Archive of Our Own

For once, Neptune was grateful Uranus had not followed him to his orbit.

He’d left him with a cheerful goodbye, waving and all, and held that grin for as long as his face could take it. Watched as his best friend, someone who still trusted him despite him being, well, himself, wandered happily away from the dark and cold Neptune was seeking out. None the wiser to Neptune’s current turmoil, and that brought both relief and a deep shame to his core. I’m lying again. 

No, it’s for the best. Neptune sighed, finally able to pluck the uncomfortable pair of glasses from his face, and rubbed at the pressure-points they’d left on his features. Fiddling with the lenses, the ice giant stared down at them, studying the refractions of Sun’s distant light onto the asteroids around him. I just…I need to do this alone. 

Pressing deeper into the belt, the ice giant stretched out his gravity cautiously, testing the area for any presence of the dwarf planets or others. If he was going to do this, he wanted to be sure he wasn’t likely to scare some poor lost TNO accidentally. Let’s not ruin another celestial’s day. Today’s already been record-breaking.

This might be my highest score yet. Neptune mused idly, detached, but the layer of humor burned away far too rapidly. Tearful gazes seared themselves across his mind, and the choked sobs of a small moon rang in his ears. His core, which hadn’t really stopped hurting since the whole mess began, clenched painfully. 

He hadn’t even apologised to Saturn, he realised with a growing dread. He’d told himself it hadn’t been a good time, that Saturn and his moons were grieving, but deep down he knew he’d have run off either way. He did what he always did; hide, panic, think, and then come crawling back way too late for his words to help anything. Avoiding it.

But that’s exactly what I’ve been trying to stop doing! Frustrated, the planet risked a short glance back towards the system he’d left, wondering if he had the courage to dash back and fix things. Panic forced its way up his throat, his storms swirled, but the planet remained locked still. They probably don’t want to see me. I already messed it up too much.

Regret swelled in his core, his thoughts falling back to the start of this mess. Of convincing everyone around him to dig into the mystery, to expose whatever had been buried by the system, and to keep going even when he’d started to put the pieces together. He’d pushed far too hard, and now he didn’t even know if it was worth it. Will this really improve things for them?

I hope so. Neptune sighed, abandoning his longing stare at the inner orbits and continuing his drift towards the Kuiper Belt. Though, I’m not sure it’s even worked for me yet.

As much as he told himself it was for the better, that buried secrets needed to be outed where possible if this system was going to heal, Neptune had still felt that familiar urge to run and hide from it. To ignore the uncomfortable stuff and keep grinning. To pretend he wasn’t bothered by the facts as he spoke them aloud. To tell others his clean, neutral opinion without any hint of the agony that had gone into forming it. 

And, at this point, that definitely makes me a hypocrite. 

The static, still Kuiper Belt greeted him as coolly as it always had, but he didn’t mind. Behind its overwhelming cold, it offered a respite from the eyes and ears of the Solar System, and a place Neptune could seclude himself before more of a mess was made. A place he could finally try something he probably should’ve considered a long while ago. 

Deeper. I can’t be overheard.

His form was tiring. It seemed to do that so much faster these last few orbits, leadening every movement he made, ever since they’d returned from the void and the Rouge Planet army. Or maybe he’d been slowing down earlier than that, weakened by the heat or the distances they’d travelled, and he’d only noticed the shift upon returning to the system. Either way, it only added to the list of things he was currently trying to ignore.

No, not ignore. I’m supposed to be…

The planet’s thoughts trailed off as he drifted farther into the Kuiper Belt, brushing a few stray asteroids from his path. It was quiet, silent even, as he slowed to a halt and finally dropped the fixed grin from his face. Without movement to distract it, his body began to trickle in all the aches and pains he’d been pushing away all journey, weighing down his thoughts even further.

As he felt it settle over him, that familiar burden he’d dragged halfway around the galaxy at this point, Neptune let a sliver of frustration in. He was tired of it. He wanted it to leave, somehow. 

Thinking on the words he’d told Jupiter, and that Jupiter had told him in reply, the ice giant wished he’d thought to ask the larger planet how he’d faced it. How he’d gotten the weight to leave without merely pushing it away from his mind at any opportunity. And how did he stop it from coming back every time he was reminded of it. 

He’d probably ask why, Neptune despaired, twirling his glasses between his fingers as he stared around the empty belt of asteroids, and I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say to that at this point. 

The planet breathed, fiddled with the glasses a little more, then breathed again. 

I should probably, um, start.

Not totally sure what he was doing, the planet lowered his hands to his sides, facing outwards towards the distant Oort cloud. When that grew uncomfortable, he returned his gaze to the glasses, trying not to feel watched.

He tried to test his voice, opened his mouth to speak to one of the passing asteroids, but nothing came to mind. Then he felt guilty for still trying to do anything except what he’d come here to do. He needed to focus.

Right, okay. 

For a few moments, he hung in his gravity, staring blankly at the glasses in his hands. There was no one else around. He was alone. It was the perfect time. He’d told himself he was ready to do this. I need to be ready to do this.

But nothing happened. The planet stayed silent, and the Kuiper Belt stayed silent, and nothing changed. His mind remained blank, his core continued to burn in his chest, and the planet failed to make a single sound.

Neptune was really starting to regret coming here. Maybe he was being foolish and naive, in hoping that this would work for someone like him. Loudness wasn’t really his thing, at least not when he was alone. Shouting definitely wasn’t, and the lingering fear that someone would hear him kept creeping back in despite his own gravity’s assurances. Why would this work, when nothing else ever has?

