They've gotten so much worse.
In one hand, the wand limply grasped; the other, a palm pressed against her breast - a desperate bid to slow her heart's frantic palpitations. It hadn't stopped, not since she and Marco'd simultaneously woken up. It's been going on for so long that Star almost thought her mighty love-sodden ticker broke, it was under so much stress. Coupled with a maelstrom sickly roiling in her guts, and her legs could no longer bear the egregious weight of it all.
Star's back slapped against the bathroom door as soon as a socked foot shut it behind her. The princess dragged herself down its length, negligent to her nightie riding up past her waistline, or her ample mane hitching against it until it tumbled over in a wild mess across her cheeks and shoulders. As soon as her butt hit the ground Star's scrawny legs were pulled into a hug - a substitute for Marco, albeit an emotionally unsatisfying one. Several breathes huffed into her knees as she stared bug-eyed at the floor in front of her; she must have looked like a crazy person, and she was sure Marco had his suspicions now if he didn't before.
But Star didn't care - she didn't care if Marco were to suddenly figure it out as he was taking his shower, barge in right then and there all soaking wet and naked and start hollering up a storm.
She didn't care.
They're getting so, so much worse, the thought passed through once more. Star couldn't help herself, it was the only thing on her mind. What else could she possibly do or say?
Earth-sky is blue, Mewni-sky is pink.
Rainbows are beautiful.
And Marco's dreams had gotten worse. No, Star decided in that instant, they've gone beyond worse - they were horrifying.
That isn't to say they weren't bad before, they were awful from the start - Star vividly remembered that first night. Luckily though, Mewberty-Star had only gotten as far as unbuttoning Marco's skinny jeans before she found herself on the receiving end of a wrathful Strawberry Shockwave.
Star had come to dislike the evenings, and not solely because of Marco's dreams. Nighttime was when the day's excitements were absent, or rather, in Star's mind, the day's distractions. For on nights where he slept sound, and Star had little reason to be out of her room, the princess was left alone with her thoughts.
And her thoughts always turned to Marco's dreams. Often she would catch herself wondering which ones have already occurred across the long, torturous weeks before Marco had a magical princess to rescue him every other night. How many horrors did that poor Earth-boy endure without her? Star didn't want to know, yet another part of her did, but the loudest of all reasoned that she shouldn't care - they were just nightmares: twisted, spooky imagery crafted by a deranged monster intent on hurting her best friend. That was it. They held as much weight as the wind in her hair.
Star told herself as much on mornings such as these, where her negativity became particularly unbearable, and she would drill and drill the absurdity of it all into her head until she felt confident enough to look Marco in the eye again without feeling the urge to hug him. And the day's distractions, or, the excitements would continue to make a point as to how foolish she was being: real life was normal, it was innocent, fun even, as if she'd forgotten what that means! Watching television, playing games, squatting in detention with Janna Banana or fangirling with Starfan13, dimension hopping with Marco; these felt real.
And yet, so did Marco's dreams.
The coppery tang of blood some nights, the musk of a mewman in heat on another; the gravel crunching beneath her feet, the tremors that shook her arms whenever a spell was fired off, the warmth of Marco Diaz every time she hugged him, his body quake in her arms, and the tears that always soaked her through her dress and gave an idea as to why Marco hated wet socks...
These, too, felt real. Startlingly, achingly real.
At least to Star they did. To her, when the boundary between nightmare and reality was blurred, no, annihilated with a vengeance by the Dream Walker's Incantation, Marco really was in peril; he really was about to have horrible things done to him, and, Mewni forbid, he probably... he already...
Nope, no, nope. Star purged the thought on instinct. I woke up Marco, like, one, two minutes max after he started having one. He's never slept through without me there to snap him out of it. So there's no way they ever did those things to him.
Tonight was no different, however. And Star detested her own inability to control herself, as much as she hated the thick, dull pain that would surface in the back of her eyes whenever these thoughts came, heralding what was just begging her to be released, and all the aches and grossness she kept bottled up inside that came with it.
No. The word echoed in Star's thoughts with as much authority as the night she'd defeated Toffee. No, silenced all other thoughts, all other pesky emotions that tried forcing their way out.
Star was a princess.
Star couldn't let Marco know. Not yet, at least.
Facts, that's what those were, and they were enough to keep a cap secured on her emotion-bottle.
