"Is he awake yet?"
Voices...
Galacta's mind seemed to surface from a bottomless blackness. He felt numb; his breath echoed in his ears, deafeningly loud.
"No."
The voices fell silent; he heard footsteps and then a door fell shut. Galacta tried to move, but lost his grip on his thoughts. His mind slipped back into darkness.
Moments later - well, he guessed it was moments, it could have been days for all he knew - Galacta came to a second time. He could hear someone breathing close to him. Then a rustle of textile, the sound of someone re-adjusting their position. He wanted to call out, but his mouth felt awfully dry. His fingers curled slightly; something, linen perhaps, brushed the back of his hands. There was linen under his fingers, too. Sheets?
Slowly, without moving anything else, he opened his eyes. Surprisingly soft, flickering light flooded his senses; torches or oil lamps, something primitive that used flames, the winged knight guessed. He turned his head; it felt like it had been filled with cotton and was pounding slightly. His vision was still a bit blurry, but he blinked rapidly and it cleared quickly.
"You are awake."
The voice belonged to a tall figure sitting next to... his bed, he assumed. The winged warrior recognized a dark blue cape, a metallic mask not unlike his own and a pair of yellow, glowing eyes focused on him. He also noticed how one hand moved to rest on what he guessed was a weapon's hilt.
"Sir Meta Knight, right?," he muttered, just to make sure. He grimaced when his throat hurt and he just barely managed to bite back a coughing fit.
The figure, now clearly visible to him, stood, blocking some of the light. Galacta watched Meta Knight nod. He shifted slightly to sit up, pushing himself back so he could lean his back against the headboard of what was indeed a bed.
"You have been out for two days," Meta Knight said and turned his head to the side to look at something out of Galacta's view, "In case you were wondering."
The winged warrior rose a brow. He had indeed wanted to ask that.
Looking himself over, he found that his armor had been taken off, just like his mask and his shirt. Bandages covered the majority of his chest and arms; they smelled of medicine and disinfectants.
"I am going to assume the king of this place is granting me his help, then?"
Sir Meta Knight turned back toward him and Galacta was sure he heard a very amused chuckle. What was so funny? Confused - and admittedly a little offended by being laughed at like this - he opened his mouth again to talk, but a violent cough came out instead. He fought it, but he still felt it in the back of his dry, raw throat.
Meta Knight had reached for a glass of water on a small table next to the bed and held it out for Galacta to take. The winged warrior felt a small sting of hurt pride, but he was too thirsty to focus on it, so he merely glared when he lifted his left arm to reach out. A clinking noise and his movement was forced to a stop - a chain had been wrapped around his wrist.
His gaze followed it to a metal hook on the wall. He turned his head around sharply to look at Meta Knight once more. The water forgotten, he narrowed his eyes at the blue warrior: "What is the meaning of this?"
He got an almost tired sigh and the other set the glass back down on the table.
"It's nothing but a safety measure to protect the castle's residents."
Galacta huffed angrily, wings flaring up behind him and knocking against the wall and headboard. "From me?," he asked, "What do you think what kind of warrior I am?" He tried to snap, but his voice cracked and he had to bite back another cough.
Sir Meta Knight folded his arms over his chest: "One who was once the most powerful warrior of the universe."
"Greatest," Galacta corrected, still angry. It was true he possessed a lot of power and skill, too, but this wasn't what defined his title.
"Either way, you do pose a potential threat to the residents, Sir Galacta Knight. Even without this title."
Galacta almost hissed; as if he needed to be reminded of his failure! And how could Meta Knight believe a knight of his Majesty, the Great King Magolor, would attack innocents? !
He opened his mouth to give Meta Knight a piece of his mind, but the other knight walked right past him toward the door without another glance. The heavy oak wood opened with and fell shut. Galacta was alone.
He glared at the spot where Meta Knight had disappeared angrily, then used his free hand to grab the glass of water on the nightstand. He downed it with quick, greedy gulps; the liquid stung, but it also felt incredibly relieving. His anger diminished - a bit.