His chest hurt. Between his recent sickness, his current struggle to breathe above a whisper, and the grief he was trying to dredge up, Neptune wasn’t entirely sure which was causing it. The tiredness in his form was increasing too, crushing his posture even as he attempted to stay upright. The edges of his vision began to wobble, and the tightness around his core threatened to steal the gasp he forced in. No. I have to do this. I can’t-

He wanted to turn around, head back to his orbit, and wait patiently for his moons or Uranus to come looking for him again, like always. His chest would still ache, and the storms would still rage so loud he couldn’t think clearly, but at least he wouldn’t be stuck facing this seemingly impenetrable wall he’d inadvertently created within himself. I cried when it happened…why can’t I now?

He dragged his mind forcibly back to that moment, chasing after the flickers of memory that stung like meteors, trying desperately to grasp them long enough to properly hurt him. His core tightened, and his head grew fuzzy, but nothing escaped beyond his blank expression. The weight stayed still as stone, pulling him down like an anchor even as he tried to haul it to shore. 

Leave me, please! He wanted to beg them, to plead for their forgiveness, and to tell them he was still trying to atone for it. Neptune wanted to face it, to feel it, so they’d stop haunting his guilt. He wanted it to hurt, to prove that for once, he could take his own advice. It needs to be faced. 

Clenching his fists, nearly bending the delicate metal of his glasses, Neptune forced his mouth to move. It opened in a small gasp, some of the lightheadedness retreating, but no words passed his lips. Not even a whine of frustration made it past the invisible hand crushing his throat.   

I’m sorry. Even the apology failed to escape, echoing around his head as he stood frozen in the belt of asteroids. You deserve better than this. 

They deserved a planet that could cry for them, one that could scream and rage at the unfairness they'd been victim to, and one that didn’t go on to cause even more deaths. 

Taking that thought as permission, all the guilt he’d been holding back since that particular calculation had settled in his mind came over him in a flood, unsteadying him. The horror and grief in Saturn’s voice, the pain as that tiny moon had gasped out what had become of his friend, and the numbing realisation that Neptune had once again helped spell out the doom of an innocent moon. Moon Killer.

He dropped the glasses. 

Shaking, the planet lowered himself into a crouch, suddenly stuck hard with a wave of dizzy exhaustion. Splaying one hand out, fighting for balance on the orbital plane below him, Neptune’s vision blurred with unshed tears. No, wait! I-I’m not-

‘Not what? A Moon Killer?’

No, I- But he failed to find the words even within his own head. The hand around his throat gripped harder, choking him as he fought to regain control of his body. Please, I’m not-

‘You aren’t?’ The voice rose from within him, all the bitter, terrifying thoughts he shamefully stowed away, never to be let out long enough for processing. ‘But then, why have you killed-’

I didn’t! It was an accident. The planet hunched over farther, pressing his hands to his ears in a futile attempt to block every thought invading his mind. Repeating the words he’d told himself so often they’d lost all meaning. J-just an accident. I’m sorry.

Every second of that horrible moment replayed in his head, the clarity of it taunting him as he lay catatonic in his gravity. Shattered rock and ice, spreading around him in a ring. The way his world had shattered with them, vanishing everything from his mind except useless denial and stone-cold dread. The second he’d spotted the survivor, who’d not escaped the encounter without his own damage. It hurt to hold the moments in his mind.

And the guilt. The thing he’d carried within his core since that little celestial had opened his eyes and first asked who he was. All the years of pretending it never happened, of ignoring the things he could’ve done differently. He’d felt the incoming mass, he’d been too slow, but maybe if- 

I can’t do it, he realised. Sitting, curled over himself in the desolate belt, Neptune felt his core dropping away from him as his thoughts raged on. I could’ve saved you. I should have saved you. Why didn’t I? Letting these thoughts in, letting them stay for even a moment, to consider them; it was too much. I’m a coward. I-I can’t even face myself.

His core raced like it had that day, in the split second he’d seen and understood what was happening to his precious moons. The cold weight that had fallen onto him, threatening to crush the planet as he lay in his stunned grief. The denial his mind had failed to grip onto, even when he’d tried for far too long. He remembered the exhaustion that had dragged him down, the way everything had faded from focus, and the festering urge to give up. 

I’m sorry. It felt pointless to try and speak it, his throat hurt like he’d tried to swallow a solar flare, but Neptune couldn’t stop himself from mouthing the words as his mind taunted him with their deaths. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, please-

‘1, 2, 3, and now 4-’

“STOP!” The shout ripped from his throat with a painful thud, stealing his breath and sending pain lacing down his chest. Jolted from his hunched position, startled by the anger, his next words croaked out in a whisper. “...no. I’m s-sorry, I…”

A cough entered his throat, stinging until the planet’s eyes watered and spilled over. Silence broken, Neptune stared through blurry eyes at the surrounding belt, core hammering…No one heard me?

Heaving a panicky breath from his chest, the planet fell backwards, dropping down with a tired thump into his gravity. Pain laced up his form as he gasped, finally able to fill the space around him with noise again. His body shivered, but not from the cold.