And nigh-every morning Star would find herself on the brink of plummeting down, down into a pit of her own mind; the swallowing darkness that were questions suffocating her, and driving her mad; a flood unbidden of obsession that would drive Star like an addict, until she rendered herself disturbed as she was horrified:
How many times, how far it's gotten, why oh why had she not done this sooner? These questions raced like hamsters on a wheel, neverending, never straying.
It was almost, almost too much for the fourteen-year-old princess to bear, and despite her assurances of "I'm a princess" and "I'm doing this for Marco," she didn't know why she found herself so darn scared of things that weren't even real, things that would never happen, so long as future-Queen Star Butterfly had a say in the matter.
But she crammed them down, squashed that feeling like a bug because she was doing this for Marco and she was a strong princess that just saw some scary dreams. Real life, that's where the true horrors lied. Toffee kidnapping Marco, that was real. Ludo coming back from the dead, and all his monsters, butchering their friends indiscriminately?
The idea was so ridiculous that Star wanted to laugh aloud. She could practically simulate the field day her mother would have if she'd heard what was going through her daughter's mind.
"You are a queen in training!" Moon Butterfly scolded. "There are more important things you should worry about than ridiculous fantasies that could never happen!"
And with that, like so many familiar mornings before, Star's head jerked upright. Her face suspended a furrowed brow, lips parted slightly, and coupled with a startled gaze. She blinked, her thoughts reiterating themselves in her mind until, suddenly, her legs slacked in front of her.
For Mewni's sake, moaned her internal monologue, and then aloud into her hands, "These aren't even REEEAL-UH!"
With a huff, Star pushed herself to her feet and strode to her walk-in closet, nightgown falling clumsily down her thighs. "I'm Star Butterfly," the princess grumbled, "a strong-willed warrior princess, who isn't afraid of silly, try-hard dream-demons. I'm supposed to be better than this."
No, scratch that - she knows she's better than this!
With a hand to her hip Star opened the door to her walk-in closet, announcing to all the cute outfits that cared to listen, "Alright day, bring it on!"
Her roving eye caught an outfit already presenting itself to her: green-white striped leggings, and the navy-blue dress with rainbow stripes. Her red boots sat underneath.
On normal days Star would smile in content, greeting her classic ensemble like an old friend.
Today she wasted no time in yanking it off the rack with one hand, snatching the boots in the other, and leaving her closet ajar. The outfit was thrown across her bed.
"I'm fourteen," came from under her breath. Star gripped the hem of her nightie, and with a definitive "Hwah!" she reached for the heavens, flinging the nightwear off her body in a short arc above her head.
Star dropped her arms like they were full of rocks, yet her hands came to tenderly massage her cream-colored shoulders. "I've fought worse than a bad dream, things that were real."
"I don't want your wand. Destroy it," a mild-mannered slimeball echoed in her mind.
What followed made her cringe like a bad taste left in her mouth: "You cannot run away from yourself, Marco."
Star grew annoyed at the shiver that ran down her back. "Just a dream." On any other day, such a phrase would be a cheerful observation by Star Butterfly. Now it was uttered like some crude prayer. "They will never be real." Star had her eyes on the outfit before her, although they were looking at something that wasn't even there.
In place of the super cute outfit she'd picked out, Star instead saw herself, tattered in green, bleeding black from the eyes and speaking in unholy tones, like a chain-smoker too close to the microphone.
Star offered a meager little laugh at her own comparison - it was the best she could do to make light of what she saw. Just who was it she was dealing with? Where did he come from? Did it matter?
Better yet, why in the name of corn did Star even care!? She's faced far worse than some stupid dream-demon mucking up her bestie's dreams. So what if he conjured the sickest, messed-up fantasies a monster could think of?
Just who the heck does this guy think he is? Star wondered. And why would he give Marco a key? These questions were pushed aside quick as they came - Star made a rule, not to mix her dream-life with real-life, and decided these were questions for when she could actually do something to answer them.
It was funny to Star, how just a year ago the thought of putting time, thought, work and effort into solving such a mystery sounded about as appealing as being queen. Now, however, she was given a reason to care: to save her best friend from the clutches of an evil dream-demon.
Twisted fantasies to toy with Marco every night - that's all they are, nothing more. So what if he made Marco into her forced mate?
Or her personal footstool?
Or turned him into the princess's plaything?
Her maid, even?
They meant nothing, not built from the foundations of reality like true dreams were. Manipulation and conjuration - that was the typical motif of dream-demons, and all evidence points to that being the culprit.
