she asks.

He can feel her muscles pulsate as she says it. Just beneath the surface of her skin, something fluctuates, uneasily changing shape.

It’s a pointed question.

Joronia was a name with a very specific meaning. Based on the root meanings of a few Insectoid words, it translates to, effectively, ‘beautiful spider.’ ‘Joro,’ spider. ‘Nia,’ beautiful.

And so staring at him with those incredulous purple eyes…-

She’s daring him to say that he thinks either of those things still apply.

“O- of course I do,” Taranza says. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Her lip twitches just slightly. Still, she doesn’t argue.

“...I see. Very well then. You may call me that.”

But Taranza isn’t satisfied with that answer.

“Are you sure?”

“It’s what you want my answer to be, isn’t it?”

“Not necessarily. I- I want whatever makes you most comfortable.”

“I already told you. I find both disquieting. Address me however you wish.”

An uneasy feeling. There’s this knot in Taranza’s stomach.

He doesn’t want to force her to do or to be anything. He just wants her to be happy. How does he show her that?

“How about… something else?”

“Something else?” she repeats.

“If you’re not comfortable with either of those names, we could come up with a new one.”

It’s a bit of an improvisational idea— he’s not even really sure it’s a good one. He just couldn’t stand seeing her stare at him with that restless look in her eyes.

She cocks her head slightly.

“Like…?”

W- wait! She’s asking him for suggestions? He supposes he did say they could come up with it together, but he feels just a little bit put on the spot.

“How about, um…-” His mind races. He blurts out the first thing he can think of. “Nia!?”

At that, she blinks.

“Nia?”

She seems surprised.

“Well, I was just thinking…- that’s the part of your name you kept, yes? So it’s like… an in-between. A- and it’s still sort of fitting, too, don’t you think?”

He doesn’t dare say it expressly… what exactly that’s supposed to mean. He fears it would come across as disingenuous. They both know what he’s thinking, though.

If she no longer wants to go by ‘Joronia:’ ‘beautiful spider,’ and she’s also no longer ‘Sectonia:’ ‘beautiful wasp,’ then…

She can be a beautiful something else.

Whatever she is now, she remains a sight for sore eyes.

She considers his proposal, brow furrowed. Briefly, she seems troubled, but she just as soon relaxes.

“That… works, I suppose. At least for now.”

She still doesn’t sound particularly enthusiastic, but at the very least she’s no longer tense. She gives a small nod.

“Wonderful,” Taranza says. “Nia it is, then. At least… for now, yeah.”

A small smile, then, he nudges her.

They resume their egress.

Outside of the bedroom, the cult is waiting for them. It seems Zan Partizanne has joined the group. She sends a sideways glance as Taranza cracks open the door.

“Oh!” Hyness says. “I see you are up and about. That is good. We were starting to worry.”

“Apologies,” Taranza says. “We had a lot to discuss.”

“No need to apologize. It only makes sense,” Hyness replies. Then, turning towards Nia, “I take it that means you’re feeling somewhat better?”

A stupefied sort of look. It’s a moment before she responds, almost as if she hadn’t expected to be addressed.

Still, she just as soon clears her throat, giving a nod.

“...Yes,” she says. “I’m feeling better. Thank you for assisting in talking me down earlier. I know I must have caused quite a bit of trouble for you all.”

“Nonsense,” Hyness replies. “It was nothing, truly. We are just glad to see you are doing okay.”

Flamberge nods.

“You had us spooked for a minute there. Shoulda’ seen the look on our faces when Taranza came running back to the base screaming. We weren’t sure he’d succeed in this at all, so to be hit with that all of a sudden…”

“We feared perhaps something had gone wrong,” Francisca admits. “But it seems everything is fine now.”

“Yeah,” Flamberge says. “That crazy son of a gun actually did it! He raised the dead. Guess he’s way cooler than we all gave him credit for. And to think we were all trying to stop him…” she shakes her head— laughs. “Glad we changed our minds. Turns out he was right the whole time. You’re one lucky girl, you know. Most people wouldn’t be willing to do something like that.”

Nia’s quiet for a moment. When she finally speaks, it’s in a soft voice.

“...Yeah,” she says, shifting slightly. “I know.”

Flamberge looks ready to say something else, but before she can get the chance, Zan Partizanne intervenes.

Holding up a hand, she comments, “This is all very exciting, but I believe it’s best we give the two of them their space. They’ve had a very long day, and they’re no doubt tired.” She turns her head. “I’m taking it you'd like to go home?”

Ostensibly, it’s a question directed at both of them. It’s Nia she’s looking at as she says it, though.

“Yes,” Nia responds. “...That would be ideal.”

At that, the others back off. Hyness, in particular, gives a nod.

“Very well, then. As long as you believe you are prepared, then you are more than free to depart. Before you do, though, please allow us to at least provide a change of clothes. It seems you could certainly use it."

Taranza looks towards his bloodied shirt, then towards Nia.

“Ah… I suppose you have a point. We’d- uh, be grateful for that.”

Not only is he in a pretty sorry state, but they’re planning to return to Floralia, and the last thing he wants is to make a scene by allowing its denizens to get a look at his resurrected queen. They’d never understand the weight of this miracle— would simply see the return of a tyrant, and that’s something he can’t allow to happen.

While admittedly unstylish, the robes belonging to the cult might be just what they need in this sort of situation. They should be able to keep them hidden at least long enough to get back to the castle.

“Zan Partizanne,” Hyness instructs. “Could you take care of that?”

“Of course, Lord Hyness.”

She hovers past Taranza and Nia before gesturing a hand.

“Follow me.”

Taranza does as instructed, although he isn’t thrilled to be stuck with Zan Partizanne. There’s this shrewd expression on her face, and she never once takes her eyes off of Nia. She peers as they make their way down the hall.

‘What?’ Taranza thinks with a twinge of indignance. ‘Why are you staring at her!? Stop that!’

He knows what she’s doing. She’s trying to infer what went wrong. What? Does she think if she looks hard enough she’ll find some evidence of his crime? The reason why things ended up this way?

Nothing even went wrong! Things are fine. Both of them are going to be fine… and so he wishes she’d just drop it already. Can’t she tell she’s making Nia uncomfortable? It’s one thing to try and interrogate him, but another entirely to gawk at her like she’s some kind of ‘proof.’ She doesn’t deserve that.

Nevertheless, Taranza doesn’t make a scene. That would only make things worse for Nia. He already told himself he doesn’t care about what Zan Partizanne thinks, and so he takes a deep breath.

‘I don’t care if you went into this expecting failure. No matter how hard you look, you’re not going to find it.’

Zan Partizanne leads the two of them into what appears to be some sort of small, dark, arcane-looking laundry room. A place it only makes sense to keep clothes in, of course, but all the same, Taranza is consistently surprised by the ornamentation of this place.

…So dedicated to the ritualistic, Stygian vibe that even an ordinary room looks otherworldly? He supposes he has to admire the dedication, although once more he feels bad for resurrecting Nia somewhere so gloomy. He can’t wait to get home. She deserves more pleasant sights; sunshine and flowers.

Zan Partizanne spends a little bit looking for cloaks that will fit. She’s able to find one for Taranza relatively quickly, passing it off to him with a nod, but needs to give it a little more thought concerning Nia.

“We should probably get you something a little larger,” she admits. “It’ll be far too big on you as you are now, but if your body could change again, it’s best to play it safe. Better to drown in your garments than have none at all.”

As such, she gives Nia something sized for a Sectra.

Nia looks uncomfortable, admittedly, as it’s handed to her. Her antennae lengthen. Her body grows just slightly.

Taranza frowns. For once, he can’t fault Zan Partizanne— it’s a good precaution to take, especially seeing as how they’ll be returning to a country that loathes them, but it still makes him sad to see Nia reminded of her circumstances. It no doubt hurts to not only have them pointed out to her but to be acutely aware others have noticed as well. Does she feel singled out?

He squeezes her shoulder, then nudges her gently with another hand.

“...Bit nostalgic, huh?” he asks, trying his best to distract her. “Remember how we used to sneak around Floralia all disguised because you didn’t want to get caught spending time with a commoner? Never thought we’d be doing something like that again.”

He forces a laugh, but it doesn’t seem to earn much of a reaction from her. She simply gives an “Mmmm…” before pulling the cloak over her head.

Sure enough, it dwarfs her. The hem hangs far past her body and the hood shields most of her face. Loose and baggy, it’s far from a perfect fit.

Nia thanks Zan Partizanne, though, saying she appreciates it.

“Of course,” Zan Partizanne replies.

Taranza puts his on next, covering, but not removing his bloodied clothes. He’ll get fully changed once they’ve arrived back at the castle. Ideally they can find something better-fitting for Nia as well there. But for now, this will do.

“Thank you,” he says as well. For all his frustrations with Zan Partizanne at the moment, it’s only the courteous thing to do.

Francisca, Flamberge and Hyness are waiting outside of the base to see them off.

“Are you sure you will be okay making the trip back?” Hyness asks.

“I think so,” Taranza responds. “It’s not a long journey.”

At least… thanks to the wonders of magic and technology. Admittedly, Taranza’s not really sure how it works, but a while back, Magolor set up teleporters between the locations Kirby and friends frequent. It’s a good thing, too! Jambandra and Planet Popstar are lightyears away from one another. Without a ship of his own, it would take ages to get back.

Before they depart, however, there are acknowledgements to be given.

“Thank you again,” he says, looking over the group, Francisca and Flamberge especially. “I know I already said it once, but if there’s anything I can ever do to help you out in the future, please let me know. I could never properly express just how much I appreciate what you did for me here today. You helped me rescue the person who means the world to me. I’ll forever be in your debt.”

“Awwww, there’s no need to repay us,” Flamberge responds. “Really, this was us repaying you. You’re one of the people who helped save us when we were at our lowest in Another Dimension… and ‘sides, we’re just happy to see you happy. Ain’t that right?”

Francisca nods.

“If you really want to do us a favor, then don’t be a stranger, okay? Now that your friend’s returned to life, we’d love to get to know her. Visit sometime!”

“We definitely will,” Taranza says. “Isn’t that right, Nia?”

Nia glances up. It seems as if she’d been spacing out through most of the conversation.

“Uh… yeah,” she murmurs. “Of course.”

With that in mind, Taranza’s more than ready to leave. As grateful as he is to the Mage Sisters, it’s clear Nia is tired, and truthfully, Taranza can’t blame her. It’s been a long day. She has a lot to process. They can worry about social interaction once she’s feeling better. For now, it’s best to just head home.

And so after one final farewell to the Mage Sisters and Hyness, he leads her to the teleporter. He floats on, then motions for her to follow after.

She squints.

No doubt, the blue and yellow platform is like nothing she’s ever seen before… not to mention a sight that sticks out like a sore thumb in Jambandra. The vibrant colors and gear shaped insignia are a stark contrast to the dark, gloomy landscape. It must seem utterly alien, even on this already-alien planet.

“What… is that, exactly?” she asks.

“Teleporter,” Taranza explains. “It’ll help us travel a long distance.”

Nia is no stranger, of course, to teleportation magic— in fact, it was used prominently in maintaining domination over the lower islands, but the technological coat of paint it’s dressed up in has to be totally new.

Taranza will probably have to introduce her to a lot, actually, won’t he? So many new inventions have sprung up since Floralia was connected to Dreamland. He still remembers how baffled he was the first time Susie showed him a ‘cell phone.’

Nia’s in for a lot of surprises.

…They’re not bad surprises, though, he thinks. He’s actually looking forward to showing her some of the ways things have changed.

He holds out a hand.

“Come on,” he says. “It’ll be alright. I’ve got you.”

She nods, taking it, before floating up onto the platform.

From there, Taranza can activate the device, and just like that, they’re off. A bright flash of blue as a portal opens, and then as quickly as it began, it’s over. The dark skies of Jambandra are replaced by a pleasant light.

The feel of warm sunshine and a familiar, flowery scent. After all this time, they’ve actually done it.

They’ve made it home to Floralia. Together.

Now, their happy ending can finally begin.

Chapter Text

As mentioned, it’s not a long trip back to the castle. Seeing as how no-one else in Floralia really uses the teleporter aside from an occasional visit to the Lower World to chat with its heroes, it’s practically in Taranza’s backyard— a five minute excursion at most.

He helps Nia down from the platform, one hand placed on her back. 

She still seems to be a bit dazed. He can’t imagine it actually has all that much to do with the teleportation itself, though. Instead, it’s likely being in Floralia itself that has her feeling a little out of sorts. 

She looks around slowly, an indiscernible expression on her face.

It must be strange. From her perspective, it hasn’t been all that long since she was last here, but at the same time, it must feel like something from a lifetime ago. Not only have so many little things changed, but it was a different set of eyes she was observing the world through then.

…Metaphorically, that is. In actuality, they’re still the same. 

A pang of sadness. This all must be bringing back some painful memories. Taranza gets that, he thinks— he has a lot of memories associated with this place that make him sad, too, but everything will be alright. Now, they can make new memories.

“I’ll lead the way,” he says.

She probably doesn’t need to be ‘led;’ he’s sure she knows her way back to the castle, but seeing her standing there with that glazed look in her eyes, he’d prefer to get her moving as quickly as possible. Inside, she’ll feel better.

At least… he hopes.

He tries his best to lay low as they make the trek. He doesn’t think they’ll be spotted by anyone, much less recognized… but all the same, he’s admittedly a little nervous about what will happen if the people of Floralia find out that he’s resurrected Nia. Both Insectoids and People of the Sky remember her with a lot of animosity. Would they really believe him if he were to say that she wasn't in her right mind when she did all of that? That now the two of them just want to be left alone?

He’s not sure. He doesn’t think so. Perhaps if King Dedede and Kirby were to explain, but even then, he’s not placing bets on that. He and Nia… uh, hurt a lot of innocent people. 

He wishes those people would just be angry at him… that they’d leave her out of it. Not only was it his gift that instigated all of this, but Nia was delirious during their reign of terror. He wasn’t. He chose to do all of that, and so why won’t they…?

No. He’s getting ahead of himself. He shouldn’t worry about that. The denizens of Floralia haven’t found out yet, and when they do, he doesn’t know for certain how they’ll react.

Maybe… it’ll be alright as long as Nia doesn’t try to reinstate herself as queen.

He feels a little bit bad about her losing that title. She worked really hard for it when she was younger, and not only that, but it was a point of pride. He just can’t see how she could continue to be ruler, though— at least without taking the position back by force, and anyways, he’s not sure it’s a role she’d want.

Part of him can’t help but think if he were to bring it up she’d give a sad laugh and say that she doesn’t deserve to be queen… that she never did. 

It hurts his heart. He doesn’t like her feeling that way about herself. 

…Regardless, she’ll always be his queen, at least.

He sticks close to her as they travel— tries to make small talk, even, but her mind seems to be somewhere else.

In particular, her gaze keeps wandering back towards the Dreamstalk.

That, too, is different from when she last saw it. Now, it’s in full bloom. She never did get to witness that. It was her presence and her expulsion that made it ultimately flourish.

He wonders if she remembers what it was like being a part of it. She has to, doesn’t she? Hyness said that her shifting body is likely tied to her identity, and so for her to have sprouted flowers earlier…

Ah, it only makes sense. She carries a part of it, just like it carries a part of her. 

He wants to call it a beautiful sight— direct the compliment towards her, by extension, but he thinks better of it. While it’s true he’s always seen the Dreamstalk as something to remember her by, she probably associates it with the most painful moments of her life. 

…Being forsaken by her people, falling into complete madness, then dying. 

(After all, no feeling other than agony could incite what he saw earlier— flowers ripping through her skin. Desperate, panicked screams.

Stars. He still can’t banish the memory from his mind.)

He squeezes her shoulder.

“You alright?” he asks.

She startles just a bit. Slowly, her gaze drifts towards him.

“Of course,” she says stiltedly. “My apologies. I suppose I was just surprised. You said it’d been a very long time. I’m shocked that thing is even still alive.”

“Ah… yeah,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “It’s pretty resilient. It’s become something of a landmark.”

He hopes she won’t be too troubled having it right outside her window. He’d hate if it brought back bad memories.

Not that that’s something he has to worry about for too long. Sooner rather than later, they reach the castle. He’s able to lead her inside, out of the shadow of the Dreamstalk and into another well of memories, this time, hopefully, a kinder one.

She still seems a little bit surprised, admittedly, as she looks around its grand halls. In some ways, it must seem as if it hasn’t changed at all in the time she’s been gone.

“...Wow,” she says. “You’ve taken good care of it.”

There are a few minuscule differences— a flowerpot sitting on one windowsill, new pictures hung on the wall, gifts from friends scattered about and one or two wholly new things, but mostly, it’s the same.

“Well, of course I did,” Taranza says. “It was our home, after all, wasn’t it?”

Which isn’t to say he never made it his own. He did, at least a little. He just also never quite disregarded the memories… couldn’t and wouldn’t ignore the ghosts he swore wandered the castle halls. 

“I suppose so.”

As yet another melancholy look crosses Nia’s face, Taranza is quick to distract her, asking:

“Do you- um, want to sit down? I can only imagine you’re tired after such a busy day. Here, let me take you to your room, that way you can relax. I’ll get you a change of clothes… you can sleep some, if you’d like. A- although I may have to do some tidying up in there. I’ve been staying there while you were gone, since it was, uh…-”

Their room, for a time. Not at the end of ‘Sectonia’s’ life, of course… by then, she hated him, but for just a little while— after she’d thrown caution to the wind, but before she slipped away entirely— they stayed there together. 

She’d hold him at nights when her fits of paranoia were at their worst. He’d press his temple to hers and tell her everything was going to be alright… that he wouldn’t let anyone hurt her.

He didn’t realize just how serious things were. Not until it was too late. And eventually, there was nothing he could do to comfort her. She ousted him, saying she’d rather sleep alone.

Any romance they'd had died.

But following her death… when Taranza was at his very lowest, he slunk into the room and he stayed there. He knew he probably wouldn’t have been welcome, but all the same, he needed anything he could cling to, so he’d lay in the bed that was once theirs, nestled in the imprint left by her body. He’d wrap himself in a blanket and pretend, just for a moment, that she was still there— that she still loved him.

Because he really wanted to be held, and old memories were all he had left.

A lump in his throat as he remembers it. His lip quivers. He blinks slowly, though, and reminds himself that everything is going to be alright.

…Nia is here now. She’s not going anywhere. He doesn’t need some dumb room to remember her by.

“A- anyways,” he stammers, “What I’m trying to say is I’ll get rid of all of it. I’ll give you your space back. I apologize for taking it.”

“No,” she says, frowning. “It’s okay. I…-” a pause. “It’s not like I was there to use it. You don’t have to move anything if you don’t want. You’re welcome to stay.”

“I’d hate to intrude,” Taranza insists.

“It wouldn’t be intruding. Like you said, it was…- we were…” her voice wavers just a little bit. When she next speaks, it’s quieter. “Well, you know.”

She doesn’t dare say it aloud. Neither of them do. It feels too awkward— forbidden, somehow. Perhaps it’s just too soon to bring it up— to ask ‘what are we, exactly?’ 

Would either of them even have an answer?

Their relationship is complicated. It’s been a lot of different things. As children, they were best friends. As teenagers, they fell in love, but it was a love they couldn’t pursue. For a time, in the eye of the storm, they were partners, but by then, Nia was already beginning to lose herself, and it’s not as if it lasted. As her heart withered in her chest, she pulled away from him, and by the end there, they weren’t even master and servant.

…Just a miserable madwoman and someone she wanted gone.

Where do you go from that? What do you do? If it were up to him, he thinks, he’d wrap her in his embrace and plant kisses on her cheeks. He’d tell her he missed her and that he’s so happy they’re together again. He’d go back to holding her at night, and this time when he told her ‘it’s going to be okay’ she would actually be able to believe him.

But it’s not just up to him. It’s up to her, too. What does she want?

“Well, if you’re okay with it. I just…- I don’t want to force anything. How about you take some time to think it over? S- sit on it for a bit, and you can… uh, tell me what you want this evening. If you want me to leave, I won’t be offended.”

“...Right,” Nia says. “I can do that, I suppose.”

Her hand shifts slightly in his as he guides her down the hall. Fingers shorten, becoming something closer to, but not quite, paws. Nails dig into his skin.

He has to wonder what she’s thinking about. Is she also reminiscing? How do those memories make her feel? Are they comforting or are they disheartening?

Once more, he squeezes her shoulder. He pulls her in ever so slightly closer.

Whatever they are, he’ll help her through any sorrow. Even if he can’t do most of what he’d like to, he can still tell her ‘it’s going to be okay,’ because it will be… he’ll make sure of it.

He doesn’t need a word for them to know that.

They’re about halfway to her room when, abruptly, she stops. She stares at something affixed to the wall.

‘A picture frame,’ Taranza realizes— more specifically one containing a photograph of him and some of the people he’s grown close to while she was gone. It’s one of several he’s hung around the castle.

There’s this peculiar, blank look on her face as she takes note of it. Slowly, her lips curl into a frown. 

“A- ah,” Taranza says, quick to feel the need to justify himself. “That’s- um- please don’t worry. I didn’t take down any of the portraits you had hung up. I know I shouldn’t have redecorated, but…-”

He drifts off.

As he does, Nia’s frown deepens.

“What?” She asks. “Don’t apologize. You haven’t done anything wrong. It’s just… are these your friends?” She leans ever-so-slightly closer to the picture frame. She’s quiet for another moment before adding on, “...You look happy.”

And indeed he does. In fact, Taranza is laughing in the photograph. He has a big, goofy grin on his face and his horns wiggle excitedly. 

“Ah, yes,” he says. “I believe that was taken during a party. It was… rather fun, I suppose.” 

The words come out stilted. For some reason, he feels as if he’s been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to do. He doesn’t get the sense that Nia is angry, but all the same, she looks…-

Well, she looks a little sad.

“They’re… uh- they’re all wonderful people,” he stammers, hoping perhaps an explanation will help. “Like I said, I can’t wait for you to meet them. They’ll love you.” 

He points a finger.

“That’s Magolor,” he continues, gesturing towards the cloaked wizard. He has one hand on Taranza’s shoulder and reaches out to rustle his hair with another. “As you can see, he… um- he doesn’t really have a sense of personal space… he’s kind of a lot in general, but he’s nice. He always knows how to cheer someone up. He has this big, larger-than-life demeanor. He can seem a bit detached, but he cares… he really does, and he’s smarter than you’d expect, too. He’s captain of this boat he calls the Lor Starcutter? Oh, you should see it, Nia! It’s incredible.”

“Then there’s Susie,” he says, referring to the girl who stands just as close, albeit not intruding on Taranza’s space like Magolor is. It’s one of the rare moments she actually seems to be jovial. More often than not, she keeps a rather serious demeanor. “She is also the…- she is the best. She’s one of the people who helped me out most with…- well, with everything! It can be a little hard to get her to open up, but she is so fiercely loyal, not to mention intelligent, too. She runs this company called the Haltmann Works Company— builds all these cool machines. So much of what she does… it’s amazing. Y- you’ll love her, I know you will.”

“And finally- well, King Dedede is taking the picture, but other than that…-” 

He gives pause, a sense of guilt once more washing over him as points out the final person in the photo.

“...Well, there’s Kirby.”

His voice is low— hesitant and uncertain as he says it. In any other scenario, it’s a declaration he’d make with pride, but remembering just how terrified Nia sounded earlier when she demanded to know where ‘that pink thing’ was, he can’t help but feel ashamed.

He doesn’t hate Kirby. He could never hate Kirby. All the same, though, Kirby was the person who…

Who took her from him. Who did what had to be done. Who ended her suffering when no-one else was brave enough to. 

How can he admit someone like that is his friend without wavering? Could Nia ever forgive him? She told him she recalls burning to death. Tears trickled down her face as she said just how much it hurt. Kirby has to seem like a monster to her… but it’s not like Taranza can pretend he doesn’t care about him. Not when Kirby’s front and center in the photo. Not when he’s the one making Taranza laugh.

“H- he’s a good person,” he stutters. “He is, I promise. He’s one of the people who helped me out most when…- it was him and King Dedede who did everything in their power to make sure I was alright when I was at my worst. If it weren’t for them, I…-”

He hesitates. He can’t say that to her, can he? He can’t tell her just how bad he did after she died. She’d blame herself. Telling her Kirby and King Dedede saved his life… that he almost gave up— that wouldn’t redeem them in her eyes. All it would do is exacerbate her guilt. 

She… doesn’t need to know about days on end spent in bed unmoving. She doesn’t need to know about how long he went without food or drink. It doesn’t matter anymore that he almost wasted away. He’s here. They both are.

“I know he didn’t mean to hurt you,” he says, deciding that’s a better way to go about this. “Not like that. He was… really upset when he learned about who you used to be— that you weren’t coming back. A friend of his- Magolor, actually… Kirby had…- he vanquished him, too, when Magolor did something bad, but then Magolor came back, and so Kirby thought…” his voice wavers. “Well, he thought it would be the same for you.”

He still recalls Kirby showing up at the castle one afternoon completely alone. He’d only ever come with Dedede up until that point, and so it was strange. This was still when Taranza wasn’t doing so great, and Kirby…

He broke down. Through tears, he asked Taranza if he hated him— if it was his fault he was sad. He said that he didn’t mean to hurt anyone and promised he was sorry. It was the first time Taranza had seen him as anything except cheery.

It was strange. Part of Taranza wanted to hate Kirby, he thinks, but he couldn’t. Not when Kirby had just been protecting everyone. Not when Taranza also helped put Sectonia down. Not when King Dedede told him he’d done the merciful thing. 

“Your friend…” he’d mused. “It seems to me like she was suffering. Now she ain’t gotta anymore.”

So Taranza had told Kirby he didn’t do anything wrong. Perhaps miraculously, they found understanding.

And now, Nia really has been freed of suffering. Ultimately, everything worked out. Despite what happened— all of the tragedy— she’s here. She’s alive.

“He’s going to be so happy to hear you’re back. That you’re yourself. That he can get to know you.” A pause. “Y- you don’t have to, of course! Talk to him, I mean. And I apologize if I’ve done something wrong by being friends with him and King Dedede. If you want me to stop…-”

He falters. Is that actually something he can offer? After everything they’ve done for him? All of the good memories they’ve made?

“...Taranza,” Nia says, and for a moment, she sounds horrified, but she just as soon sounds adamant. “What right do I have to tell you to do that!? I don’t care! Those two, they…” she falters, then averts her eyes. “They did the right thing. I deserved to die. I would have killed myself, too.”

But that’s not what Taranza wants to hear. It breaks his heart to hear her mutter that with such conviction.

“H- hey,” he says, squeezing her hand. He leans on her side. “Don’t say that. That’s not true. You didn’t deserve any of that. Kirby feels the same way. We all do. Everyone is going to be so glad to hear you’re alright. Please don’t insinuate that any of what happened to you was warranted.”

“I… apologize,” Nia says, shaking her head. “I suppose you’re right. And I’m sorry for making a scene. I’m relieved— I really am, to hear that you’ve had people looking out for you. They all seem very kind.”

“They are,” Taranza agrees. “And they’re going to love you.”

Nia gives a stiff nod, then, tugging Taranza’s hand, continues on.