“I-I-” Stammering, he tried again, desperate to keep his voice. Everything he wanted to say filled his mind all at once, clamoring to be released. Just say it. “It w-wasn’t-it wasn’t-”

He clammed up, that familiar shame rising in him at the childishness of his thoughts, threatening to stop him entirely. The words stuck in his throat, burning in his chest, and the planet lifted his arms to wrap tight around his form. The pressure barely registered, too lost in his effort to force the selfish thought from his mouth. Say it!

“It wasn’t FAIR!” Flinching from his own voice, the planet gasped around the tightening of his throat, feeling the words tear at him as they were stammered out. “Y-you didn’t even-I never-”

-I never got to name you! He never got to show them all the good things in their system. Never heard their voices or saw their smiles. Never got to hold them with all the care he’d been so ready to give them. All the memories he never got to make with them. All the hugs they never felt, the bedtime stories they’d never hear. The life he never got to give them. I never got to love you…

“AHH! URHH!” Wildy flailing one hand out for balance, feeling the distant crack and stab of shards breaking off into his hand, the planet collapsed in a heap of spent energy. Pain roared up his throat, twisting around it until he wheezed and spluttered. “AHH--uck-”

Dissolving into hacking coughs, the planet struggled to slow the tears streaming down his face, curling over as the burning in his core turned to nauseating stabs. Really not wanting to throw up as well, Neptune pathetically flopped onto one side, letting his gravity catch him as the stars around him blurred together. Wrapping his arms tighter around himself, he stared out into the dark belt of rocks and ice, feeling the numbness wash back in. 

With his core still aching, Neptune didn’t know if it had even worked. There was a lightness to his chest, but whether that was just from finally being able to breathe again after the coughing fit, or the actual crying, the planet wasn’t sure. It didn’t feel like anything had changed. His moons were still dead, he still wished they were with him, and the fresh guilt from Chrysalis' fate weighed down every one of his limbs. It’s fine. I shouldn’t have expected it to fix something like this.

Still, he wished it had. Wished he’d been able to let out enough pain to never feel it again, to be free of the images that chased him in dreams or twisted his core every time he thought of them. But that was selfish of him. If his grief ended, wouldn’t that mean finally forgetting them? He could never allow himself to do that. He was the only one who’d even known them, for as short a time as they’d existed. I deserve this weight. I shouldn’t try to run from it.  

Wincing, he released one hand’s grip around his forearm, eyeing the darkening welts he’d torn into his surface. Clouds were already moving to cover the damage, but the pain lingered as he examined his hands. Cuts leaked steadily on the palm that had fallen onto his glasses, the stinging slowly grounding him from the horrible buzz of panic. 

Liquid was smeared over his fingertips, colouring the frame of his glasses as he gingerly lifted them from their orbit around him. One lens was only chipped, but the other was shattered entirely, and the missing shards had surely mixed into the asteroids drifting around him. I need to clean it up. Someone could get hurt.

Numbly, the planet pushed himself upright, sitting hunched and small. With the bleeding hand, he began the slow job of sorting through the belt, trying not to think. The pain of each successfully located shard of glass kept him on the task, seeking the sensation on his surface. It was addicting, in a way that probably should’ve made him uneasy. 

Distantly, he worried how he would hide the wounds from the others. Surely they’d notice his hand was leaking blood into the space around him? Or maybe they wouldn’t? After all, it would likely be a long while before anyone looked for him here, if they ever looked at all. 

The planet tried to sigh, but his throat suddenly clenched up, burning until he coughed to relive it. It only made the pain worse, however, and the muscles around his neck felt like tightening ropes, protesting every movement with sharp knives to his throat. Between the stinging need to cough and the pain that wracked every attempt to, Neptune collapsed and curled as small as he could into himself, shrinking his chest space. 

Strained hacks continued to fight to pull breathe from him, but the planet stubbornly pressed his mouth closed, angry at his body for trapping him like this. Distantly, he recognised that holding his breath wasn’t the most rational response to a coughing fit, but he was far past caring what happened to him. Growing lightheaded, but still feeling the tingling in his throat, Neptune stared out at the distant stars, waiting for something to give up first.

The pressure in his chest threatened to overtake everything else, pressing in on all sides as he lay stubbornly still in the quiet belt. His thoughts turned blessedly slow, drifting aimlessly as he focused only on keeping his silent protest going. The tingling pain in his throat faded, along with the ache growing in his head, all swallowed up by the bubble of numbness expanding from his chest. 

Stars twinkled in his darkening vision, winking in and out of view like…some Earthling thing that green planet had mentioned once? Neptune’s mind felt disconnected, words escaping him more than usual, but any capacity to be annoyed by it had also left him. Instead, his head filled with a buzzing, ringing sound, and the last of the stars blinked away all at once.

A chill shot through the planet, an odd sensation for an ice giant, and the ends of his limbs faded into numb weights. Nothingness swallowed him, dragging him down beyond thoughts or panic, dropping him into the void. 

Everything left, for a moment, then…

Shoved back into himself with a heaving, breathless cough, the planet scrambled to uncurl from his forced hunch. Pressure crushed his head, the small lights of stars as painful as a solar flare. The tingling in his limbs turned into needles, reawakening them with thousands of tiny pin-pricks as he tried to regain control of them. Pain laced up from his middle, blinding him until he lay flat on his back, breathing shakily. 

With every inhale, his throat threatened to rebel again, so Neptune sucked the breaths in through clenched teeth. It seemed highly unfair to him, as he stared up at the high constellation overhead, that holding his breath had such an effect on him. What did his body need with all these breaths anyway, it wasn’t like air existed out here. And why did it have to hurt so much when he finally did what it wanted and breathed. It hadn’t even fixed his throat. Not sure why I expected it to.