One night replayed the fateful events at Ludo's. It was so bafflingly familiar, right down to the exchange between her, Ludo and Buff Frog. The monsters she'd often fought had become grotesques, their proportions deformed like they were reflections peeled from fun house mirrors, yet all were in the exact same place as before. For a while Star thought she'd stumbled across a real, true nightmare of Marco Diaz, but the niggling bug of curiosity bit hard, and so with curiosity she played her part - she did the spells, kicked some butt, tried many times to free Marco, but with little success. Star did everything she'd done before, even destroying the wand when Toffee asked her to without a second thought.
Only this time, he spoke with the demon's ghostly tongue, and unlike the real Toffee, he did not release Marco. He laughed and cursed while Star screamed and begged, forgetting that it wasn't real until it all of a sudden ended with the crystal pressing a little too hard on her best friend.
He'd trapped her in Marco's own dream, it seemed. Star was sure the next night, whenever that may come, would be equally as terrible.
And it came, and it was worse. And great, I'm thinking about it again.
Star snapped back with a start. Her eyes whizzed about for several seconds, blinking ebbing sleepiness out of her eyes - Was I just falling asleep while standing? Once upon a time, the princess would be impressed with herself.
Now, though, she gingerly lifted one foot at a time, peeling off each sock. While leaning over to remove the second, movement in the corner of her eye startled the princess. Like a whip her gaze snapped to attention, and in her delirium Star's hands nearly shot up to cover herself, until she realized with a light blush who it was.
On the opposing wall, her mirror-phone stared back, presenting quite the caller on the other end: a skinny blonde with pale skin and little else that was particularly remarkable, currently having a mental crisis in her underwear.
She and Star ogled one another just long enough for the princess to start feeling ridiculous.
"Alright Star," the princess murmured low, "time to find reality and get a grip on it."
She slid her leggings on with ease, followed overhead by the dress. With dexterous movements Star busied one hand adjusting her straps, while the other freed her golden mane caught inside. A rushed finger-comb to groom herself, before sliding the devil-horned headband behind her ears to keep it all restrained, but not aggressively so. Star floofed her bangs a bit, checking herself in the mirror, and smiled bright after decreeing them perfect. Never did she spend hours in front of the mirror getting ready for the day like her mother; she felt the time would be better spent on having fun.
With this in mind, came her final and favorite component to the outfit - a studded bracelet. Star didn't know precisely what material it was made from, but the weighty metal sent chilled shocks down Star's wrist on contact, though she liked the sensation and quickly grew accustomed. The rustic charm of her treasured affection clashed with everything Star was supposed to be - a prim and proper princess. Wearing it to her family reunion was sure to raise a couple eyebrows, and the fantasy brought an impish smirk to Star's lips.
She and the mirror-girl grinned to one another. Looking cute? Check, check, and triple check!
Ready for the day, Star had little else to do but wait for Marco. Knowing him, that could take upwards a half-n'-hour. That boy is fussier than a queen when it comes to getting ready. The distinctive hiss running on the other side of the bathroom door made Star groan dramatically as she flopped down on her bed.
It took one second for boredom to set in.
"Marcoooh," she moaned loud enough to hear herself in the vastness of her bedroom, "hurry uuuuup!"
As if on cue, the hissing stopped. Star's face fixed with puzzlement, but lightened up with a satisfied yip. Seconds later, and Star could swear she heard the faint chords of 'Awesome Feeling' alternating between being sung and hummed by Marco Diaz.
She considered encouraging him to belt out the lyrics with all his little heart, but Star decided against it, not wishing to ruin his good mood.
"You deserve it, bud."
It was intended as a well-wish to any who cared to listen, except Star's words were tainted with something gross, and she did not catch herself in time before they passed her lips. The way she'd muttered these words was something akin to bitterness, except Star had been scolded by her mother more times than she cared to remember, and thus knew what that felt like. This was not bitterness.
Star's memory recalled the rare times this specific feeling had surfaced, but they were completely inconsequential to what was happening now. For how was lying in bed, thinking about Marco, anything like the times Pony Head would show off a new pair of skinny jeans she'd bought, or a different shade of lipstick, or their now-precious dimensional scissors?
With that last memory came sound: "Dimensional scissors!? Augh! Jealous!"