He can tell that she doesn’t believe him yet, but he knows he shouldn’t try to argue. She’ll come to see that it’s the truth with time. Kirby, King Dedede, Magolor, Susie… everyone else, too— once they get to know her, they’ll think she’s amazing. They’ll be friends to her, too.

It’s not long until they reach the bedroom. The two of them make their way inside.

As they do, Nia looks around. She takes in her surroundings the same way she did for the rest of the castle. And like that, it’s easy to tell not much has changed here either. A book sits on the bedside table, as does a picture frame, and there’s a new vase here or there, sure… but for the most part, things are just how she left them. The same curtains frame the windows. The same blanket drapes over the bed. The same portraits decorate the walls.

They’re almost all, of course, of ‘Queen Sectonia.’ With the vanity she had by the end of her life, her own face is just about all she ever wanted to see. The emotionless gaze of the Sectra bears down on them, and when Nia meets her eyes, it’s as if she’s looking at a stranger.

Her grip on Taranza’s hand tightens. Once more, her fingers elongate. This time, the fuzz recedes almost entirely, save for a few patches.

The portraits of ‘Sectonia’ aren’t what give her the most pause, though. It’s something else that makes her stop entirely. While Taranza didn’t dare remove anything she hung up, one completely new painting adorns the wall.

…It’s of them. A them from a very long time ago. Taranza and ‘Joronia,’ both smiling without a care in the world.

If she looked at Sectonia like she was a stranger, there are no words to describe how Nia looks at Joronia. Her lip trembles as she peers into those glowing eyes that are so completely unlike her own.

Her body grows more. Her cloak bulges as the tiniest wings sprout from her back. All at once, her hands look awkward— gangly and out of proportion.

A lump forms in Taranza’s throat. 

“That’s… uh- I had that made when I was starting to do a little bit better,” he explains. “I wanted something to remember that version of you by. I- I’m sorry if you wouldn’t have wanted me to do that… if you wouldn’t have wanted me to depict you that way. I can take it down, if you’d like.” He glances around the room, looking at the other portraits, too. “I can take them all down. Whatever will make you most comfortable.” 

Nia shifts uneasily. 

“...No,” she says. “There’s no need for that. I’m… glad that you wanted to remember me.” 

Drifting towards the bed, though, she blinks quickly. She forces a deep breath.

By now, she’s almost completely a Sectra. There are still a few disparities— small patches of fur, thinning silver hair and a small abdomen, but as she sits, he watches her stray further and further from the girl in the portrait. Her face reshapes and becomes sharper— more angled, less wide.

She turns her head away from him.

Taranza can’t imagine what that feels like… to be a stranger in your own body. To look at the person you used to be and not see yourself in her at all.

He wishes there was something he could say to comfort her, but where would he even begin? How does he make her realize that she’s still the same person deep down and that that’s all that matters? That he’s never cared what she looks like?

He doesn’t know. It’s not something he thinks he could ever put into words.

He decides it’s probably best to drop the subject. Floating closer, he asks, “Do you want a change of clothes? I figure now that we’re home we can probably find you something nicer…”

Nia shrugs.

“I don’t know. I doubt anything will even fit,” she mutters. “This is… fine, honestly.”

It’s not like her. She’s always cared about dressing well. The cloak, while not all that oversized anymore, still isn’t the sort of thing she’d usually like. Her tastes are far fancier. 

“Are you sure?” he asks, frowning.

“I’m sure,” she says, voice completely flat.

He decides not to force it. If this is what’s most comfortable for her right now, then there’s not much he can do about that. He’ll have to spend some time convincing her it’s alright to come out of her shell. 

There is one thing he realizes he can give her, though, even if it’s not an actual change of clothes.

He hops off the bed, making his way over to the nightstand and rummaging through a drawer. He retrieves something he left carefully folded. 

“Here,” he says. “At least take this. If… you want it, that is.”

At first, Nia doesn’t even seem to process what he’s holding, but as she does, her eyes widen. She stares. 

“You kept that?” She asks.

‘That’ being a worn out red scarf— her half of a two piece set. They bought a matching pair when they were teenagers, declaring it a symbol of their friendship.

“...I thought I told you to get rid of it.”

And she did. As she started to slip, ‘Sectonia’ didn’t particularly care about being Taranza’s friend anymore. She tossed it to the wayside and told him to dispose of it like all other reminders of her past life.

“Yeah,” Taranza admits. “But I couldn’t bring myself to. I put it away someplace safe, hoping one day you’d change your mind and that you’d…-” his voice wavers just a little. “Well, that you’d want to be a team again.”

He knows it’s kind of silly. By that point, he shouldn’t have had any hope for that sort of thing. But he still wasn’t willing to give it up. He continued to wear his half of the set long after she discarded hers. Long after she died, too. And he kept her half stowed away just in case… on the mere off chance he’d eventually get the queen he remembered back. 

Which he did. Somehow, some way, she’s here. 

She looks uncertain as she stares at its faded ruby fabric. When she speaks, her voice is small.

“Are you… really certain I deserve something like that?” she asks. “I got rid of it. It’s not fair to ask for a gift to be returned after doing something like that. After doing everything I did. I broke our promise, Taranza.”

“You were sick,” he insists. “You were sick and you weren’t yourself. But you are now. Of course you deserve it.” He makes his way back over to her side— sits down beside her as he carefully handles the scarf. “I said forever, didn’t I? That’s what these were supposed to represent. You and me against the world, no matter what. The queen and her knight; an unstoppable team.” 

Even just reminiscing on it, he has to smile a little. It’s a memory that’s since become bittersweet, of course, but all the same, he remembers just how resolute he was. That was a pledge he made with his whole heart, and he still feels the same way about it he did back then.

“As long as you want it, it’s yours,” he says, holding it out in offering. “...I understand if you don’t, though. I haven’t always been the best friend, either, and if you’d prefer not to be associated with me…-”

“No!” Nia interjects. “G- give that to me! Of course I want it.” 

She swipes it from his hands. She trembles, briefly, as she stares down at it, and for a moment, she even looks ready to cry, but she just as soon puts it on. Gingerly, she pulls her hood down before wrapping the scarf around her neck.

She pulls the hood back up immediately afterwards, of course, but Taranza’s relieved. For a moment there, he’d been afraid she wasn’t going to accept his offering… that she’d insist she doesn’t deserve it.

She keeps saying that. ‘I don’t deserve this name.’ ‘I don’t deserve that gift.’ ‘I’m not worthy of your kindness.’ When she first came back, she even argued she didn’t deserve to be alive. That had been hard to hear. Taranza wishes there was more he could do to convince her he means what he says— that he’s telling the truth when he says she deserves all of this and more. He’d give her the stars in the sky, if he could.

But he supposes that’ll take some time. For now, just getting her to take the scarf is enough.

“...Thank you,” she whispers. 

“Of course,” he responds. “I’m glad to see it back where it belongs.” There’s a warmth to his voice, even despite the melancholy. “It looks great on you.”

That, of course, she believes least of all. She hangs her head slightly. He means it, though. It’s something that’ll always suit her. It’s a reminder that she is the same girl, whether she thinks so or not.

He reaches out for her hand— rubs his thumb over her knuckles.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he says. “I missed you so, so much. I know you’re going through a lot, but we’re going to get through it. I will always be here by your side. Let this be a reminder of that, okay?” he gestures towards the scarf. “It’s still you and me, and together, we can overcome anything. The worst is over. You’re going to be alright.” 

“...Right,” she says. 

And hesitantly, she leans on his side.

He’s not sure how long they sit like that… her weight against his shoulder and his hand stroking hers. The glazed look in her eyes never quite fades, but any budding tears dry, at least. She takes a slow breath in, then out.

Her body doesn’t return to how it was, but at the very least, it doesn’t morph further. For now, she’s reached an impasse.

He hopes that means her thoughts are ever-so-slightly less heavy.

Part of him wishes he could stay there forever. He’d be perfectly happy like that, he thinks. The warmth of her body is comforting— something some part of him is still trying to process. He can hardly even believe she’s alive.

It’ll feel like a miracle forever, he thinks. He’ll never not be grateful for it. Despite everything, they’re together, and that’s all that matters.

But he knows he can’t stay there all day, and so eventually, he shifts slightly. Looking at her, he says:

“...You’re probably tired, huh? Listen, why don’t you try and get some rest, and I’ll make you something to celebrate your return? Then, we can have dinner together, and we can discuss what we want to do going forward. Of course, if you’d prefer I stay, I can, but-”

“No,” she interjects. “That… sounds nice. I’d like that.”

“Oh,” Taranza says. “Well, that’s good. I’ll do that, then.” And with that, he rises, careful not to let her fall. “I’ll make you something wonderful… a meal fit for a queen, and when that’s done, I’ll come get you. For now, just try and relax.” A pause. “Of course, if you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call. I’ll be there in an instant.” 

One last squeeze, then his hand slips from hers. Despite himself, he pulls away.

Some part of him is a little scared to do so. He’s worried that if he looks away, the dream will come to an end and she’ll disappear again. But he knows that he has to take care of her. She’s depending on him now more than ever— he can’t let silly anxieties get in the way.

She’ll be okay. He’s going to make sure of that. There’s nothing for the two of them to worry about.

And so he stops in the doorway, gives her an awkward nod, then departs— at least for now. 

He makes his way down the hall, ignoring the nagging urge to turn back and check on her. He takes a deep breath and repeats it over and over again in his mind. 

‘She’s going to be okay. She’s going to be okay. But she also needs your help right now. Let her get some rest and make her feel welcomed back.’

Before he goes into the kitchen to do anything, he ducks into a spare bedroom, though. He should have some extra clothes stowed away there, and it’s probably best he gets cleaned up before he gets to work.

Not only is it the sanitary thing to do, but he’s hoping Nia’s nerves will ease at least a little once he’s not looking so battered. Maybe then she’ll stop feeling like he endangered himself for her sake… or at least stop feeling like that’s something to be concerned about. Perhaps he did, after all, but he ended up alright, and so there’s nothing for her to feel guilty about.

He grabs a clean set of clothes, then makes his way to a bathroom. He removes the cloak the Jamba Cult provided, then his scarf, his cape, his bloodied shirt and his gloves. 

He looks his body over in the mirror.

…He really does look like a mess. Seeing himself now, he can understand why she was so frightened. Hemolymph is crusted to his face. Burns and tears litter his clothes. His hair is tousled and his eyes are exhausted. 

A long scar runs down his side. 

It’s from that hit Morpho Knight got in with the enlarged sword, he thinks. He was able to patch up most of his wounds properly, but must not have been paying much attention there. Clearly he didn’t heal it very well.

A sigh as he shakes his head. It doesn’t matter. It’s not the first scar he’s gotten. He has countless injuries from assisting Sectonia with her tyranny. He was always the first person to throw himself in the way of danger for her, after all. There are two distinct stab wounds from an assassination attempt that took place shortly after her death and, of course, lichtenberg scars all over his body just beneath a thin layer of fuzz. 

He probably shouldn’t let Nia see any of this, should he? She’d think it’s her fault. That, or she’d…-

‘No,’ he thinks, silently scolding himself. ‘She wouldn’t think that. She wouldn’t say that to you. When she told you things like that, she wasn’t in her right mind.’

…Still, part of him has to wonder. She wouldn’t be entirely wrong in saying it, would she?

‘‘You’re ugly,’ that is. ‘And not just because of the scars.’

Another deep breath, this time just a little shakier. Even if it’s true, he shouldn’t put words in her mouth. She deserves better than that.

He splashes water on his face, then grabs a rag and begins to work the hemolymph from his fur. Carefully, he removes all evidence of the fight that took place. He never wants anyone to learn just how perilous it got. 

It’s not just Nia who would be mad at him. It’s everyone. Magolor, Susie, Kirby, King Dedede… they’d all say ‘You almost gave up your life? For her!? How could you be so reckless?’

His lip curls. He hates the way he can envision them saying it: ‘her’ spat as if it’s some kind of absurdity. As if she isn’t worthy of what he did for her. He can hardly stand it.

She’s not any less important than he is! Her life is equally as meaningful! He doesn’t want to hear anyone say that it isn’t.

And so they won’t ever know about just how close he came to death or the sacrifice he made. 

…The sacrifice. 

Now that he’s not preoccupied with Nia, he can feel it again: the cavity in his chest. It’s a hollowness that radiates out through his entire being, weighing down his body, leaving him weak, and making his movements disoriented and sluggish. 

Just another thing he’ll have to get used to, he supposes. His only hope is that she’s not experiencing the same thing.

What are souls made up of, anyways? If he has all of his personality and memories, then does she have all of his vitality and strength?

Ugh. It’s not worth dwelling on. At least not right now. There are more important things to be worried about.

Once he’s washed the hemolymph from his body, he works on his scarf. Most of his clothes he’s alright leaving soiled for now, but that, at least, he’d prefer to keep in good condition. He handles it carefully as he runs it under water.

The hemolymph washes out, but the scorch marks don’t. Try as he might to rinse the traces of the scarf’s time on the fiery battlefield, it’s just no use. Not only is it charred in areas, but there are spots where it’s eroded completely, fabric swallowed and frayed by the flames that licked at it mercilessly.

He wonders if he maybe shouldn’t have taken it to the battle. It was an important reminder of what he was fighting for and something that gave him strength, but he also feels bad having been so careless with it.

…Ah, well, he supposes it doesn’t matter that much. It’s survived, at least, and with him having been struck by lightning in the past, these aren’t the first singe marks it’s received. 

Once he’s finished washing and drying it, he pulls a shirt over his head, then wraps the scarf around his neck. Damaged or not, it’s back where it belongs.

After that, all he has left to do for now is take care of his hair. He spends a few minutes running his fingers through it and patting it down, hoping to get it in some sort of acceptable state.

He’s not able to style it just how he wants it— it’s still a little messy for his tastes, but it’s good enough for now. If he wants to spend more time fooling around with something so inconsequential, then he can do that later. At the moment all that matters is making Nia feel at home. 

He looks himself over in the mirror one last time and gives an awkward smile. He likes to think he’s looking a little better, but is also not sure it matters all that much. He should get to work.

He spends the next few hours cooking, putting together the most grand meal he can come up with. It’s a little bit excessive, really, but he’d rather be over the top than not do enough.

He has to take a break once or twice, ducking away while this or that simmers to check up on Nia. He knows he’s being overly cautious, but some part of him is still afraid to let her out of his sight. He’s not sure what he thinks will happen if he leaves her alone too long, but he’s anxious regardless. 

Thankfully, though, she seems to be doing alright. She’s actually already asleep by the first time he peeks his head in. 

He hovers in the doorway, watching her chest rise and fall. He feels some sense of relief. 

‘See?’ he thinks. ‘She’s still there.’

He tries his best to ignore the ever-so-slightly troubled look on her face… the fact that her body is still in the same state as it was when he left.

‘She’s… fine. She’s going to be fine,’ he reassures himself. ‘She just needs some rest.’

He turns around and makes his way back to the kitchen. He saw what he needed to. Now, it’s time to stop fretting before he lets something burn.

By the time he finishes making her feast, it’s early evening. The sun is just starting to set as he applies the finishing touches, then brings everything to the dining hall. Perfect timing, really.

When he returns to her room she’s still asleep, and truthfully, he feels a little bad waking her. Part of him is tempted to leave her be. But he figures it’s probably important she gets something on her stomach, and so hesitantly, he gives her a careful shake.

“Nia,” he says softly. “I’m all done.”

She lets out a groan. When her eyes flutter open, her gaze is disoriented and lethargic. 

“...Taranza?” 

For a moment it’s clear she hasn’t processed where she is. She stares at him as if she can’t make sense of why he’s here.

But then it sinks in. Slowly, recognition dawns in her eyes. 

She brings a hand in front of her face, turning it over to confirm things are how she remembers them. 

Her expression falls.

“Ah,” she says. “And so it wasn’t a dream.”

Sluggishly, she sits up. She looks around the room.

“Yeah,” Taranza says. “No dream.” A pause. “...How are you? Did you sleep well?”

The look on her face troubles him. He was hoping perhaps she’d be feeling a little better after getting some rest, but it doesn’t seem to be the case. Her demeanor is every bit as listless and hesitant as it was before.

“I think so,” she says 

“That’s good,” Taranza replies. “I’m finished with dinner if you’d like some. Are you feeling hungry?”

“...Ah, right,” she says. “That’s what you were doing. That would be nice, I suppose.” She slips out of bed. “I’m hungry.”

“Wonderful,” Taranza says, careful to steady her as she rises. Her body is an awkward size: far too big to be an Arachnid but just a little too small to be a Sectra. He’s worried if she’s not prepared she’ll stumble.

She’s able to stand just fine, though. Hand on her back, he ushers her out into the hall.

He’s thankful he’s able to do so before her eyes can wander to the portrait. For a moment there he’d been nervous she was going to see it and feel insignificant once more.

He reminds himself to take it down tonight sometime before she sleeps. She’d said it was alright for him to keep it up, but he’ll be doing no such thing. He saw the wounded look in her eyes as she stared at it.

He never wants to see her feel that way again.

He doesn’t need keepsakes like that anymore, anyways. It was nice to have a reminder of ‘Joronia’ when she’d changed so much, then disappeared, but now she’s back by his side. What use, then, does a ‘reminder of better times’ serve?

Everything’s okay now, and so there’s no need to look back at the past. 

They’re going to make new, even-better memories. 

“I… see you got cleaned up,” she says as they make their way towards the dining hall. “That’s good.”

“Mmmm!” Taranza says, nodding. He points at his shirt. “See? Not nearly as bad as it looked. Heck, most of that hemolymph you saw earlier? Morpho Knight’s. I’M fit as a fiddle. Did come out on top in the end, after all.”

It’s a teensy-weensy little tiny bit of an exaggeration. While he did technically beat Morpho Knight, most of the hemolymph drenching his clothes was not, in fact, ‘its.’ Conversely, the grim reaper practically sliced him into pieces. But it was easy to discern Nia was worrying earlier, and if a bit of a tall-tale will help ease her nerves, then he’s more than willing to spin one. 

Besides, a small part of him almost has to hope she’ll think it’s cool. That he was able to… uh, overcome something so powerful. No harm in playing up a few details, is there?

“I apologize, though,” he says. “For making you fret. It must have been quite a shock to see me in that state upon first coming back. I was hoping to be looking dapper for your return, but, well…” a nervous chuckle, “Things got a little bit out of hand.”

“Oh, there’s no need to apologize,” Nia responds. “I’m just glad you’re…” she hesitates, “Doing okay.”

And then, after an even longer pause. 

“You look good. All dressed up, I mean.”

Taranza perks up just a little.

“Y- you think so?” he asks, pulling at his collar. “I didn’t pick out anything special. At least not mostly. I kept the scarf, of course, but everything else was just…-” 

He drifts off— thinks for a moment. 

“Ah,” he says. “W- well, I guess there’s no point in denying a compliment. Thank you. Seriously. That- um… means a lot. I’m glad I could make a better impression now than I did letting you see me in such a bad state before.”

“Of course,” Nia says, nodding. 

And then, just barely, she gives the slightest smile. It’s hard to make out with her face hidden in her cloak, but scant as it is, it’s there.

Taranza smiles back. 

Soon enough, they arrive in the dining hall. There, he already has everything laid out for her. He motions a hand as they make their way over to the table, saying, “And here it is! The meal made just for the one and only.”

It really is an impressive assortment. At least… he likes to think. With a floral centerpiece, it’s an extravagant buffet— all sorts of dishes laid out upon a gorgeous fuchsia tablecloth. There’s honey roast Gigant Quail, mixed berry cornmeal biscuit shortcakes, Winged Egger and potato gratin with brown butter cream, plus escargot and mushroom risotto. A huge variety of fruit has been prepared as well: figs, blackberries, peaches, strawberries, pomegranates and grapes. He’s even thrown in some nuts and cheese too, just for good measure.

Which isn’t even getting started on dessert, because, of course, he had to whip up some of that as well. He baked a lemon and blueberry pie, several different flavors of macaron, and a chocolate apple tart, too, just for good measure. 

All of it is placed on only the finest tableware, and her utensils have already been laid out for her, carefully polished and silver. Her seat’s even been pulled out, that way she doesn’t have to do it herself when she goes to sit down.

Taranza isn’t good at a lot of things, but if there’s a single one he’s at least sufficient at, it would have to be presentation. He’s pretty happy with how all of this turned out.

…Not that it’s his opinion on any of this that even really matters. Ultimately, all that’s important is hers. 

“What do you think?” He asks. “P- pretty cool, right?”

Nia’s slack-jawed. Blinking, dumbstruck, she asks, “...You made all of this in just a few hours?”

“Mhmmmm!” Taranza says, giving a nod. “It took a lot of work, but I’m really happy with it. I wanted you to have lots of different things to choose from. There’s dinner, dessert… oh, and I was sure to prepare drinks as well!” 

Hurrying over to the table, he gestures to a kettle, several cups, and a set of ornate chalices. 

“I brewed vanilla rose tea,” he explains, “Just like you like. And then, just in case you were in the mood for something more fancy, I poured wine as well— red and white. Although, of course, if you’d prefer something else to drink, I can see to that as well. T- that goes for the food, too, actually! If any part of this isn’t to your liking, then…-”

He peters off.

“Well, I can redo just about anything, really.”

Nia stares, antennae twitching just slightly. She looks from the table, to Taranza, then back to the table.

“If this isn’t to my…- pardon? W- what are you even talking about!? This is…-” her voice wavers just a little. She’s stunned. “This is truly above and beyond.”

She hovers towards the table, running one hand over it.

“I mean, even the ornamentation… the tablecloth’s my favorite color, and the carnations, dahlias, red roses, crocuses… you remembered all of my favorite flowers, as well! W- where did you get all of those?”

“From the castle garden, of course,” Taranza replies. “Did you forget? I told you I’d always take care of it, didn’t I? As the place we first met? I kept all of this growing there… you know, just in case. And I’m glad I did.” 

He drifts closer to her, placing a hand on her back.

“...You like it?”

“Like it?” she repeats. “Taranza, I…-”

For just a brief moment, she looks ready to cry. Beguiling violet eyes well with tears. 

“I love it. It’s everything I could have asked for,” she says. “I can’t believe you did something like this for me. After I…-”

“Shhhh,” Taranza says, reaching out for one hand. He squeezes it tight. “You didn’t do anything. You were gone, and now you’re here.” A smile. “...Welcome home, my queen.”

He wishes he could press a kiss to her forehead as he says it. He wishes he could pull her in close, brush the hair from her face, then wipe the tears from her eyes. He wishes there was something he could do to demonstrate just how much he means it— how overwhelmingly happy he is.

But there isn’t, and so he simply leads her over to her seat. She follows after him, dazed… as if she can’t quite move on her own. As if she wouldn’t know where to begin.

Once more, her hand shifts in his. Fingers shorten and meld into paws. Brown fuzz streaks her cheek as one antennae shrivels, then disappears.

Her body doesn’t shrink. The other antenna remains, looking uneven and odd without its parallel. Her face is still sharp and picturesque. 

Still, Taranza smiles. He presses his shoulder to her side.

‘See?’ he thinks. ‘You’re still you. You don’t have anything to feel conflicted about.’

He helps her sit down. She murmurs a quiet ‘thanks.’ That, too, makes his heart swell just a little. There’s nothing to thank him for, of course— it’s only natural he put in this much effort, but all the same, the ‘Sectonia’ he knew for a long time never would have thanked him. It’s reassuring and new.

He hovers by her side as she looks out over the table, hardly even knowing where to begin. And he supposes it makes sense. It is a lot of food for one person.

Or… well-

“You can sit down,” she says, turning towards him. “You should have some, too.”

“Are you sure?” Taranza asks. “I made it for you.”

She gives a deep frown.

“Yes, I’m sure,” she insists. “It’s more food than I could ever finish, and you need to eat, too.”

“Well… if you’re certain,” he says with a nod, pulling out a chair beside her. Briefly, he hesitates— wondering if it’s perhaps intrusive to seat himself in such close proximity, but it would be even worse to sit far away, he thinks. If he were to do that, perhaps she’d assume he didn’t want to be near her… that she disgusted or frightened him in some way.

Never. Not in a million years.

The two of them eat in relative silence. Taranza tries to make conversation, of course, but it’s clear Nia is lost in thought. Her gaze is distant and introspective as she picks at her food.

Still, even the small talk— the ‘do you like it?’s and mundane stories of what happened while she was gone are comforting. He knows she’s not feeling like herself right now… that she’s still a little restless and withdrawn, but that doesn’t make the sight of her any less miraculous. He savors her mere presence.

It’s surreal. It really is. He’s still trying to wrap his head around it. He did it. She’s here. They’re together again eating dinner like they used to. He never thought they’d get to do that.

For a long time, supper was eerie back before she died. It was hard to ignore the tension in the air… the way she’d glare at him, perturbed and belligerent. The vacant seats at a table once reserved for an entire royal court left a strange taste in the mouth. The castle felt off-putting and hollow.

There was this sense of… isolation, he thinks, even though they were there together. No sense of connection. Only ghosts of distant memories left.

Eventually, of course, she stopped allowing him to dine with her at all, and then they really were alone. She’d sit at the head of an empty table, a vainglorious, yet dissatisfied look on her face as she dined in silence.

This doesn’t feel like that. This is much better. It’s not perfect— not quite comfortable, yet, but it’s not empty. The air isn’t restless and stale. There’s no sense of lonely, soul-crushing resentment. Nia averts her eyes guiltily when he speaks, but at least she doesn’t glare.

The castle doesn’t feel empty anymore, even knowing it’s just the two of them.

They don’t eat all of the food, but they do pretty well, all things considered. Nia’s appetite is good despite her reluctant demeanor.

She apologizes for not being able to finish all of it, but Taranza tells her it’s alright. He’s just glad she got something on her stomach.

After that, he gets to cleaning up. He can’t take care of everything tonight, of course— some of it will have to wait ‘til morning when he has more free time, but he at least wants to get started. He clears the table and washes the dishes.

Nia watches while he does, looking a little unsure of what to do with herself. He says she can sit down again, if she’d like, but she insists she’s fine.

They talk about what they want to do for the rest of the evening.

“It’s getting late, but I can’t imagine you’re tired,” he admits. “You spent so long sleeping. How is it you’d like to spend the rest of the night? We could go on a walk in the garden, if you’d like. Oh! Or perhaps I could show you the ‘television!’”

Nia cocks her head.

“The what?”

“The television,” Taranza repeats. “Remember the friend I mentioned? Susie? She brought all sorts of… things to Floralia when she came here. To the Lower World, too! And one of these things was this… this-”

He squints, trying to think of the best way to explain it.

“This box,” he decides on. “A magic box. Except it’s not magic? But, like- it may as well be magic! It can display all sorts of pictures and play all sorts of sounds. And it has a bunch of different stories in it? Like… plays, except in the past. They’re not happening when you see them. S- sometimes there’s other stuff, too, like news, but the stories are my favorite.” 

Nia’s looking at him a little like he’s grown a second head, and truthfully, he can’t blame her. He still recalls how bewildered he was when Susie first showed him the mystifying device. He asked, dumbstruck, how it worked, and when she started going on about ‘cathode rays’ and ‘broadcast signals’ he was beyond lost. Even now, most of it doesn’t make sense to him.

Hm… on second thought, that might actually be a little bit overwhelming. Perhaps they should stick to something simpler. 