He cast another glance toward the door, then looked around the room. It was small, so small in fact that his bed occupied the majority of the space, though it had been pushed into the very corner of the room. If he turned his head as far as he could to the left, he could see a small window with a pair of plain, white curtains closed in front of it. A tiny nightstand stood next to the bed with its simple linen sheets; the now empty glass and an oil lamp that threw flickering shadows over the walls blocked all available room on it. He also noticed a dresser, made of bleached wood, standing in a corner next to the door. A chair stood next to it and Galacta noted how his - currently rather damaged - armor and clothing had been placed on it. Right next to him stood another chair and Galacta assumed that this was where Meta Knight had been sitting while he waited for him to wake. The thought of this... this wannabe-Greatest Warrior watching him while he was unconscious caused the flame of his anger to flare once more. His fists clenched.
He shook his head slightly, biting back a small groan when it made him dizzy, and pushed back the covers. This wasn't going to help him, he had to take actions instead. The air felt surprisingly cool compared to the heat he remembered from when he had passed out. He turned and swung both legs over the edge of the bed. His head protested with another bout of nausea, but he fought it until it ceased.
Carefully, so he wouldn't fall, Galacta stood. The chain creaked complainingly. The pink-haired knight gave it an almost disgusted look and searched for his abilites deep inside of him. Without his lance it would be harder to channel them properly, but he would have to work with what he had.
Using fire was most likely a bad idea, seeing as this was metal and he didn't want to add burns to his injuries. The same went for lightning; shocking himself didn't strike him has a very good idea.
That left the wind. Great NOVA, he could only hope that that would work.
His mouth set in a firm line, he held two fingers outstretched over the chain a good deal away from his wrist and tugged at the magic that rested within his mind. He could feel just how weak it still was, but if he channeled it properly...
A weak, useless breeze shook the chain. Galacta frowned. He concentrated and started another try. This time, the wind came in a sharp, harsh wave that left a deep cut in the metal. An unpleasant pounding started in his head when he drained the wavering magic so quickly, but not even this could override the small pang of triumph. He yanked at his wrist a few times and the material ripped with a sharp CLANG.
Now it was an easy task to unwrap the chain and drop it on the bed. Galacta couldn't help but smirk slightly - he didn't need this Captain guy with the key. He walked over to the chair next to the door and picked up his shirt. To his surprise, someone seemed to have cleaned and repaired it. The linen was white and the golden stitching on the edges glowed slightly in the flickering light of the oil lamp. The repaired rips and holes littered the textile like scars and Galacta made a mental note to replace it soon.
For now, he was perfectly fine with it as it was though and he slipped into it quickly. His arm hurt when he forced it to move, adding to the extra difficulty his wings provided. He managed though, he had dressed himself while injured countless times before.
He was still wearing his pants, so all he had to put on after the shirt was his boots. A short glance at his armor told him that it would do him no good to try and wear it now - just as he had guessed when he first looked around the room, it was still in bad shape. He decided not to wear his mask either, he doubted he would get in a battle any time soon and he really saw no point in going through the trouble of putting it on with his horns when he didn't really need it.
The winged warrior looked around the room a last time, then pushed open the door Meta Knight had left through earlier. He would find the king and - as much as this would hurt his pride - explain what had happened, then ask for an escort or possibly a ship to return to his king. He was still worried about what his lord would say about him losing the title and he could almost hear the scorning laughter of his comrades - but still, he would have to face this eventually. And that would perhaps also help him understand the fragments of memories that showed him enclosed in crystal, immobilized and vulnerable, far away from his home... He shivered. Those weren't real. There was no way they could be.
He shook his head, hair flying from side to side, then set off to find the one in charge around here.
A rough breeze carried the scent of salt and seaweed across the coast. Well hidden between a ring of jagged, high rocks lay a camp of the Galaxy Soldier Army. To be honest, it was little more than a bunch of tents, set up so they formed a ring around a couple of camp fires that, now that it was early morning, only consisted of cold ashes.
In one of the tents, several bunk beds that looked like they would collapse as soon as you gave them a sharp look lined the walls. They held the newest recruits, young warriors who hadn't even trained for two full months yet. One of them, a boy with tousled, blue hair shifted under his blanket and yawned in his sleep, mouth opening wide to reveal two rows of milk teeth, before he rolled over.
Someone lifted up the lose piece of tarpaulin that formed the entrance and slipped inside. The light made it hard to see any details, turned the newcomer into a mere silhouette. With slow, quiet steps, they approached the bunk with the blue-haired boy. Said boy turned around again, muttered something, but didn't wake up. A slight, surpressed chuckle escaped the intruder when they leaned closer.