Star blinked at the canopy above her bed - jealous? Immediately she understood why, the cause of it all, but that just made Star feel ashamed: was she actually envious over Marco, for something he couldn't even control?
He was lucky though, never recalling any of the things his little dream-self endured. But the boy Star had saved every other night was just so much like her best friend, it hurt her to see him like that. Even if he and the whole scenario was just a ruse.
A shake of the head to try and purge this faint malcontent, but to little avail; Star continued feeling that stupid, green monster stomping around in her guts. Goodness, these dreams really were getting to her.
Star distracted her mind with other matters. They were all for naught, however, for every instance she would imagine herself in detention with Janna on Monday, getting into trouble, Star would instead see Jackie's body, or the calamity around her, or Ludo's terrified face as he flew back into the detention hall, glowworm stuck to his belly - that moment only lasted half a second, and Star only remembered a red haze tinting that moment, but for whatever reason this image felt like it was burned into her memory with a hot iron.
She shook her head. Maybe a date night with Pony Head and the Bounce Lounge was in order, give Marco some space and herself a bit of fun to clear her head - goodness knows it's been a while since she'd spent the night dancing her cares away. Memories of her favorite hangout surged forth, and were happily accepted by the princess. Nostalgia came in the form of DJ Jump-Jump's latest mix, thumping away in the echoes of her past life as a backdrop: for the cares of the Universe, and all her anxieties, just melting away like sand between one's fingers, for Star rollicking with her old crew, and the phantom burn of that purple goo Pony dared for her to drink last year.
A veritable home away from home, and Star found herself longing for it. But not for too long, for another track started and she heard Pony Head screaming over the thunderous melody, "Get up there and let loose, girl!"
And so she did - the bouncy rhythm, the stuttering lights, all the creatures from every dimension all around her, coming here to bump sweaty bodies and forget their problems too?
It got Star shaking; it got her flicking her hips, knees bending to the beat while she bobbed her head and chewed her lip with focus intense on her moves.
That's all it was - dancing and fun. Nothing more. Nothing more than Pony Head once again eating something she wasn't supposed to, trying it with Kelly and Tad and then watching them across the lounge, passed out and lost amidst their throes of pleasure in one of the booths. Johnny Blowhole was the center of attention where Star was not, tearing up the dance floor like it were canvas and he an artist. Upon DJ Jump-Jump's square head sat Headphone Jones, yelling incomprehensibly to the screaming patrons of the Bounce Lounge, and Lady Scarfs-a-Lot would periodically fly overhead, host in tow. Star, and the whole universe it seemed, was having a grand old time until the Bounce Lounge grew dark.
Once second later, all noise ceased - all the music, cheering, even any panting. Nothing, not even an echo. It was like someone just pulled the plug on the universe.
But Star kept pumping her fists to music she pretended to hear. "Pony?" she called, not opening her eyes. A familiar voice echoed back; her movements slowed. "Guys?"
Unease bled into her skin, making her hairs stand on-end. When Star opened her eyes the world was blacker than shadow, the world beneath her feet had turned red, and when she tried lifting her feet, a cloying stickiness was felt sucking them back down.
"Wha...?" the princess breathed, eyes roving and wide with confusion. When Star breathed in, she tasted copper. "What's happening?" Her breath ghosted before her.
Marco's voice was in her ear, "Wake up, Star."
"NYAH!"
Her fist instinctively flew forward, striking something soft that cried out on impact. The sound gave Star a scare, and she stuttered, blinking many times until the darkness, the red, and the Bounce Lounge made way for her bed, her room, and Marco splayed across the ground, one hand grasping at his chest.
"St... ar..." he groaned.
It took the princess several seconds of staring shellshocked to realize what had happened. In an instant she was off her bed and kneeling beside Marco, propping his head on her lap. "Marco, you know better than to sneak up on me!" she admonished. A finger brushed his once-groomed hair out of his eyes. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"
The boy merely wheezed, "Shower's free," and Star rolled her eyes - he was okay.
"I took one last night, but don't change the subject Mister!" Star fretted like a worried sister, as she cast concerned eyes down upon her friend's. "Your squishy Earth-body could have been seriously hurt, you know."
Star could take Marco's flailing fists during his night terrors with no problem - mewmans were a durable people, after all. But humans, even someone as strong as Marco, were incredibly fragile by comparison, and Star's own strength, both natural and conditioned, had the potential to be dangerous. Marco already had a taste of it whenever she trapped him in one of her patented "literally bone-crushing" hugs.