“I can show you that later, though, I suppose,” he admits, scratching at the back of his neck. “For now, why don’t we just take that walk? That is… if that’s something you’d be alright with. If there’s something else you’d like to do-”

“No, that’s fine,” Nia interjects. “A walk sounds… nice. You said you’d been taking care of the garden, didn’t you?” a pause. “Why don’t you show me what you’ve done?”

“G- gladly,” Taranza says, giving a nod. “Follow me.”

He’s taken good enough care of the dishes enough to be satisfied, at least for the moment, so he leads her down another hall and out towards the garden. The two of them step out under a moonlit sky. 

It’s a beautiful night; chilly, but in a brisk, refreshing sort of way. The stars twinkle overhead, obscured just slightly by clouds, but not enough to be blocked out.

The last time they were under a sky like this, they fell victim to tragedy. It feels like a lifetime ago now— that battle beneath a brilliant moon. He still remembers just how harrowing it was… the pain of the decision he had to make. He remembers being betrayed. He remembers betraying. He remembers hoping it was the kind thing to do, and he remembers the sinking feeling in his gut as he realized there was nothing left to save.

A bright beam of light. A whirlwind of petals. For just a brief moment, part of him had hoped there’d be a miracle, but as the dust cleared, the truth became evident. The moon set. The sun rose. A new day had arrived, but…

His queen wasn’t there to see it. 

Even now, all these years later, it hurts. Even though she’s by his side. Even though, finally, everything’s going to be alright. 

He can hardly imagine what’s going through her mind. What does it feel like to recall madness? Recall death? Does it hurt? It has to, right?

She looks out towards the Dreamstalk, wings twitching just slightly. Her expression is blank as she regards petals bathed in pale moonlight. 

Her hand shifts in Taranza’s, but this time, her fingers don’t stretch. Instead, something buds beneath her skin, threatening to break through, then blossom. 

As roots creep down her palm, Taranza reminds himself he needs to stay strong. This hurts for him, but it has to hurt for her even more. He can’t dwell on melancholy memories… not when it will give her the room to do the same. 

He squeezes her hand, trying his best to distract her. He gestures towards a nearby flowerbed.

“As I told you, I’ve been trying my very best to take care of everything. This garden was a big help, actually, while I was at my lowest. It was nice to have something to preoccupy myself with.” He hums a little. “Everything is still here— the fountain, the fruit trees, and of course, all of your favorite flowers. What do you think? Pretty, isn’t it? I like to believe I’ve done a pretty alright job of keeping things in order.”

Nia’s gaze drifts from the flower in the distance. She looks out over the garden, giving a small nod.

“It looks good,” she agrees. “You’ve… put a lot of work into this, haven’t you?” 

“Of course!” Taranza says. “It’s a very important place.”

Not only is the garden where they first met— the place they encountered one another while she was trying to sneak out of the castle and while he was trying to sneak in, but it’s the site of many other treasured memories as well. He fondly recalls long days spent working on it while she’d sit nearby and keep him company. She’d complain about this or that— the heat or some argument she got into with the rest of the royal court— and he’d pick flowers to cheer her up. He’d present them to her, and every single time, without fail, her mood would brighten. She’d brag and say it was only natural to bestow gifts to such a fair maiden with this wide, flattered smile on her face as she regarded him.

For all of her big talk, it really did seem to mean a lot to her. And it makes sense. It’s not like anyone else was actually presenting her with gifts. To the rest of the royal court, she was no fair maiden. ‘Joronia’ was a nuisance at best… a troublemaker, an uncontrollable little ball of fire.

It made him angry at the time, and it still makes him angry now. She deserved all of the offerings in the world!

He leans down and plucks a zinnia from the flowerbed, holding it out to her with a bow. 

“For you, my lady,” he says, grinning.

But whereas before she would have said the gift was only fitting or punched him on the shoulder, saying being a gentleman wasn’t his style, now, there’s no pretense of playfulness. Nia blinks, sincerely taken aback.

“...Oh,” she says, carefully taking it from him. “Thank you.”

She holds the flower as if she’s not quite sure what to do with it… as if it’s awkward and heavy in her hands.

But she’s no longer looking towards the Dreamstalk, and for that alone, Taranza is relieved. Gingerly, he leads her through the garden.

He wonders if she remembers that this is where they first saw the moon together. They’d known each other for years at that point, but always had to part before nightfall. When they first saw it standing side-by-side, it had felt monumental. 

She’d declared they had to do something to celebrate, then demanded he dance with her. He’d been taken aback by that, but accepted her offer nevertheless. And although it had been a bit disorienting at first— she’d pulled him in far too quickly, he eventually had fun swaying with her through the flowerbeds. 

It had been nice having a moment like that with just the two of them. It had really felt like no-one else mattered at the time.

Part of him wishes he could dance with her now… that if he were to pull her in, finally he’d hear her laugh. But he knows it’s not that easy, and even if it were, he’s not sure she could dance with a body like this.

Clunky and uneven. It seems like the moment she starts to get used to it, something shifts yet again. Even now, with her attention diverted from the Dreamstalk, he can see the littlest things change.

Her hair fills out somewhat. A fang returns. She shrinks, albeit barely. Her face is still wasplike and wings twitch uneasily, but she looks ever-so-slightly like the girl she was back then— the one who danced in the garden with him, even with those out-of-place eyes. 

He wonders if that means she’s lost in memories as well. 

And that’s not the only thing he wonders about. Admittedly, there’s something else on the mind. It’s something he’s been wondering about all day, but been a little too afraid to bring up. He hasn’t wanted to call attention to it— what her body is doing.

All the same, though, perhaps it’s better he learns sooner rather than later.

“Nia, can I ask you something?”

She seems a bit surprised by his query, but nods.

“Mmm?”

“That… doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“What doesn’t-?” she starts to ask, although just as soon gives pause. Slowly, it sinks in. “Oh, you mean…-” she frowns, then shakes her head. “No, it doesn’t hurt. It feels strange, but it doesn’t hurt tangibly.”

“Well, that’s good,” Taranza says awkwardly. “...I was worried.”

As anticipated, even broaching the topic seems to have unnerved her a little. Restlessly, she pulls at the edge of her hood, turning her head as the fang that just reappeared just as soon vanishes. Her hair starts to thin again. The antenna that had disappeared once again springs up.

A pit in Taranza’s stomach. He wishes she wouldn’t think he’s bringing it up because he minds. He doesn’t… mind. He just hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it earlier— the way she writhed when she first lost control of her body.

Flowers ripping through skin as muscles contorted and warped. She pleaded for help, asking him ‘what he did to her.’ She said she was scared. How couldn’t he dwell on that?

But now that he knows, he knows. He doesn’t have to worry. He’ll never bring it up again, if he can— the strange things her body keeps doing. There’s no point to it. It just makes her feel bad, and it’s not like he cares.

He… doesn’t care what she looks like. It just matters she’s here. 

He prattles mindlessly about flowers as they amble through the garden— tries his best to change the topic, even if he can tell it never truly leaves her mind. Has it left it once since she came back?

She stares down at her hands, at least until Taranza takes one and passes her another flower. 

“Another,” he says with a smile. “A magnolia, for nobility.” 

A pause. He thinks some. 

“Ah… perhaps I should have prepared you a bouquet or something for your return. That would have been a nice surprise. But hindsight is 20/20.” 

He crouches and plucks yet another flower— an amaryllis this time, placing it in her hair. 

“I suppose I’ll just have to present you one now.”

At that she smiles just a little, murmuring a languid “Ah, there’s no need for anything like that,” but Taranza insists.

“I want to show how happy I am that you've returned. There’s so much to celebrate.”

And so as they continue on, he stops occasionally, picking a flower and pressing it to her hand or tucking it in her bangs. Each and every time he explains their meanings. 

Rue flowers are for grace. Lilies of the valley are for sweetness. Hyacinths are for loveliness and pink tulips are for well wishes. 

There are only two topics he avoids: love, for obvious reasons, and beauty, because…

Well, as much as he’d love to present her with flowers with such a meaning, he gets the sense she wouldn’t accept them right now. She’d think he was being insincere. 

That always was a complicated word for her… one she wasn’t quite able to take at face value. He understands why, but it makes him sad. 

‘One day,’ he decides. ‘One day I’ll get her to accept flowers like that. That’s exactly the sort of thing this second chance is for.’

But for now, grace, sweetness, loveliness and well wishes will do.

By the time they’ve circled the garden and begun to make their way back towards the castle maybe forty-five minutes have passed. It’s getting late out now. 

Taranza wonders if Nia will be ready to sleep when they get in. If that’s the case, he’ll have to find an opportunity to take the portraits down while she readies herself for bed. And of course, they’ll have to discuss what to do with him.

She said it’s fine if he stays there, but… is it? He doesn’t want to rob her of privacy. If she wants to be alone, he understands. 

Then again, perhaps she’s afraid. She’s been through so much. Being alone might be the last thing she wants. And if that’s the case, then he’s happy to provide. He just…

He doesn’t want to force it. He gets it if that’s not something she’s comfortable with. 

He’s still thinking about it when he hears something that gives him pause. As they near the castle, he swears he hears voices. 

Does he… smell smoke?

Nia must notice it too, because she leans forward. Antennae twitching just slightly, she asks:

“…What’s going on? Is there someone in the castle?”

There shouldn’t be, but the more he listens in, the more he’s sure of it. He hears voices— angry clamor.

Someone…- no, multiple someones are in their home.

His blood runs cold. He just can’t shake the unease he feels. No, seriously… why does he smell smoke!?

He glances over the hill, and what he sees makes his heart sink. There’s a crowd of people marching toward the castle. 

And they have weapons. Swords, crossbows, torches— that’s where the smell is coming from. 

“And you’re sure you saw them?” He can hear a voice ask from inside. 

“Yes, I’m sure! He was trying to hide her, but it was unmistakable. Who else would he even be with!?”

The people of Floralia, did they…- did someone notice them returning to the castle? But that would mean they’re here to…-

His breath catches in his throat. Suddenly, his heart is pounding. He can’t just let these people take or burn their home! But if they’ve come to hurt him or Nia…

He fumbles for her hand, clutching it tight. 

“We should go-“ he whispers. 

“Go where!?” She asks, alarmed. 

“I- I don’t know. But this place, it isn’t…-“

The words die in his throat. As his gaze flickers, torchlight illuminates the garden. 

A group of Floralians— People of the Sky and Insectoids alike stare at them. It’s as if they can’t believe what they’re seeing. 

“It… wasn’t a rumor,” one Insectoid says, horrified. Their hands shake just slightly. “You actually…-“ their grip on their blade tightens. Suddenly, their voice grows loud with anger. “Stars! I knew we should have just killed you when we had the chance!”

“Come quick, come quick!” A Person of the Sky shouts, glancing behind them as they clutch their weapon tight. Their hands tremble. “It’s actually true! The evil queen… she’s back! They’re going to subjugate us again!” 

No. Nononono. 

“Y- you’ve misunderstood!” Taranza sputters. “We don’t intend to…- the queen was sick when she did those things! Please just listen to me!”

But as he hovers forward, the Person of the Sky pulls back with a scream, and suddenly an arrow flies over Taranza’s shoulder. 

People are approaching from the back, too. 

…They’re surrounded.

“We don’t want to hear it!” An Insectoid spits— the same one responsible for firing the arrow. “We’ve had enough of your excuses! But we’re not falling for your tricks any more! Floralia is a free land, and we won’t let you put things back to the way they were before!” 

Angry cries of agreement. The Floralians ready their weapons. 

“Stand down and surrender nobly,” a Person of the Sky warns. “Accept your deaths with dignity.”

Their deaths. These people have come to behead them. Not only do they want to hurt Taranza, but Nia too, so soon after she…-

“No!” He snarls. “We’ll be doing no such thing!” 

He says that with conviction, but there’s no way he can even place himself between Nia and all of their attackers. How is he supposed to protect her!?

“…I had a feeling that would be your answer. You people just don’t have honor, do you? Very well then!” They raise their sword with a shout. “The people of Floralia will put you down by force!”

Rushing forward, they slash at Taranza. He manages to pull back, but just barely, and when they take a second swing, they slice open his palm as he reaches to block. He hisses in through his teeth. 

A volley of arrows, striking not only him, but a shell-shocked Nia. He feels his heart stop as she cries out in pain.

They…- they need to get out of here! Quick! 

So badly, he wants to argue. So badly, he wants to tell the people of Floralia they’re wrong, but how could he? They’d never believe him! Not after what he and Nia did! They won’t be satisfied until the two of them are dead!

In any other world, he’d stand his ground. In any other world, he’d fight. If it were just him, he wouldn’t turn tail. But he can’t risk her life, too.

His grip on her hand tightens. He tugs at it desperately. 

“Come on!” he cries. “We’ve got to run!” 

Easier said than done, though. As he makes a mad dash, pulling her with him, insurrectionists block their path. Torches are shoved in their faces— arrows launched their way. He tries to push past people, only for blades to break his skin.

Another cry from Nia, louder and more ragged this time. An Insectoid rakes their sword down her side.

Taranza sees red. He rushes at them, even without a weapon of his own, magical energy radiating from his hands. 

“Leave her alone!” he barks.

But as he tries to fire off a blast, it materializes pitiful and weak. A brief flash of purple that just as soon fizzles out, leaving him defenseless.

That’s right. His magic. It-

A scream as he’s knocked to the ground. An elbow hits his back hard before a blade slices it open. Hemolymph arcs as Taranza goes tumbling. 

His breath hitches. He tries to rise quickly, but a boot is just as soon stamped on his chest. A sword rips his cheek. He can’t even manage to push himself upright. 

He should be able to overpower these people— he knows he should. He just fought the grim reaper, for stars’ sake! But that’s the problem here, isn’t it? Fatigue attenuates his strength. His body feels frail and heavy as he thrashes feebly. 

Another slash. He gasps. Then, the sword is raised high over his attacker’s head, pointed straight towards his throat.

Deadly intent. No. Nononono. They’re going to kill him! This can’t be happening— not now of all times. They’re going to kill him and they’re going to kill Nia. After everything he fought for. Even though things were supposed to be alright now. This was supposed to be their happy ending, and so why…-?

Terror wracks his body. He feels his limbs tense.

“HELP!” he shrieks.

A bright flash of light. At first, he doesn’t even process what it is, but as it arcs towards him, a scream catches in his throat. His heart pounds. He braces for impact. He’s been here before— there’s a visceral recognition. That blinding purple— he knows what it means.

“NO!” cried even louder. He covers his face with his hands, begging, on instinct, so desperately his voice cracks, “DON’T HURT ME! PLEASE!” 

But as he flinches, no burning overtakes him. On the contrary, the body of the person that has him pinned begins to convulse. A pained gurgle. Taranza peeks an eye open. His attacker starts to tip, only to be grabbed by the throat.

Forcibly, they’re lifted into the air. A violent roar rings out through the night.

“DON’T TOUCH HIM!”

Nia tosses the insurrectionist to the ground full-force. Taranza hears something snap. Terrified cries echo as she swipes at yet another person, then fires off a second strike of lightning. 

The violet flash cuts through the dark, illuminating her face. Most of the attackers pull back, but she doesn’t let up. A third strike. A fourth. A fifth. The crackle of thunder drowns out all else. 

She looks nothing like Joronia now. In fact, he doesn’t think there’s a single thing separating her from Sectonia. Golden wings flail wildly, having ripped through her cloak. She looms over her opponents, and her eyes glint with hatred as she attacks again and again and again.

It’s a terrifying sight. Briefly, he’s petrified. As the garden’s bathed in electrifying purple, he cowers. It’s as if his body just doesn’t know what else to do. 

But the bravest of the group assail Nia. While most of the insurgents are feeling the same terror he is, a few just don’t let up. Even so, though, as they slash at her— leave arrows in her shoulder, she doesn’t so much as flinch. She’s running on pure adrenaline, gasping for breath yet refusing to relent.

The moment someone takes a step towards him, they’re swept to the side. 

She’s protecting him. Of course she is. D- did he doubt that she would!? When he saw that lighting, did he sincerely assume…-?

STARS! What is wrong with him!? He feels tears well in his eyes as he pushes himself from the ground.

Awful. That’s awful. He’s awful. He can’t believe he let himself think that way!

He gropes for her hand, clutching it tight. Briefly, she pulls back, and when she turns towards him there’s the same fierce look on her face, but he forces himself to suppress a shudder and says: 

“We need to go! Come on!” 

Now’s their chance. Their attackers are scared and shocked. If they don’t leave now, before they recollect themselves, they might never get away.

Briefly, she looks ready to argue— there’s still fury in her eyes, but her expression softens when she sees the state Taranza is in. Nodding, she squeezes his hand, then makes a break for it. 

They’re able to dart past their terror-stricken opponents. One or two lash out or try to give chase, but they’re just as soon struck down by a brilliant flash of purple lightning. 

So wounded but alive, Taranza and Nia flee into the night.

Chapter Text

It’s difficult to breathe, even as Taranza and Nia escape their pursuers. Taranza’s chest heaves. His vision is blurred.

He doesn’t think he’s seriously hurt, thankfully, but his clothes are once again soaked in hemolymph, and his body aches. His hands won’t stop quivering.

He can’t believe it. He knew the people of Floralia might react poorly to his decision, but to attempt to assassinate them outright!? He can hardly believe the audacity!

The crisp night that was once refreshing and peaceful feels suffocating and cold now. It’s near-impossible to see in the dark.

Taranza shudders, clinging desperately to Nia’s hand.

She’s in an even worse state than he is. He doesn’t think she’s gravely wounded, either, but all the same, it's a disturbing sight to see her cloak tattered and a long gash running across her forehead. 

She keeps looking back over her shoulder, a wild, frenzied look in her eyes. She’s muttering deliriously about being followed.

“They’re not going to follow us,” Taranza assures, “I won’t let them.”

He says that, but he knows the words are empty. What right does he have to make that promise? He has no control over this! He hadn’t even been able to fight back during the attack! He was useless without his magic. 

A knot in his stomach as he recalls Nia screaming in pain and not being able to help. In fact, all he did was make things worse. She had to come rescue him. 

What sort of knight is he? He vowed he’d protect her, and so why…-?

No. He can’t worry about that. Now’s not the time to feel self-pity. They need to get out of here as soon as they can.

“I- it’s okay,” he sputters. “Everything is going to be okay.”

“How?” Nia asks, voice strained. As adrenaline and anger start to fade and terrified exhaustion sets in, her body begins to shrink. She shudders weakly. “...Where are we going to go!?”

Taranza’s head spins. He hardly has an answer to that, but he can’t meet her query with silence. He squeezes her hand and says:

“We’ll find someplace. For now, it’s probably best we…- p- perhaps we should make our way to the Lower World. We won’t be followed there.”

The more he thinks about it, the more he’s sure it’s the best option. He gives a nod and continues:

“I know several people who would be willing to provide us shelter, at least for the time being. We’ll be safe if we can make it to them. They’ll take good care of us.”

He tries his best to sound reassuring, but there’s only so much hollow consolation can do. Nia’s voice is hesitant and small when she responds.

“...We’re leaving Floralia?”

Once more, a lump in Taranza’s throat. He hates the uncertain, fearful way she says it. It makes sense— the floating islands are the only home she’s ever known, but even so, there’s nothing they can do.

Frustrated tears well in his eyes.

He wishes he could turn around and show those people what for. He wishes he could shout that the castle is theirs and they won’t be made to leave. But it’s already been more than made evident he can’t fight, and even worse than that, that he can’t ensure Nia’s safety. Who knows what would happen if he were to try and resist?

He can’t risk her being hurt. He won’t hear her scream like that again. The memory alone is enough to make his blood run cold.

And so he pulls her in close, letting out a sigh.

“What other choice do we have?”

To that, she has no argument. She quivers as she presses against his side. 

A quiet “Mmmmm…” 

Her voice is different now— rougher, less silky. It’s a voice that would come as a relief in any other situation, but not now. The only thing worse than hearing the voice of Sectonia uncharacteristically sad and afraid is hearing the voice of his old friend sound the same. 

‘Joronia’ speaking soft and nervously in a way that’s, unfortunately, not entirely unfamiliar. 

As they stumble through the dark, she begins to look more and more like her. Her face rounds out. A fuzzy paw clasps his. Horns blossom from her head and she once again drowns in her cloak as she cowers. Two orange fangs poke from her lip. Her wings shrivel, then disappear.

It’s the most she’s resembled ‘herself’ since he first brought her back. Just a few blotches of yellow mark her lower chin. She’s still not entirely Arachnid, of course… antenna poke through her bangs and her eyes remain that glossy, out-of-place purple, but it’s closer.

He wishes that could feel like a good thing— that he could take it as a sign she was feeling less unsure of who she is, but he just can’t interpret it that way. This is nothing to celebrate. In fact, he can hardly stand seeing that face staring at him so close to tears. 

Does she… associate being an Arachnid with helplessness? Rejection? Fear? The way the people of Floralia treated her just now, is it even all that different from the way they treated her before she went mad?

Heartbroken indignance as he runs his thumb over the back of her hand. He tells her time and time again that things are going to be okay.

…Maybe it’s better they leave this place behind, anyways. 

Her wounds don’t close, even as her body shifts. The same injuries that marred her Sectra form still mar her Arachnid one. Taranza wishes there was something he could do— that he could use healing magic, but he doesn’t dare try after his pathetic performance during the fight. If performed incorrectly, healing magic can just make things worse. He doesn’t want to risk exacerbating her injuries or leaving her with scars.

He wipes hemolymph from her forehead, telling her, once more, that everything will be alright.

It's not long before they reach the Dreamstalk, thankfully. Following the path of its winding trunk, they begin their descent towards the Lower World. 

Nia seems unnerved to be so close to the plant that was once a part of her body. She blinks fast, and Taranza once again feels the roots creep beneath her skin. 

He knows it’s probably best he tries to distract her again, but he’s hardly sure where to begin. What could he possibly say right now that wouldn’t either just sound hollow or make her all the more upset?

His gaze drifts up towards the moonlit sky.

“Thank you,” he says. “For rescuing me during the fight earlier. I was scared, but you were very heroic.” A pause. “I don’t know what would have happened if you weren’t there.”

Nia’s frown deepens. Still, she nods, scratching at the back of her neck.

“Oh, um… it was nothing,” she reassures. “Of course I came to your aid. I’m just glad you’re alright.”

Saying that, though, the tension doesn’t seem to ease. In fact, she refuses to look at him outright.

Is it just him, or do her antennae lengthen just a little? Does the yellow creep ever-so-slightly across her face, so subtly it could be chalked up to mere imagination?

He pulls her in close, wishing, desperately, there was more he could do.

But the flowers blossom anyways, paying no mind to his woeful attempt to soothe her nerves. They push through the skin of her hand and cheek, bright pink and yellow petals unfurling unyieldingly. 

Taranza swallows, then forces a deep, shaky breath. He reminds himself that she said this doesn’t hurt.

…Physically, at least. Perhaps it hurts in some other, deeper, way.

He clings tight to her hand, blossoms and all, and hopes that’s at least enough to provide some sort of comfort.

By the time they reach the Lower World, it’s the dead of night. The shadows that stretch every which way are eerie and Taranza’s body feels just about ready to give out. By now, both his injuries and fatigue are catching up with him. His vision swims as he leads Nia through Dreamland.

He grits his teeth and reminds himself he needs to stay strong. It’s just a little bit further. She needs him right now, and so he can’t cave in. Her body, pressed against his, is heavy and overwhelming, but that doesn’t matter.

Enfeebled or not, he wants to give her his support.

Just barely, he’s able to hold out. He preserves long enough to lead them to their destination— a location, mercifully, not far from the base of the Dreamstalk.

Castle Dedede.

Briefly, he hadn’t been sure where to take them— he has quite a few allies in the Lower World, but ultimately this had seemed like the best bet. The only other option within reasonable distance was Kirby’s home, and Taranza wasn’t going to show up there battered and bruised long past midnight. Not only would Kirby hardly know how to help them, but he’s reasonably certain he’d give the poor kid a heart attack.

Which he supposes applies to King Dedede too, actually. He’s in for quite a shock. Still, he’ll know what to do. He’ll have someone able to look over their injuries. He’ll be able to give them someplace to stay.

At least… Taranza hopes.

There’s a Waddle Dee stationed outside of the castle. It appears they were supposed to be on guard duty, but have long since drifted off. They snore softly as they lean against the wall.

It only makes sense. It’s not as if there are many threats to be concerned about in a place like Dreamland. Why, the castle hardly needs a guard at all.

It takes a moment for the Waddle Dee to stir, even as he calls out to them. When they finally peek an eye open, though, they awake with a startle.

“W- who is it!?” they peep. “I wasn’t asleep, I promise! Just resting my eyes!”

In any other situation Taranza would tease them, but now’s far from the time.

“I’m here to see King Dedede,” he explains. “I’m aware it’s late, but it’s very, very important. Could you please retrieve him for me?” 

The Waddle Dee gives him a dubious look. At first, they seem uncertain what someone could even need at an hour like this, but upon closer inspection both who he is and what state he’s in become apparent.

“You’re… that person from Floralia,” the Waddle Dee says, taken aback. “The king’s friend. What happened to you!? And who’s she!?”

A nubby paw is, of course, pointed at Nia. The Waddle Dee can’t seem to make sense of what they’re looking at.

“None of that’s important,” Taranza responds. “Just get the king for me, please. We…-” his voice wavers just a little. “We need his help.”

The Waddle Dee nods. They’re still clearly unsure what to make of this, but they aren’t going to leave two wounded people outside their door. They stand, then give a salute.

“O- of course,” they sputter. “Just one moment.”

And with that, they scurry off.

Taranza and Nia are left waiting. An uncomfortable quiet as they linger in the dark. Hesitantly, Nia’s eyes drift up towards the castle.

“This place,” she murmurs. “It’s…-”

“Castle Dedede,” Taranza confirms. “The home of the hero of the Lower World.” A pause. “Or… well, the false hero, but that hardly matters. Its occupant, King Dedede— he’s a good person. He’ll help us out.”

“And you’re sure about that?” Nia asks, hands fidgeting. “Even though…-?”

“I’m sure,” Taranza says quickly. “He knows that you weren’t in your right mind when all of that happened. He won’t hold it against you.”

“...Right,” Nia responds, readjusting her hood.

Taranza tries his best to ignore the uneasy way her hand shifts in his. 

It’s not long before their benefactor arrives, thankfully. Within just a few minutes, a groggy voice rings out from inside the castle. Approaching fast, King Dedede says:

“Bug boy? That actually you? What are you doing here at a time like this? Can’t ya’ see I’m trying to catch some Z’s?”

As he peeks his head out of the castle door, though, Dedede stops. He pauses, mid-yawn, eyes widening just slightly.

“What the…?”

With a sleep cap still atop his head, he clearly wasn’t prepared for what he’s now stumbled upon. He stares at a hemolymph-soaked Taranza, then at the figure standing off to his side. There’s a bewildered double take as he glances between them. His mouth falls agape. 

“I… I ain’t still dreaming, am I?” he asks, rubbing at his eyes. “What is this!? W- what happened to you!? And why am I seein’ double!?”

As he looks Nia over, it starts to sink in. Her head may be turned, but even he can still make out those distinct purple eyes. He sputters slightly as he notes her antennae. 

“Wait,” he says. “I ain’t seein’ double, am I? Bug boy, you didn’t…”

But for all Dedede’s horror, there’s only one thing Taranza can respond with.