Slowly, as he forced himself to take careful, steady breaths, the pain in his chest grew easier to bear. His throat tickled warningly, but he tamped down the panic and continued, keeping his thoughts at bay until the fuzziness at the edges of his vision faded away at last. Okay, maybe don’t do that next time.

Though, even the thought of coming out here again to try and repeat this experiment added weight to his form. What had it even accomplished, other than dredging up old grief to the forefront of his mind, and making every breath painful again? He’d rather have avoided it, like always. Kept it deep down, where only his subconscious had to worry about it, and he could continue to pretend his core didn’t ache from it. Better than this, at least. 

Through the mugginess that had taken over his senses, a small alarm managed to press in until it was acknowledged, jolting Neptune from the last of his groggy thoughts. A cluster of familiar masses were entering his close gravitational field. Moons!

“Neptune!” Pushing himself up fast enough to see stars, the planet stumbled to unsteady feet and faced away from the approaching voices, wiping frantically at his drying tears with the uninjured hand. The other one, still leaking blood noticeably, he shoved hurriedly into his coat. Just as he’d cleared the last of the wetness away, a small, energetic moon dashed around his head to peer up at him. “Where’d you go?”

“We looked all over your orbit!” Galatea added, following close behind Proteus as the larger moon continued to blink at him questioningly. Neptune blinked back, unsteady and lacking anything to stay when his mind was still playing catch-up. ‘Hello’ is probably a good start, right?

“Yeah!” Nereid agreed, zipping around to glare at him scoldingly. "But you were in the belt! WHY?”

Neptune winced at the volume of their voices, scrambling to fix a grin back onto his aching face. He tested his throat, breathing out as heavily as he dared, but it caught and stung as stubbornly as before. Nervously, the planet watched his moons spin around him, feeling stuck. Well done, Neptune. Somehow, I’ve made things worse again.

“Kids, you don’t need to deafen every passing dwarf planet in here.” Triton’s voice slunk into the conversation as the largest moon drifted into Neptune’s orbit, sunglasses resting comfortably on his face beside the usual tired expression. Even with his eyes covered, it was painfully obvious as his moon eyed his form questioningly, settling on asking, “We heading back to our orbit?”

The instinctual movement of opening his mouth was as far as he got before the choking pain boiled up again, striking the reply from him. Quickly closing it again, and ignoring the frown from Triton, Neptune settled on nodding as clearly as he could.   

“Right…” The moon raised an eyebrow high enough to be visible over the glasses, and Neptune forced himself not to edge backwards when Triton drew nearer. “You, uh, alright?”

Nodding frantically again, and suddenly worried his eyes were still red from crying, Neptune widened his grin until it hurt. The hand in his coat pocket began to sting. The urge to turn his face away from the moon’s eyes grew painfully insistent the longer Triton watched him. Please, just ignore me. I don’t know what else to do.

“Okay…” His sunglasses stayed down, only a slight hand-twitch suggesting he wanted to move them from his view of the planet, but Neptune heard the suspicious note to his voice. Freezing, the planet braced for more questioning, hoping the fear wasn’t also broad-casted across his face. “Are you sur-Hey! Larissa, don’t bite, remember what I-”

At Triton’s momentary distraction, darting past the planet to halt what seemed like the tail-end of an argument, Neptune breathed a guilty sigh of relief. He didn’t like lying, especially not to his moons, but if he revealed why he couldn’t speak, it would only make them more worried. It wasn’t unheard of for him to be quiet sometimes, but normally he’d know it was coming and remember the communication cards he’d made with Uranus years ago. Which, now that he thought about it, were in his orbit! Okay, new plan. Get to my orbit.

Hopefully, if he didn’t mess up between here and his orbit, he could play this off as a normal laps in words, and not the wreck he’d made of his throat that was probably going to take a while to heal. And with his cards, he could still talk to his moons in the meantime, which would make everyone much happier. Right. I can do this!

…

The return to their orbit thankfully proved uneventful for the most part. The moons were happy enough to be pulled along in Neptune’s gravity as he led them back soundlessly through the maze of asteroids. Triton only had to chase after Nereid once, Sao stopped smacking Naiad after she threatened to lick him, and Larissa eventually released Hippocamp from her teeth. Truly, it was an almost calming experience all things considered.

Until, of course, it suddenly wasn’t anymore.

“Neptune! Neptune!” Loud, screeching voices thrummed at his hearing, and he could feel their masses pushing bodily against him as he drifted along. While they were far too small to properly hurt or unsteady him, the added noise and touch wasn’t helping his attempts to reach a better head-space as quickly as he could. “Neptuuuuunnne!”

Closing his eyes to block out the reemerging headache, Neptune resisted the urge to lift his free hand to his forehead, already knowing he’d made himself sick again after all this. The uninjured hand was currently occupied by the youngest moons, who were trying rather valiantly to sleep despite their siblings’ noise, and the last thing he wanted to do was disrupt that. Maybe if they sleep, the others will follow suit…eh, that’s a bit hopeful, even for me.

“I’m bored!” Larissa, now carefully orbiting away from poor little Hippocamp, shouted out with raised arms. When no one responded, she asked her planet. “How far is it?”

