A/N: Hello, chirunos here. At the urging of a friend, I've decided to mirror this from ao3 and update as the story continues on.
More important note: This is an AU. In a loose sense, more like, since I'm heavily drawing from the chronology of Smash games and the world of trophies presented in Subspace Emissary-but still an alternate universe, because everyone here has been born and raised in Smashworld, and Smashworld is not a land without legends and history, cultures and systems and government and all that jazz. Please enjoy!
When I was in school, I'd been taught the theory that every being—everyone with free thought—shared a hidden, unspoken commonwealth of knowledge and experiences that, most likely, is the reason why the same archetypes of characters are found in all kinds of stories and legends worldwide… and even in today's history-in-the-making, as they say, since there seems to be no shortage of heroes and heroines out to rid the world of evil.
Some months ago a single drop of evil stained the waters of our peace here in Smashworld, and, through a series of ordeals and toils, we have managed to reclaim what is rightfully ours.
As First Consort of a people wholly committed to Smashworld's development, I suppose I should have been more involved with this whole ordeal in the first place. But now, I can duly contribute—I have penned this story after weeks and weeks of listening (and re-listening) to the stories of everyone involved.
I've learned a great deal just by playing the scribe. It seems even the smallest things we do have quite the effect.
In any case, this is their story. Not mine. For it was their hope, their friendship, their strength of will, that allowed us many more joyful days together. I have done my best to weave some comprehensive narrative of the aforementioned events, beginning with that morning that would go so wrong. And then, from there, both you, dear reader, and I can only watch as the story unfolds.
I shall say nothing more from here. To speak more on this matter might be "messing with the passage of fate," as a dear friend of mine would say.
What you will to do with this after reading is a matter that is yours entirely.
—Signed by the Author,
M. Antiqua