“I did,” he says flatly. “I brought her home.”

Even hearing it said aloud, Dedede can hardly seem to believe it. He gapes at Nia, pointing a finger.

“And so that’s…-”

It must come as quite a surprise to him. Last time he saw her, her demeanor and appearance were both so different, after all. This person he’s looking at now is someone he’s only heard about in stories.

For all his shock over her, however, he’s just as soon preoccupied with Taranza. He looks back towards his tattered shirt. 

“T- that’s your girl,” he sputters. “And that means you…” his voice wavers just slightly. “You fought that thing!? Even after we all told you not to!? I- is it what roughed you up like that!? And what did it do to her!?” he tilts his head towards Nia. “She’s all beat to smithereens too!”

Ah… that would be his first impression, wouldn’t it? 

Taranza should probably clarify.

“No,” he says, holding up a hand. “Morpho Knight didn’t do any of this. I- um, actually defeated it quite effortlessly. The injuries are courtesy of Floralia. They… weren’t particularly happy to hear about what I did.”

He gives an uncomfortable grimace. 

Dedede just as soon returns the expression. 

“Well I imagine not!” he exclaims. “This is…-” another glance between Taranza and Nia. “They tried to hurt you? What are you gonna do, then!? I mean… is it safe for you to go back to your castle?”

“Likely not,” Taranza admits. “As for what we’re going to do, that’s what we’re trying to get figured out. We… came to you hoping you could assist.”

“O- of course!” Dedede says, stepping back. He motions a hand. “Come in. I’ll have the Waddle Dees look you over. Get you a change of clothes. If you need a place to stay for the night… well, we have plenty of room! Get yourselves out of the cold.”

Another gesture of his hand. Restlessly, he urges them to follow. 

Careful not to brush against any of her wounds, Taranza places a hand on Nia’s back. He gives Dedede a nod, then ushers her inside.

A welcome reprieve from the dark of night, it’s bright and warm inside of Castle Dedede. Taranza hadn’t even realized just how freezing he was until Dedede pointed it out.

“I’ll take you to Med Dee, ‘kay? He should be able to get you patched up. A- although I do have to wonder… uh, before I let you see any of the Dees.” A quick glance back at the two of them. “She’s… good now, yeah? Not still all out-of-whack in the head?”

Taranza bites down on his lip. To a certain extent, he understands why Dedede’s asking— the things Nia did when she was sick were something that scared him very, very badly— but he wishes he didn’t have to say it aloud. 

He opens his mouth to explain, but doesn’t quite get the chance.

“...I can hear you, you know.”

It’s Nia… voice smooth and dulcet once more. For it being ‘Sectonia’s’ voice, however, it doesn’t sound particularly self-assured. On the contrary, it’s soft and chagrined. 

Dedede startles, a guilty look crossing his face.

“A- ah, sorry...” he says. “It’s just… ya hadn’t said anything. You- uh… all better now, then?”

Nia fidgets with her scarf.

“Yeah,” she mutters. “Something like that. You don’t have to worry about me hurting your subjects.”

An uncomfortable silence. 

After a moment, Dedede forces a smile.

“Well, that’s good to hear,” he says, chuckling. “You were, uh, pretty…-” he falls quiet, realizing he probably shouldn’t finish that sentence. “Oh, it doesn’t matter. What I’m trying to say is I’m glad to hear you’re alright.”

“Mmmmmm,” Nia says. “...Thank you.”

But she refuses to meet Dedede’s eye. 

Her body grows just slightly. Her horns start to shrink.

It breaks Taranza’s heart. He’ll have to explain later that it’s not personal. That… Dedede was really frightened by what happened on that moonlit night, but that it wasn’t her fault. He’ll have to explain that Dedede just needs some time to get to know the real her, but that he’ll love her once he does.

…Everyone will. They’re all going to love her.

For now, though, he simply squeezes her hand. He reminds her, silently, that he’s there for her, and that whatever she’s thinking, it’s not true.

‘You’re not a monster. You’re not evil. You don’t deserve to be treated like you are.’

Eventually, the three of them reach a room. Dedede pokes his head in and calls out:

“Hey! Med Dee! Hate to wake you, but we’ve got a bit of a situation here. Think you can help us out?”

It takes a moment, but soon enough, a Waddle Dee comes scurrying out. Walking so fast he just about trips over his own feet, the tiny creature grinds to a halt in front of Dedede before giving a diligent salute

“Of course, your majesty! What’s the situation?” 

He’s dressed appropriately for the occasion, outfitted in a Waddle Dee sized lab coat and with a head mirror affixed to his brow. It’s a peculiar sight, really.

It always surprises Taranza just a little when Waddle Dees have actual jobs. It’s not unheard of, of course— Bandana Waddle Dee is plenty talented, and there are people such as Channel PPP and Weapons-Shop Waddle Dee, but all the same, it seems for the most part the only actual ‘job’ a majority of them have is to stand around looking cute. They’re… uh, generally pretty lax. Such is the nature of just about anyone who lives in Dreamland.

Which is to say this ‘Med Dee’ fellow is strange to see. Not a bad sight, though. If Dedede trusts him to take care of them, then he has Taranza’s trust as well.

“The situation’s this:” Dedede explains, “These two just got jumped. Can you look ‘em over and see if they’re okay? Get ‘em patched up? If the situation’s real bad I can have one of them fancy-schmancy magic healers come by tomorrow morning, but for now I just want to make sure they ain’t bleeding out.” A pause. “Although…”

He looks towards Taranza.

“Now that I mention it, ain’t you one of those guys? With healing magic? Why didn’t you take care of that?”

Taranza tenses, feeling a little bit like a moth in the lamplight. 

W- what is he supposed to say!?

If Nia weren’t here, he’d tell Dedede he has the wrong idea… that Taranza isn’t nearl y as good a healer as he’s insinuating he is. But if he were to make that claim, she’d be able to see right through it. She’d know he was lying to him. 

“I’m a bit fatigued, unfortunately,” he says, perhaps a little too quickly. “A… after the fight with Morpho Knight and being attacked by the Floralians, I’m drained. I’d try, but…-” he hesitates. “My focus really isn’t the best right now, and that’s not something I want to risk messing up.”

He… thinks it’s a good enough cover story. It’s true that too much magic usage is enough to exhaust a person. It even sort of explains his mishap from earlier. He’s not sure how much Nia saw of him failing to cast a spell during the scuffle with the Floralians, but if he were to have ‘overexerted himself during the fight with Morpho Knight,’ it wouldn’t appear all that odd. And it’s not like they can dispute him— no one else saw how the aforementioned fight went.

That said, he’ll have to come up with a better excuse for the long term. Eventually, that won’t add up and people will start to wonder… something that he can’t allow to happen.

He feels bad deceiving everyone, but he can’t let a single one of his friends know about what he did. They’d chastise him for it— say that the sacrifice wasn’t worth it, and worst of all, he would risk Nia finding out. 

She’s already dealing with so much as is. If she were to learn that he gave up half of his soul for her…-

No. She can’t learn. Not ever.

He’s going to have to go out of his way to avoid all situations where it would make sense for him to use magic in the future. 

Dedede frowns, but nods soon after.

“Ah,” he says. “I guess that makes sense. But enough of my yappin’. You got this, Med Dee?”

“Of course!” Med Dee replies. “Follow me.”

Taranza and Nia do as instructed, tailing after Med Dee while Dedede waits outside. 

It’s the second time today Taranza has gone to get his injuries assessed. Med Dee’s office is much nicer than the back room Zan Partizanne took him to, though, and the Waddle Dee doesn’t interrogate him on the source of his injuries… so, overall, it's a much more pleasant experience.

“It seems you’ll be alright,” Med Dee informs after a brief inspection. “You’re bruised, and you’ve certainly been cut up, but your attackers don’t appear to have hit anything vital. As long as your injuries are disinfected and bandaged, things should be fine, especially if the king indeed decides to have healers come by tomorrow.” 

“Ah,” Taranza says. “Well… that’s good.”

He’d been a bit worried thanks to his levels of fatigue, but it seems that has very little to do with the fight against the Floralians. On the surface, at least he’s okay.

That comes as a relief.

He hisses in through his teeth as Med Dee cleans and dresses his wounds, admittedly, but overall it’s not too bad. He’s just what most people would describe as ‘a weenie.’

When it comes to looking Nia over, though, things aren’t quite so smooth. In fact, she refuses to let him examine her at all.

“This really isn’t necessary,” she insists, pulling back the moment he begins to approach. “I’m aware your sovereign is worried, but I’m just fine. There’s no need to scrutinize what barely constitutes as scrapes. I’ve been through far worse.”

“All the same,” Med Dee argues, “It’s best to check, just in case. If you’re anxious, there’s no need to be. I’m a professional. I’ve done this a thousand times.”

That hardly seems to ease Nia’s nerves. 

Once more, she repeats, “I’m fine,” voice strained.

Taranza frowns. He understands why she’s uneasy— she probably doesn’t want Med Dee to see any more of her discordant body than necessary, but this is rather serious. She says she isn’t hurt, but he’s not sure. Hemolymph soaks her cloak and he still recalls the way she screamed when a dissident raked their sword down her abdomen. 

“Nia… it’ll be okay,” he insists. “I get you’re nervous, but this is important. You could be hurt.”

“I- I don’t care,” she says firmly. “I’d rather be hurt than be…-” she drifts off, lip quivering. She sends a sharp glance towards Med Dee. “Listen. Why don’t you just allow me to dress my own wounds? I can more than take care of them. I’d much prefer that over allowing a stranger to appraise me.”

Med Dee seems apprehensive. 

“You may not be able to assess the severity of your injuries on your own. If you’re uncomfortable with a stranger looking you over, then perhaps you could allow your friend to do the job, at least? He’ll be able to see things you can’t.”

At that, Nia only appears to look all the more uncomfortable. She shakes her head quickly.

“No. I’d really rather he doesn’t.”

She looks towards Taranza, sounding surprisingly desperate. 

“P- please. Just… allow me to take care of this. You do trust me, don’t you? I’ll be fine.”

Taranza can’t help but worry. Why is she so hung up on this? Is she seriously hurt? Is that something she feels she has to hide from him? Or…-

Is she afraid? Of even letting him see her? It’s one thing to not want a stranger to look, but he’s her friend. Does she really feel so disgusting as to be that perturbed by the mere thought of him glimpsing her body?

He wants to argue… to insist it’s okay and that there’s nothing to be ashamed of, but he doesn’t dare— not in front of Med Dee. Now’s not the time. She’s begging him to back her up on this. He’s not going to force her to do something she doesn’t want.

He’ll… trust her with this, if she’s really so afraid of him. 

He supposes they have to take baby steps. She has a lot to unpack. He doesn’t blame her for feeling insecure, of course. He just wishes there were something he could do to prove himself to her… to show that he’d never, ever judge her. He wants her to be able to believe what he said earlier: that he still thinks she’s beautiful. That he always will.

But it’ll take time to convince her of that. So for now…

“Of course,” he says, pulling back. “If that’s what you’re most comfortable with. Just… take good care of yourself, okay? And if anything looks serious, don’t hesitate to change your mind. He and I can always help.”

He’s well aware he’s putting words in Med Dee’s mouth— in fact, he gets the sense that the doctor still kind of wants to argue against Nia taking care of this on her own, but Taranza doesn’t care. He’ll do whatever he can to ensure this is a situation she’s at ease with. 

“...Right,” Med Dee says, brow furrowed. 

Reluctantly, he passes the bandages and disinfectant off to Nia.

“What he said. Get me, at least, if anything looks alarming.”

“Of course,” Nia says, nodding. Taranza gets the sense she’s just saying it to satiate them— and to that extent, he’s a little worried, but he tells himself everything will be okay. If she’s telling the truth, then he doesn’t want to make her stressed when he doesn’t have to.

He and Med Dee duck out of the office.

In the hall, Dedede is waiting for them. He seems a little surprised when he realizes she hasn’t come with him.

“Where’s bug girl?” he asks.

“Nia decided she’d feel better taking care of her injuries by herself. She wasn’t comfortable letting someone else look her over.”

“Oh,” Dedede says, frowning. He squints at Taranza. “I see. Well, I guess that’s fair enough.” A pause. He crosses his arms, thinking. “...Nia. Is that what she’s goin’ by now? It’s different than before.”

“Yeah,” Taranza says. “She couldn’t really tell if she was more at ease with Joronia or Sectonia so we combined them. Or- uh- lopped the difference off. That is okay, isn’t it? You’ll call her that?”

“Who do you think I am? ‘Course I’ll call her that. If that’s what she wants, I ain’t got no problem with it. I was just surprised.”

Shortly after, a Waddle Dee scurries up to him. Panting, they say “I retrieved the clothes you wanted!”

“Oh! Swell,” Dedede says, taking them. “Though you didn’t have’ta do it in such a rush. Take a deep breath, will you? You look half ready to pass out.”

“Ah! My apologies. I suppose I could have gone about that in a less hurried manner. I just figured it was for something important since it was so late at night. I wanted to be of help.”

“And you were,” Dedede says, reaching down to pat them on the head. “No need to apologize. You did good. Just get some rest, alright? Seems like you could use it.”

“O- of course, your majesty!” the Waddle Dee says, giving a nod. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow!”

And then, just like that, they’re off. As suddenly as the little courier had appeared, they’re gone.

Dedede lets out a chuckle, playfully rolling his eyes.

“Ohhhh, the Dees,” he says, “Too dependable for their own good sometimes. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate it, but I still can’t help but laugh. It’s like every order is life or death for ‘em.”

Taranza half expects Med Dee to be offended, but instead, surprisingly, he looks rather proud.

“Well, it is rather important work we do. It’s only fair that we try our best to do it right.”

It’s funny. Taranza was just reflecting on how relaxed the Waddle Dees seem all of the time, but he supposes that was a bit of an oversimplification. While it comes to most things, that’s true, but with King Dedede, it’s different.

…They really want to make him proud, huh? It’s sweet.

After a moment’s inspection, Dedede seems content to hand Taranza the clothes. Passing them over, he says, “These might be a little big for you, but it’s all we’ve got. It was either some of my stuff or some of the Dees’, and you were not gonna fit in something sized for them.”

Taranza can’t complain. In fact, he’s actually amazed Dedede was willing to let him borrow something of his. The spare set of robes is very lush.

That said, there is still one issue.

“These… uh, might not fit Nia, actually. They’re probably too small.”

At that, Dedede stares.  

“‘Scuse me? Bug boy, these are my clothes. I’m like twice her size. What do you mean they won’t fit?”

“Well, Nia… she- uh…-”

Before he can finish, a voice interjects. 

“It’s alright. I don’t need new clothes.”

…Nia. It seems she’s all done looking herself over. She hovers out into the hall, making her way to Taranza’s side.

She appears different than she did just a few minutes before. The flowers have withered by now, and her horns have dissipated entirely. Once more, the yellow has crept to cover at least half of her face. Four of her hands are paw-like, but another two are slender. She’s significantly larger.

Dedede must not have noticed her body shifting before, because he gapes.

“What…-?”

Taranza is quick to step in.

“Are you sure?” he asks, looking at Nia. “I’m confident if he looked around he could find you something. There’s no need for you to stay in tattered clothes.”

He feels bad speaking over King Dedede, but he’s afraid he had very little choice. He couldn’t allow him to draw attention to Nia’s condition— not when it would no doubt hurt her feelings. It’s best they don’t address that elephant beetle in the room, at least for the time being.

Later, he can explain to King Dedede when they’re alone. But he does not want to discuss it in front of her.

…Not that his diversion seems to have done much. For all of his having been cut off, Nia is still staring straight at King Dedede. She barely even looks Taranza’s way as he speaks.

Taranza shoots Dedede a sharp look— and he, at least, is willing to meet Taranza’s eye. He shakes his head and tears his gaze from Nia as he seconds:

“Ah… yeah, you’re probably not gonna wanna stay in those. They’re all bloody. I can at least try and search for something else.”

But Nia hardly seems convinced. Shaking her head, she insists, “It’s fine. There’s no need to waste your time. I’d like to get to sleep as soon as possible, anyhow, rather than concern myself with something so inconsequential.”

Inconsequential? For the second time today Taranza notes just how unlike her it is to not care about that sort of thing. The reason why is the same as it was before, though. Even now, with it ripped and stained, she’d rather wear the cloak as opposed to something more fashionable since, at least within it, she can hide. 

Its oversized fabric shrouds her body. As she looks away from King Dedede, she pulls the hood down over her face.

A knot in Taranza’s stomach. Still, he forces himself to nod.

“Well, if you’re certain,” he says, reaching out for her hand. “I suppose you have a point in that it’s probably best if we just get some rest.”

He’ll have to ask the Mage Sisters if they can get some spare cloaks. It’s… okay if she wants to keep wearing them, at least for now, but he really would rather get her out of the torn-up one. He can’t imagine she feels very good in it.

(…Then again, he can’t imagine her feeling very good in anything at all.)

Regardless, it’s not the time to push. He looks towards King Dedede.

“If she says it’s alright, it’s alright,” he insists. “Thank you for your generosity, though.”

“Of… course,” King Dedede responds, admittedly still taken aback. Still, he doesn’t argue— simply nods. “You two want to get to bed, then?”

“I believe so,” Taranza says. “We can… discuss everything else in the morning. I apologize if that means we’re leaving you with any unanswered questions, but-”

“Naw,” Dedede interjects. “You’re good. Don’t get me wrong— there are still a good few things I’m flummoxed about… and I’d like to get it figured out what we’re going to do regarding you and Floralia, but I’m the one who was snoozin’ before either of you two loons showed up. I’d quite like to get back to it. Why don’t all three of us get our beauty sleep, then you give me the run-through when it ain’t pitch black outside? I figure we’ll probably have our heads screwed on better then, anyways.” 

Taranza nods.

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Great. In that case, I suppose all I’ve gotta do is find you someplace to sleep, and that shouldn't be hard. We’ve got lots of spare rooms. Although I do have to ask: you- uh, planning to bunk together or separately? I can make whatever work. I just don’t know what your… situationship is.” 

Neither does Taranza, truthfully. It’s the same thing he’d been debating back at their castle. He’d like to stay with Nia if he can, but is she alright with that? There’s so much she’s clearly not comfortable with. Maybe she’d prefer her space.

He brings his hand to his chin.

But someone else answers the question before he can.

“Together, please.”

It’s Nia.

Taranza’s surprised. For some reason, he hadn’t expected her to speak up on the matter, much less to say she wanted to stay with him.

“A- are you sure?” he asks. “You don’t have to if you don’t want.”

“Yes, I’m sure,” she says, although her voice just as soon peters off a bit, “That is… at least as long as you are. If you’d prefer not to stay with me-”

“No! No! I’d love to stay with you!” Taranza interjects. “I’d love it more than anything! I just… wanted to make sure. But if that’s what you want, then I want it, too. I missed being with you.”

He presses against her side, giving an awkward smile. It’s earnest, but a little nervous, too.

It’s… been a very long time since they shared a bed. The thought puts butterflies in his stomach. In a good way, though, he thinks. Overwhelming, but only because of how much it means. Because he thought that was an experience he’d never get to have again.

He’s yearned for her touch. For the warmth of his body nestled against her chest. It was something so comforting, to know she was there, and it’ll only be all the more comforting now. Because now he knows what it was like to lose her. Now he knows what a miracle it is to have her back.

The her he knows. That person never got to hold him before. By the time she wanted to, she was already sick. And so to hear that she still wants to embrace him, even made whole… even after all the ways he failed her…-

It means a lot. More than he could possibly ever put into words.

“Well, I guess that’s that, then,” Dedede says. “You two lovebugs can share a room.” He gestures a hand. “Follow me.”

He leads the two of them to a separate wing of the castle. Then, after a bit of hemming and hawing, he decides on a room.

“This should do,” he says, stopping in front of the door. “Pretty nice place… and it’s for guests, so don’t worry: I ain’t gonna try and squeeze you in a bed sized for Dees. You should have plenty of elbow room.” 

He turns the knob and steps inside.

“What do you think?”

True to his word, it’s a pretty pleasant chamber. Smaller than their master bedroom, certainly, but still far from modest. A royal red blanket is draped over the king sized bed and the silk pillows are fluffed. The windows offer a stunning view of Dreamland’s landscape. Various portraits adorn the walls and the dressers and drawers are tidy.

“Oh, Dedede!” Taranza says. “It’s wonderful. Thank you. I seriously cannot express my gratitude enough. I know we showed up on such short notice.” 

“Awwww. No need to thank me,” Dedede says with a grin. “Just helpin’ a friend out. Comes with the territory of being such an awesome and gracious king. I suppose if you want to continue to heap praises on me I don’t mind all that much, but why don’t you save it for morning? I’m about ready to re-hit the hay.”

“Ah. I suppose the same goes for us,” Taranza admits. Now that the adrenaline has started to die down, exhaustion washes over his body. It’s been a very long day. “We’ll get out of your hair and get some rest then. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Sounds good,” Dedede says. “Try not to worry too much, ‘kay? We’ll get something figured out regarding Floralia. And until then, you’re welcome to hunker down here as long as you need.”

Taranza isn’t nearly as certain they’ll be able to ‘get something figured out,’ but he appreciates Dedede’s optimism nevertheless. He gives a curt nod.

“Thank you,” he says once more. “It truly does mean so much to us. Good night, King Dedede. I hope you rest well.”

“Night, bug boy.”

A warm smile— although it wavers as he remembers there’s someone else he should probably be addressing. 

Dedede turns towards Nia.

“...Sweet dreams to you, too, yeah? Glad to- uh- see you up and kicking. I dunno what’s really goin’ on with you, but a friend of Taranza’s is a friend of mine. Here’s to hoping all of that stuff can become water under the bridge.”

It comes out a little stilted. Still, he holds out a hand.

Nia doesn’t take it— simply nods.

“Here’s to hoping,” she says softly.

Eventually, Dedede lowers his hand. It must sink in for him that she’s not going to accept his offer. 

“Well,” he says, coughing just slightly. “I’ll- uh, skedaddle then. Sleep well, you two. I’ll talk to ya in the morning.”

And with that, he ducks out. He gives Taranza one final nod, then absconds, leaving the two of them alone.

Briefly, Taranza is hardly even sure what to do. The energy in the room feels just a little bit weird. But tugging at his scarf, he turns towards Nia.

“I suppose we should take his advice and ‘hit the hay.’ You ready to sleep?”

“Mmmmm,” Nia says. “More or less.”

Squeezing her hand, Taranza leads her over to the bed. However, he hesitates just a little bit as he stares at its intricate sheets. Is she… really okay with this? Sharing it with him?

She has to be, right? She said as much. He supposes it’s just hard to deduce her reasons. Does she want to be by his side because she’d feel safer with him around? Or is it…-?

His lip quivers just slightly. A lump in his throat— but not a bad one. He’s not… upset. Just nervous, he thinks. He doesn’t want to mess this up.

Awkwardly, he clambers into bed. He pulls the unfamiliar sheets up over his body and tries his best to get comfortable.

Nia does the same.

For a moment, they lie apart. But eventually, Nia reaches out a cautious hand. She slides ever-so-slightly closer to Taranza, hand hovering just above his chest.

It’s as if she’s asking permission.

Taranza gives it to her. Still cautious himself, admittedly, he presses his body to hers. He leans into her embrace and snuggles up against her breast.

The tension doesn’t release from her body entirely, but she lets out a deep breath as she finally wraps an arm around him. Her touch is clumsy, yet gentle. Hesitant, she pulls him in close.

Taranza buries the back of his head in the crook of her neck. He basks in her warmth— feels her chest rise and fall— and despite it all, smiles.

He’s not sure what this means. But whatever it is, it’s comfortable, and he missed it. He missed it more than he could possibly put into words.

There’s so much he wants to say to her. About how he’s sure everything will be okay and that they’ll work through this together. But it’s late, and he’s tired, and he isn’t sure those sorts of words would mean much, anyways, so simply places his hand over hers and says:

“Goodnight, Nia. I love you. I’m glad you’re here.”

Her fingers shift just slightly. Still, she nods, laying her chin on his head. 

Then, finally, she responds.

“...Love you, too. I’m glad to be here.” 

And with that, Taranza’s able to drift off. For even if they have a lot to figure out, they’re together, and that’s all that matters. Regardless of where they are or what’s happened, the most important person in the world is back by his side.

That alone is more than enough.

Nia is beginning to understand what Taranza’s idea of a happy ending looks like.

‘…Nia.’

Stars. What an unfitting name. He’d tried to be coy about its meaning, but she’s no fool. She knows what he was insinuating with a denomination like that. When traced back to its root meaning, it’s Insectoid for ‘beautiful.’

What a sick joke.

Still, it’s better than Sectonia or Joronia. She’ll take anything over those. The former makes her feel sick to her stomach and the latter is even worse. It’s irritating and unfamiliar and hollow. Did she seriously go by that once upon a time? She feels so disconnected from that person now.

‘Nia’ is nice in that, for all its ill-suitedness, at least there are no memories attached. ‘Nia’ has never been whispered softly or screamed in fear. It’s a blank slate— a fresh start, at least in theory.

She knows in actuality she’s not going to get a ‘do-over.’

She could pretend, maybe, but she’s never going to be able to forget all that happened. And besides, even if she could, that’s not what he wants, is it? Taranza didn’t bring her back hoping for a new beginning. 

He brought her back hoping for Joronia— a person who’s dead.

That’s who he thinks is holding him right now. That’s why he leans into her embrace.

But she’s not Joronia. She’s…-

She’s not sure what she is. 

She watches her hands, curled around his body, shift in the dim light and feels sick to her stomach. Fingers stretch, then retract… this unsteady, pulsating cycle. 

What a grotesque, horrifying sight. 

And he’s disgusted by it. She knows he is. He’s pretending he isn’t, but it’s impossible to hide. She noticed the way his face fell, dismayed, when he first saw her after her initial freak out. She watched him grimace as he realized she hadn’t gone back to being ‘normal.’ She’s aware of the way he holds her hand just a little bit too tight— like it’s something he’s forcing himself to do. She keeps catching him staring… shifting nervously, biting down on his lip as he watches her body contort.

It leaves him confused— makes him scared. He keeps saying he’s alright with it, but when he tells her things like “I think you’re still stunning,” the insincerity is clear as day.

…He’s trying to convince himself of that every bit as much as he’s trying to convince her.

Her mind keeps wandering back to the way he screamed earlier during the fight with the Floralians. He cowered, pulled back and begged “Please don’t hurt me!” in a terrified voice. That, too, he’s trying to pretend is unrelated to her, but she’s no fool.

They’re words that only came out of his mouth upon hearing the roar of thunder. That wasn’t a plea directed towards the Floralians. It was directed towards her.

He wasn’t just disgusted, then. He was afraid. She could see it in his eyes: wild, desperate panic. As her body warped and she lunged towards their enemies, he was overcome with fear. He looked at her as if she were a monster.

And she is. He’s not doing anything wrong in feeling that way. The only mistake he’s making is trying to convince himself that’s not true.

Why? She doesn’t get it. Why is he letting her hold him right now? She knows he wants Joronia, but is he really so blind as to not see she’s gone? Nia isn’t his friend. Nia isn’t his ‘beautiful spider.’ She’s the person he’s scared of. The person he hates.