He swallowed, paused, then gave up on any illusion of speaking. It sat like a weight on the back of his throat, threatening to drop and suffocate him if he pushed it. Still, Larissa was waiting, staring at him expectantly. Panic was starting to set in. He had no way of answering her, even if he could think clearly enough to work out the distance. I can’t even use my fingers to show her a number! 

“You should know this by now!” Unaware he was coming to his planet’s rescue, Neso butted into Larissa’s line of sight, a teasing smirk already on his face. Neptune found himself a little glad that he couldn’t sigh audibly right that second. 

“Like you do?” She grumbled back, annoyed by her brother’s wide grin as he floated around her. “What is it then, smartypants?”

Though he’d been trying not to think about them, the sight of his current moons playing and dancing around him stirred up more than a few lingering pains for his first ones. Would they have teased each other like this? Would they have been good big siblings to the younger moons, like Triton had become? Stop thinking about it. It won’t change anything, and I can’t get upset here.

“It’s…” Neso began, lifting one hand to point in their general direction of travel, only to quickly falter. “Uh-” 

“Hah! See, you don’t even know!” Larissa crowed, spinning around the other moon with a smug laugh. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Neptune was relieved to see Triton drifting over with intent. While he tried to subtly pull in a few calming breaths, he couldn’t help but feel the sting of shame and dismay at how stuck he’d been until Larissa’s attention had been broken, and how much he was relying on his largest moon to deal with the youngsters after he’d already kept an eye on them all day. Triton needs a break. I need to get those cards, and fast.

“Kids, stop-” 

He only heard the start of his oldest's scolding, his vision abruptly filled by another little moon’s pleading expression. His eyes throbbed at the sharp shift of focus. I need a nap.

“Neptune? Can we play with the rocks again?” Galatea asked, eyes wide and hopeful. When he only blinked at her, she began to beg more insistently. “Neptune? Please!”

A helpless glance over to Triton erased any chance of another rescue; it seemed Larissa wasn’t done trying to use her teeth in arguments just yet. It’s okay, I can just…

“...” He opened his mouth, already feeling the previous panic wash back over him as he scrambled for some way to communicate with her. The rock game wasn’t a good idea while they were still moving towards his orbit, but he didn’t want to just shake his head at her request without explaining why. 

Out of ideas, he tried to shrug, looking towards the passing Kuiper Belt objects as he risked a small head shake. We can’t play here.

“Aww, why not?” She whined, as he’d expected, but the brief relief that his point had been received was snatched away when she added, “I can get them out of your pocket this time! So you don’t need to search for them!”

No! He thought helplessly, realising she’d misunderstood, and pulled the hand still resting in the pocket closer to his side. She darted down towards it anyway, and the planet stumbled in his hurried attempt to try and stop her, only all his hands were already occupied. 

Nervous to use his gravity when so many other moons were orbiting so closely, the planet stared with mounting horror as she tried to wriggle into the pocket. The rough treatment stung, and completely out of better options, the planet risked a swift, but firm nudge with the injured hand.

“Hey, that tickles!” She giggled, shying away from the hand that brushed her back towards the others. She swung around to try and hug the limb playfully, but he was quickly drawing it away. “Okay, I won’t…Neptune?”

Her little eyes fixed onto a speck hanging in his orbit, in the space his hand had so briefly occupied, and Neptune’s core dropped into free-fall. 

“Why are you bleeding?” She cried, darting back towards the hand as Neptune struggled to re-steady his balance without throwing out his gravity. Her little hands sent sparks of pain over his as she poked at one of the cuts. “How’d you get hurt? Neptune!”

“What’s going on?” Moving away from the arguing moons, Triton eyed the crying Galatea with drawn brows, clearly confused by the sudden change in her mood. Neptune felt stuck again, forced to only watch as everything tumbled down around him, unable to intervene. 

“Neptune’s hand’s got blood on it!” She screeched at the larger moon, and that set off the rest of them into a panic. Cries and dismayed questions blurred together in his eyes.

Neptune’s core clenched hard enough to make him dizzy as the moon shouted those words loudly into the Kuiper Belt. …she’s right. I do have blood on my hands, just not the way she thinks I do.

“What?” Triton turned to follow her pointing, and Neptune clumsily tried to shove the hand back into his coat pocket, but a few more droplets of blood were already drifting into his orbit. In a panic, he tried to brush them away, but as it was his hand causing the issue, it only made it worse. Ugh, I can’t think-I can’t-

A radiating ache rose from his chest, and the planet belatedly realised he’d been holding his breath again. Instinct had him opening his mouth, but the half-forgotten wreck of his throat  punished him immediately, wrapping painfully tight around his airway and squeezing. He tried to gag, to get something out as the sudden shock threatened to bowl him over entirely, but all he could produce was a strangled wheeze.  

“Neptune!” Masses pressed in around him, worried voices tightening his core with panic, locking his limbs in place as intruding nightmares of flailing arms and little moons flashed across his mind. 

“Are you okay?” A rougher voice asked, so close the planet nearly flinched away, and all he could reply with was another pained gasp. “Neptune?”

He couldn’t breathe. His jaw fought to remain clenched shut, desperate to protect his sensitive throat, but it wasn’t letting in enough for his panicking body. A cough fought its way out, sending stabbing pains arching across his chest. Unsteady, the planet stumbled again, his core racing as the little moons in his uninjured hand began to wake up and join the screaming. Please, stop!