"Meta," they whispered very close to the boy's ear, "Meta, wake up!"
And with that, the intruder dropped a large lump of wet, salty seaweed on Meta's face. The reaction was imminent: He shot up with a cry, arms flailing, sputtering when the seaweed got into his mouth and icy water ran down his neck. His flailing quickly caused him to become tangled in his sheets and land on the floor.
He made a sound like "Urghmp" and glared up at the other, grabbing the drenched, green stems and chucking them at the silhouette. They dodged and laughed. Meta struggled out of the mess of textile he was wrapped into now and came to his feet, all the while wiping at his face furiously.
"Garlude," he grumbled, "Stop it!"
Garlude stepped aside and the light illuminated the side of her face instead, showing her fine, soft features better. Her skin had an almost beige tint to it and her eyes were more almond-shaped than Meta's. Her lilac, thick hair fell in elegant curls around her face.
"Hey, you two," a voice grumbled from the other end off the tent, "If you want to continue your daily prank-session, do it outside!"
Garlude giggled while Meta felt his face heat up and stammered an apology. He grabbed his friend by the wrist and led her outside.
Frost covered the sandy ground and the ashes that remained from last night's camp fires. Meta shivered slightly in the cool air.
"Why?," he asked through gritted teeth, "Why do you keep doing those things? We'll both get into serious trouble if you keep this up!"
Garlude only chuckled and ran one hand through her hair. She grabbed a piece of seaweed from Meta's shoulder and flicked it away.
"Oh NOVA," she replied finally, "You're taking things way too serious."
The boy looked up from where he had been inspecting the damage that had been done to his shirt and gave her a pained look.
"We're going to war here," he reminded her.
Garlude shrugged: "Still. Actually, that's even more of a reason. You know, Meta, there is enough depressing stuff happening already."
"Meta Knight," he corrected her, frowning slightly, then went back to looking at the stains on his shirt.
Garlude rolled her eyes: "Of course, how could I forget, oh mighty Star Warrior? Come on now," she said and grabbed his arm, "Lets get you cleaned up."
And with that, she dragged the protesting Star Warrior off towards the shore so he could wash his shirt.
Silence lay over the hallways while Galacta walked through the castle. He had passed by windows a while ago and found that it was night outside; stars glittered in the sky and a full, round moon cast milky light and gentle shadows over the walls. A few lone torches glowed weakly, flames nearly extinguished.
Silence filled the air and had it not been for the faint clicking noises of his shoes on the stone floor, Galacta might have believed that he had gone deaf. No guards, uh? Really, this place was... strange. Didn't they know how easy it would be for an intruder to secretly murder all of the royal family? !
He gave a small, displeased growl at the thought.
Then he stopped abruptly, wings perking up a little. He hadn't imagined that sound just now, had he? No, there it was again: footsteps. A lot quieter than his own, but that wasn't much of a surprise; after all, his boots were covered in metal to protect his feet in battle.
Galacta hesitated. He knew he shouldn't be wandering around the castle. Even if Sir Meta Knight had told the other residents about his presence, they would still expect him to be in that room from earlier. The knight shook his head slightly and bit back a sigh. There was no use in getting into a fight if he wanted the king of the castle to help him. He stretched his wings experimentally. They felt a little stiff, a bit sore even, but he would manage. He bent his knees a little and catapulted himself up, then gracefully beat his wings to steady himself. A quick look around revealed a balcony from the floor over the one he had been walking in. He maneuvered himself over to the railing - his wings whacked against the walls and ceiling painfully, but he managed to land safely. Crouching down on the fortunately rather wide balustrade, he folded his wings again and glanced down.
A young man was passing by where he had stood before. He wore an orange... uniform? The warrior wasn't quite sure if it was, but the spear the man carried fortified the idea that this was an uniformed castle guard. Well, that was to be expected, right?
He watched as the presumed guard walked by and disappeared around the corner. Galacta's muscles tensed when he readied himself to jump down again.
"What do you think you're doing, mister?"
The warrior jumped and nearly fell off his spot in a very ungraceful manner. Just barely, he managed to catch himself and turn around to face whoever had spoken. Light shone right into his eyes and he shut them instinctively. With one hand up to protect himself from the glaring brightness, he blinked them open again. Someone was pointing a flashlight at him. Flashlight and torches? What...?
