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Starris was meant to be a peaceful place. A place where there was no want for anything, where the wars of the cosmos had come to an end. The stars were a peaceful place, a place where none would want for anything. Peace, prosperity, calm, consistency. Everything here was meant to be such a warm and pleasant place, where one and all could live in blissful happiness.
So why did it anger him so?
Why was this place so utterly drab and boring that he couldn't help but feel some itch under his textured skin? Every piece of the stardust that made up his being burned, it itched, it desired something more. Everything about Starris was meant to be perfect, but that made it stale. A picture, a portrait, never meant to change or grow into anything else. The people were boring, never changing, always the same passivity of happiness that they thought would be all they could ever want. And yet, he knew better. He knew this was not what he was destined for, not what he was MEANT for. He was meant for more than this, he knew that in the very core of his being.
He was not meant to live a mundane life. Not when he could carve so much with his own hands, create gifts and creatures that his companions back home were simply incapable of. He could forge a blade of the stars with his own two hands, command the stars to do his bidding, create living beings with nothing more than his own wants and blueprints. He is not a passive being. He is not someone who will be satisfied with this childish notion of peace and idleness! This is not what he wants!!! He wants a challenge, a change, something new, something that will change him! And he cannot get that on his home planet!
Stars are meant to burn, to continue, to change, and yet here he would be stagnate. Here he would be muffled, squished, dimmed into a safe burn that would keep him alive. And he couldn't stand that.
He was more than this. He was more than just a star in this universe. He was the Sun, the heir to the cosmos, one who was destined to be more than some petty specs of dust to be forgotten by the universe. And he refused to allow himself to become irrelevant and forgotten.
Leaving his home was not an easy choice. It was risky. It came with the loss of security of everything he had ever know. It came with idiots he had hoped would be capable of being his friends, but that plan fell through quickly. And yet, now, looking back on everything that was to come from that decision, he would not change it for a moment.
Here, on Preon? He had what he wanted. Challenge. A purpose. A chance to grow. A chance to prove himself as King. A chance to be a hero to people who need his help, who will appreciate it. A chance to free himself from the boredom that had plagued him his whole life.
And, oddly enough, a chance to get what he wanted on that ship ride here. Something he couldn't make with his own hands for once, but something he could perhaps earn: Friendship. Companionship. Even if these individuals of Preon were so odd, so strange, he found their company appealing.
The Ironclad, the brute, was a welcome sparring companion, one who challenged his own ability to wield a sword and his command over the battlefield. And surprisingly, the brute seemed to care so much for his companions in a way one would never expect, one that earned His Majesty's respect.
The Silent, as mysterious as she was, challenged his intellect in ways he was grateful for. She challenged his knowledge, his instinct, his initial reactions… and taught him to be curious about what he thought he already knew. She was diligent, helpful, and kind in her own way if you paid attention to her.
The Necrobinder, as infuriating as she could be to him, was a welcome change. She challenged him, aggravated him, fought and argued with him on a daily basis… and yet her anger was a welcome change from peace. Her intelligence and resilience was a sight to behold, and the lack of restraint she held for challenging him was wonderful. Even if she had a perpensity for grabbing him with Osty to shut him up, he was glad she was around.
The Defect, the kindest of beings His Majesty had met, despite a frame that almost demanded a battle stance. A kind being who CHOSE to be as such despite the hardships, who chose companionship and hid its concerns behind worries for its friends. His Majesty couldn't help but respect it, the strange machine that would put the well being of others over its own goals.
He would not trade any of them for anything. He would not trade his decision to leave his home and help with this Spire for anything that this universe could give him. It was impulsive, his struggles were immense, and he has quickly learned how much dying could sting if he was careless. And yet, it was a worthy sacrifice, an appropriate price to pay, for everything he had gained.
Emotions.
Challenge.
Pain.
Change.
Friends…
Yeah. Nothing in the universe could convince him this was a bad call.