Desperate to avoid hurting them, the planet risked a hold with his gravity, pushing them from his close orbit as gently as he could manage. The movement was poorly controlled, sloppy and unfocused as he struggled to think around the racing panic. Distantly, he felt his other moons moving away too, either pushed by his gravity or following the littlest ones. Yes, leave, please. I don’t want to hurt anyone else.

It was just in time, as the second his gravity faltered, the planet collapsed to his knees. His gravity trembled, fighting to keep him on the orbital plane as he hunched over it. The coughs overlapped as they finally broke from his throat, stealing every breath and dropping him farther into his gravity as his arms folded.   

“What happened? Why’s he sick again?” A voice asked anxiously, and the small gravities of his moons returned to pressing against him probingly. As his chest shook uncontrollably, bringing tears to the planet’s eyes, Neptune wanted to scream. No! Go away! Please!

“Our planet’s gonna die!” One shrill moon cried, sending up a fresh string of new, panicked screams from the moons hovering over him. 

“Noo!” Another darted down to touch him, eyes wide and tearful, and Neptune hated himself for jerking away, ending up flat on his side with the effort. “Neptune!”  

“Kids-”

Another gravity brushed against his own, reaching for the little moons and trying to pull them away, but there were too many and they were moving too fast, lost in their panic. A cough turned into a hacking choke, forcing the planet to gag violently, which spiked the alarm of every body pressing in on his gravity. It was all too much for his senses to follow. 

“Don’t die, Neptune!” 

Vaguely, possibly related to the darkness slowly encroaching on his vision, Neptune wondered if that option was on the table. It would be nice, probably. Maybe less painful, and definitely shorter.  

“H-he can’t breathe-” 

The spots in his eyes were growing annoying now. He couldn’t see past them, they blocked out the stars and hid his moons from him. His chest couldn’t seem to move upwards anymore, flailing uselessly out-of-sync with the creaking, wheezing hacks still forcing themselves from his mouth.  

“Neptune!”

“Back up!” A louder, firmer voice shouted over the overlapping chaos, breaking through the sound of Neptune’s harsh coughing. “Everyone! Give him space now!”

The gravity around him shifted, releasing some of the pressure trying to crush his chest. Gasping in a desperately needed mouthful, driving back his blackening vision, the planet flinched at the backlash from his throat. With the last of his depleted energy, Neptune rolled onto his back, winching as his chest protested the movement. He tried to cough again, to open up the airway, but it stuck once again, leaving him wheezing and shaking.

“B-but-” A little voice, dangerously close to him, had him freezing up even further. A rough, crackling cough finally broke free, sending him back into the tortuous loop. “N-Neptune? I don’t-”

The muffled crying and shouts faded, maybe moving away or drowned out by the rushing in his head, he didn’t know. Each cough left him more painfully than the last, like they were slashing blades across his throat as they went. The tightness in his chest turned to muscle cramps as his ribs grew exhausted by the fits, further restricting his attempts to breath. But he kept his limbs curled inward, terrified of accidentally hurting anyone while his gravity refused to cooperate.

A hand touched his forehead, then pulled away at the warmth he already knew was there, before returning farther up in his hair. The contact was distracting, dragging his mind from the coughs shaking his body to the one trying to get his attention. 

“Hey, hey, okay,” The moon sounded painfully unsure, which only made Neptune feel like more of a horrible planet for messing everything up again. It was so easy. Just get back to my orbit. I can’t even do that. “Just focus on breathing. The kids are out of the way, they’re okay. Just breathe.”

I’m trying! He wanted to apologise, to explain that he was trying to do what his moon so clearly wanted him to do, but any words he could’ve dragged out were lost in the endless coughing. He wasn't even convinced that just passing out again wouldn’t be the better option. It would scare them even more if I did, though.

“Breathe.” The moon insisted, speaking the words directly into his ear as he hunched beside him. Neptune tried to gasp again, bracing for the pain, but managed to cut it off before his throat felt like swallowing knives. Above him, his moon ran his hand slowly through his hair, still talking to him. “Good, okay, just keep doing that.”

Not wanting to upset his moon, the planet fought to repeat the act, dragging breaths in small bursts between coughs. The hand stayed on his head, tapping a rhythm he imagined he was supposed to be following, but Neptune didn’t think he’d get any points for the pathetic effort he managed to offer up. Everything hurt, or everything else was numbed and he’d been shrunk down to just his breathing. Either way, he couldn’t follow much beyond the pain and flickering stars.

For a while, when every dared breath seemed to be erased by minutes-long coughing fits, Neptune wanted to stop trying. His gasps would falter, the lightheaded buzz would drift in again, and the exhausted planet would find himself unwilling to fight it. Each time, however, the insistent tapping and muffled encouragement from his moon managed to dredge up some last sliver of energy. 

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity trapped between each gasp and cough, the fuzziness began to ease. His chest rose more steadily, freed from the cycle of hitching breaths and hacking fits. Thoughts slipped back into his mind, weaving around the remaining panic and discomfort to bring him back to himself slowly. Ugh. That wasn’t funny.

“Neptune?” The steady hand in his hair shifted, and the moon sitting beside him shuffled around the planet as he lay still, breathing mostly calm at last. “Are you awake?”

Utterly exhausted, Neptune peeled one tired eye open to find Triton crouched in front of him, a worried frown marring his face. Behind him, the small grey specks of his other moon drifted nervously, eyes watching their planet fearfully. With a clearer head, Neptune felt the weight of what he’d let happen drop down onto him. I messed up. Again.