He keeps saying that person is the one who’s dead. That Sectonia wasn’t her. ‘You were sick,’ he repeats time and time again. ‘You were sick, but you’re better now.’

…Is she? Nia doesn’t feel better.

Her lip quivers as Taranza’s chest rises and falls. His warmth is offputting and unfamiliar. He feels too small in her arms— fragile, even. She’s scared that if she’s not careful he’ll break.  

Unwelcome memories swirl through her mind.

Striking him off the balcony. Yelling at him and telling him she hates him. Even laying in bed just like this. 

She was uncomfortable then, too, holding him as Sectonia. She remembers staring at him while he slept and feeling a sense of revulsion… an indescribable contempt as he let out a soft snore. She remembers staring at his fuzzy skin and multiple eyes and feeling her lip curl.

‘Hideous,’ she’d think. ‘Absolutely hideous. What happened? Did I seriously love this person once upon a time?’

Now, it’s the opposite. She’s asking herself if she seriously didn’t. It feels so foreign and so familiar all at once. Part of her can barely even fathom the idea of despising him, but another part of her understands innately. She recalls the way she felt, and she hated him more than anyone.

That had to come from the heart, didn’t it? He can say that was someone else all he wants, but she knows the truth.

…Maybe she had been right to ask herself that back then.

Did she ever love him? It’s hard to believe things could have ended so badly if that were the case.

Not that it matters. Her feelings aren’t of particular importance here. Whether she loved him then or not, she has to love him now, she thinks. It’s the least she can do to repay him after years of abuse. He keeps saying he’s okay with their relationship whether or not she’s his, but she knows he’s lying about that, too. She can see the hunger behind his eyes. There’s a reason he resurrected her, and he made it more than known:

‘You were the love of my life.’

‘Were’ sounds about right. He says he still loves her, but that can only last so long. Eventually, he’ll realize that she’s not going to get better. That she’s still empty and bitter and broken inside. Then, he’ll regret it. He’ll wish he never brought her back. Disgust and hatred and fear will win out. It’ll click even for him that no-one could love this.

…Until then, though, if he wants to pretend, then Nia will too. She owes him that much. She’ll wrap him in her arms and hold him tight, even though it makes her feel sick. She’ll pull him in close and act as if she isn’t terrified.

Even if she can’t be, she wants him to be happy for a little while, at least.

She just wishes that it were easier. That her body wouldn’t betray her. She knows she deserves this… that she’s simply as ugly on the outside as she is on the inside now, but it’s not fair he has to see it. He doesn’t deserve to see the ‘person he loves’ made into a twisted mockery of herself. She knows it’s tearing him apart.

It’s not just courtesy that has him saying things like ‘Are you sure you want to sleep next to me? I’d hate to force it.’ It’s apprehension, too. Like she said: she already knows he thinks she’s disgusting. Those chances to back down… are they out of kindness, or because he can’t bear to look at her? Because a small part of him is hoping she’ll take the out?

The answer is pretty obvious, she thinks.

It makes her feel angry. Not at him, of course, but at herself. Isn’t it bad enough for her to already not be the girl he wants on the inside!? Why can’t her body, at least, be what he craves? 

…It’s funny. She never thought she’d be jealous of ‘Joronia.’ It’s not as if she was happy back then. She didn’t like how she looked. She didn’t like how she acted. Even now, she thinks she was disgusting. How far has she fallen that even that seems like beauty in comparison to this?

Every time she thinks about it, she gets sick to her stomach. She’s not just ugly now. She’s been disfigured. A mismatched, uneven body— constantly contorting— revolting in some way no matter what. She’s the worst of two horrendous people haphazardly stitched together. Even just seeing herself earlier while attending to her wounds made her feel lightheaded. Made her wish the Floralians had succeeded in their goal. She would have let them, if not for Taranza. 

She’s been made into something truly awful.

He, meanwhile, hasn’t changed a bit. For all of her unrecognizability, he looks just like he did the day she died. Perhaps his hair is a little longer or his eyes a little tireder, but there’s no mistaking him. Not in the same way there is her. That’s the Taranza she remembers. That’s the Taranza she grew up with. That’s the Taranza she thought she loved once upon a time.

(Sweet. Subservient. Fearful. Foolish.)

Even the way he dresses is the same. He’s bundled in one of ‘King Dedede’s’ robes now, of course, but his style hasn’t changed much overall. That scarf, in particular, he hasn’t removed once. 

…Nia doesn’t understand why. Why he wears it with pride. Why he kept it all these years. It’s a memento to their friendship, sure, but what part of that is worth commemorating? Why isn’t that something he’d rather forget? Surely he’d be better off. But no. Here he is, instead, driven out of his home with a dead woman in his bed.

She can’t comprehend it. If it weren’t for what he did… the fact that she’s breathing right now, she’d think it was feigned. ‘I care about you’ would seem every bit as insincere as ‘you’re still beautiful.’ But people don’t fight the grim reaper for someone they don’t care about. He does love her, in some way.

And truthfully, that’s almost worse. Her own scarf feels like a noose around her neck.

She doesn’t deserve love. She doesn’t deserve kindness. It’s not like she showed it to him. He should run! He should spit in her face! It’s naive for him not to!

But he doesn’t. Instead, he snuggles up against her chest, delusional, and tells her now that she’s here, he can finally be happy. 

There’s a smile on his face as he sleeps.

It makes her just a little bit angry. She wants to take him by the shoulders and shout that there’s nothing to be celebrating. Clearly he found better friends! Clearly he was getting by without her. And so why would he sabotage himself like this!? Can’t he see he’s just going to get himself hurt!?

…Another part of her, though, can’t help but want to protect that smile, as unwarranted and infuriating and clueless as it is. Maybe it’s out of duty or maybe it’s just pity, but she doesn’t want him to regret this. She doesn’t want to hurt him. 

She’s just… scared it’s inevitable.

What has she ever done but hurt him?

That’s why she needs to try and get this under control. For his sake. She knows she’ll never go back. She knows she can’t actually be what he wants, but she can pretend, can’t she? She can put on a smile and say ‘I love you too.’ She can promise ‘I’m the person you remember.’ She can clutch his hand and ignore the overwhelming dread.

She can be ‘happy.’ For his sake. 

She just… has to fix her body, too. As soon as possible. Not only can she not stand to see it, but ‘happy’ will never truly mean anything to Taranza while she’s still a monster. He doesn’t want to see an abomination smiling. He wants to see the warm, innocent smile of the girl he loves. The girl he was trying to bring back.

What is it those people said? Taranza’s friends? They… insinuated that she was doing this to herself. That she’s in control of it, somehow. And so surely if she’s calm enough… surely if she sees herself the right way, then her body will cooperate.

She just has to… to-

To convince herself she’s still that person. Maybe then, she can look like her.

As she lies there in bed staring at her hand, though, it’s impossible to believe something like that. Weakly she tries to tell herself ‘you’re still Joronia; you haven’t changed,’ but she already knows that’s not true. She doesn’t get to be Joronia anymore after what she did.

Her hand stops shifting, but it doesn’t morph into a paw. Instead it settles on long, slender yellow fingers. On the hands Taranza is afraid of. 

It looks so wrong holding him. Her lip quivers.

Her waist shrinks. Her abdomen swells. She blinks back tears as wings sprout from her back. She grows larger and larger— too big to hold him comfortably. He feels awkward and tiny in her arms.

‘You’re Joronia,’ she thinks. ‘Just. Look like. Joronia.’

But the more she tells herself that, the less and less she believes it.

Still, she pulls Taranza in close, cradling him against her chest. She stares at that naive smile of his, ignores her heart pounding in her ears, and tells herself that everything will be okay. It has to. For his sake. 

It doesn’t matter that she’s ugly. It doesn’t matter that she can’t forgive herself. It doesn’t matter that she’s scared and that she never asked to be brought back to life. She’ll get this figured out. She’ll get this figured out. He’s all that matters now, and he needs her to.

The night seems to stretch on forever. 

It’s a very, very long time before ‘Nia’ falls asleep.

Chapter Text

When Taranza first awakes the next morning, he has no idea where he is.

His body is sore and the bed feels unfamiliar. Peeking open an eye, he’s met with the sight of a room that’s not his.

‘Huh? What? Am I in… Castle Dedede? How did I-?’

Before he can finish the thought, it all comes rushing back to him. The fight with Morpho Knight. Being driven out of Floralia. Fleeing to the Lower World for shelter.

…Nia.

Wait. Where is she? His body jolts as he realizes he’s no longer in her embrace. He shoots awake, frantically glancing around the room.

For a moment, he’s scared he’s not going to find her— that her resurrection will be revealed to have all been a dream or that she’ll have disappeared overnight—  but to his relief, he spots her rather quickly. It seems she’s already gotten out of bed.

She’s near the front of the room, stock still. At first, Taranza can’t tell what it is that she’s doing, but as he cranes his neck, it clicks.

There’s a vanity set pressed against the wall. She’s staring into the mirror. 

An… unnerving sight. Taranza knows it isn’t cursed, but all the same, it puts him just a little bit on edge. He slips out of bed and approaches from the side. 

As he gets nearer, he can make out her expression. There’s this dark, blank sort of look in her eyes. She looks from the mirror, to her hand held out in front of her, then back to the mirror, posture rigid.

Just slightly, her fingers contort. He watches them shrink just a little, then lengthen. Claws grow, only to retract.

As they do, Nia’s eyes narrow.

It’s… a familiar sight, albeit not in the way that Taranza expected. As opposed to reminding him of what Sectonia was like at the end of her life, it actually reminds him of the way Joronia behaved when he first gifted her the mirror. Before she’d been consumed by vanity, she’d spend hours just sitting there, a malignant, yet empty expression on her face as she glared, unsatisfied, at the person peering back at her. 

A shudder. 

He hurries to Nia’s side.

“Morning,” he says, figuring it’s probably best to distract her from all of that. “How are you? Did you sleep well?”

She startles. It seems she hadn’t even noticed his approach. Tearing her gaze from the mirror, she turns towards him, giving a stiff nod.

“Mmhmmm.”

She looks more like a Sectra than she does an Arachnid this morning. She towers over Taranza, and her face is angled. It’s a bit hard to tell with her hood pulled up, but it seems she doesn’t have hair or fangs, and her second set of eyes has disappeared. Most of her face is yellow, minus one patch of brown fur running up past her cheek and halfway to her brow. She has one antenna and one horn on opposite sides of her head, the weight of the latter making it loll just slightly to the right.

Her eyes are mismatched, which is to say one is still a vibrant purple, while the other is a glowing white. 

That makes Taranza feel just a little more at ease.

He’d been worried, for a bit, that he was never going to get to see those glowing eyes again. It’s a familiar gaze, even coming from an incongruent face. He missed it. 

He makes his way over to her, reaching out for her hand and giving it a squeeze.

“That’s good,” he says softly. “Are you feeling okay after last night?”

Another nod.

“Yes. I already told you: I wasn’t hurt. What about you?”

“I’m alright, too,” Taranza says. “A little tender, but it could be far worse. Those Floralians really had it out for me.” A pause. “...I’m lucky you came to my rescue. You were very heroic.”

He flashes an awkward smile, hoping the words will be enough to cheer her up some.

But they don’t seem to do much. While it’s true Nia smiles back, it’s not difficult to tell it’s forced.

“But- ah, enough of my fawning,” he says, scratching at the back of his neck. “I suppose we should duck out of here and say hello to King Dedede. There’s quite a bit we still have to explain to him. Ideally, he can have the Waddle Dees make us breakfast, then we can all sit down and talk. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

It’s a moment before Nia responds, but when she does, she agrees.

“...That sounds nice,” she admits.

“Wonderful,” Taranza says. “Let’s go, then.”

A hand on her back as he guides her away from the mirror and out of the room. He’s glad to have been able to get her mind off of that, at least for now. Part of him wonders if he should ask Dedede to take the mirror down, but another part of him is worried that would just make things worse.

Would Nia feel as if he were being overprotective? Or like he’d caught her doing something she shouldn’t have? He’d hate for her to feel exposed or like he agrees she shouldn’t be seen. 

She should be seen. He simply doesn't want to see her looking at herself the way she was just now. The enmity in her expression, it…

Well, it disturbed him. 

He needs to do everything he can to build her self-esteem back up as quickly as possible. That way, she can hold her head high. So she can stare at her reflection without loathing or egomania, but rather well-deserved, earnest, pride.

He presses against her side.

“You look beautiful this morning,” he says as they make their way down the hall.

Nia pauses. Her gaze flickers towards his hand in hers.

Briefly, she looks ready to argue, and Taranza feels his heart catch in his throat, but then her shoulders slump.

“Thanks,” she says softly. 

And that’s all.

He wonders if it’s crossing a line for him to say something like that. He’s not making her uncomfortable, is he? He hopes it doesn’t feel like courting. He’s not trying to flirt with her, necessarily. It’s just… the truth. He wants her to know. 

Part of him wonders if he should elaborate— compliment her eyes, perhaps. Maybe clarification could make his words seem more sincere. But something tells him that now’s not the time, and so he simply leaves it at that, giving her hand another squeeze.

It’ll… take some time before she believes him about that. But that’s okay. He’ll get through to her eventually, even if it means he had to say it a thousand times.

The two of them find King Dedede rather quickly. He’s exactly where Taranza had a hunch he might be: the throne room. His back is turned to them as they enter. It seems he’s talking with some Waddle Dees.

“Yeah, I’m okay now. You guys don’t have to keep worrying about stuff like that,” he insists. “I already told you that Kirby beat the dang thing out of my head, didn’t I? ‘Sides, it ain’t even the worst thing like that I’ve dealt with. It’s you all I should be asking ‘are you alright?’ You were gettin’ locked up in cages, not me! I hope I didn’t spook ya’ too bad.”

…Ah, it seems they’re discussing the events that took place in ‘The New World.’ And it makes sense. It’s only been about two weeks since all of that happened—at least in Popstar time. 

Taranza can’t blame the Waddle Dees for being worried. When Kirby recounted his adventure it sounded to him like poor Dedede had a pretty rough go at it. Yet another thing infiltrated his mind, making him go on a rampage and even help capture his subjects.

Dedede can never catch a break, can he? Briefly, Taranza feels bad for putting yet another thing on his plate, but he just as soon shakes it off. He didn’t have much of a choice— it’s not like there was anywhere else for him to go, and he’s sure Dedede doesn’t mind temporarily providing them shelter that much. He’s a reliable friend.

Taranza makes his way over, ushering Nia with him.

It’s a Waddle Dee who notices them first. She’s halfway through bragging about how she ‘wasn’t scared at all when that nasty Beast Pack kidnapped her’ when she stops, eyes wide.

“What?” Dedede says, cocking a brow, “Is there something behind me, or…-“

As he glances over his shoulder, he freezes too. Then, he pulls back with a shout. 

“A-ACK! What the-!?”

He stumbles away with one arm held out in front of him. And for a moment, he seems genuinely petrified. But as he gets a better look at them and realizes it’s just his new guests, slowly, his body relaxes. He lets out a ragged sigh of relief.

“O- oh,” he says, taking a deep breath. “…It’s just you two. Sorry ‘bout that. You just scared the daylights out of me. Didn’t anybody ever tell you not to go sneakin’ up on people?”

“Apologies,” Taranza says. “We didn’t intend to. We just wanted to let you know we were awake.”

It’s a moment before Dedede even responds. His gaze is fixed on Nia. Eventually, he manages to tear his eyes from her, though, giving Taranza a stiff nod.

“…Right,” he says. “T- that makes sense. All’s good. Just don’t do that again. Give me a shout next time you’re coming at me from behind.” 

It’s easy to tell though this has nothing to do with that. It’s a white lie. 

It’s Nia who scared him. 

And it makes sense. What happened under that moonlit sky upset Dedede. He’s always been nervous around Sectra thanks to it. Just because it makes sense, though, doesn’t mean Taranza has to like it.

He frowns as Nia shrinks back just a little, the brown streak of fuzz disappearing from her face.

He should have realized Dedede would react like this. Maybe he made the wrong choice by bringing her here. Is… this just going to make both her and Dedede upset?

No. He eschews the thought. He meant it when he said Dedede will love Nia— that everyone will. They just need to take some time to get to know her. He’ll relax with enough time.

“Yeah,” Taranza says. “Can do. But you… uh- wanted us to explain what happened last night, correct? I believe we can do that now that we’ve gotten some rest. Why don’t we all sit down with a cup of tea— maybe breakfast as well— and go over the details?” 

“Ah… yeah,” Dedede says, fidgeting just a bit. “Sounds good. The sooner I actually start to understand any of this stuff, the better.” He gestures a hand. “Follow me. I’ll show ya’ to the kitchen. The Waddle Dees should be finishing up making the food just about now. Let’s grab a bite, then find a good place to talk this over.”

He excuses himself from the conversation with the Waddle Dees and leads Taranza and Nia down the hall. They get their breakfast, then make their way out to a terrace. Dedede says no-one should bother them there. Plus, they can get some fresh air.

He has a few tables set up. He makes his way over to one, pulling out a seat and motioning a hand.

“Alrighty, then,” he says. “Give me the rundown.”

And so Taranza tells him the story. Or… well, most of it. He doesn’t mention his deal with Morpho Knight, obviously, and he plays down just how intense the fight was. Plus, he skims over the details regarding Nia’s initial freakout, not wanting to expose her. Instead, he just says she was ‘surprised and a little scared to have been brought back.’ He also tries not to go into too much detail regarding her appearance, simply repeating what it is that Hyness told him: that it’s ‘likely a result of everything that happened,’ but ‘nothing to worry about, obviously!’ before quickly moving on.

Everything else, he explains in depth. He talks about Francisca and Flamberge first offering to help him out, how helpful the Mage Sisters were overall, and his and Nia’s initial return to Floralia. He says that everything was perfect at first, but that as soon as the denizens found out, things quickly turned chaotic.

“They fully intended to kill us,” he admits. “We’re lucky we escaped with our lives. I don’t know what we’re going to do now. We came here because it was the first place we could think of, but…-” a heavy sigh. “It really is an unfortunate situation. I hate that they were able to drive us from our home. Nia hardly even got to spend any time there.”

“Mmmmmm…” Dedede says, one hand on his chin. “Yeah, that’s rough. I mean, I get why they freaked out, but…” he drifts off, crossing his arms and giving it some thought. “Maybe I can try and talk to ‘em. Explain things. They weren’t willing to listen to you, but they might be willing to listen to one of the heroes. I could even bring Kirby along and see if that helps.”

“Doubtful,” Taranza says. “I appreciate it, King Dedede, I really do, but I have a sneaking suspicion there may be no convincing them. Even if you manage to sway the opinion of some Floralians, others may refuse to change their minds, and all it takes is one dissident for Nia or I to end up seriously hurt. That’s… a risk I can’t take. I fear we may never be able to return.” 

“Which isn’t to say…-” he falters. “I am not making a request to stay at your castle indefinitely. I would never. We’ll get something figured out soon, I’m sure. So don’t-”

“Hey!” Dedede says. “You ain’t gotta worry about that. Stay as long as you need. I’m serious. We’ve got more than enough room for it. It ain’t a bother. I’m not raring to kick you out!”

“I- I know that,” Taranza responds. “But I’d hate to be a bother. I don’t want you to get caught up in all this if that’s not strictly necessary. The Floralians could come looking for us. They might harm you.” 

“Pah!” Dedede says. “Fat chance! You think I’m scared of them!? I ain’t just some defenseless royal! I’m a fighter! One of the only people who can go toe to toe with the guy they call ‘the pink demon!’ I’m scrappy! Stubborn! Tough!”  

He raps his chest with one fist, grinning. Then, he says, calmer:

“‘Sides, I don’t think it’ll come to that. Kirb, the Floralians and I… we’ve got history.They wouldn’t just turn on us like that. We helped them out when they needed it most.”

He says that, but Taranza’s not sure. The two people Kirby and King Dedede helped ‘liberate’ the Floralians from are here eating breakfast with him. That may be enough to constitute as a betrayal. 

Something tells him he’s not going to be able to convince Dedede of that, though.

“And you’re really sure it’s not an inconvenience?” He asks. 

“Course it’s not an inconvenience! I already told you we’ve got more space than we know what to do with. And, anyways, it’s nice having a friend around.”

“Oh. Well… thank you,” Taranza says with a smile. “We appreciate it.”

He sends a sideways glance towards Nia as if trying to say ‘See? King Dedede isn’t all bad,’ but she isn’t even looking at him. As she stares at her breakfast there’s a weary glaze to her eyes that indicates she made out maybe half of that conversation.

Her posture is awkward and hunched over. She barely even fits in her seat.

“...Right, Nia?” he says, trying to draw her attention. He scoots his seat ever-so-slightly closer to hers. 

Her head finally shoots up. It seems as if she hadn’t expected to be addressed.

“Right,” she says stiffly. “It’s… a charitable gesture.”

Taranza’s smile wavers, but he forces it back as he shifts in his seat.

“I hope this means we can all finally become friends. Dedede is so, so, so kind hearted, and Dedede: I promise you’re going to love Nia now that you can get to know the real her. Shes…- she’s wonderful. She’s strong and she’s clever and she’s brave. You’ll adore her.”

He says that, but there’s a moment of silence as Dedede peers at the Sectra sitting across from him at the table. He tilts his head.

Still, he eventually says, “I’m sure I will. Any friend of yours is good in my book.” Then, addressing Nia, he adds on, “I don’t remember if I said it last night, but it’s good to finally meet you on more decent terms. Your pal over there has talked about you a whole lot, you know.”

“Yeah,” Nia responds. “I know. It’s…” a moment’s hesitation. “Good to meet you, too. I’ve heard you’ve been there for Taranza. Thank you for that.”

“Aw shucks,” Dedede says with a chuckle. “There’s no need to thank me for that. ‘Course I have. He’s a pretty cool dude.”

For all of the niceties, though, the atmosphere remains tense. There’s courtesy on the surface, but it’s clear both Nia and Dedede are uncomfortable at best. 

Dedede doesn’t meet her eye. He fidgets with his silverware. 

Nia tugs at her scarf. She hasn’t even touched her food.

“Hey,” Taranza says, giving her a gentle nudge. “...You should eat. It’s best you get something on your stomach.”

“I’m aware,” she says. “I’m just not certain what this even is. Is this actually what people eat here?”

‘Oh.’ Taranza thinks. ‘Oh. That makes sense.’ 

He hadn’t even thought about it, but the cuisine in Dreamland is rather different than it is in Floralia, isn’t it?

For in stark contrast to the luxurious buffet Nia was treated to the night before, this morning she’s greeted with a stack of pancakes doused in whipped cream.

“Ah, yeah,” Taranza explains. “In Dreamland they have a slightly sweeter palate. I was surprised at first, too. It’s good, though. Just try it.”

Nia still seems uncertain. She shoots Dedede a suspicious look.

“Go on,” he says, nodding his head. “What are you worried about? It don’t bite.”

“Well, I know that,” Nia says, giving an embarrassed huff. “I just can’t help but feel like it’s a little bit uncouth. You’re royalty and this is what you’re served for breakfast? Don’t you think it’s a little bit underwhelming?”

“N- Nia!” Taranza sputters. “Don’t. If you don’t like it, I can make you something else, but please don’t start a fight.”

That seems to get through to her. She gives pause, brows furrowing. 

“There’s no need for that,” she says quickly. “Don’t go out of your way. I can eat it. I was merely surprised. That’s all.”

And before Taranza can argue, she gets to work cutting her breakfast apart with a knife and fork.

…Don’t go out of his way? What? He wouldn’t have minded. Is she really so afraid of inconveniencing him? He wants to help make her comfortable. She’s in a strange place, probably homesick, and going through a lot. It wouldn’t have been too hard for him to throw something together.

Oh well. No point in pushing now. He’s just glad he managed to diffuse some of the tension.

And Nia does admit that the pancake is “decent” after finally taking a bite. It’s still clearly not to her usual standards, but she does eat. 

There’s not much conversation throughout the rest of the meal. Taranza attempts to make small talk, but it only goes so far. Nia isn’t particularly chatty, and although Dedede tries his best to be responsive, there’s only so much that can do to diffuse the awkward atmosphere.

“Thank you for treating us to breakfast,” Taranza says as they start to finish up. “We really do appreciate it.”

“It’s nothin’,” Dedede says. “Really, it’s the Waddle Dees you should be thankin’... not me! They’re the ones who made it, yeah?” 

He pushes out his chair and stands, stretching his arms. 

“As for my helpin’ you out, there’s still some stuff I’ve got to do. I know you think it won’t work, but I’m gonna try talkin’ to the Floralians, just in case. Even if I can’t sway ‘em, they’re gonna find out I’m housin’ you sooner or later. It’s best I make that much clear now and let ‘em know I’m not going to budge. I’ll tell ‘em that I’m not gonna kick you out and that I’m not letting them lay a finger on you, either.”

“Don’t really want to have to justify myself to them,” he admits. “But it seems I probably don’t have much of a choice. Turns out bein’ king comes with ‘duties’ and ‘diplomatic obligations.’ Who would have guessed?” He lets out a bark of a laugh, shaking his head. “Man, if I’d known all of that goin’ into this, I would’ve never chose to become the big boss of Dreamland.”

He says that, but there’s a big, humorous grin on his face. He straightens out his robe.

Nia makes a face. She glances at Dedede, then at Taranza.

“Chose?” she whispers. “What does that mean?”

Ah… right. She wouldn’t know about that. But that’s also probably something best not discussed in front of Dedede. Things are strained enough between him and Nia as is. The last thing they need is for her to question the veracity of his rule.

“I’ll explain in a bit,” Taranza whispers back. “Just go with it.”

If he notices their murmuring, Dedede certainly doesn’t comment on it. Instead, shaking his head, he simply says, “Oh well. What can ya’ do? ‘With great power comes great responsibility’ or whatever, and I’m for sure powerful. I suppose I don’t mind takin’ care of all that stuff that much.”

Taranza’s relieved that, for all of his jesting, Dedede doesn’t seem to actually be too upset about the prospect of having to untangle this political nightmare. He can’t help but get the sense, admittedly, that he’s underestimating just how difficult this will be… but also, ultimately, he trusts him.

Dedede can seem foolhardy on the surface, and to a certain extent, he is. He doesn’t always think things through. He can be overconfident, and sometimes he rushes into things. But even so, he has his own peculiar sense of wisdom and charisma. He knows how to make a good argument when it comes down to it, even if he might not always word it in the most eloquent manner. And when he’s not able to convince others, he’s more than willing to stand up for his beliefs. 

All of this is… very anxiety inducing, but Taranza well and truly believes they aren’t in bad hands. If anyone will be able to ensure this won’t break out into full-on war, it’s King Dedede.

“And so you’re going now?” Taranza asks. “To talk to them, I mean?”

“Naw. Not quite yet,” Dedede replies. “There’s some stuff I should really get ready first. Among other things, I do want to take Kirb with me. Even if he can’t help me convince them, it’s good to have backup, just in case this makes ‘em mad. Not that I need protection from him, of all folks, of course! But two heads are better than one, yeah? I’ll probably set out with him sometime this evening, or maybe tomorrow morning. But, first, I’ve got to call him to the castle. Figure I’ll send Bandee to go grab him.”

