Disclaimer: Any resemblance this fanfic has to anyone else's is pure coincidence. I've only read a few fics that pertained to what I'm writing about, and none of them portrayed things in the way I've been wanting to. Also, I apologize for the errors you will inevitably find, it's been a while since I wrote anything.
A Small Gift
Chapter 1
After bidding farewell to Kirby and his friends, Landia and the Lor Starcutter vanished into a star-shaped, shimmering portal. Within that portal, the vastness of dimensional space greeted them, and they flowed through it like fish in a suspended river. After a time of wading past countless sparkling stars, a second portal opened before them, this time revealing the welcoming glow of their home, Halcandra. But rather than going straight to the bubbling nesting place held in the searing, yet comfortable heat of the volcanic hills, the ship and the four independent segments of Landia veered to the outskirts of the massive mechanical factory that dominated the rest of the region.
Out in these lands, further away from where machines were produced, and the sounds of constant pounding and hammering was as distant as a whispering wind chime, there was a long-abandoned settlement that once housed a bustling village. Here, the earth was cracked from dry air and dead soil. Houses that were proud and beautiful at one time now sagged where they stood, little pieces of themselves chipping away everyday like quiet tears. Bigger pieces fell without the support of the smaller pieces, making holes in walls and roofs, littering debris on floors. Some houses were so far gone that only wooden, splintered limbs protruding from the ground remained. The items inside them suffered exposure to the elements, filthy and crumbling against the harsh, dusty air.
The Lor Starcutter found itself a place to roost its gleaming hull in a mound of rust-colored dirt, settling its silvery oars down to rest, the ship looking as glorious and radiant as the stars themselves against the dilapidated village. Landia touched down as well, landing on many claws nearby the vessel as the four separated dragons looked around, searching and seeking with their large, yet knowing eyes.
One dragon lifted back up into the air, going in a spiral towards the towering factory, beating its wings quickly and swiftly. Before long, it was swooping around tall metal structures and under humming conveyor belts, passing the ever-working robots and hurriedly spinning cogs, peering around for something specific. Although nothing with a living, beating heart remained in this place, in its glory days, it was something created to make life better for the people that had poured themselves into its construction. One such machine, maintained and polished by the robots with mindless efficiency, still continued its role of producing a verity of food for mouths that were no longer around to satisfy. When the food piled up, the robots would toss it out, never thinking to turn it off, thus leaving it to serve its only purpose endlessly. This dragon came down where the belts pulled plates of fresh, synthetic food out of the metal interior of the machine, made to look and taste just like the real thing, steaming and supple and inviting. With care and dexterity, the dragon picked up by the tip of its mouth a plate of meat dumplings, and with even more care and attention to balance, it flew back.
The second dragon ran on its feet into one of the houses that still had its walls standing. With wings tucked to its sides, it nosed around, going in and out of the small rooms, gazing over tired furniture, the drooping doors of cabinets, fallen baubles of sentimental value, and faded paintings held crooked on the likewise faded walls. This part of Landia now entered a room with a small bed. Its attention came to a blanket on the bed, its color a washed out baby blue, its edges frayed and various holes in its weave. Otherwise, it was mostly intact, enough to keep a person a little warmer on a cold night. This dragon plucked up the blanket in its mouth, and pulled it slowly off the bed as to avoid stretching those delicate woven threads. It made its way back outside.
The third dragon took to the skies, circling around the village, directing its piercing stare to the houses, between the houses, and around the houses. Like the other parts of itself, Landia was seeking something specific, gliding around in the air until it found a simple, metal water pail laying lonely on its side. It swooped down, dragging its feet into dirt until it came to a stop. This dragon then turned, and picked up the pail in its mouth by the thin, cold handle. The bucket had dents all over, and holes inside, but fortunately, none of those holes were at the bottom, so it could still carry about half as much as it normally could without loss, if handled properly. Landia sought to fill this pail with water, but knew that the village well was as dry as the stones it was crafted with. It instead flew back to the metal city, alive in comparison to the village with its whirring parts and dancing electricity. Tracking down one of many hovering rectangular stretches of water, Landia dragged the bucket through the fluid, filling as much as the holes would allow. Though stagnant and stale, the water was still drinkable. This dragon was quick to return with the dripping bucket.