“It’s alright. Don’t worry.” Some of his distress must have slipped onto his face, as the moon in front of him moved closer to resume brushing hands through his hair. Neptune tried to whine, moving to reposition his sore limbs under himself to push upwards, but the moon gently stopped him. “We can stay here. The kids are fine. I’ll keep an eye on them.”

Risking a small sigh of relief at his moon’s reassurances, the planet let his eye slip shut again, too overwhelmed to keep trying. His chest ached terribly, and the back of his throat burned like he’d eaten a star. Nothing in his body seemed to have the energy to try and move. He’d been trying a lot recently, and not much had worked out. And he’d kept trying anyway. He was worn-out. He just wanted to sleep. 

“Just breathe, Neptune.” 

So he let it take him without a fight.

…

“Hey.” A gruff voice interrupted the planet’s stargazing, though it wasn’t an unwelcome distraction. He’d been getting lost in thought again, thinking too much on the last few hours. Reaching for his lovely set of cards, which had indeed been in his orbit as he’d hoped, the planet began to search through them as he listened. “You feeling any better?” 

‘Yes’ He flipped the card over, enjoying the way it spun pleasingly in his gravity. ‘Thank You’

“No problem.” Triton brushed off, glancing over to the resting huddle of little moons for any twitches, then asked the next question more quietly. “How’s the cough?”

Neptune flipped through the stack of cards for a minute, mentally adding more words to the list of future cards he should make next time Uranus had the supplies. He settled on one that was a little vague for his liking, but hoped Triton would understand the vocabulary limit he was currently under. ‘Uncomfortable’

“Yeah, it didn’t sound fun.” The small grimace of his moon’s expression sent a fresh pang of guilt through his core. Scaring his moons was the last thing he ever wanted to do. “Is that why you lost your voice?”

‘Yes’ Instinctively, he agreed with the convenient excuse; but while it had played a big part in it, he knew it wasn’t entirely responsible. If he hadn’t pushed his voice, he’d probably only sound a little hoarse right now, rather than silent. He selected another card. ‘Maybe’

“Oh?” Triton looked understandably confused by the reply, and Neptune tried again to find a better card, but before he located one, the moon spoke again. “Did something happen in the belt? Or back with the other giants?”

Neptune shrugged, not entirely sure how Triton expected him to answer two back-to-back questions with only cards. It didn’t help that he also really didn’t want to talk about what else had ruined his voice. I don’t think I have a card for ‘screamed myself hoarse like an idiot’.

“What happened to your hand?” Triton tried again, staring pointedly at the now-bandaged cuts on his right limb. Neptune eyed his oldest warily, confused by the odd amount of interest his moon was showing. He knew they’d gotten closer recently, but he hadn’t thought that extended to interrogations yet. Normally it was just Uranus doing that. 

‘Glasses’ He held up the card, which had a cute little sketch of his late spectacles helpfully drawn onto it. Triton still looked uncertain, though, so he grabbed a second card. ‘Accident’

“They broke?” The moon frowned, as if only just realising the accessory was missing from his planet at all. “I suppose that makes sense. Does it still hurt?”

‘No’ Neptune happily raised the cards, glad they’d moved past the incident. ‘All Good’

“That’s good.” Triton fell quiet for a bit, joining Neptune in staring out into the void of space. It was pleasant, sitting with his oldest without there being any rambunctious little moon or awkward conversations forcing them together. Until a few orbits ago, he’d all but given up hope of this kind of thing being possible, after all the secrets he’d kept. It’s more than I deserve. But I’ll enjoy it anyway.

Beside him, Triton had begun to fidget with his sunglasses. Worried that his moon was finding the silence more nerve-wreaking than calming, Neptune turned back to watch him, but the moon was already blurting out a stumbling stream of words. “Hey, um, not right now, but, uh, probably soon, I need to leave for a bit.”

‘OK’ Neptune frowned, unsure why his moon sounded so nervous about asking for time away. Usually, he’d just let Neptune know a few hours in advance, and then jet off to have fun with no hint of hesitation. ‘Why?’

“It’s-uh.” The moon fully removed his sunglasses, settling them onto his hands as he worked through what he wanted to say. Neptune waited, growing curious and a little worried. “If I tell you, you have to promise to keep quiet about-or, um, sorry-”

‘All Good’ Smiling at his moon’s awkward stumble over the poor wording, he picked out another card to try and assure him it wasn’t a problem. ‘Funny’

“Sure, okay.” A small smile of his own started to show through, lightening Neptune’s core at the sight. Triton powered on, the smile turning shy as he explained, “I’m, um, going on a date. Just a small one, to see how it goes, you’know?”

‘Excited!’ Flicking rapidly through his available cards with excitement, the planet showed the next one to his blushing moon with a wide grin. ‘Who?’

“Callisto. She’s one of Jupiter’s moons. Second biggest, really prett- I mean, she’s got a lot of craters.” As his moon spoke about her, Neptune could see the underlying excitement he was trying to keep under control, and it warmed his core more than the Sun. Aww! He’s smitten already! “You met her, I think. When that moon revolution stuff was just starting.”

‘Friend’ He didn’t have a card for ‘friendly’, or even ‘she seemed nice’, so he had to hope the word got his point across of what little he recalled about her. Triton was staring at the void below them, clearly trying to hide the embarrassment that had crept steadily over his face, so Neptune lowered his next card into view for him. ‘Good Luck!’ 

