"…I thought you'd promised."
Bittersweet memories of a time long gone. The faintest recollection of a ghost, not so different from them, twirling about under a sky of glittering crystals as they'd waltzed together in the dim, subterranean light.
They open their eyes to the familiar darkness of their room, and for the briefest of moments shattered fragments of glass flash into existence, and disappear as quickly - like all tricks of the mind do.
There had been happiness, once. They'd known him from before he became a star, and left them to wonder just where in the world he'd went.
They had their cousin, once.
"I…I know you always said you weren't really happy back at the farm, but…"
Forlorn silence, sometimes, reigned supreme - for not always could the happy ghost be happy. They had big dreams of dancing and singing and performing, not just for the snails and the flowers in this life but for an actual audience. Something like the crowds in the talk shows and dramas washed downstream. But how could they, a tiny, unremarkable ghost in a vast Underground, ever achieve that?
It seemed impossible, at the time.
(Maybe that was why they'd stayed for as long as they did.)
"…but didn't you say we'd go together?"
For all the ambition they had, they still loved them dearly, that they'd known - they would never leave their darling cousin. Didn't they say that, sometime forever ago?
"…d-didn't you promise?…"
The memory of that broken mirror still burns in the back of their mind, but even its shattering wouldn't stop those fallen pieces from reflecting not them, but the cousin who'd left them for fame and the spotlight, alone. Who'd left them to wonder where they'd gone for so very long, until it was all too late.
A hiccuping, dry sob wracks them, and then another, and even as the tears fail to well up in their eyes and fall they bury their head in their knees, shrouding their vision in a different, yet familiar, darkness.
(It does nothing to keep the fresh pain in their chest at bay.)
There had been happiness, once, but all of that was gone now - along with him.
"…why?…"
And so the Ghost cried, bitter sobs of resentment.
"What would you all do now, if you were still here?"
Remembrance, bitter and solemn, of the fallen. Of those the child of death had taken from her, letting her live still to face the unforgiving future.
She draws a shaky, quivering breath and sighs, skimming her scripted speech for the millionth time today.
Once there had been a kind, fair king, who had loved his subjects like a father did for his child. He was gone now - his life taken by the force which had killed so many others, and with his loss, the kingdom's hope.
"I-I'll never be able to lead like you…"
Once there had been a bright, passionate performer, who had loved his audience and loved bringing joy to so many in the Underground. He was gone now - going out like a supernova in his last stand to halt the human's bloody trail, and with his loss, the kingdom's light.
"…a-and I'll never have your confidence…"
Once there had been her knight in shining armor, who had loved the world with such intensity that she'd risked everything just to protect it. She was gone now, too - the true hero finally falling to the nigh-unstoppable harbinger of death, and with her loss, the kingdom's guardian.
"…a-a-and I…"
The leaders of this kingdom, all lost to that terrible day - and now it was her turn to step up and forge a path towards a brighter future, even in the midst of this new crisis, so quick to occur after her crowning.
Her trembling hand comes away wet now, droplets staining the script and the words she'd long since committed to memory.
But there's still life, yet, that she can't give up on. The ghost, in what remained of her friend's body. The skeleton, who'd helped her manage her sudden rise to power. The remnants of this kingdom, turning to her for guidance even after she'd revealed her own ugly, terrible truth.
She takes another breath and looks towards the balcony, where she will soon have to convince everyone that there's still hope, that there's still light, and that eventually, they will all make it through this crisis too.
"…I-I'll never be like you all…but I can't give up yet."
A silent moment of remembrance for her fallen friends, before she takes on the roles of them all.
"I won't."
And so the Queen cried, cold tears of resolve.
"well…can't say i haven't missed this place."
The creaking of a wooden door, opening for the first time in what feels like ages. He hadn't thought to come back here - not since that terrible day.
Sharp, agonizing sorrow, slashing right across his soul as the human did to his brother's neck, carving that lethal line without so much as a trace of mercy.
Emptiness and still air, and everything left as it had been. The house was still standing and all was in place, but that couldn't quell the feeling of something - someone - being missing from it all.
A long, red scarf, tattered and dulled from the dust and the snow, but ultimately it was all that was left of him after the slaughter.
Reaching into his pocket, again he finds that old length of cloth, though it offers no comfort now as he looks upon the door to his late brother's room.
"pap? you in there…?"
A wide, cheerful smile, as bright as the sun that he could vaguely recall. A wild, wonderful enthusiasm for puzzles, and for cooking, and for life. A soul full of love and kindness - the same merciful kindness he'd shown his murderer, welcoming them with open arms.
Nothing but stagnant air and untouched furniture to greet him on the other side of the door.
A humorless chuckle, utterly bereft of mirth.
"oh, i know. i know…"
Finally, after so long of helping others to move on, of trying to force himself to move on, his perpetual smile falters - in the solitude, there is no one left to see him break, to see the droplets falling from his eye sockets.
And so the Skeleton cried, pained tears of grief.
Burning, excruciating agony - the first feeling in ages.
The crack of a gunshot. The swing of a bat. The pained scream of someone, far too familiar, echoing into the darkness.
There had been a final, strangled cry, a final burst of pain - and then he was falling, falling, falling, into the pits of the end below.
A promise broken. A dream lived, but a cousin left behind. A brief moment to lay his last sins to rest - if only he had more time.
In an instant, rage and love and regret come together and coalesce into the weapon once meant to end it all, blasting him away from the inevitable in an arcing comet of flowing light - and for the last time, for an infinitesimal, infinite moment, he becomes the wind.
Their pained scream of agony and apology, right before he'd felt their consciousness slip.
A sickening crack as his heel comes down upon the despicable, fragile weapon used against him, against all that he held dear, and when the girl cowers at the sight of him there is nothing left but burning anger.
He'd abandoned them once in life, and once more in death.
No one shall hurt his darling cousin. Not again. Never again.
He wouldn't abandon them now - not in fateful resurrection.
Rage and love and regret swirl together now in the blinding glow of pink light, his cannon raised once more to end the looming threat to his world-
"Bl…ky…!"
-and so the Fallen Star cried, a scorching hot roar of fury.
A/N: Thought I'd maybe crosspost this thing from AO3. Inspired by the fancomic Entity NEO (the main context of this oneshot) and the fanfic Thus the Remnants Went Forth (the oneshot idea itself).
Sayonara!