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“Hey, so, I don’t know if you’re actually listening up there,” Bowser began, “but Princess Peach says that the Stars will grant your wishes if you ask, so, uh, y’know, here I am.”
The Koopa King peered up into the inky night sky, twiddling his thumbs. He checked back over his shoulder for the seventh time, just to be sure no one was watching. He blew out a slow breath, focusing his attention back on the twinkling specks of light above. They seemed too small and distant to be real.
“I’m getting married tonight. To Peaches– uh, that is, Princess Peach,” he continued. “She’s the most beautiful, wonderful, amazing woman I’ve ever met. I really love her and I want this marriage more than anything.”
He smiled, imagining his bride with her soft honey-gold hair, jewel-like eyes and the kindness that just seemed to radiate from her like a gentle warmth from a fire. His smile fell. “Only, she doesn’t.”
The last thing he’d done before coming out onto the balcony of his private chambers was watch Peach scream and sob as she was fitted in her wedding dress. She raved about her makeup, the awkwardness of the ceremonial headdress, the fact that he’d lied to her and tricked her into agreeing to this marriage so he’d spare Mario and Luigi’s lives.
Silly things! Things that didn’t matter in the face of his feelings for her.
“She’s not… happy,” he told the Stars. “But I want her to be. I just know she’d be if she would choose me…” He cleared his throat. “W-Well, anyways, I guess what I’m trying to say is that I do have a wish. I wish…” He looked over his shoulder for an eighth time, and lowered his voice to a whisper. “I wish that Peach and I would be happy together, that we could be a loving family– y’know, kids and arguments and gray hairs and everything. I just hope– I just wish that I had someone who loved me. Not out of fear, or loyalty, or admiration. Just… love.”
The sky remained silent, and so did Bowser as he scanned the skies for a shooting Star, a flash of light, any sort of sign that he was being heard.
Nothing.
“Stupid… I knew this was stupid,” he muttered, stomping back inside. At least no one had been around to witness his humiliation.
Why did I expect the Stars to listen anyways? It’s not like they care about me.
***
Mamar felt a spark ignite in her soul. Like someone had just whispered the most wonderful secret to her, tickling her from her core to her tips. She knew she must be glowing, because the other six Star Spirits had all stopped their conversation about the plans for a new constellation to stare at her.
“Mamar…?” Eldstar, the leader amongst the Seven Star Spirits, asked as his bushy white eyebrows drew together in concern.
“Oh! Oh! It’s happening, it’s finally happening!” she giggled, her pink eyes twinkling. “My Child has made his first wish!”
The others gasped and congratulated her, their voices overlapping in a chaotic chorus, but full of kind words and encouragement, nonetheless.
“Mamar, darling, that’s simply marvelous!” Misstar chirped. “It’s about time, I say.”
“It’s true, I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long… he hasn’t even tried speaking to the Stars since he was a hatchling…” Mamar trailed off, recalling the pang of hollowness she’d feel when the others would receive wishes from their Children. She shook herself, ruffling her pink bow. “But it’s all over now! He’s made a wish, and now I can grant it for him!”
“What did he wish for?” Eldstar prodded her gently. The others leaned in close, eager for the reveal as their gazes all focused on her like a starbeam. Mamar blushed. Typically, Stars weren’t supposed to reveal the wishes they were going to grant, but as they were the Seven, exceptions could be made amongst themselves.
Only, as she listened to his words– his full wish– echo inside of her, she deflated like a balloon. Oh dear.
“I’m afraid I won’t be needing the Star Rod…” she began.
“What? Whyever not?” Skolar asked, his rosy cheeks as bright and pink as his bowtie.
“Ah, well… Misstar?” she beckoned the fashionable Star Spirit over to her, whispering to her the words she’d received from her Child. Misstar’s eyes widened and she pulled back so fast her golden boa almost slipped off.
“No! He really– with my Child?!” she sputtered, a deeper purple flushing over her lavender sparkles. Now the other Star Spirits were pelting them with questions, arguing about what wish could be so horrible or embarrassing that it couldn’t, shouldn’t, be granted.
“Let me put it this way!” Mamar raised her voice so the Star Spirits could hear her. They quieted, and she cleared her throat. “My Star Child’s wish is selfish, but it is selfishness born out of hurt. He is wishing for his own happiness, but at the cost of another Child’s happiness. His feelings are genuine, but misguided. He isn’t wishing for anything destructive… but I’m not sure what to do for him. I would hate to see him suffer so, to reach out to the Stars in his desperation, only to be rejected.”
“Well, I for one say you should just ignore him!” Misstar huffed. “And you should know my Star Child’s last wish was that she could just escape from your Child!”
“Hey, it’s not Mamar’s fault her Star Child is evil!” Klevar said.
“That’s rich, coming from you,” Muskular scoffed. “Your Child is so greedy he doesn’t even wish for money anymore. He just wishes for–”
“Enough, enough!” Eldstar interjected firmly. The commotion was even beginning to draw the attention of other Stars. Once silence settled over Star Haven, his gaze softened on Mamar. “I will not ask you to reveal your Child’s wish. You are a wise and discerning Star Spirit, and you know what sorts of wishes should and should not be granted.”