‘…Bandee.’ Taranza had almost forgotten about him. He wonders if the Waddle Dee in question has caught wind of their situation yet or if this is the first he’ll be hearing of it. Either way, he has a feeling he won’t be particularly happy. Bandana Waddle Dee… er- isn’t the biggest fan of Taranza. He never has been.

While Dedede himself was able to forgive Taranza for everything that happened, Bandee has always held a grudge. And Taranza gets it, to a certain extent. He could never forgive someone who laid a finger on his own ruler, but all the same, it is admittedly a little difficult dealing with just how hostile Dedede’s second-in-command is towards him.

He hopes Bandee won’t also be upset with Nia for her involvement in Dedede’s kidnapping. She wasn’t in her right mind, after all— Taranza was. Any blame should be placed on him. And besides, does it even really matter? Dedede is fine now.

Still, despite all Bandee’s animosity, he does trust him to take care of getting Kirby. The only thing that outweighs his dislike for Taranza is his loyalty to King Dedede. He’ll do anything he says, even if he might gripe a bit.

“Right,” Taranza says, nodding. “That sounds reasonable. Good luck dealing with everything. And I- ah… apologize for placing this burden on you.”

“Bug boy,” Dedede says, a hand on his hip. “Didn’t I already tell you it’s not a big deal? You don’t gotta keep apologizing. I’m the great King Dedede! Arguing with some angry citizens is far from the hardest thing I’ve had to do. Everything will be fine.” 

A pause. He looks around.

“I really should go, though. To start gettin’ prepared for all of that. Sorry I can’t pal around with you longer, but it was nice. Thanks for givin’ me the rundown. While I’m busy with all of that, why don’t you show your friend around the castle? We’ve got some pretty cool stuff here. Go give a tour.”

Taranza thinks for a moment.

“I suppose that sounds reasonable, seeing as how we’re going to stay here for a while,” he says. “What do you think, Nia? Would you like that?”

“That would be… fine,” she responds. “It doesn’t seem there’s anything better to do.”

“Great!” Dedede says. “Seems you two are all set, then. That means I’ll be ducking out. It was good chattin’ with you, though! I’ll see you around, bug boy!” A pause. He shifts slightly. “And- uh, you too, Nia. Hope you don’t have too much trouble gettin’ used to this place.”

Then, before she can respond, he’s off. He leaves in a bit of a hurry.

…Seems he has a lot to take care of.

Taranza turns towards Nia, reaching out for her hand. 

“Well, you ready for the grand tour?” he asks, giving a slight smile. 

And as she gives a nod, he leads her back into the castle.

He points out everything they pass by… explaining that the royal garden is in one direction, and that the royal lounge is another. He talks about how the castle is several floors, and that the Waddle Dees have their own lodgings. 

Nia listens attentively… although it’s only after a while that she actually comments.

“Wow…” she says. “It seems you’re quite familiar with this place. You’ve been here before?”

“Rather regularly,” Taranza responds. “As I mentioned, King Dedede is a good friend of mine. It’s not rare that I pay him a visit.”

“I see.”

Nia frowns.

What? Is she troubled by that? Why? Is it that she’s upset that Taranza’s made a friend other than her, or…?

No. It’s not about just that, is it?

“He’s really, really nice,”  he insists. “I mean, you saw how much he wants to help us. I know things are a little awkward right now, but I promise you’ll get along in no-time. 

“...Right,” she responds. “If you say so.”

The insincerity is palpable. She doesn’t believe that for a second. 

Taranza wonders what he should do. There has to be some way for him to convince her of Dedede’s good nature— of the fact that he knows he won’t hold a grudge… but he can’t find the words. How is he supposed to prove that when Dedede jumped upon seeing her earlier? When he spent most of breakfast staring at her from across the table? When, even if he’s not angry, there is a discomfort that he clearly can’t hide? 

Taranza knows it’ll go away with time— once Dedede gets to know Nia. But how does he get her to believe that? His words have to sound completely disingenuous. 

Before he can respond, Nia continues.

“But… uh, you were going to explain to me, yes? What he said earlier? About choosing to take up his duty?”

At that, her tone lightens just slightly. A halfhearted attempt at curiosity. 

“Ah, right,” Taranza says, “I was. Although… if I do explain, you have to promise to not bring it up to him. Or at least not to ridicule him over it. Dedede’s situation is admittedly sort of bizarre.”

“Bizarre?” Nia repeats. “In what way?”

“You’ll see,” Taranza says. “Just promise me.”

Nia frowns.

“Very well, then. I promise. Just tell me.” 

“Okay. So…” Taranza pauses— contemplates the best way to say this. “King Dedede… er- isn’t full-fledged royalty.”

“Pardon?”

“He doesn’t have noble blood. He wasn’t born a king.”

At that, Nia stops. She looks around the halls.

“What do you mean?” she asks. “He has this whole castle. Countless devoted subjects. Where would he get all of that if not through birth?”

“As for the castle, he built it himself,” Taranza explains. “Or, well, the Waddle Dees did. And as for how he acquired them as his subjects…?” he bites down on his lip. “It’s a tad strange? The first time he told me the story I couldn’t believe it myself.”

“You see, Dedede isn’t even from Dreamland,” he continues. “He’s from a kingdom far, far away from here. And he certainly wasn’t a part of its royal family. In fact… I’m not even sure it has one? You’d have to ask him about that. But, either way, for all of his lack of royal blood, Dedede was certainly treated like a king growing up. He was supposedly quite spoiled. His parents doted and doted and doted on him, and because of this, he developed a bit of a selfish streak.”

“Cute when he was young, not so much when he was older. Dedede was entitled at best and a menace at worst. He was bossy, mean-spirited, and he didn’t know how to take no for an answer. Originally, this self-absorption was just directed towards his peers, but eventually it was a way he started to treat everyone. Even his family were nothing but lackeys to him in his eyes. His parents realized they’d made a grave mistake.”

“They tried to reverse what they’d done, but it was a little too late. Even when they told Dedede this behavior needed to stop, he just laughed at them. He was too used to his life of luxury. They warned him if something didn’t change they’d need to take drastic measures, but he didn’t listen. And so when he was a young adult, they did- er… something I’m not all that sure I can agree with. They kicked him out.”

When Dedede initially shared all of this with Taranza, he was horrified. It sounded like Dedede was out of control, certainly, but wasn’t that going a little far? Perhaps he was just projecting, seeing as how he was ousted from his home himself when he decided to serve as Joronia’s retainer, but all the same, he couldn’t help but feel it was a tad harsh. It was because of Dedede’s parents that he turned out that way in the first place.

“Needless to say, Dedede was stunned. He thought they were just bluffing when they warned him there would be consequences. He demanded they change their minds— threw a temper tantrum, really, but it did very little to sway them. In fact… I think it just sort of reaffirmed their decision? After a life of luxury, Dedede was without a home.”

“He tried to find somewhere else to stay, but no-one was willing to support him. All they knew Dedede as was a spoiled brat. He had almost no choice but to leave. Hurt and angry, Dedede fled the kingdom he’d grown up in, certain he’d be able to find a place where ‘people actually respected him’ somewhere else.”

“That’s what brought him to Dreamland. After months of traveling, he stumbled upon the sleepy kingdom. He very quickly realized just how easygoing its people were and decided it was perfect. There was no way they’d have the guts to spurn him. He declared himself king, and shockingly, most of Dreamland— the Waddle Dees, especially— just sort of… played along?”

“I suppose he was right about their mellow nature. ‘Why not let him be king?’ they thought. ‘It’s not as if there’s anything interesting going on around here.’ Some Dreamlanders grumbled, of course, but no-one stood up to him, at least not at that point, and he had a grand castle constructed in his name.”

“Things soon escalated, though. Dedede wasn’t satisfied with just a castle. He needed more power— needed everyone to fear and respect him. And so he did something that was… equal parts heinous and absurd?”

Nia, who’d already looked bewildered throughout most of this story, squints.

“Like what?”

“He… um- sort of stole all of the food in Dreamland?”

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah. Every little bit of it. In part because he wanted all of it for himself, but also just as a show of power.”

“And these cowards just allowed that!? That’s pathetic.”

“Well, I don’t know if…-” Taranza hesitates. “I suppose one could argue they simply took it lying down, but something did change eventually, either way. Kirby, out of nowhere, seemingly, blew in on a spring breeze, and as soon as he realized that the people of Dreamland were suffering, he knew he had to put an end to it.”

Nia stops yet again. She cocks a brow.

“...You’re telling me he made an attempt on ‘King Dedede’s life?” she asks, disbelieving.

“Well, not on his life,” Taranza is quick to clarify. “But he- well, he certainly ‘put him in his place.’ He defeated Dedede and returned the food to the rest of Dreamland, solidifying his role as a local hero.”

“That doesn’t make any sense, though,” Nia insists. “If that’s the case, then why in the world is Dedede consorting with that THING now?”

“Well, things changed between Kirby and Dedede. Things changed for Dedede in general,” Taranza says. “Some… stuff happened and it made him realize he wanted to do better. He turned over a new leaf.”

“‘Some stuff?’” Nia repeats. “...Like what?”

“I’m not sure it’s my place to share.”

The rest of this story he feels more than comfortable telling. Dedede talks about his unscrupulous past and even his getting kicked out relatively often and with a lot of laughter. He’s proud of how far he’s come. But the things that made him want to change in the first place… the Dark Matter invasion, Meta Knight’s coup, realizing that the Dreamlanders blamed him for pretty much every bad thing that happened to them?

…Well, those are topics he discusses with a darker, more contrite look in his eyes. 

“But- uh, yeah,” Taranza says, fidgeting slightly. “He decided he wanted to do better, and so he did. He started treating his people fairly. He tried his best to be heroic. It’s a role that took a little bit of time for him to get used to, but eventually it all worked out. That’s the reason why he has this castle— why the Waddle Dees respect him as ruler. Because he acts like one, now. They call him a ‘self-made king.’”

“‘A self-made king?’” Nia repeats, antenna twitching. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” Taranza asks.

“Of course it is! You’re telling me he just waltzed into this country, did absolutely nothing, and the people accepted him with open arms? How spineless do they have to be!? And what right does he have to be called ‘king’ if he didn’t even do a single thing to earn his title?”

“Well… I don’t know if-” Taranza glances around. He can’t help but feel a tad nervous. The castle is bustling. There’s no way someone isn’t hearing this. “I feel as if it’s a tad unfair to say he didn’t do a single thing. Initially, perhaps, but he’s done plenty to prove himself since.”

“The principle of the thing is still ridiculous!” Nia insists. “He treated them like detritus and they just stood around waiting for him to ‘become better?’ Why weren’t his people clamoring to behead him!?”

She’s raising her voice now. Taranza hisses in through his teeth. 

“N- Nia!” he sputters. “Can you quiet down just a little!? I understand your indignation, but I’d really hate for someone to overhear this!”

At that, she freezes. It seems she hadn’t even realized she’d been starting to shout. 

“...R- right,” she says, shoulders hunching. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop.”

Her body shrinks just a little. She averts her eyes.

Taranza frowns. It’s disconcerting just how quickly the anger is replaced by shame. He still gets the sense she’s bitter, of course, but it’s as if she doesn’t want him to see it. She holds her hands close to her chest.

Taranza can’t entirely blame her for being upset by the story. It only makes sense that it struck a sore spot. After all, he and Nia were just driven out of their home for their crimes. And not only that, but even before Nia’s people wanted her dead, they were never exactly the biggest fans. They… hated her, truthfully. Before she was cursed. Before she’d even done anything.

‘Joronia’s’ becoming queen had been controversial. You see, no-one had even wanted her to acquire the role. There had been five heirs from five separate royal families competing for the throne, and out of them, she was by far the least popular. Not only was she an Arachnid: a species known to ‘cause nothing but trouble,’ but she was a rebellious, flighty young girl as well. Her reputation preceded her, and not in a good way.

Still, she rose above the competition. When it came time for the duel to decide who’d wear the crown, she won fair and square. And she did it in front of everyone— the entire nation of Floralia. Finally, she’d proved herself.

Or at least… she thought.

Unfortunately, that still wasn’t enough for people. She’d done everything they asked of her, and they still weren’t satisfied. She was made queen, but that didn’t mean people had to like her. In fact, in some ways, they only disliked her more than before. They said she’d won unfairly. They condemned her for every little thing. They said that an Arachnid… an Arachnid like her, especially, on the throne, was something that would only lead the kingdom into bad times, and that surely Floralia was doomed.

She was rejected no matter how hard she tried to make herself perfect. Why wouldn’t the idea of someone who was accepted, even for all of his faults, sting?

Taranza just thought…- well, he supposed he thought she’d see herself in Dedede in other ways. It’s true they were received very differently, but they’re not entirely unalike. Both of them had bad families growing up. Both of them made some very big mistakes. He’d been hoping that understanding the gravity of Dedede’s wrongdoings would help her realize that he wasn’t going to judge her for hers. That they would give her hope she could turn over a new leaf as well.

He wishes she’d understand that the differences in the ways they were treated doesn’t mean Dedede deserved to be treated worse. She deserved to be treated better. 

“It’s okay,” he says softly. “I’m not upset with you. Just… try your best to get along with Dedede, alright? Even if he’s not a ‘true’ king, he’s a good person. He wants to help both of us out.”

“Mmmmm…” Nia says. “Yeah, I know. I suppose it’s just easy to worry that…-” a pause. “Are you sure when you say that? That he wants to help both of us? That’s not the sense I got.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s you he wants to help. He probably doesn’t want me here.”

“That’s not true,” Taranza insists. 

“Isn’t it, though? You saw how he reacted to me earlier.”

“I did. And I’m not happy about it. But he’s clearly trying his hardest, and so like I’ve already said: please just give it some time. I know you think you’ve done bad things and that he’s going to be angry at you, but…” he reaches for her hand. “I did bad things, too, didn’t I? And he forgave me.”

“That’s different.”

“It’s not,” Taranza says. “I’m the one who attacked, kidnapped and possessed him. Truthfully, I did more to him than you did.”

“All of that you did on my orders, though.”

“And?” Taranza asks. “It was still my decision. I could have said no. I chose to follow you. And it’s not like I didn’t enjoy it. In some sick, twisted way I had fun playing villain before I realized the gravity of the situation. And I wasn’t even sick. Dedede knows that. He’s aware I did the things I did of my own free will. And he’s aware you didn’t. Everyone knows you weren’t in your right mind, Nia. No-one’s going to hold it against you. I won’t let them.”

“Is ‘not in your right mind’ really an excuse for-?” 

Nia stops. As she starts to raise her voice again, she cuts herself off. 

“Whatever,” she says. “I’ll take your word for it. I’m still not convinced he’ll be thrilled to have me around, though.”

“And why not?”

“...It’s not just my personality he’s bothered by.”

Taranza freezes. There’s a lump in his throat.

“Don’t say that,” he begs.

“It’s true, though, isn’t it? He isn’t merely scared of this,” she gestures to her heart. “He’s scared of all of it.” She sweeps a hand across her whole body. “He thinks I’m an abomination, Taranza. He’d think that even if I hadn’t hurt him before.”

“No he wouldn’t! You’re not an abomination! That has nothing to do with it. He is scared of Sectra, not what you are now, and he’ll get over it. He has to. Just-”

“Give him time. I know,” Nia grumbles. “But I can’t help but suspect that won’t actually change his feelings. They’ll just become easier to hide.”

“Nia…” Taranza says. His eyes narrow. “He won’t feel that way. I won’t let him. I won’t let anyone.”

“And why ever not? Isn’t it only natural? I’m repulsive, Taranza. Please stop pretending I’m not.”

“I’m not pretending!”

This time, it’s Taranza who’s raised his voice. He quakes a little.

“Don’t say that…” he pleads. He floats up to her eye-level. “It’s not true. I’m not pretending. You’re not repulsive. O- or scary. Or an abomination. Or any of those other awful things you’re calling yourself! You are gorgeous, Nia! M- my beautiful, stunning, irreplaceable queen. And everyone else is going to think the same thing! I’ll make sure of it. As for ‘why?’ Because you deserve it! You deserve to be treated kindly! I don’t want anyone to be cruel to you, not even yourself, a- and so never say anything like that again, okay?”

His voice wavers as he reaches out to cup her cheek. He blinks away tears.

“...I can’t bear to hear it.”

Nia stares into his eyes for a moment. Then, her shoulders fall slack.

“Okay,” she says quietly. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop.”

It’s as if the energy drains from her body.

“Good,” Taranza says. He lets out a shaky breath, then gives the slightest smile. “I don’t want to hear you say anything that’s not true. You’ve got to be kind with yourself. You deserve it.”

He presses his forehead to hers, then pulls away. He returns to his spot on the ground.

“Everything’s going to be alright. Dedede will come around soon. And you’ll feel better before you even know it. I’ll do everything I can in my power to ensure that.”

He leans against her side. He places his hand on her back once more.

“B- but enough of such serious talk. Now that I’ve shown you around, do you perhaps want to check out some of the castle’s amenities? The day is still young. There’s a lot we can do.”

It’s a long moment before Nia speaks.

“I’m… down for doing whatever it is you want to do.”

“You don’t have a preference?” Taranza asks.

“You know this place better than I, don’t you? It’s probably better that you choose.”

There’s an exhausted look in her eyes. Part of Taranza wonders if he should just take her back to their room. But he’d hate to see her sleep all day… and besides, he’s sure that all she actually needs is a little bit of cheering up. She’ll look more lively as soon as she’s feeling better.

“Well, if you’re certain,” he says. “Perhaps we can check out the library, then. It’s nowhere near as expansive as ours was— Dedede isn’t the biggest bookworm, but all the same, if we’re going to be here for a while, I’d prefer to acquire some reading material.”

As soon as he’s said it, he wonders if that was the right answer. He swears he catches Nia frown slightly. She never was much of a reader, was she? Perhaps having something quiet to do alone could be good for her, but it’s hard not to get the sense she’s disappointed.

Still, just as soon, the frown vanishes. She straightens her posture. 

“The library works,” she says, nodding.

And with that, she resumes making her way down the hall.

It’s a moment before Taranza follows. Part of him can’t help but feel like he said something wrong.

But he doesn’t hesitate for long. The last thing he wants to do is make her worry, and it’s not like she’d know how to lead the way. He quickly catches up to her, ushering them both towards the library.

There, he tries to make small talk. He comments on just how small it is in comparison to the library they’re used to and asks her if she remembers how they’d occasionally visit the town library when they were kids. 

“Isn’t that actually where I took you before I first taught you to use magic?” He asks, pulling a book from the shelf, “I grabbed some big, clunky, guide to spellcasting and you laughed at how archaic it was. It worked, though, somehow. I was the one who got to see you use magic for the very first time.”

He still remembers it like it was yesterday. It was raining and they were miserable and wet. Joronia had been frustrated because she’d been trying to cast magic all afternoon but nothing had worked. She’d yelled at Taranza, then broke down crying.

He’d been a little bit hurt at the time. They hadn’t known each other long and she’d said some harsh things about how it wasn’t fair for a ‘nobody like him’ to know how to use magic when she couldn’t. But all the same, hearing her cry like that, he’d… felt really bad for her?

So he sat by her side and told her everything was going to be okay. That it was alright to make mistakes and to not always get things right on the first try. At first, she’d been a little bit standoffish, but, eventually, she calmed down as he told her she didn’t need to hold herself to such a high standard. That he wasn’t going to judge her for struggling, at least.

And so, as the rain started to let up, she decided to try one more time. She stepped out under the dark clouds, closed her eyes and focused. And for a moment, nothing had happened.

But then… light.

The tiniest spark lit up the hillside. Miraculously, electricity flitted between her hands. As her eyes opened, her face lit up, too. She’d let out a shocked, then delighted laugh.

She’d done it! She’d really done it! And of course she had! As future queen of Floralia, was there a single thing she couldn’t do?

She’d grinned the biggest grin, then turned to face Taranza. She thanked him earnestly for helping her.

But he said it was nothing. He was just happy she was happy after seeing her sad so shortly before. That bright smile… it would have made him feel warm inside under any circumstance, but in contrast especially.

Her eyes were still just a little red-rimmed. Her hair was ever-so-slightly messy in a way that was subtle, yet unlike her. But there she was, laughing and throwing balls of electricity up into the sky. And listening to that laugh…-

Well, Taranza decided he wanted to hear it again and again, he thinks.

She’d just been so joyous. So carefree. She’d pumped a fist and wiggled excitedly. Her smile was contagious and her happiness was palpable. There was something special about seeing her look like that.

It was nothing like the look on her face now. 

Now, none of that joy persists. As he turns over his shoulder to meet Nia’s gaze, there’s an exhausted, blank look to her stare. It’s not even akin to the way she looked when she was crying. It’s emptier— defeated, lifeless, almost. She doesn’t have the energy left to shed tears.

One of her eyes looks exactly the same as he remembers, but there’s no light in it.

“...Yeah,” she says after an awkward period of quiet. Perhaps she needed a moment to contemplate the past, too, before responding. “That is where you took me. You were the first person to see.”

Taranza wishes they could reminisce. It would be nice to look back on the memory. But now that he’s brought it up, Nia just seems sad. There’s no passion to her voice as she speaks.

It’s strange, how it felt like the end of the world to hear her crying back then, yet he could fix it with just a few comforting words. She bounced back so quickly… flashed him that brilliant grin.

Why can’t this be that easy? What exactly is he doing wrong?

They don’t end up staying in the library for long. Taranza picks out a few books and helps Nia do the same, then they leave before the atmosphere can get any more uncomfortable. They set off towards their room to drop their things off.

They don’t speak, really. Taranza, at least, isn’t sure what he’d say. This whole morning has been strange.

…Not in a bad way, though. Even if this is all a bit melancholy, he’s still happy— truly. He’s glad Nia’s here, even if he’s not sure what to make of that vacant look in her eyes. Even as a mere stack of books feels a little too heavy to comfortably carry and he wanders down the halls of a castle that’s not their home.

‘You’re together,’ he thinks. ‘That’s all that matters. She’ll be okay. Just give her some time. Soon, she’ll be better. Soon, you’ll hear that laugh again, and then it’ll be like it never went away.’

As they move, they stick close together. He presses his body up against hers— tries his best to find comfort in her warmth.

They drop their things off in their room, then deliberate on what they’d like to do next. It’s still far too early for lunch— even after giving her a tour, it’s only late morning. They’ll need to find some way to pass the time.

He throws out a few awkward suggestions, hoping at least one will appeal to her. 

“We could check out the entertainment. The theater is still relatively new— I’ve only been once or twice, and so that might be novel. Alternatively, we could stop by the garden. Much like the library, it’s nowhere near as nice as ours, but Dedede has a fine little acreage out there. Or if there’s nothing you’d be interested in doing in the castle, I could always show you around Dreamland. It’s far too big to see all in one day, of course, but I could at least help you become acquainted with the immediate area. There are little shops… the most lovely fountain— and, of course, an abundance of nature.”

Despite his best efforts to make each option sound as pleasant as possible, though, Nia doesn’t seem to perk up at any particular one. 

She shrugs.

“I’m still fine with anything.”

“Are you sure?” Taranza asks. “You really don’t have a preference? If none of that interests you we could do something else. Or…-  or if you’re not feeling up for anything, I suppose we could stay here and rest. Are you tired?”

That, admittedly, is the thing he’s most hesitant to suggest. He doesn’t want Nia to stay holed up in their room sleeping all day. He can’t imagine that would do her much good.

All the same, though, he doesn’t want to push her. If she needs rest, she needs rest.

She opens her mouth to respond, but before she can speak, there’s actually a knock on the door. She turns her head, frowning.

Taranza frowns, too.

“Hello?” He calls. “Who is it?”

He half-expects a Waddle Dee to respond, but it’s actually King Dedede who pokes his head into the room.

“Oh, good! You’re here. I thought you might still be out explorin’ the castle.”

“Why?” Taranza asks. “Is something wrong? I thought you were making preparations to deal with Floralia.”

“I am,” Dedede says. “But some very worried folks showed up on my doorstep askin’ for you. You’ve got visitors, bug boy.”

“Visitors?” Taranza asks. “What do you mean? Who?”

“Mags and that weird robot girl.”

“Wait. Magolor and Susie?” Taranza asks. “What are they doing…? Ah-! I suppose I didn’t let them in on all that happened. You said they were worried? It’s… probably best that I talk to them, then. Although…-” he looks back at Nia. “Will you be alright if I leave you alone? I don’t want to step out if you need me.”

“...I’ll be fine,” Nia responds. “Go see your friends.”

Part of Taranza is inclined to ask if she’s sure— admittedly, he’s concerned, but at the same time, if Magolor and Susie are truly worried about him, then he’d at least like to explain his situation and let them know he’s alright. He’ll… take Nia’s word for this.

“Very well then. But I’ll just be gone for a moment, okay? Perhaps after I’m done, I could even…-” a pause, “Ah, no, that’s probably not the best idea.”

“What?” Nia asks. 

“Well, I was thinking perhaps I could introduce them to you, but I wouldn’t want to force it. The last thing you need is to feel overwhelmed.”

“Oh,” Nia says.

She’s quiet for a moment— glancing down at the floor.

“I’d… be alright with that, actually. I can meet them, if you’d like.”

Taranza blinks. For some reason, he hadn’t expected to hear that.

“It wouldn’t be too much?” he asks. “You’ve already been through a lot in these past 48 hours. I mean… I’d love for you to meet them, of course, but-”

Nia interjects.

“These people are important to you, correct?” 

“Of course,” Taranza says. “They’re some of my dearest friends.”

“Then it’s important I meet them. Better I just do that now while they’re already here.”

Taranza… supposes that makes sense. And perhaps it would be good for Nia to interact with some others, actually. Things have been awkward with Dedede, but Magolor and Susie have none of the same baggage associated with her.

She needs friends— a confirmation that people will, in fact, like her. This is the perfect opportunity. 

“Very well then,” Taranza says, nodding. “As soon as I’ve explained our situation, I can bring them here, then. Unless you’d like to come with me to greet them?”

At that, Nia fidgets slightly.

“Ah… it’s probably best I don’t. I wouldn’t want to accost them with…-” she drifts off. “Just bring them here. I’ll be waiting.”

“Of course,” Taranza says, nodding. “I won’t be long, alright? And I promise you won’t regret this. Magolor and Susie are wonderful people. I’ve told them all about you. They’ll love you, now that they can get to know you themselves. They’re going to be so excited!”

He gives her hand a squeeze, smiling, then follows Dedede out the door.

“They’re at the front of the castle,” Dedede says. “Same entrance you came in through last night. Do I need to escort ya’, or are you good?”

“I should be fine,” Taranza says, brushing off his robe. “Thank you for letting me know they dropped by.” 

“‘Course,” Dedede says. “Least I could do. Don’t keep ‘em waiting though, okay? When they showed up they were in a real panic.”

‘A panic,’ Taranza thinks. ‘Why?’ Were they seriously under the assumption Morpho Knight had managed to hurt him?

Dedede’s right. He should get things cleared up as soon as he can.

So he bows his head, then they go their separate ways. Dedede returns to taking care of diplomacy while Taranza makes his way to the front of the castle.

Here’s hoping he didn’t scare his friends too much.

Chapter Text

Sure enough, Magolor and Susie are waiting for Taranza in the entrance hall. Both of them have a pensive look on their face, although as soon as he approaches, their heads jerk.

“Taranza!” Magolor shouts. “Oh, thank the stars it’s actually you! Do you know how spooked you had us!?”

