Prism (Re-upload)

by QueenKathofRine

If they could magically change the past, they would. But life is never that easy. (On the road to SMB3, backstory-ish fic because what if SMB3 had a point though, builds on context from last fic, so probably best to read that first)

9. Blue

Blue, like the inky hue splattered across the night sky, embedded in the sunset like an encroaching stain. It wasn't often he was alone late enough to see it anywhere but from the windows in his bedroom that never budged, and now that he was here in the grass, perched atop a hill well past the scope of any of the windows in his home…

His burning irritation told him that given his expectations, it was underwhelming and stupid, and a list of other things he was sure they thought when he played for them-stupid songs everyone always wrote about the stupid moon like it was anything other than a murky submarine light that only worked when it felt like it-

He didn't know how his mother did it. He shouldn't have been surprised when the piece immediately improved in quality as soon as she picked up where he had abruptly left off in frustration, examining scratchy, shakily scrawled notes like they had always been etched into her soul. Her and that old piano were the closest of friends; he'd eavesdrop often on their evening conversations that would float out on the occasional breeze from their makeshift conservatory, settling just beyond the thick panes of glass he found himself consistently pressed against so he could pretend they were talking to him, too.

He knew she always meant well, trying to correct him so he could grow to be as talented as her…it was all he wanted. It was one of the few dreams he conjured for himself in the midst of countless lectures and lessons and books, on days where it would pay off to hold himself still and do as they asked because it meant his father would look at him the way he had looked at his mother tonight as she literally just played 'Happy Birthday' with a flair so indescribably hers. If there was a shortcut to that fondness, he was taking it.

But he seemed to notice more and more as he grew, that the distance between them never converged as he sat in the middle of them on that piano bench, trying to play the melodies that bled through the pages of his thoughts, the rhythms that chiseled themselves into cliffsides…They'd only be returned to him with annotations scribbled on every margin, powder and pebbles where mountains once stood because the ocean was older, more eternal. It didn't make sense to write before he could really play, though he had the tools they had given him in earnest, it was like expecting a toddler to run before it could even stand.

He wasn't a toddler.

They'd probably contest that, what with the way they nearly suffocated him on a daily basis, only now deciding to expel him to stew in his anger outside, away from their sacred space because they were probably finally tired of dealing with him. His father told him to come inside for dinner when he was ready to talk, but he was old enough to know that 'talk' nearly always meant apologize and move on like the diplomatic discussions he was renowned for somehow didn't apply within the walls of his own house.

He sighed, pulling up the weeds around him in a futile attempt to ground himself. Maybe he was just digging in his heels…the petulance he'd shown them when they only wanted to take part in his creation was unexpectedly childish for him. He was ten now, surely they expected more of him because he should expect more from himself, but there was a part of him that foolishly hoped today would be different. That he could just smooth out his little crumpled piece of paper he carried everywhere with him like if he wrote it out inside the lines they'd accept it, just shut up and settle into it and celebrate this milestone with him because it was his birthday, and lie to him when it was over that they loved it because they loved him more…

They loved him. They loved him…they loved him…and he constantly threatened to tear his hair out over it because it was a concept that should have only gotten simpler as time went on, but they were so weird about everything that he had to repeat it over and over again to sustain himself until they told him themselves. He never bothered to try and make sense of it after his mother had laughed at him, like it was only another part of growing up he wouldn't understand until he just woke up and did…it wasn't something to be studied, memorized, practiced…it was confusing and scary. His father would chuckle too, pat him on the back and eye his mother in exasperation, pointing at him while blithely warning her of impending teenage rebellion.

He knew he was wrong to snap at them when they just wanted him to be his best. He wanted to make them proud too, he really did, but his parents always moved like they couldn't stop, always trying to improve everything like it was never good enough for them in the first place. It was odd that his father had even asked him to play something when his mother was entertaining the three of them just fine, but he jumped at the chance to show them both how much he had grown, that he was a good kid, that they could trust him enough to finally take him on one of their trips because he still had so much to learn from them…so they could finally go as a family.

It started off sufficiently; he knew the tune well because he had sung it to himself for so many nights just tempting it to stay with him long enough so he could put it somewhere permanent. But there came his mistake, when the tempo slowed to nothing and the silence permeated for the briefest of moments; he looked up. The grimace on his father's face spoke volumes, filling his head with those thoughts too loud to be drowned out by the notes so he just didn't bother. He'd been a fool to believe his father would lie for him for the sake of his pride.

His mother scowled too, though it wasn't directed at him, rather at his father's pointed commentary that followed.

"You play something, then." She had said, and though he was perfectly capable, thankfully his mother's glare then caused him to throw his hands up in surrender before he could even sit down. She turned to him, and though she tried to appear encouraging, the expression on her face only read like a diluted version of his father's.

"It's lovely, Ludwig. It just…needs work, that's all. Practice makes perfect."

He'd been a fool to believe his mother wouldn't let pride get the better of her for the sake of a lie.

