Hail to the one
Kneel to the crown
Stand in the sun
She was always stronger than her brother. She knew that from the time they first encountered politics, when Nasch locked himself in his room in despair and and she spent her evening mapping out a solution by candlelight. As she looked at her tidy handwriting, she frowned. These words would never be for the priestess, the role she was born into.
There was an army on her shores, and a monster at her back. It stood large and tall, spoke of corruption and chaos, but she didn't falter.
"Fine, I'll become this 'Barian'. But in exchange, give me power to end this battle."
Her heart froze and she fell.
She awoke in a deep red world of jagged crystals. The depths of the sea had turned her skin gray, and the funeral veils had formed a majestic dress of white and gold. Her mouth was gone, and her body was as hard as rock, but she was still herself. Merag, always Merag.
She watched, from the mirrored jewels that moved to her command, Nasch lead his armies in her memory.
No, no, that's the most inefficient way to fight him, there's a God on your side!
She watched, as she played with the metal ends of her dress, Nasch corner that disgusting Vector in his own palace.
This is all wrong.
It ended in darkness, and she was left frowning at her crystalline screen.
Nasch also came into this strange world, and the first thing he did was embrace her. "You're here, you're here," he sobbed, glowing tears leaving streaks down his cheeks as he muttered his prayers. She held him too, but the more she heard him weep, the more she knew.
Her brother was too kind.
Chivalrous Durbe arrived next, not remembering a thing, but still bowing to them in loyalty and friendship. Even devoid of his armor, he still stood solid and proud. Then came scheming Vector, nail chewing and shuddering in bouts of his own madness. What a wretched, grotesque form he had to match his tarry heart. There came more of them along the years, even centuries after, all burning with the light of their own star. Together they were seven; a strong people, her people.
She called for Nasch to be the leader, and nobody dissented, so Nasch sat alone in his throne. He couldn't be relied on to make the right decisions for too long. He was too soft, and far too reckless. She was his darling sister, so whatever she whispered into his ear he took seriously. Let's observe the human world, she would say, and the next day Durbe was watching the Earth through the Baria Crystals. What's that blue sun in the sky? she would ask and Mizael was back in a week talking of a blue metropolis.
Nasch wore his crown and vocalized all of her words. He claimed to have his memory intact, but she could tell from his quiet retellings that some of his facts were dreadfully wrong. Well, let her darling brother think what he liked. She had no need to correct him; he was still himself and that was all that mattered.
"You work so hard," Nasch said, standing with his arms crossed, tall as a pillar of stacked ice cubes. "Thank you, Merag."
"Nasch," she whispered. He was born first as the older of the two, and he was very, very young.
They were both young when they revived. Even if she had no memories, she was still queen, and she knew exactly how to stomp her foot in front of Ryoga when he'd claw at his own thoughts. It was a vacation for the both of them, and she was pleasantly content, even while she forgot.
And then she remembered.
The throngs of soldiers that greeted her are Nasch's men. The young girl who copied her hairstyle stood here from Nasch's despair, too. They all rallied under Nasch, but they are under her care. They were her people, along with the Emperors she foolishly thought were her foes. We are going to survive, she swore, she would see that they would.
She'd walk where the dead died. She'd climb atop their red dust and broken bones. Let Nasch shed her tears and throw away her humanity. "There's only Merag now," she told her opponent. There was only ever Merag.
As a queen, she expected to be cornered at least once, but she would have preferred a knife at her throat than watching Vector leer at them from Nasch's toy throne. Durbe urged her to run, and she felt like a wretched coward, but she turned tail and ran into the Overlay Network. She couldn't afford to falter here, Vector's words were about as trustworthy as a venomous snake.
The stars erupted.
She didn't know how Nasch died, but she could picture him tearing free of his bonds and flying screaming to Durbe's aid. She wouldn't know, because they left no bodies when they died. She stopped running and fell to the ground. How she wept at the unfairness of it all, how she cried Ryoga, Ryoga, until she no longer had tears to shed anymore. She wiped her face with her gloves and stood. A queen couldn't be on her knees, a queen couldn't cry, even if she had no people left to watch over.
No. She was alive.
As long as she was alive, she would fight. She would deal out justice. Her opponents would pay.
How he laughed, laughed!
His madness clouds his vision.
She glared at him, and he saw the deep chilled prison of wrath gleaming in her eyes. It was all cold, as if she'd frozen all three suns at once. "Vector," she said, icily and calmly. "You destroyed us. You destroyed my people."
With every word of hers, he was realizing his mistake, and the look of growing horror on his face could fuel her for centuries.
"If you're expecting forgiveness, you won't get any."
Her three-pronged duel disc appeared on her arm with a flash.
"I'll bury you in ice."
Chaos Chimera roared loud and strong, its energy panels crackling with destructive light. Crystal Zenith, the princess, the dragon slayer, demolished its heart with a single blow. Vector screamed, patches on his human body blackened with frostbite blisters. A delicious icy treat for the Barian God.
Don Thousand, that wretched being, reborn from the lotuses and poised against her and Yuma. He thought she was just the sword of the king. He thought she was just one of his meals to dine on in triumph. What a fool.
The queen is the strongest piece on the chessboard, don't you know?
Yes, she was a sword. But not Nasch's. Her own.
Yuma was brave, but even as he dueled by her side, she would look to him and think of how soft he was even in his strength. How unfortunate all of this was. She shook her thoughts out of her head. This was fate. He was a kind boy, and even as they stood united, they would have to be foes.
Don Thousand was gone. This world had only four.
"Imoshark," Yuma said, and even that was nostalgic.
Nasch fought with his heart and not his mind. He'd falter the moment he faced Yuma. She was not Nasch.
"This is the end, so allow me to introduce myself." She gave him a polite curtsey, and even battered from duel after duel, she looked divine in the precipice between worlds. "I am Merag. The queen of the Barian Emperors! Tsukumo Yuma, Astral, for all of our sakes, I'll defeat you both here!"
Her body burned with the glory of her star as she donned her Barian form once again. "Nothing personal."