“Of course. I only don’t want to ignore him, to shatter that fragile faith it must’ve taken to even reach out to the Stars…” Mamar sighed and looked out into the expanse beyond Star Haven and its glowing iridescent trees. A Rainbow Road stretched and swirled somewhere far in the distance, dancing between the constellations, guiding lost Lumas back to their home and mother.
“There’s no way I will fulfill his wish,” she told them earnestly. Misstar sighed with relief. “But, I think there’s still a way to grant part of it…” Someone who loves him… a family. That can be done.
***
Bowser grunted and rolled over in bed, his aching muscles making him wince. It was probably mid-morning, close to noon, but the Koopa King had no intention of getting up. Though he was usually a late riser to begin with, he felt justified this particular morning since he was still recovering from his battle with Mario.
Ugh, Mario, that blasted plumber pest. Why did he seem to only get stronger each time they faced off? This time, he’d ruined a perfectly good plot to kidnap Peach and to stall him indefinitely by transforming and imprisoning the other kings of the Eight Worlds. He’d even put the Koopalings to good use for once! But, once again, the red-clad idiot and his brother had proved to be more resourceful and stubborn than they looked…
In frustration Bowser threw his arm over his eyes and turned over. Why was it so bright in here?! He could also hear the faint chirping of a songbird, which was especially anger-inducing since there were only a dozen or so that were stupid enough to try and make a home in the volcanic Darklands. Tch, what are the chances? Every moment he was growing more wakeful, and he knew at this point he wouldn’t be able to fall back to sleep and forget about his humiliating defeat. How anno–
His window was wide open. And he never opened his window in the mornings.
He was upright and out of bed, battle ready, in less than a second. The sudden movement made his body scream in pain, but he shoved the feeling away as his heart pumped him full of adrenaline. He was no stranger to assassins, even within his own castle, and unfortunately, he was a prime target in his current state. His eyes narrowed and scanned his chambers: the balcony, the desk stacked high with untouched documents, the long, curved bench beneath the windows– he froze. Sitting atop the red velvet cushions was a tiny bundle of white cloth.
Some kind of weapon, an explosive? No, no, he heard the faintest sound of breathing, rhythmic and soft.
“Show yourself, coward!” he bellowed, as much for his own benefit as for alerting his guards.
The bundle squirmed and Bowser flinched, ready for an enemy to burst out. No such attack came. In fact, nothing happened at all; only the breathing continued, filling the still air with its deceptively calm sound.
Bowser, shoulders tense and fists raised, side-stepped towards the bundle one limp at a time. As he approached the tangled white cloth and he peered down with heavy furrowed brows, he didn’t see anything that would mark it as dangerous. Still, he briefly considered chucking it out the tower window, just in case. After a quiet minute of weighing his options, his better senses won out, as did his curiosity. He leaned back, and then carefully, ever so carefully, he reached out with a claw and gave the bundle a quick poke.
It let out a whimper of protest, which sent Bowser leaping a foot into the air and retreating a half dozen steps backwards, hissing “ow ow ow” under his breath. He remained otherwise unharmed, though, so after he’d steeled himself a second time he tip-toed back, he gingerly found the knot with his thumb and foreclaw.
He held his breath, and before he could change his mind, pulled the knot loose with a tug. His jaw dropped to the floor as a pair of tiny, beady black eyes met his own. They were set in a light green scaly face, blinking up at him innocently as it sucked on a bulbous blue pacifier in its tan muzzle.
“W-What the shell?” Bowser stammered, blinking rapidly. “A… a baby?” Not just any baby, either. A Koopaling that looked frighteningly like his old baby photos.
A sharp pain shot up his arm as Bowser pinched himself. “Gah! Okay, okay, so not a dream…” The baby continued to stare at him and nurse its pacifier.
Bowser frowned and pulled the white blanket back further. The baby was swaddled in a thick green quilt, stitched in a pattern that resembled a Koopa carapace. Besides this and its binky, the package contained three other things: a Goomba plushie, a shell-shaped rattle, and a thick parchment, folded into thirds and sealed with red wax. A letter. He delicately pinched it with his claws, extra careful not to touch the baby, and held it up to examine the seal. It depicted some kind of bird– no, a stork. He flipped it over and saw his name scrawled across the front in golden, swirling letters.
To: King Bowser Koopa
He nearly dropped the letter, a bead of sweat trickling down the back of his neck. He glanced back to the baby, who only blinked and made a little gurgling sound. This can’t be real, this can’t be real… he repeated in his head, prying open the seal with shaking claws. He scanned over the contents once, twice, his heart rate picking up with each line:
Dear Mr. Koopa,
We are pleased to make this delivery to you. It is our greatest joy to bring together families (of all kinds!) together with our services. Inside our special-patented delivery blanket, you will find your son, whom you will, of course, have the unique privilege of naming.