And lastly, the fourth dragon remained in the village, walking around on its stubby legs, peering around assertively. It moved from one house to another, stopping at each one to stare at it analytically for a time, as if trying to sense something invisible before moving onto the next house at a steady pace. Landia stopped at one particular house, one that was in better shape than the rest, though barely. The dragon stared, and stared some more, seeing, listening, feeling. It nodded to itself, the motion made almost unseen. And while still staring, it now waited, doing nothing else.
Where this dragon waited outside the door of this house, another dragon returned with a worn blanket in its mouth. Then another dragon returned carrying a half-pail of water. Then the last dragon returned with a plate of still steaming food. The four of them whom settled on the ground with their items now stared at this house, together, quietly. The night sky shined above them with glittering stars, in patches where the fog of the factory and soot from the volcano didn't blot them out.
After a while, Landia decided now was the right time. The dragon holding nothing pressed its head against the brittle door, and with strained creaks, pushed it open wide enough for the other three to make their way in. The interior showed a few rooms more, in better shape, as the occupants of this particular house stayed around a bit longer than the rest. Those ones had big dreams, big hopes, and a lot of love. As if the essence of these ancient emotions still remained, frozen by time, hidden in walls and resting on furniture, the four dragons stood there, staring up, sensing and feeling in the dead silence. It was another extended moment of stillness before the fourth dragon proceeded further, waddling slowly to a smaller room with another closed door, which it gingerly nudged open.
Despite its wear, this room was cozy, managing to survive without suffering holes or gaps. A single window where light filtered through made a painting on the opposite wall well bleached from its daily presence, but only the gentle glow of the distant volcano was keeping the room illuminated enough for things to be visible now in the night. A closed, dusty chest of old trinkets and knickknacks rested next to an even older wooden bed, one that lacked any sort of sheets, but still carried a little mattress with brittle springs, and a smaller pillow with no fluff left in its feathers.
It was this bed that Landia approached, the dragons carrying items entering the room behind the dragon carrying nothing, and setting their objects down on a withered rug over the floor for now. The eight blue eyes stared at a small form resting on the old bed. Adorned in blue and white and gold, eyes closed, gloved hands limp against the mattress, Magolor laid on his side, not sleeping, but unconscious. A dragon's nose made contact against his cheek, rocking gently against him a few times, and then a few times more, repeating until consciousness slowly began to rise within a mind previously occupied by darkness. The nudging started to register as a feeling, and awareness of not knowing what was touching him surfaced shortly after. In a brief panic, as if trying to fight off a horrid nightmare, Magolor's hands swatted at the dragon's face in a random flailing, terror gripping him even before he could open his eyes to see what was there.
Landia permitted a few slaps to that face before backing away from the bed, giving Magolor more room to have his little awakening struggle. Those gloved hands continued to fly around himself until he realized he was hitting empty air, and with that, his dimly glowing yellow eyes blinked open in a tired strain. Initially, he couldn't see well enough to determine his location, nor the presence of Landia, everything being in an unfocused blur. He sat himself upright on his spherical tush, rubbing his eyes with his hands to coax his vision into working properly. Hands removed, he tried again to see. Things were a little clearer now, focus gradually returning and images becoming discernible. And the first thing Magolor recognized was the eight blue orbs focused on him, perpetually angry and staring relentlessly.
"Landia..." he spoke.