They hurry over to him, meeting him midway down the hall. 

Magolor reaches for a hand, almost as if to determine that Taranza is really there.

Taranza can tell something’s wrong, because he’s actually addressing him by name instead of by ‘my guy’ or some other equally inane nonsense. Dedede was telling the truth, wasn’t he? These two were worried sick.

Why, though?

“Of course it’s me,” he says. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Magolor stops.

“...Dude,” he says. “You know your castle was burned to the ground, right?”

“Burned to the-” Taranza just about chokes. “Pardon!?”

He knows they were driven from it, but all the same, hearing it described in such a state makes his head spin. The home he spent with Nia for so many years both before and after she went mad… the Floralians burned it!?

“‘To the ground’ is an exaggeration,” Susie says, “But yes, it was quite ravaged. When we stopped by it smelled like smoke. The windows were smashed and the place had clearly been ransacked. We…-”  a slight waver to her voice, “thought something bad had happened to you, genuinely.”

A lump in Taranza’s throat. Suddenly, he feels awful. He didn’t mean to make anyone worry… he just didn’t think anyone would be coming by to visit so soon. Letting people know where he was didn’t even cross his mind. He was so occupied with Nia. 

“I- I’m so sorry,” he sputters. “I didn’t intend to frighten you. I’m alright, though. There’s no need to fret. Everything’s fine… or, well, better than fine, actually! I did it, you two!”

“Wait,” Magolor says, “And so it’s true? The Mage Sisters told us what happened, but I almost thought they had to be playing a prank on us. I just couldn’t believe it.”

“Well, you’d better believe it,” Taranza says, perking up slightly as the conversation switches to a marginally more positive topic. “It’s true. She’s alive. I brought her back. She’s home!” 

On second thought, perhaps ‘home’ isn’t the right word to use, considering they’ve been expelled from the castle, but it’s just what slips out of his mouth. It feels right, he thinks. Even if they’re somewhere unfamiliar, isn’t home anywhere they’re together?

Susie gawks.

“How, though?” she asks. “Are you insinuating…- you actually fought that thing!?”

Her worry is palpable. Magolor’s, too. Her eyes narrow and his ears pin back as they look over Taranza’s wounds.

“Well, yes,” Taranza says, “But there’s no need to fuss over me! None of the injuries you’re seeing right now are from Morpho Knight. This is all thanks to Floralia.” 

He holds out a bandaged hand, as if inviting them to take a closer look. Even as they peer at it, though, they don’t seem entirely convinced.

“The fight with Morpho Knight was a cinch, if I’m being completely honest. I got the sense it was more aiming to test my resolve than my actual combat ability, and I had more than enough determination to show it how badly I wanted this. It didn’t take too much battle before it was willing to yield.”

Susie looks ready to say something, brow furrowed, but Magolor speaks first.

“Wow…” he says. “Guess the grim reaper’s way more chill than I thought! That is not the vibe I got from any of the research I’ve done, but it wouldn’t be the first time the Ancients have been wrong about something. I’ll have to update my records!”

Taranza chuckles, tugging at his scarf.

“Indeed you will,” he says. He’s eager to change the topic, though. He’d rather not dwell on lying to them for any longer than he has to. “But- um, enough about me! There’s no need to fret. We should be celebrating! Nia’s back from the dead. That’s what matters most.”

“...Nia?” Magolor repeats. He tilts his head.

“Ah, yes,” Taranza says. “That’s what she’s going by now. She decided she’d be much more comfortable with that than ‘Sectonia’ or ‘Joronia,’ and so that’s her name for the foreseeable future. Please don’t call her anything else.”

“Of course,” Magolor says. He pantomimes taking notes. “Got it. Nia it is.”

“And so if she’s not going by ‘Sectonia,’” Susie says. “Does that mean…-?”

“Yes, she’s herself again,” Taranza confirms. “The queen I remember. And, oh, thank the stars! You’ve no idea how much I missed her. After so much suffering, she’s finally been returned to her right mind.”

He means that, too. Things are… a little hard right now, but, for all of the difficulty, he’s still unfathomably grateful. Even if she’s melancholy, at least she’s his Nia. The person he loves so much— no ifs or buts.

“She… actually said she’d be alright with being introduced to you all,” she continues. “If you’d like to get to know the real her. Why don’t you come with me and say hello? She really is lovely. I just know you’ll adore her.”

“Oh!” Magolor says. “Well, I guess that would be pretty neat. I was actually surprised to see you arrive without her… I half-expected you to be attached at the hip! Given the opportunity, though, I’d be honored to have a chance to meet your oft-talked about queen, don’t you agree, ‘Suz?”

Susie’s quiet for a moment. Still, eventually, she nods.

“I’d like to see this for myself.”

Her tone is… different from Magolor’s. Whereas his is casual and open, hers is more cautious. It’s not entirely unusual for Susie, but something about it gives Taranza pause. He can’t help but get the sense something about this is bothering her. What? Does she not believe him about Morpho Knight? Or… is there another thing on her mind? 

He can’t quite tell. As well as he knows Susie, she can be hard to read sometimes.

Regardless, he shakes off his unease for now. It’s not the time to be worrying about any of that. Ideally, Susie will forget any hangups she has once she’s gotten to meet Nia, and if not, then that’s something he can deal with later.

Taranza claps his hands.

“Great!” He says. “Although, if you’re going to be meeting her, we need to set a few ground rules first. This is rather imperative, actually.”

“Ground rules…” Magolor repeats, ear twitching. “Such as what?”

“Well, first of all, I need you both to be as polite as possible. Be kind to Nia, please. This has all been very hard on her. She’s going through a lot, and she’s still getting used to being alive. Use a soft voice. Don’t ask her any questions you think might upset her. Compliment her, if you can.”

For a brief moment, Magolor looks confused, but he soon nods.

“...Okay,” he says. “Can do.”

“Second of all— and this is even more important, please treat her normally. No matter what you do, don’t stare.”

“Don’t stare?” Susie asks, incredulous. 

Magolor blinks.

“Why would we do that?”

Taranza tries to think of the best way to explain. 

“She… might not look like what you’d expect her to look like,” he decides on.

“What? And so she’s still a Sectra?” 

“Something like th- listen, it doesn’t really matter, alright? I… I don’t quite know how to explain it, and so just…- just be prepared for anything. Just promise me you won’t stare. I don’t want you to make her feel weird.”

Magolor and Susie are quiet for a moment. When they realize he’s waiting for a response, though, they nod.

“We won’t stare,” Susie says.

“Promise,” Magolor agrees. “Whatever it is that’s going on, I’m sure we’ve seen weirder.”

“Good,” Taranza says, turning. “I’ll take you to her, then. Follow me. Dedede has us situated in the west wing.”

There isn’t much conversation as the three of them make their way down the hall. Magolor and Susie are far too focused on what’s up ahead, and, admittedly, Taranza is nervous.

He hopes that he’s making the right decision in bringing them here. He hopes that they and Nia will get along. If something were to go wrong or they were to hurt her feelings or not like her, he doesn’t know what he’d do. He could never forgive himself, he thinks.

He just as soon reminds himself that he shouldn’t be worrying about things like that, though. He… trusts Magolor and Susie. He knows they wouldn’t harm Nia. They’re his friends. They’re going to be her friends, too. They’re going to adore her. He won’t believe anything else.

A deep breath as he reaches their room. He knocks on the door.

“Nia!” he calls. “I’ve brought Susie and Magolor! Is it okay if we come in?”

A moment passes, but then a soft, scratchy voice responds.

“...It’s okay.”

“Great!” Taranza says, reaching for the doorknob. His hand feels just a little bit stiff. Still, he twists it, forcing an awkward smile, then pulling open the door.

Inside, Nia’s standing just in front of the bed. Her hood shadows her face and her hands are pressed close to her body. She doesn’t look directly at them— head low and slightly turned. 

A pang of sadness. It’s clear she’s trying to hide as much of herself as she can, and it breaks Taranza’s heart. She doesn’t need to stay out of sight! His friends aren’t going to judge her. They…-

…They’re staring.

Why are they staring? He told them not to.

It’s just for a split second— they tear their gaze away just as soon, but he sees it: the way their eyes widen just slightly. Magolor’s fur bristles. Susie’s shoulders tense.

And Nia catches it. He knows she does. She’s not stupid. She bites down on her lip as a streak of brown fur burgeons from her face.

That, too, earns some sort of silent reaction. They realize collectively she’s not stagnant. Fingers, curled against her side contort. The glowing white eye that Taranza was so glad to see starts to cloud with purple.

And then, just as soon as it began, it’s over.

The moment of restless silence comes to an end.

“Oh!” Magolor says, “And so you’re the Queen Nia I’ve heard so much about! It’s wonderful to finally meet Taranza’s beloved best friend! I’m not sure how much you’ve heard about me, but I’m Magolor: renowned interdimensional traveler and Taranza’s coolest bro. Pleased to make your acquaintance!” 

As he saunters towards Nia, all of the tension fades from his body. He holds out a hand.

That really is like Magolor, isn’t it? To try and change the mood as swiftly as possible. 

Nia clearly can’t tell what to make of his sudden friendliness— staring at his outstretched hand, taken aback… but Taranza, at least, is grateful. The sooner they move on from Magolor and Susie’s initial reactions, the better.

He makes his way over to Nia’s side.

“Nia, this is Magolor,” he explains. “Or… well, I suppose he already introduced himself, but he’s a very good friend of mine. You can trust him. He’s eccentric, but very, very kind. I’m sure the two of you will get along.”

Nia still seems apprehensive, but takes Magolor’s hand nevertheless.

“It’s… a privilege to meet you, Magolor,” she says, grip tight. “I’m glad to see Taranza has other friends.”

It’s a moment before Susie joins them, but as Taranza motions his hand, she makes her way over. He gestures to her, then to Nia.

“Nia, meet Susie. Susie, meet Nia,” he says. “Susie is another one of my very best friends. She is so, so smart and talented. Remember that ‘television’ I told you about? That was made by her! She’s always inventing amazing things like that.”

“Technically, I did not invent the television,” Susie is quick to clarify. “But I appreciate the admiration.” Then, she turns to Nia. “It’s good to meet you. Magolor is correct when he says Taranza has discussed you quite a bit.”

“And only had good things to say, of course!” Magolor adds on. “He’s really, really, really talked you up. It’s honestly been kind of excessive. Maybe it’s a little embarrassing, but you know what I think?” He leans in towards Nia, lowering his voice to a stage whisper, “I think he might actually have a crush on you.”

Nia makes a face. Taranza startles.

“M- Magolor!” he sputters. “ Cut it out! Don’t say things like that! You’re going to make her uncomfortable!”

“What?” Magolor asks, snickering. “I’m not being serious. I’m just trying to lighten the mood a little! And it’s not wrong to say you’ve talked her up.” He looks towards Nia, speaking in a more earnest tone. “Taranza likes you. A lot. I’m sure he’s over the moon now that you’re back.”

Well, Magolor is right about that much. Taranza reaches out for Nia’s hand.

“...Right,” she says, nodding. 

“How has being alive been treating you? You getting used to things? Enjoying yourself?” Magolor asks. “Surreal, isn’t it? The perspective going through something like that gives you? Not that I’ve ever died, but I came close, once! Messed with some stuff I shouldn’t have, ticked off the wrong guy, got sent straight to the abyss, had to claw my way out… y’know, the usual. Not a good time, I’ll tell you that!”

Of course he’s somehow found a way to make the conversation about himself. And in any other situation, Taranza would shoot him a sharp look and ask “Is now really the time!?” But just this once, it may actually be for the best. Taranza sees the way Nia’s shoulders relax ever so slightly.

She probably doesn’t want to be the focus right now.

“I’ve been… getting by,” she says. “Taranza has been a very big help. That illegitimate royal friend of his, too.” A pause. “I’m surprised to hear you’ve been through something similar.”

“Yeeeeah, I learned the hard way not to mess with Kirby,” Magolor admits with a laugh. “Little guy’s a powerhouse.”

At that, Nia stops. An antenna twitches.

“That thing killed you, too?”

A moment passes. As Magolor squints, it seems to sink in she’d said something wrong.

“That…- that person,” she rectifies. “‘Kirby.’ You’re telling me he also eviscerated you?”

“‘Eviscerated’ may be a bit of an exaggeration,” Magolor says finally. “I already told you he didn’t kill me, but yes, we fought. I kind of swindled him… it’s a long story, really— way too complex to explain all in one sitting, But the long and short of it is he cleaved me in half.”

“Cleaved you in half?” Sectonia repeats.

Her breath hitches, and, just slightly, her grip on Taranza’s hand tightens. He feels roots creep beneath her skin.

It’s not difficult to tell where her mind wanders. 

“Magolor,” Taranza says firmly. “Don’t. You’re giving her the wrong idea of who Kirby is. You’re going to scare her.”

“What? Seriously?” Magolor asks. It’s only then that he seems to realize what he’s doing. He shakes his head. “Oh, no, don’t worry about that,” he tells Nia. “Don’t let me get to your head. There’s no reason to be scared of Kirby. Dude’s a little marshmallow. Sweetest guy around. Even ripping me in half was basically for a good cause— saving me from myself or whatever. He’s good. The two of us are, like, besties now. Built him a theme park to atone for my sins and everything!”

Taranza can’t see him grin, but he just knows there's an insufferably proud smile hidden behind his collar. Magolor’s never exactly been a humble person, but he’s at his most boastful when it comes to bragging about his latest endeavor: the extravagant ‘Merry Magoland.’

Not that Nia seems particularly convinced. She frowns.

“‘...Besties?’” She asks. “There’s not bad blood?”

“Nah. Maybe I was tilted for a bit, but I got over myself. And even if I were still mad at him, it’s not like there’s anything I could do about it. Not going to make that mistake twice! Trust me when I say you don’t want t-”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Magolor pauses.

“...What do you mean, then?”

“Surely he despises you, yes?”

At that, Magolor deflates some. 

“...I’m not sure what you’re getting at,” he says.

“If you ‘swindled him’ and this upset him enough for him to make an attempt on your life,” Nia says, “Then there must be animosity. Are you telling me you legitimately believe he’d consider you a friend after doing something like that? I’m not sure I buy it. Don’t you think that’s a tad naive?”

Magolor’s eyes narrow, and he looks half-ready to legitimately argue, but Taranza steps in before things can escalate. 

“Nia,” he says. “Don’t say things like that. I understand your skepticism, but it’s true that Magolor and Kirby are friends. Kirby is a very forgiving person. You’ll see that for yourself once you get to know him. I already told you that Kirby and I were also friends, didn’t I? Don’t you think that wouldn’t be possible if he were the type to hold a grudge? King Dedede is someone he’s very close to, and I kidnapped him.” 

“Not to mention even he and Dedede were enemies once upon a time,” he continues. “Like I explained earlier, he stole all of the food in Dreamland and Kirby stopped him by force. They wouldn’t be friends in the way they are if Kirby was vindictive. He’s just not the type to get hung up on that sort of thing.”

Magolor nods, letting out a huff. 

“I mean, like half of Kirby’s friend group are redeemed baddies. You’ve got Dedede… Meta Knight— who started a whole coup, Daroach— who will steal just about anything that’s not nailed down, Marx— the delightful little menace… heck, even Suz’ messed with him once! I am not that bad in comparison.”

“Stating I ‘messed with him’ is putting it lightly,” Susie says dryly, “But, for once, the imbecile is correct. Half of the people Pinky spends his time with are certified degenerates. Like Taranza said: he simply doesn’t know how to hold a grudge. Trust me when I say it bewildered me at first, too… objectively, it doesn’t make any sense, but it is what it is. Foolish as it is, he’s quick to forgive.”

“I don’t see any point in psychoanalyzing it, personally,” Magolor responds. “After all, we’re lucky, aren’t we? That he’s so eager to let all of that stuff be water under the bridge? You know what they say: don’t check a gift Wheelie’s treads. He’s not walloping us. For that alone, I’m grateful.”

Nia still clearly doesn’t get it, though. Her brow furrows and she frowns. She thinks that Magolor, Susie, and even Taranza are being gullible about this, doesn’t she?

…Taranza supposes he can’t blame her. She’s only met Kirby before in a very, very unfortunate context. All she knows of him is his sheer, overwhelming power. She no doubt can’t shake the memory of being bested by him, then burned to death. Who in the world could?

Even Taranza was scared of Kirby for a brief period of time. When that thing started chasing him, trying to get King Dedede back, he was mystified… even moreso when he realized just how persistent his pursuer was. It was one thing for the Dreamlander to follow him to Fine Fields… but for him to make it past Flowery Woods? Paintra? Coily Rattler, too? By the time Taranza reached Royal Road, he was legitimately afraid.

Even moreso when Kirby defeated King Dedede without issue… when it sunk in that he was the true hero of the Lower World and that Taranza had grabbed the wrong person. There was a reason he’d cried out to his queen for help.

It hadn’t been until after what happened on that awful, moonlit night that he truly began to understand Kirby. Even after Kirby freed Floralia, Taranza was still unnerved by him for quite a while. How could he not be when he’d seen Kirby kill the person he loved so effortlessly? Even if it was their only option… even if she was just a shell of herself at that point, that didn’t make it any less disturbing. A small part of Taranza worried Kirby was going to come for him next.

(At the time, an even smaller part of him likely would have welcomed it.)

But Kirby never once threatened or attacked Taranza. Instead, it was Kirby who accompanied King Dedede to make sure he was alright during the darkest period of his life. He’d come check up on Taranza— bring gifts and offer condolences. And, slowly, it began to sink in for Taranza that he was legitimately just a child.

…A child who’d been forced to make an extremely difficult decision. A child who’d had to do something no child should have had to do. An earnest, kind-hearted, good kid who just wanted to see people happy and didn’t understand why that wasn’t always possible. 

Needless to say, Taranza isn’t scared of Kirby anymore. He’s still well-aware of his strength, but he knows he’s no monster.

“Kirby is kind,” he agrees. “There’s no reason to doubt his friendship with anyone here or fear retribution from him. Before you even know it, he’ll be trying to win you over too.”

“And he will, by the way,” Magolor adds. “You might go ‘this is weird. What is this guy thinking?’ at first, but before you even know it, you’ll also be a member of his fan club. Dude’s got a certain je ne sais quoi to him.”

“...Right,” Nia says. Awkwardly, she clears her throat, “But enough about the child. How did you all meet Taranza? You seem… close.”

“Oh, yeah, we totes are,” Magolor says, slinging a hand across Taranza’s shoulder. “We’re also besties. Fellow wizards. Brothers in arms. We first got to know one another just a little bit after Taranza decided to turn over a new leaf. I heard there was a new ex-baddie on the scene and decided to check it out… y’know, invite him to my ex-baddies book club. He wasn’t exactly open to it at first, though.”

Taranza shifts his weight, awkwardly shaking Magolor off of him. He lets out a hesitant laugh.

“Mmmmm… yeah, I was feeling a tad antisocial at the time,” he admits.

He hopes that the implications as to why aren’t too obvious. He doesn’t want Nia worrying about his mental state in the immediate time after her death.

“Talking to you was like trying to nail jello to a tree,” Magolor says. “I never gave up, though… y’know, since I was so cool and charismatic, and eventually you started to come out of your shell. Especially once you were put on babysitting duty.”

“Babysitting duty?” Nia asks.

Susie’s cheeks flush pink.

“I believe that’s a derisive comment directed towards me,” she mutters. “Following my own… mild wrongdoing and confrontation with Pinky, there was a brief period wherein I was stranded. The vessel I used to arrive on this planet was destroyed, meaning I had no way to return to my company’s headquarters. I was forced to seek temporary asylum, and Pinky ended up placing me with Taranza.”

“It was the most sensible place for my house arrest,” she continues. “Not only did it mean I would be far from Dreamland, where I’d caused the most issues, but Pinky knew Taranza was responsible enough to prevent me from getting up to any trouble.” A pause. “Not that I intended to, of course. But I hadn’t exactly earned his trust yet, at the time. And I can’t ultimately complain too much. It all worked out.”

“Darn right it did!” Magolor says. “Somehow you— the most misanthropic person I know— were able to get Taranza to come out of his shell. I could hardly believe it. Still can’t, sometimes! It was like things just clicked.”

“Well,” Taranza says, tugging at his scarf. “Susie and I had a lot in common. It might not have seemed that way on the surface, but… it’s true. And it helped. Knowing I wasn’t alone. I’m very grateful to her. And to you, Magolor. It means a lot that you didn’t give up on trying to get through to me.”

“Of course not! Evildoers turned goodboys have got to stick together!”

Taranza gives a smile. For as ridiculously as Magolor is wording it, he’s telling the truth when he says he’s appreciative. 

“I… see,” Nia responds. “It seems he’s very lucky to have you both. It sounds like he was suffering a lot before you came into his life.” 

A pang of guilt. And so the implication did sink in. Taranza supposes it only makes sense. All the same, though, he’s hurried to try and alleviate her concern. 

“W- well, I don’t know if- suffering probably isn’t the right word for-“

“It’s true,” Susie interjects. “Taranza was in a very bad state when I first met him. He’s doing much better now, though, and I hope that’s something that will continue. He’s important to us, you know. We never want to see him like that again.”

It’s unlike her to cut him off, and even more unlike her to expose him like that. Taranza’s surprised. 

The way that she’s looking at Nia… there’s a slight intensity behind her eyes. Is that supposed to be a warning?

‘No,’ he decides just as soon. ‘Susie wouldn’t do something like that.’ He’s sure she believes him when he tells her Nia wouldn’t do anything to hurt him.

Still, there’s an uneasy moment of silence as Nia meets Susie’s gaze, and it’s only disrupted when Taranza speaks up in a stilted tone.

“You don’t have to worry about anything like that,” he promises. “Even if I… wasn’t at my best when we first met, it’s like you said— I’m doing much better now. And there are only reasons for that to remain true. The future looks bright. Nia’s alive again, plus, now I have you all. It’s true I’m a very lucky person. I mean… just look at what’s happening at this very moment. At long last, I’m finally introducing my most treasured friends to one another. Why wouldn’t I be over the moon?” 

And that, barely, seems to diffuse the tension. Magolor nods.

“It’s as if each and every one of your dreams has come true. We’re happy for you. We really are.” A pointed look. “…Right, ‘Suz?”

“Of course,” Susie says, shoulders relaxing. And from there, things seem to go back to normal. The group returns to small talk, and in time Taranza is able to forget his worries.

‘See?’ He thinks, holding Nia’s hand the whole time. ‘They’re nice. You have nothing to worry about.’

Susie and Magolor can’t stay forever, though. Just a little while later, Susie’s phone goes off. 

“Uh-oh,” she says, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Seems I may have to go. I forgot I delayed a meeting until 11AM. I really shouldn’t push it back further.”

Admittedly, Taranza is a little bit disappointed to see her leave so soon, but he understands. She’s a busy woman. It’s fortunate she was able to come by at all. He probably shouldn’t hold her up, especially considering the fact that the reason she had to push the meeting back in the first place was likely due to his poor communication. 

And besides…

“That’s probably for the best. As nice as it’s been having the two of you here, I don’t want to overwhelm Nia. You can get back to your lives.”

“Boo! You’re kicking me out, too, just ‘cause the workaholic has to go?” Magolor asks.

“Well, not kicking you out. I just-”

“I know,” Magolor interjects, letting out a laugh. “I’m just messing with you. You don’t have to justify yourself to me. I get it. Really, it’s a good idea I duck out, too. I can clown on her for being on the grindset all I want, but I’ve got a business to maintain, too. Merry Magoland’s been closed all morning, and that’s a lot of happy customers I’m letting down. I should open the gates.”

Taranza nods.

“I’ll be seeing you around, then. I’ll keep in touch, though, okay? I’m sorry again for making you worry. I well and truly didn’t mean to.”

“...It’s fine,” Susie says. “We’re just glad you’re okay.”

“Maybe unsilence your phone for once, though,” Magolor suggests. “We were blowing it up. I can’t believe you didn’t hear anything.”

“Oh- uh. My phone,” Taranza says. “I’m… not actually sure if that’s charged? Or if I even have it on hand. I believe it may have been left in the castle when I was driven out.”

Call him careless, but oftentimes he struggles to even remember the perplexing device exists. It’s nice to be able to have a way to communicate with friends from a distance and all, but actually using the thing may as well be rocket science. There are so many strange menus and it’s weird how often he has to plug it in. He didn’t have anything like that growing up in Floralia.

“My guy,” Magolor says, disbelieving.

“No. It’s okay. I’ll get him a new one,” Susie says. “About time he upgraded to the latest model anyways. And I can get one for her, too, while I’m at it.”

Taranza isn’t necessarily looking forward to explaining how to use a cell phone to Nia considering he himself barely even knows how to do so, but he appreciates the thought. He gives a smile.

“Thank you,” he says sheepishly. “I really didn’t mean to lose it.”

“It’s not as if it’s your fault,” Susie says with a shrug. “You couldn’t have known you were going to be driven out. Besides, replacing one or two cell phones is hardly an expense the Haltmann Works Company can’t afford. My accountants won’t even notice.”

“Ah… well, I suppose that makes sense,” Taranza responds. “You are pretty wealthy.” 

“Wealthy’s downplaying it. Girl’s a trust fund baby,” Magolor says before giving a wave. “But we’ll be seeing you around, ‘Ranz! And you, too, Queen Nia! Know that my offer to join the ex-baddies book club is always open to you as well. Taranza may have been too stuffy to say ‘yes,’ but I’ve no doubt you’re cooler, so give it some thought, dude!”

A pair of finger guns as he makes his way over to the door. Nia’s face bunches, though.

It takes Taranza a moment to even realize why.

“Oh. Uh. Nia’s not a ‘dude,’ for the record. Please don’t call her that. She’s a girl. Just a girl.”

For a brief moment, he’s terrified Magolor is going to insist it’s a gender neutral term and that he ‘calls Susie that all the time,’ but to his relief,  he doesn’t. Instead, ears perking, he simply gives a nod and responds:

“Right. Got it. Sorry, dudette!”

Taranza pinches his brow.

You can get Magolor to correctly gender a person, but good luck getting him to stop talking like a lunatic in general.

Doesn’t he know that that’s no way to refer to royalty? How can he seriously use the word ‘queen’ and then that linguistic abomination in such short succession? Doesn’t he realize there’s a bit of a dissonance th-

…No. Taranza shouldn’t dwell on it too much. He’s learned better than to question what comes out of Magolor’s mouth 95% of the time at this point. Nia no longer looks uncomfortable— just bewildered, and that’s all that matters.

Magolor and Susie make their way towards the doorway. Although as they do, Susie turns back.

“Mind leading us out?” she asks.

“Oh!” Taranza says. “Not one bit.” Although he does turn over his shoulder to look at Nia. “Would you like to come with?”

She shakes her head.

“...I believe I’ve had enough. You can see your friends off.”

“Alright, then. I’ll be right back, though, okay? Don’t worry. I won’t be gone for long.”

He gives her hand a reassuring squeeze, then pulls away. He leads Magolor and Susie out into the hall.

There’s a bit of an awkward energy as they proceed through the castle, making their way out of Nia’s earshot. Taranza fidgets with his hands.

“So,” he says, forcing a smile, “What did you think? Amazing, yeah? That went well.”

“Sure did,” Magolor says. “It was good finally meeting her after all this time. Not exactly what I expected from the way you described her, but… she seems nice, if a little shy.”