Bowser abruptly stopped and actually did let the letter slip from his grasp this time. It fluttered to the floor like a dead leaf. A million thoughts pounded against his skull, adding to the myriad of ailments he could complain of. The most prominent question playing through his head, though, was Why?
The letter must hold some answers. The Koopa King grit his teeth and picked it back up, continuing where he’d left off.
As you prepare for the new responsibility of raising a fine young boy, we’d like to assure you that we have taken special care in his creation to include traits from across your family tree, as well as some that are inspired choices to fit your unique circumstances. You will recognize many of these qualities as he grows. Among them, you may observe your son has a deep sense of creativity, a gentle disposition, a keen intelligence, and a very distinctive eye color. We trust all these choices will be to your liking.
“Inspired choices? Unique circumstances?” Bowser repeated out loud. And he’d never heard of a Dragon-Koopa from his lineage that had a “gentle disposition.” Had the Storks sent him some little weakling for a son? Wait, what was he thinking? H-He wasn’t a father, this all had to be some elaborate prank!
…Right?
His son– the baby– w-whatever– was looking right at him now. As Bowser peeked over the edge of the parchment, he felt a sense of dread. His gaze settled on the pacifier in the baby’s muzzle. It was a perfect, crystalline sky blue that sparkled like jewels. Just like her eyes.
He snapped his attention back to the letter, frantically reading the conclusion as his desperation mounted.
Finally, and above all, we would like to congratulate you on becoming a parent! We wish you the best on this new adventure, full of hope and love!
~Best regards, The Storks
He set the letter down next to the bundle. He sank to his knees, ignoring the cracking in his joints as he grasped the window bench like a lifeline. For once he was glad that his guards were either running late or fast asleep. How could he ever hope to explain this? This was no dream, this was no prank. It was a horrible mistake.
He had, of course, grown up hearing stories about how the Storks delivered babies to hopefuls. How a special wish could be made and the Storks would deliver a child or children to their doorstep. Nothing that would clarify why he’d been chosen to receive such a heavy, unbidden gift. He didn’t even have a queen yet! Surely they hadn’t intended for this baby to grow up motherless, with a busy, busy king as his father?
“I can’t do this,” he found himself saying out loud. Maybe if the timing had been better, or he was more emotionally prepared…
What was he saying? This kid existed, whether he was ready or not. He was responsible, not this little guy. He sighed and let his head drop. The baby seemed fascinated by him, cooing and reaching for his face. A tiny clawed hand brushed his cheek, and Bowser flinched at the sudden contact.
“Hmph, you’re going to spell trouble for me, aren’t you?”
As if in reply, the baby spat out his pacifier, unceremoniously bonking the Koopa King on the snout. At the loss of his toy, his quiet gurgles escalated into whines, his rosy cheeks rapidly turning a much angrier red.
“Oh no, oh nononono–” Oh, he hated crying. Always had, even when he was a kid himself. Almost like instinct, he scooped up the pacifier with one hand, and delicately cradled the baby against his chest with the other, holding him as though he were made of glass. “Shhhh, no crying, got it?”
The baby’s crying hitched, then softened. Bowser felt something stirring in his chest. The way the baby was looking at him, without even a hint of fear or reservation. It almost felt like…
Bowser replaced the pacifier, but when his hand pulled away, two small ones grasped for it. It took both to wrap around Bowser’s single finger, but by the Stars his grip was strong.
“Heh, maybe you are mine, after all,” he mused, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. The Storks had said this kid would grow up to be “creative, gentle, intelligent.” That just sounded like nice words for “not a warlord king” to him. But it also sounded an awful lot like his princess.
He could take a hint. Maybe this kid didn’t have a mother, officially, but he’d take after the only woman he knew to be worthy of that position.
“‘Unique circumstances,’ tch,” he snorted. Why would they send him a constant reminder of her, or at least of her qualities? Maybe the Storks just hated him. Or maybe…
Nah, Peach would never believe him. Stars, he wouldn’t even blame her, he was still in denial himself. And he refused to use a kid to manipulate her, anyways.
“Looks like you’re going to be my kingdom’s dirty little secret for a few years,” he decided. “And I’m gonna have to shape some of that inner niceness out of you. If we’re actually gonna do this, you’re going to have to be tough and mean like me. No one can know the whole truth, got it?”
The baby blinked up at him sleepily, his grip on his finger slowly relaxing. He yawned, though it was more like a mew, and snuggled against Bowser.
“Sire, Your Surliness!” Kamek burst into the bedroom, wand raised and flanked by a half dozen soldiers. “Is everything alright?!”
Bowser got to his feet– a difficult effort with both his injuries and his arms full– and faced them with the baby in full view. Though, he really should stop calling him “the baby.”
‘Sire?” Kamek repeated, eyes popping out of his head and voice colored with all shades of disbelief. “Is that…?”
Looking back down at the half-asleep bundle, Bowser felt a genuine smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Those little black eyes that would one day shine a brilliant blue never strayed from his face. Ah, now he knew what that feeling must be. Love.
He forced a shuddering breath down his throat even as it threatened to close off from emotion. “Everyone… this is Bowser Jr., and he’s my son.”
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