With that word, he realized his mouth was dry, and an itch in his parched throat made him stop talking as a sudden coughing fit attempted to ease the irritation. One dragon promptly lifted the pail of water, and it passed from one head to another until it was placed on the bed, directly in front of Magolor. He took notice of this after the coughing passed, and upon seeing the clear fluid inside, he quickly lifted the bucket to lips that were hidden just under his scarf, drinking quietly and earnestly, with the holes facing away from him as to not let any spill. The water wasn't particularly refreshing, but it did quell his throat and hydrate his mouth. Once the fluid was all drained, he sighed out in relief, setting the bucket down and pushing it away from himself, putting a sad gaze on the eyes watching him.
Had this situation been something that occurred in the past, he knew well that he would have tried to flee Landia's impending wrath. He would have first tried to fight it off away from himself, and failing there, he would instead run. If cornered, he would have been terrified, fighting with whatever he had left to preserve his own life. Even though it was only a short time ago that he would have done these things, such reactions seemed so long and far away, like they were ages past. The difference between then and now was that he had the clarity of knowing true fear. Landia wasn't the menacing force it had been to him before. He'd only just woken up from experiencing things far, far worse.
Not knowing what else to do, Magolor put his palms to the mattress in front of himself, and tipped his oval body to be bowing down before the four dragons, his eyes closed.
"I'm.. sorry..." he stated uneasily. "For everything..."
One of the dragons' maws opened as Landia responded, "You had been warned. You were told not to do this. You didn't listen."
Magolor nodded mournfully. Landia continued, its many stares as harsh as the glare of a sun.
"You came here, to Halcandra, seeking the power of the Ancients. You sought that power for your own selfish gains. You were told the Master Crown was dangerous. You tried to take it by force. Then you stole the Lor Starcutter, and you tried again. You attacked Landia with the Ancient vessel. And when that failed..."
Magolor could feel those eyes on him even harder than before. He visibly cringed as his hands when into a strained grip on the mattress, but otherwise made no movements.
"..You got someone else to attack Landia for you. You lied to them to achieve this. You then stole the crown."
One by one, each head of the dragon spoke.
"Liar." said one.
"Thief." said another.
"Selfish." one hissed.
"Greedy." said the last.
"And..stupid." Magolor finished the train of thought in a broken voice. "I had no idea. I never thought...I never imagined..."
"And you never listened." Landia interjected.
"I never listened," he admitted. "All I wanted..was to be strong..."
Magolor sighed heavily into the mattress. He remembered how it all started. He had lived in Another Dimension for as long as he could remember. He didn't have parents, essentially surviving there by himself. Whether or not that was where he really was born, he didn't know. But the Sphere Doomers native to the place didn't take kindly to his presence. Even when Magolor was very young, those monsters would often chase him around, gleeful to his fearful nature and vulnerability, tormenting him at every opportunity to do so, cackling, screeching, biting at him. Magolor was forced to live most of his life fleeing and hiding from the danger they presented to him as a daily activity for their own amusement. The day he had enough of their menace was the day he decided he needed to be strong. Strong, powerful, so that he could finally fight back. So that he could get revenge on them.
Magolor eventually figured out how to manipulate the many wormholes winding in and out of Another Dimension, and used them to travel around the galaxy. He visited many places, and spoke with many creatures, but never permitted any of them to have his trust. He learned of Halcandra, of the Master Crown, and of Kirby. Especially Kirby. The name came up so often, he realized this would be someone he might yet meet. But his priority was to the Master Crown. If he could rule the universe, then those Sphere Doomers would never mess with him again. He would have the power to end them once and for all, and he was willing to do anything it took to achieve this. Any deception, any violence, any crime would be worth it all if he could have the last laugh!
"Vengeance. Hatred." said Landia coldly, as if feeling Magolor's thoughts. "You didn't want to be strong. You wanted to inflict suffering. And that's exactly what Landia warned you about. The Master Crown can sense these things in the hearts of those who wear it. Only those who can resist dark desires can resist the will of the crown. You ignored these warnings."
"I thought..I could handle it..." he sighed defeatedly. "But...I was wrong..." Magolor shuddered subtly with the burden of knowing just how wrong he had been.