“Eh, thanks, Neptune.” Finally, his moon glanced up again. The blushing had only gotten worse, but Neptune wasn’t going to mention that, for more than one reason. His moon coughed, though thankfully to clear his throat and not the far worse option, and tried to continue. “So, um, you’ll be alright if I leave for a bit? You know how the kids can be sometimes, and if you’re sick-”

‘All Good’ That card was proving more useful than he’d thought it would be. Still, it didn’t seem to sooth his moon’s worries enough, so he fished out one of the phrase cards Uranus’ moon, Umbriel, had told him would be good to have on hand. ‘I can do it’

“If you’re sure?” His moon hesitated again, looking up into his planet’s face, scanning his expression for any hint of uncertainty. Neptune smiled encouragingly, trying to beam all the excitement he held at the idea towards his moon. He’s going on a date! That’s so much more important than worrying about leaving me alone! He should go have fun! “Alright. Thanks, Neptune. I won’t, um, stay out too long or anything.”

Neptune wanted to make a joke, but unfortunately he’d not thought to include witty remarks in his emergency communication cards. While noting it for later, he still tried to find close equivalents, laying them out in order for his moon to read.

“Pick. Good. Options?” Triton blinked at the arrangement, then frowned at them, before turning the expression onto the waiting, grinning planet. “Are you trying to tell me to ‘make good choices?’”

At his enthusiastic nodding, the moon’s frown turned up slightly at the corners, though the annoyance was still broad-casted clear as could be. Neptune just kept smiling. He already knew his moon would be sensible, but it wasn’t every orbit he got the chance to tease him. And I’m sure Jupiter’s moon is very sensible too. There’ll be nothing to worry about.

“Not that I needed the reminder, but sure.” Triton huffed, the put-upon expression almost enough to force a laugh from the silent planet. He usually wouldn’t hold back, but ending this conversation in a coughing fit sounded like the least pleasant thing he could do right now. “You can stop smirking about it. It wasn’t that funny.”

Neptune rolled his eyes playfully, indicating to his not-yet-infinite card pile with a helpless shrug. He was sure the joke would’ve gotten a laugh, at least from himself, in other circumstances. He’ll appreciate my comedy one day. Though, maybe I should wait till my voice is back.

The two of them settled back into silence again, with Triton staring back towards their distant star and the rest of the system, while Neptune busied himself rearranging his cards. They were strangely comforting to hold, reassuring after those panicked attempts to be understood while unable to speak. I should keep them in my pocket, in the future. Yes, that sounds like a good idea.

When he glanced up again, he found Triton’s eyes watching him. The moon looked nervous again, but in a different way than before. Internally, Neptune felt himself growing worried in response, watching him searchingly in return. 

“I know this probably isn’t a fair time to say this, since you can’t…” His pointed glance towards Neptune’s cards didn’t help the planet’s uncertainty, but he forced himself to listen carefully as his moon continued, “Anyway, I just thought, with how everything ended back in Saturn’s orbit…”

‘All Good’ The card had already been at the top of his pile, so he set it down between them firmly, expression blank. Triton frowned deeply.

“Neptune…” He began, trailing off with a hesitant edge to his voice. After a moment of silent contemplation, the moon fixed him with his gaze and spoke again. “You looked like you’d been crying. Back then, when we found you in the Kuiper Belt.”

‘All Good’ He nudged the card closer to the moon. When that didn’t work, he dropped a new card down to join it, pushing it forward insistently. ‘No Worries’ 

“Okay. I won’t push it.” Triton sighed tiredly, and Neptune suddenly felt horrible for trying to shut down the conversation. Just because it was upsetting him, didn’t mean he should run from it. I was supposed to be fixing this. “Just, uh, don’t go putting it all on your gravity. It sounded like a lot of stuff happened around Chrysalis that led to…what happened. It wasn't just your resonance with Saturn.”

‘I Understand’ Taking away the two previous cards, Neptune gently placed a new one in their place, meeting his moon’s eyes for a few moments. Triton still looked tense, but some of the anxiety dropped from his shoulders. 

“Right, yeah, I’m sure you already-” The moon heaved a nervous sigh, audibly uncomfortable with the conversation. “-already knew that, and all. But, I, um, just wanted to check.”

‘Thank You’ 

“Good talk. I’m going to, uh…” Stiffly, Triton got to his feet, reaching out with his gravity to steady himself as he did. With one last look back at the planet, he finished, “...go get ready. Okay?”

Neptune nodded him off, watching with a soft smile as his oldest darted away to begin prepping for his date. The more he sat with the idea, the more fitting it seemed, for his caring moon to have found someone else to care deeply about as well. And she’ll surely care for him in return. Oh, this is so exciting!

Without the moon to talk to, or show cards to at least, Neptune let himself lay down and enjoy the silence. Only, it wasn’t completely silent, like it had been in the belt when he struggled to make any sound at all. He could hear his moons sleeping nearby, curled up and snoring as they dreamed. He could distantly hear Triton muttering to himself as he presumably tried to figure out what to wear on a date, which wasn’t a topic Neptune reckoned he’d be able to help with unfortunately. And, as he rested in his orbit, he could hear the ever-present pulse of his core, and the breaths that left his body with only a little bit of crackling. 

And, he decided, that was much, much better than silence.