“Ah, yeah, usually she’s a little more self-assured,” Taranza admits. “But she’s still getting used to interacting with people again… being herself and all. It’ll take a little bit for her to come out of her shell.”

“Right, right,” Magolor says, nodding, “Makes sense.”

Susie doesn’t speak right away, though, and so Taranza addresses her directly.

“What about you?” he asks. “You also liked her, yes?”

Slight nerves. The fact that she doesn’t respond immediately doesn’t fill him with confidence.

Still, eventually Susie nods, too.

“Of course,” she says. “Provided she’s actually gone back to being the person you say she was before her corruption, I believe we’ll get along just fine. I will admit I have a few questions, though. About how this seems just a little too good to be true, as well as her… state.”

That last word comes out just a little bit strained. 

Taranza shifts uncomfortably.

“I suppose I should explain that to the best of my ability, shouldn’t I?” he admits.

He was going to have to address the Phan Phan in the room sooner or later.

“Yes,” Susie says, “You should. You understand why it’s a tad concerning that she's still a Sectra, yes? Or… something like one.” She tilts her head. “Her body was fluctuating as we conversed. Why?”

“Well, I don’t know for certain,” Taranza admits, tugging at his scarf, “The Mage Sisters’ Hyness seemed to believe that it could have to do with her ‘parasitic’ genetic makeup, but even he wasn’t one-hundred percent sure. He suggested that her form could be clashing with itself, reflecting both her body-stealing past and whatever… identity-issues she may currently be dealing with.”

“She’s not always a Sectra, though,” he goes on. “Sometimes she’s much closer to an Arachnid. It’s… um, varied, really, based on exactly how she ‘perceives herself.’” 

His brow furrows. His mouth feels dry. Discussing it seems wrong, somehow. Like he’s judging her. Or at least making Magolor and Susie think that he is.

“H- hopefully it’s something that’ll resolve itself soon!” he says, as if to ease their concern. “As she comes to understand herself better and accept that what happened wasn’t her fault, ideally, she’ll stabilize. Although, of course, even if she doesn’t, that’s okay, too! However things end up, we’ll find a way to make it work. She’s beautiful no matter what she looks like, and besides, I’m just glad she’s here.”

“Thank you for being… kind to her,” he continues, bowing his head. “She’s been struggling with everything. When Dedede first saw her this morning he- um- screamed. Which…- I’m not mad at him for, of course! It’s just- this has all been…” He lets out a sigh. “This has all been a lot.”

“Sounds like it,” Magolor says. “There’s no need to thank us, though. I just wish you’d explained all that to us before we went in there. We probably would have been better prepared.”

“I know,” Taranza says. “I guess I just…” he bites down on his lip. “I don’t want to think of Nia as something people have to prepare themselves for.”

The thought alone makes him feel sick to his stomach. That would be admitting that she’s strange— scary even. That would be validating her fears. And she’s neither of those things. She’s not abnormal. She’s no monster. She’s his queen, and she shouldn’t have to come with a disclaimer. If people can’t handle her, then that’s their problem!

But… would a warning prevent people from staring at her the same way Magolor and Susie did earlier?

He doesn’t know what to think.

“Fair,” Magolor responds. “I can’t really blame you for that.”

But Susie, once more, seems to be deep in thought. There’s a troubled look in her eyes.

“Is something wrong?” Taranza asks.

“Not necessarily,” she answers. “I’m just thinking. If what’s happening to her is truly based on how she perceives herself, then that could have some bothersome implications.”

Taranza frowns.

“In what way?”

“Well, it’s simply…” Susie hesitates. “Looking the way she looked just now— so much like a Sectra… does that mean she still sees herself as Sectonia? Maybe I’m just overthinking this, but it’s hard not to worry that something is still wrong.”

“...Still wrong?”

“With her mind. Are you certain she’s been made herself again? That she doesn’t have ill intent and isn’t still fixated on self-serving things such as beauty?”

Taranza’s heart skips a beat.

“Yes, I’m certain!” he sputters, eyes wide. “I saw the corruption burned away myself. Morpho Knight made sure to remove the blight on her soul. I can’t even believe you’d ask me something like that!” 

Despite himself, his eyes narrow. He’s hurt and offended for Nia’s sake. Is… is Susie sincerely doubting the sincerity of her character?

He gestures back towards the bedroom.

“Did that seem like a self-centered person to you?”

“Well… no,” Susie says, voice faltering slightly. “Listen, I don’t mean to upset you, but you get why I’m worried, right? Sectonia really, really hurt you.”

“Even so, Nia’s not Sectonia!” Taranza argues, glowering. “Sectonia is the person she was when she was very, very sick. When she was being warped by forces beyond her control. But she’s finally well again. I know she is! I’d recognize her anywhere, and I remember what Sectonia was like.”

With a pit in his stomach, he continues, “When I first brought Nia back, she broke down sobbing. She panicked when she remembered what she did to me. S- she didn’t even start to look like that until she processed everything.  Until she felt more guilty than she could possibly put into words. She started saying all of this awful stuff about how she was a monster and she didn’t deserve to be alive, then her body changed. That’s not the self-perception of someone with ill intentions! That’s the self-perception of someone who feels awful!”

“And ‘Sectonia’ wouldn’t have felt that way. Sectonia never apologized. Sectonia never felt bad. Not by the end, there! I knew her better than anyone, and this isn’t her. This is my friend. The friend I had before she got sick. The friend who already feels horrified about everything that happened… so don’t you dare accuse her of that and make her feel even worse!”

He doesn’t even realize he’d raised his voice until he’s panting for breath. His body trembles. 

Still, he doesn’t break eye contact. He stares at Susie, unwavering.

…And eventually she averts her gaze. 

“Very well then. I see. Perhaps I crossed a line. My apologies I… didn’t mean to come off as disparaging. Like I said: I just don’t want you getting hurt. But I suppose you have a point when you say you’re the one who knows her best.”

“I am,” Taranza says. “And so please… just try and believe in her. She’s a good person. I know you’ll see that soon, too.”

He’s a little bit tempted to be angry at Susie, and maybe some part of him is. Hearing Nia talked about like that… it makes his blood boil. At the same time, though, he understands she’s just worried about him. She simply doesn’t know what she’s talking about— doesn’t get Nia yet.

“I’m… sure I will,” Susie says. “Don’t worry. I’ll give her a chance. I merely wanted to bring up my concerns, but if you’re sure it’s nothing to worry about, then it probably isn’t.”

“It’s not,” Taranza says, breaths finally slowing. “Thank you for standing down. Just, please… never say anything like that again. Especially not in front of her.”

“Of course,” Susie says, bowing her head. And then, once more, “...My apologies.”

The energy is uncomfortable, admittedly, as they reach the castle doors. Taranza doesn’t feel bad for standing up for Nia, but he hopes this won’t cause too much strife between him and Susie.

“I’ll- uh, be seeing you two, okay?” he says. “Feel free to come by at any time. Things have been hectic lately and your presence is always welcome. I know Nia wasn’t exactly the most sociable today, but I bet it would make her happy, too, if you were to keep dropping by. She could use some good friends.”

“Oh,” Magolor replies, “Don’t worry, we definitely will. Didn’t you hear what I said? I’ve got to cajole her into joining my book club! Maybe then you’ll also finally sign up. Bit amusing, though, for you to invite us to come by as much as we want. Last I checked this was still King Dedede’s home, wasn’t it?”

“Oh! Well, of course!” Taranza says, cheeks warm. “But I didn’t get the impression…- he’s not the type to mind that sort of thing! If I were to ask him, he’d probably just laugh and respond ‘the more visitors the merrier.’”

“You say that,” Magolor remarks, “But he might not feel the same way if I show up with the Lor’s engines blazing at 3AM in the morning.”

“Well, of course he wouldn’t…- d- don’t you dare!” 

“Why not?” Magolor asks, snickering. “Didn’t you say we were free to come by at ‘any time?’”

“You are mincing my words and you know it! Stop this at once!”

Taranza glares. He’s so annoyed he doesn’t even bother to point out that ‘3AM in the morning’ is a redundant statement. 

“Okay, okay. I’ll cut it out. You know I’m just messing with you, though. I wouldn’t dare try something like that. You’ve gotta remember it’s not just Kirby who whooped my butt and sent me halfway to death’s door way back when. It was his whole little posse, Dedede included, and I am not raring for another hammer to the face.” Glowering, he rubs at his ‘nose.’ “That thing hurt.”

“Oh, and so you’re not on my best behavior for my sake?” Taranza asks. “Just because you’re scared of Dedede? Gee, thanks.”

He says that snidely, but for all his exasperation, he can’t help but smile. Magolor really does know how to lighten the mood.

“What can I say? It’s not like I’m going to be scared of you. You’ve got to weigh approximately sixty pounds soaking wet and I’m still not convinced you could throw a punch if your life depended on it. You’re about as threatening as a Beanbon, dude.”

“Pardon?” Taranza asks. “You’re talking to the person who just bested Death in a fight!”

“Yeah, for a girl he liked. Even when you’re doing something cool it’s inevitably for some sort of adorable reason. Not doing much to change my mind.”

“Well, excuse you,” Taranza huffs. “If you ask me, there’s nothing cooler than doing something for the sake of someone you love!”

Magolor looks ready to retort, but before he can, Susie flicks his ear.

“Didn’t you say you had a theme park to return to?” she asks. “Are you going to get on that, or would you rather stand here tormenting Taranza all day? As funny as I’m sure you think you are, there’s probably an angry mob forming outside of your establishment. I’d get to placating them before they start tearing things apart.”

“Tearing things apart?” Magolor says with a scoff. “I’m not sure what kind of customers you have, but my patrons are CHILL. They wouldn’t do something like that.” A pause. “I probably should get back to them, though, you’re right. Sorry, Ranz’! Picking on you more will have to wait.”

“What a pity,” Taranza says, rolling his eyes.

Although, after a moment, he tacks on:

“Hey! Uh, actually, before you go, could I ask if one of you could get in contact with the Mage Sisters for me? I’d like to let them know I need more cloaks for Nia. The one they gave her is the only thing she’s comfortable wearing right now, and I’d really like to get her into something nicer. I feel bad leaving her in one that’s all torn up. I’d let them know myself, but…” he hisses in through his teeth. “Kind of lost my cell phone, and I don’t want to travel right now while Nia still needs me.”

“Oh! Of course,” Magolor says. “Can do, my guy. I was actually wondering why she was all bundled up in something like that.”

“...Yeah,” Taranza mutters. “Like I said: it’s got to do with her comfort zone. Thank you, though. It’s appreciated.”

“‘Course, dude,” Magolor says. “Any other requests? Or will I be seeing you on the flip side?”

“I think that’s all.”

“Great. I believe I’m outie, then. You coming with, ‘Suz?”

“In… one second,” Susie says. “I was actually wondering if I could have a moment alone with Taranza.”

“A moment alone?” Taranza asks.

“Yeah. There’s something I want to talk with you about, but I’m not sure I want to do it with the imbecile around.”

“Yeesh!” Magolor says. “That’s harsh. ‘The imbecile?’ Seriously?” he turns, wiping at his eyes, then starting to slink off. “Fine, then… I’ll go. I can tell when I’m not wanted. You two have your heart to heart. I’ll be outside bawling my eyes out like the poor, innocent, needlessly-persecuted angel that I am.”

For as much of a show as he’s making of it, it’s more than evident he doesn’t actually mind. His voice is dramatic and over the top. He feigns a sniffle and bats his eyes.

“Don’t have too much fun gossiping without me. Stars know my fragile heart couldn’t take it. When you’re ready to apologize, I’ll be waiting for you. Don’t take too long. I may just die of sadness.” 

And then, with one last, “Boo-hoo!” he’s gone. He makes his way out the door and shuts it behind him.

Susie rubs at her temples.

“What is his problem?” she asks. “Can’t he see this is exactly why I asked him to go?”

“Well… you know Magolor,” Taranza says with a chuckle. “He’ll never turn down an opportunity to get attention. Sometimes I think he’d be great on the stage.” A pause. “But… um, what was it you wanted to talk about?”

A prickle of anxiety. He bites down on his lip.

“It’s not Nia, is it? Because if you’re intending to insult her again-”

“No, no,” Susie is quick to interject. “It’s not that at all. Please don’t worry about that. It’s not anything so serious. I suppose I just wanted to…” she hesitates. “Well, I wanted to apologize to you.”

“Apologize? For what?”

“For, well…” Susie hesitates, then says, voice softer, “For underestimating you. While everyone else was doubting you, I joined in. I also told you that you couldn’t defeat Morpho Knight, but you did. You went out and accomplished what no-one thought you could, not even your ‘best friend…’ and I’m sorry for that. We must have made you feel really alone.”

“W- what?” Taranza asks. “No! I mean, perhaps I was upset at the time, but everything worked out. A- and it’s not like you had any ill intent. You just didn’t want me getting hurt. I get it. If it were the other way around, I’d have been worried about you, too.”

“Mmmm,” Susie says, scratching at her arm. “I suppose, but all the same, it only felt right to give a proper apology. You did it. We were wrong about you.”

If it were anyone else, Taranza would be tempted to rub it in. He’d puff out his chest and say, ‘Yeah. You were. I told you so, didn’t I?’

But not with Susie. Instead, he simply responds, “...Indeed, I did it. Somehow I got what I wanted. Now that the adrenaline’s worn off, I kind of can’t believe it myself. It all sounds far fetched… that I accomplished something like that. I suppose I just… couldn’t not? With what was on the line, failing wasn’t ever an option. I had to succeed, and so I did. And, ultimately? I’m proud of it.”

“You should be,” Susie says. “You’re a good friend. Nia’s lucky to have you. To have someone who wasn’t willing to give up on her. Who would have paid any price for her sake.” A pause. She averts her gaze. “...You’re a good person in general, Taranza. You’re selfless. I’ve always respected that about you.”

Despite the kind words, there’s a strange intonation to her voice. Her robotic antennae pin back, betraying some level of unease.

Taranza wonders why. Is she onto him? When she calls him ‘selfless,’ does she even begin to understand just what that means?

That Taranza did pay a price heavier than the risk of losing his life? That he didn’t just fight Morpho Knight, but offer himself up to it? To Nia?

He’s not sure, but either way, he’s acutely aware of the empty cavity in his chest. Can Susie tell just how tired he is? 

If she can, she doesn’t comment on it. Simply straightens her posture and says, “That’s all I wanted to discuss.  Perhaps it was a little unnecessary, but it was eating at me, and so I wanted to say something.” 

A deep breath, and all at once, the restlessness leaves her body. Whatever worries Susie had are banished to the back of her mind. 

“I’m - uh, glad you’re okay, by the way. I know Magolor already told you we were worried about you, but I almost feel as if that wasn’t enough. We were terrified, Taranza. For a moment, I seriously thought…-”

She doesn’t dare say it, but Taranza knows the words resting on the tip of her tongue.

“No,” he says. “No, I’m just fine. You never needed to be concerned about something like that. While I was fighting Morpho Knight, you all… you also gave me drive, truthfully. I knew I had to win, that way I could come home to you. Even your doubt made it clear just how much you cared, and so I didn’t want to put you through something like losing me. That was also never even an option. I’m… sorry I didn’t get in contact sooner. Thank you, though, for letting me mean something to you. It means more than I could possibly put into words.”

“Of course,” Susie says. “You’re our friend. Why wouldn’t you mean something to us? You’re important. We don’t know what we’d do without you, and so thank you for coming back here in one piece.”

Then, she pulls Taranza into a hug. He’s surprised, because that’s unusual for her, but he supposes it makes sense. It’s just another sign of the anxiety he put her through… of the relief she’s feeling now.

He returns her hug, squeezing her reassuringly.

“I’m not going anywhere anytime soon,” he says. “And so don’t you worry.”

“You’d better mean that,” Susie says, pulling away just as quickly as she pulled in. “But- uh, I should probably be going now. I just wanted to make all of that known first. I’ll be seeing you around?”

“I’ll be seeing you around,” Taranza promises. “Thank you again for stopping by. As I said, you’re always welcome.”

But as Susie makes her way over to the door, turning back just briefly to look at Taranza, his smile falters ever so slightly. A pit forms in his stomach.

‘I’m not going anywhere.’ 

How can he say that with a straight face knowing what he’s done?

Morpho Knight told him, point-blank, what he was giving up with half of his soul. It warned him he was sacrificing his strength, his vitality— his lifeforce. It warned him he’d probably die young. But Taranza hadn’t cared, and he still doesn’t, mostly.

It had been necessary. He owed it to Nia. He stole her life away, and so sacrificing half of his was his only option. If it were a decision made in a vacuum, he wouldn’t feel an ounce of regret.

But it gives him pause, admittedly, to hear Susie and Magolor say things like ‘I care about you.’ What will they think when he’s gone? Will they resent him? Will they suffer because of him? Lie, curled up in bed, wracked by grief, the same way he did when he first lost his queen?

It’s a harrowing thought. One that almost makes him wish they didn’t care. Things would certainly be easier, then. But they do, and one day, they might hate him for his decision.

Susie’s already experienced loss before. How will she react if she’s forced to lose him, too? And what about Nia? Will Susie hate her? Blame her for it? Will Nia blame herself, too?

A pit in Taranza’s stomach. He forces himself to take a deep breath and tells himself that that’s not something he should be worrying about right now. 

Even if he gave up half of his lifespan, he still has a very long existence ahead of him. It’s not like he’s going to disappear tomorrow. He should focus on the present, and right now, he’s here with all of the people he cares about.

He couldn’t possibly ask for a better sort of life. 

He decides it’s best he makes his way back to Nia as quickly as possible. She’s probably worried about him, and the sooner he gets to her, the sooner he can banish the troubled thoughts from his head. Seeing her will make him feel better— he just knows it.

And as he makes his way towards her room, he feels it. Slowly, some ounce of strength returns to his body. His eyes still feel heavy and his body frail, but breathing comes easier. That void in his chest is filled.

It’s as if they’re complete when they’re together.

He stops in front of the door, giving a knock and saying, “I’ve returned. May I come in?”

Once more, it’s a moment before Nia responds, but eventually she answers, “Of course.”

Taranza pokes his head into the room, and thankfully, Nia is right where he left her. He makes his way over to her side. 

“So,” he says. “What did you think? Did you like getting to meet Magolor and Susie?”

Nia shrugs.

“They were fine, I suppose.”

Admittedly, that’s not the answer Taranza was hoping to receive. There’s a lack of enthusiasm in Nia's voice.

“Just fine?” he asks. “Why? Was there something you didn’t like?”

“I’m not certain. I suppose it felt as if…” Nia hesitates. “Well, as if their courtesy was forced. It was clear they didn’t particularly want to be there communicating with me.”

“What?” Taranza asks. “Don’t say that! They thought you were great!”

Nia shoots him an unconvinced look.

“Doubtful,” she says. “That ‘Magolor’ individual was clearly putting on a show; his flattery couldn’t have possibly been more insincere, and as for ‘Susie…’” she glowers. “Truthfully, she barely even tried to hide it. She sees me as contemptible, doesn’t she?”

“No! Nononono,” Taranza insists. “Not at all! You’ve gotten the wrong impression, Nia. They want to be your friends. They really do.”

A pause. He sits down on the bed, patting the spot beside him. Perhaps she’ll feel better if she takes a seat.

She hesitates, but does eventually join him. The mattress creaks slightly with her weight.

“Taranza,” she says, “There’s no point in lying.”

“I’m not lying, though!” Taranza insists. “I mean that. I really do. I know they may have come across that way, but that doesn’t mean they don’t like you. They’re like that with everyone.”

“You’re right,” he continues, “Magolor is a showman. He’s dramatic and over the top, but he’s not a liar. Even when he’s exaggerating like that, there’s a shred of truth to it. He’s just the sort of person who…- he doesn’t like to be earnest. So he hides his feelings behind big words and a mellow demeanor. He still manages to get across what he actually means, though. It’s just obfuscated by an air of aloofness. And then as for Susie…”

That, admittedly, he has to give some more thought. Can he really tell Nia Susie doesn’t have any hard feelings with the conversation they just had? She was worried for a moment there. Afraid Nia was still corrupted. She couldn’t help but wonder if she was something Taranza had to be protected from.

But he doesn’t want to think of that as Susie disliking Nia? She doesn’t dislike her. She just… 

“She can’t trust easily,” he decides on. “Susie is a very, very guarded person. She’s been… hurt a lot in the past, and she doesn’t really like to open up. Sometimes this can make her seem harsh, but she’s not ill intentioned— not really. She’s just fiercely protective of herself and the people she loves, and she’s inclined to see everyone around her as a potential threat. But that doesn’t mean you did anything wrong. She just… needs a little more time to warm up, that’s all.”

And that’s the truth. He believes that. He won’t be dishonest with Nia and say that Susie is enthusiastic about any of this, but he’s also not going to say that he thinks she hates her. Because she doesn’t . She just cares about Taranza, and because of that, she’s inclined to see threats where there aren’t any.

But eventually she’ll open up. Soon enough, she’ll see the real Nia, just like she came to see the real him. And then Nia will be someone she wants to protect, too.

“...Right,” Nia says. “If you say so.”

But it’s clear she doesn’t believe him. The words come out forced.

“Nia,” Taranza says. “I mean that. You need to trust me on this. These people are my friends. You don’t think I’d be friends with anyone who would hurt you, do you?”

“Well, no-”

“Then please. Just try and believe in Magolor and Susie. It would mean a whole lot to me.”

Nia’s quiet for a moment. But eventually, averting her eyes, she relents.

“Very well then,” she says. “I will try my best. I… apologize if it feels as if I’m insulting your friends. It’s not that I intend to be disparaging. I appreciate all that they’ve done for you. I just…” A pause. “I don’t know. Either way, I’ll stop.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Taranza insists. “You don’t need to apologize. You haven’t done anything wrong. You’re just scared they won’t like you, yeah? But you and they both deserve more credit. They’re good people. And you’re someone more than worth loving. Just give them a little bit. Things will feel more natural with time.”

He reaches out for her hand, giving it a squeeze.

“It’ll get better,” he says. “I promise.”

Nia doesn’t respond right away as he runs his thumb over her knuckles. She stares down at her lap.

“...I’ll try to take your word for it,” she says finally.

“Good,” Taranza says, pressing up against her side. “That’s all I’m asking. You’ve got this. And I’m sorry if I stressed you out— If I introduced you too soon.”

“No, it’s okay,” Nia says. “It was only natural you wanted me to meet them. They seem important to you.”

“They are. But no-one’s as important as you,” Taranza says. “Your comfort will always come first. So let me know if I’m pushing you too hard.”

“...Yeah. I will.”

“Wonderful. Then now that that’s dealt with, why don’t we take a little bit of time to unwind? We don’t have to do anything special for the rest of the day. We can spend the rest of the morning in here… read some. Have a nice, quiet lunch. Maybe sit in the garden for a bit. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

“Mmmm,” Nia says. “That… sounds nice. I’d like that.”

And so that’s just what they do. They stay in the bedroom for the next hour or two, sitting side by side. Then, once it’s afternoon, they have lunch. Dedede doesn’t approach them telling them the food is ready— Taranza can only imagine he’s too busy for that, but when they start to get hungry he ducks out of the room and makes his way into the kitchen. There, the Waddle Dees are willing to provide him something, and once he’s acquired their meals, he takes them back to Nia.

They go to the same terrace where they ate breakfast, although, of course, Dedede isn’t there this time. It’s just the two of them overlooking Dreamland.

Taranza tells Nia all about what they can see. He points to a nearby village… to a lush forest and even to Kirby’s home. He talks about a beach a little ways off and about all of the beautiful fauna and flora nearby.

He’s sure to emphasize that Dreamland is a really, really nice place. He says he’s been here quite often and that he really likes it. He supposes more than anything he just wants to make sure Nia doesn’t feel homesick… that this feels like a vacation as opposed to an exile. 

He’s not sure how well it works, though. There’s still a melancholy glint to her eye.

So, after they’ve eaten, he takes her out to the garden to try and raise her spirits. Like he said: it’s nowhere near as impressive as the garden they had in Royal Road, but it’s still nice. The air is fresh and the flowers are beautiful. They sit in the grass and Taranza talks and talks.

He’s not even really sure what to talk about. He just isn’t comfortable with the silence. So he rambles about plants— about other times he’s visited Castle Dedede, and he hopes it’s enough.

Once or twice, they bump into other people out there— Waddle Dees just trying to work. Each and every time they stare, wide-eyed, at the unexpected visitors. It’s clear they don’t know what to think.

Taranza is always quick to explain, though, saying that they’re temporary guests at the castle. He introduces himself, just in case the Waddle Dees aren’t familiar, then introduces Nia. He explains she’s a queen, that she’s a very special person, and that it’s imperative everyone treat her with respect.

And the Waddle Dees try their best. They’re inclined to be polite, serving as attendants and all. But it’s clear they feel out of their depth. The entire time they’re working, they send uncertain, sideways glances towards Nia. They whisper amongst themselves.

It reminds Taranza a bit of when he first started visiting the castle. By now most of its residents have grown used to him, but at first, he put them on edge. They’d murmur about how he was the “person who kidnapped King Dedede, wasn’t he?” and remark on how he was just “a little bit unnerving.”

At the time, he couldn’t really blame them. Waddle Dees are skittish by nature. But now that the unease is being directed towards Nia, he’s just a little more peeved

She’s not a threat! She’s not going to do anything. Why make her feel worse than she already does?

And she notices. Taranza tries his best to distract her, but Nia’s hyper aware of the way people gawk at her… how they react with something that’s a mix of fear, confusion and repugnance. They’re careful to avoid her side of the garden.

Her features shift, and as they do, they gawk at that, too.

It’s something that never really seems to cease as she goes throughout the day— the metamorphosis, that is. Sometimes there are reasons for it. The Waddle Dees watch her and wings poke from her back. Taranza presents her with a flower and her left horn burgeons from her head. Other times, though, he can’t quite tell why it’s happening. Her face rounds out, then eventually sharpens again as she sits deep in thought. One moment she has six pairs of hands, the next two.

Her one eye never goes back to the way it was that morning. It doesn’t fully change, though, either. Instead, it stays in that in-between state: vibrant white clouded by purple.

He wishes he could tell what was going on in her head.

Regardless, he tries his best to comfort her, both about her body and about the way people react to her. He doesn’t address it directly, of course— doesn't dare point out when a patch of fur creeps across her cheek or the Waddle Dees hurry out of the garden, but he tells her everything will be okay. That she’s a good person. That he cares about her. That she’s a sight to behold.

“...I’m sure I am,” she mutters.

It doesn’t seem to do much, but he still feels a little better than he did this morning. Even if Nia seems a little listless, he reminds himself she’s only been back for one day. Things will get better. He’s sure he’ll see her smile and hear her laugh again soon.

He just has to stay strong. Be there for her.

And so, even though it hurts when her gaze flits to the ground, he smiles. He presses his body against hers, tells her “I’m here,” and he talks and talks. He tells her stories, even if she’s not quite ready to talk back.

And she relaxes some. She seems slightly less antsy than she did after the conversation with Magolor and Susie. She still doesn’t come across as ecstatic, of course, but more than anything she just appears tired as opposed to anxious or agitated, and tired Taranza can deal with.

He figures they’ll probably start to wind down a little early.