'No', he decided, he would deal with this later.
The person who held the flashlight was a young girl in a dress, hair tied back into a ponytail that fell down barely to her hips. Large, green eyes were trained on him suspiciously. That girl had guts, encountering someone who was two and a half times her size and just confronting them, he noted. He had seen her before, hadn't he? When he first arrived, hadn't she confronted him then, too?
Absorbed in his own thoughts, he hadn't even noticed that he never answered her question. Brow furrowing, she put her free hand on her hip and insisted: "I asked you what you are doing."
Now how could he answer to that?
"I...," he hesitated for a second, then straightened up and forced more confidence into his voice, "I am in search of the king."
The girl stared at him with a mixture of disbelief and... was that amusement? At least she pointed the flashlight away from his face. Grateful for that, he let his hand fall down. She was glaring at him now, though he couldn't figure out why. Surely it was a good and reasonable thing if he wanted to talk to the ruler of this place?
But for some reason, her voice was cold when she answered him: "Well, King Dedede is asleep right now. And I can tell you that he wo-"
"Fumu!"
The sound of steps coming closer quickly interrupted her. Both the girl and Galacta spun around. Two people were running towards them. By their armor - and perhaps the drawn swords they held - the pink-haired knight decided they were knights. Meta Knight's knights. Were they out to get him?
He took a step back, hand straying over to where his lance usually was in its holster, but he only found empty air. NOVA curse it!
"Fumu, get away from him!," one of the knights called out and seconds later, he - Galacta was going to assume it was a guy by the pitch of his voice - had pushed the girl behind himself. She protested, but was ignored.
The second knight went and stood next to his comrade; both had their swords pointed at Galacta, but at least it was more of a defensive stance. The winged warrior took another step back, hands rising up slowly. It wasn't quite a surrendering gesture, but most definitely one to show he wasn't going to be aggressive. Pride or not, he was very well aware that he was unarmed for the moment and those knights weren't. He could probably take them out with his abilities alone, but it was hardly wise to start a fight in a castle he neither knew, nor had allies in. Talking it was, then.
"What do you think I was going to do to her?," he asked with an almost arrogant expression on his face, one brow risen, "Hurt her? She's just a kid."
There was a brief silence; Meta Knight's knights glanced at each other and nodded. To Galacta Knight's immense relief, they sheathed their swords.
"We will bring you to Sir Meta Knight then," the first one announced; his teal and brown armor reflected the light as he turned around, motioning for Galacta to follow. The warrior thought about protesting at first, then decided it would be quite rude to do so while he was in their castle. He didn't want to give his king a bad reputation on top of it all, so he nodded and obeyed, then started to walk between the knights. He kept his head and wings held high with pride though, not ready to admit defeat of any sort.
They had only gotten a few meters down the hallway when a call stopped them: "What about me?"
That girl again, Fumu, wasn't it? Galacta felt compelled to roll his eyes. Sir Meta Knight's knights had turned to look at each other again.
"What do you think, Blade?," the teal one asked his companion.
"I say we let her come along, if she wishes so," 'Blade' replied and Galacta decided that this one had to be a woman with such a voice. Quieter, she added: "You know she will follow us anyway, Sword. Fumu isn't one to give up easily."
Her fellow knight nodded slowly and waved for the girl to tag along and once she had caught up, the group started to walk a second time.
Sword, Blade and Fumu moved through the halls with the confidence of people who had been living here for decades. Galacta Knight however, as much as he hated to admit it, felt lost within minutes. In his eyes, this place was a freaking maze.
Neither of them talked on the way, not even Fumu who looked like she was the kind of person to ask a lot of questions. More guards like the one Galacta had seen earlier passed them, but they didn't show any interest in them. Secretly, the pink-haired warrior found them to be a bit unsettling with their entirely black eyes that followed the group until they were out of sight.
And then they rounded a corner and a bright dot in his mind that had been almost subtle before seemed to turn glaring, had it actually been a light. Even though light and brightness were the closest to what his kind felt there, it was still more of a metaphor. No words could describe what was actually there. It was quite an interesting topic, to be honest, but this wasn't the time for it. Not when the reason for the sudden increase of "light" stood about two meters ahead, in front of a large, wooden door.