"My bruised pectoral will remind me in the future," Marco said while sitting up, wincing all the while. He was in his typical red hoodie/black skinny jeans combo. With a sigh and a hasty comb of his hair, he turned to her with a feeble smile and asked, "You ready to go?"
Star gave an eager nod. "Yeah! Let's go meet the family."
"Alright." Marco sent a smile her way as he helped her up.
The smile was like an arrow through the heart - so soft and lamblike and sweet and just so Marco. Star wanted to protect that smile; she wanted to protect the boy who made it, hug him, and tell him it was all going to be okay.
She hoped that what she felt inside didn't show to Marco, especially back in his bedroom, when it all was so fresh in her mind. Within the dreamscape Star could hold herself just fine - the rush of battle was still strong, and she was intent on banishing the nightmares and protecting her bestie. It was when she saw him safe and sound and awake and oblivious to it all, that it became hard to ignore what she'd seen.
Star knows blood - she was no stranger to the shedding of it from monsters and, a few times, herself, and although she was never witness to a slaughter like last night, she'd seen the aftermath of a particularly gruesome village raid orchestrated by some bold monsters, once upon a foggy day, when she decided eight was old enough to leave the castle (and it was, thank you very much, Mom).
So badly Star wanted to say something to him, assure him that she would never, ever let Ludo or anyone else hurt him or their friends. Not even herself. I will never let people die for my wand, Star thought to herself.
It was a pledge, at first. Then she repeated it to herself as she chatted with Marco, followed him into the bathroom, slid against the door, and once more, just right now.
I will never let people die for my wand. Never ever ever.
To her dismay, she'd once again made a crude prayer. But Star was under an obligation, borne of her own volition to keep Marco happy. Embracing him the way she desired, promising the things she wanted to promise, it would have made Marco worried about her (because darn it, he just cared so much about other people!).
For this time Star, in one of the few, rare instances in her life, could not simply do as she pleased. For once, she had to consider the consequences, and knew that in acting upon her desires would have been completely out of the blue. That would raise suspicions, and suspicions birthed questions. And once she started Star just knew she would have no hope of tricking Marco once her tongue started flying. It was always a problem of hers, especially when she felt as guilty as she did now.
Bad enough Star was hiding her escapades from him already, but if Marco got suspicious or, Mewni forbid, found out before she could fully heal him?
Disaster. Disaster and betrayal and heartbreak.
Star couldn't do that to Marco, not so prematurely. Their friendship couldn't take that kind of punishment.
Star couldn't even take the thought of it - she banished it from her mind like her future of being queen. Buck up Star, she told herself. You're an independent warrior princess with a magic wand, who's helping her best friend. You're helping him, girl! This is the right thing!
She never imagined doing the right thing could feel so wrong, though - shouldn't the right thing feel, you know, right?
And yet... deep in her heart, deeper than any preconceived notions of "right" and "wrong" could hope to reach, was a feeling. And it told her that this was the best way to help Marco - Star knew this wasn't going to fix itself, and once it was all over and he's finally cured, she would tell him the truth, and she knew after explaining everything that Marco would understand.
A gut feeling.
Star knew, when all was said and done, that everything was going to be alright.
I hope you guys enjoyed. Next is 'Game of Flags,' with a twist.
Marcorn Diaz - Starco fluff is always nice! And of course Marco is aware of how much Star cares about him. Heck, she gave up her wand for him! Like before, they'll need to rely on the strength of their friendship to pull through.
Guest Sorta - In my bumble onion, I wholeheartedly agree. But you saw how vehemently Marco denied her help, it's best to wait until Star's saved him.
The Creativity Queen 101 - This story has kinda ran along season 2 - in chapter two or three Marco mentions the events of Starstruck, Fetch, My New Wand and The Red Belt. Chapter four had Marco walking in on Star concluding the events of Into the Wand.
Guest - Such a nice comment, thank you! Tension and relaxation was the aim of last chapter, so I'm glad you felt it. Next chapter is going to be a little bit before, and during it. It will not end exactly the same, however. And I've watched all the new episodes up until today, with Crystal Clear. Season 2B has been excellent so far, I didn't even mind Trickstar. Sadly though, this story will not be going beyond Bon Bon in terms of season 2. And that's for the best - there's no way I could realistically incorporate Running With Scissors into this story while still maintaining my intended plot/message.