Sir Meta Knight was talking quietly to a bulky looking man in a uniform similar to the ones the guards wore; he seemed tougher though, with a sword hanging from his belt and one eye covered by a large, orange patch. The two paused when the group showed up. Meta Knight turned back toward the man and muttered something; the addressed guard nodded briefly and left.
Sword and Blade led Fumu and Galacta Knight toward the door that had been left open; light fell into the hall there, outlining Meta Knight's form as a shadow on the ground.
The masked knight scanned the newcomers and for a brief second, his yellow gaze locked on Galacta's red one. The winged warrior narrowed his eyes, anger flaring up once more, but before his temper could bring him to make a rude remark, Meta Knight looked away.
"Please come in," he said and stepped through the door. Sword and Blade followed him immediately. Fumu glanced back at Galacta for a moment, then she entered the room, too. The winged warrior ruffled his wings and went after her with the bad feeling of stepping into a lion's den. They could kill him in there, dispose of the body, no one would ever know what had happened. He pushed that thought aside quickly. Since when had he become so distrusting? Three of them were knights, of course they would follow the Code of Chivalry!
The room behind the door wasn't very big; three seats stood in front of a TV; on the side lay a rug made of tied-together brushwood; a couple of shelves carrying books and jars of candy adorned the walls and a low table stood in a corner. There was a doorway visible on one wall, but whatever lay behind it was hidden by a long, lilac curtain.
'So this is where he lives,' Galacta Knight thought, and immediately after corrected himself, 'Where they live, of course.' He felt unreasonably uncomfortable about making that mistake. Because he was paying special attention to the wannabe Greatest Warrior, he decided. He didn't deserve any attention from him!
Shuffling his wings, Galacta went to lean against the wall next to the door. At the very corner of his mind, he found that this would put the smallest distance possible between him and the door, his only escape route, should he need it. The warrior almost visibly shook his head to push that thought aside again. He didn't have to be scare-, no, worried. Scared? As if!
His gaze wandered across the room again until it found the three knights and Fumu; they had sat down on the brushwood-mat, eyes locked on him.
"Judging from your faces, I'm going to assume you want to ask me something," the winged warrior said, careful to keep his voice calm and almost bored, "Go ahead then."
"Who are you?" Fumu spoke up first, before any of the knights even had a chance to open their mouths. She had obviously been holding her questions back before, but now they broke free.
"I know your name is Galacta Knight, but-," she continued until he interrupted her with a dismissive wave of his hand.
"That's Sir Galacta Knight for you, Miss," he said, "I happen to be the head of King Magolor's army and the Greatest Warrior of the universe," he narrowed his eyes slightly, but not enough to make his anger obvious, "Or more, used to be the latter."
This didn't have the effect he had hoped for. His lord was well-known all around the universe, he ruled the majority of it. But no, there were no signs of awe for him and his status. It was unsettling, really.
"Wait," Fumu spoke again, "Used to be?"
That wasn't the point he had been trying to make! His fists clenched when hurt pride sent the slightest hint of a red across his cheeks.
"Of course," he hissed, tone failing to stay neutral, "Only one warrior can carry this title."
The confusion radiating from Fumu, Sword and Blade unnerved him. Surely they had to know? Meta Knight must have been bragging with his victory? With his new title?
"We will discuss this later," the blue-haired knight cut into his thoughts and the authority in his voice silenced any questions his knights or Fumu might have wanted to ask. "Sir Galacta Knight," he continued, "The main questions we want to have the answers to are what you are doing here and what you plan on doing."
The winged warrior rose a brow and shifted a bit. Well then, shouldn't those be obvious?
"I woke up in a forest not far from here, so I went to seek out the local knights," he replied, voice smooth again, "As for what I plan on doing, for now I merely want to return to my king."
There was a pause. Galacta held Meta Knight's gaze; he hadn't been lying, at the moment he only wished to return to his lord's side. He would reclaim his title eventually, of course, but first he had to make sure... He wasn't even sure just what he had to assure himself of, just that he had to.
Sir Meta Knight eventually broke the silence: "Very well. We will gladly make sure you can return to your king. What planet is his castle on?"
A wave of relief washed over him, drowning out the annoyance at how a knight could make decisions without his king's consent. He would be able to go home! He was so close to seeing his friends and comrades again, he only had to tell them where. A slight smile appeared on his lips at the thought.
"Planet Popstar."