He'd shrunk as she started to play the notes he wrote herself, offering little tips and pointers here and there, gently grabbing at his wrists and moving them with hers because he'd never be able to stand on his own without them. He'd never make it, he'd never be enough…it was written all over his father's face as he watched him struggle to keep up with his mother, who herself seemed lost in a world of her own design without him. He'd just wanted to prove he was a part of them.

Maybe that's why they were usually so quick to criticize; all they ever saw when they looked at him were pieces of themselves they thought they had discarded ten years ago.

A sudden gust carried the sweet scent of cake from the house and his resolve fizzled along with his anger when he remembered how hungry he was. He wasn't supposed to be moping around, but he couldn't help how increasingly melancholic and poisonous his thoughts were becoming. It wasn't their fault he never managed to find the words to say until they erupted out of him.

The rest of his day hadn't even been that bad really…birthdays always tended to carry a rare informal, if not chaotic celebration of togetherness that he often found himself yearning for. There was just something about listening to his mother's records that brought out the most in them…He was too old to do anything but watch them as they danced with one another, but despite every year he protested, they seemed to pride themselves on their collective ability to find new and creative ways to rope him in. He always ended up sandwiched between them at one point or another, and they would laugh as he struggled to get free; he was too old, too big to act like this, reminding them as they would surely remind him tomorrow, and each day after they deposited him back down on the ground until the next occasion.

Embarrassing fondness flickered in the hearth of his memories, rivaled only by the dying embers of shame. Perhaps he wasn't as mature as he thought he was…as difficult as it was for him to swallow, he figured it would probably go down easier between bites of cake.

He moved to stand, but he couldn't.

That was the thing about losing himself to his thoughts…his body always went numb to the point where he wasn't sure if he really existed or not. Even as he was roughly pulled up it felt like he was floating, blind panic allowing him to break away from the shadowed hands that grasped for him. He wasn't entirely sure they existed either.

"Don't move-" The wind hummed like a melody gone sour. He couldn't even remember which direction the house was in as he scrambled aimlessly forward in an attempt to escape whatever was assailing him.

He was yanked upwards again, grass ripped from between his fingers as he rose, and there was a sharp pain that exploded in his right eye that made him crash back down into his body. He groaned as he was thrown to the ground, only to be swiftly stood up again, held fast there by the strangers who had attacked him.

"Are you deaf? Instructions were clear as day. Don't. Move. Or I'll give you another one to match."

He couldn't scream. He tried, but it was like screaming into a nightmarish vacuum that strangled him, and though he felt his throat tighten, it produced no sound. Something had been harshly shoved into his face but he could barely tell what it was with only one still disoriented eye.

There was an uncomfortable, palpable energy that pulsated from it that compelled him to be silent in a way he couldn't explain. Again, he attempted to fight the feeling, only for his vocal chords to tightly, painfully tense against his will and awareness finally percolated, rapidly overtaking his small frame. His hair stuck to his face because he couldn't move it away, but he was able to just catch its glow glinting off of the reflective surface of its wielder's glasses…

In the farthest reaches of his memories he was able to recall the castle's magikoopas…numerous and friendly in those days, always eager to amuse him with their little flourishes before parting ways…he supposed then he had been young enough to believe magic was some inherently good thing that could never be used against them. Maybe that was why his parents stopped bringing him…

Where were his parents?

They lurched forward, and his stomach turned as they moved towards the house because this meant it wasn't over yet. Whatever their goal was, they hadn't yet accomplished it; he was nothing more than a shield to them at this point. Whatever they had in mind for his parents, probably worried sick by now if he knew them well enough, he was trapped, physically incapable of warning them.

"So what now?" The magikoopa whispered sharply, depositing his wand back into the deep green folds of his robe.

"Yeah, you meathead-why'd you have to punch him? We can't bring him inside like this!" The shy guy on his left side grumbled in irritation, addressing the burly hammer brother in front of them.

"Couldn't risk losin' him….you know what'll happen if we come back empty-handed. So we improvise a bit, just…stay sharp and keep an eye out for trouble. We'll be here when they need us."

There were more of them…it was a thought that caused his eye to throb more angrily than before as the blood rushed inside of him like it was trying to run from something he couldn't. They were just outside the dining room window now, his parents' voices mingling with those more foreign to him and he waited for the worst. They yanked him down against the wall before he could make out what was going on.

They were…laughing…

Silverware clinked like his father was setting the table…chairs scraped across the floor to accommodate for their unexpected arrival in an atmosphere that seemed so hospitable it made him want to jump through the glass if it meant they'd finally acknowledge the storm that raged outside. They knew these people...whoever they were, they wouldn't have let them in at this hour if they weren't comfortable with them. His eyes began to burn.

"…all I can offer you on such short notice, I'm afraid-!" His father apologized before a sickeningly kind voice interrupted him.

"No, no! It's wonderful, thank you! I'm lucky to get anything at all, really…thank you. Actually, would you mind if I took some back with me? The kids haven't had a good meal in a while now…"

"Oh! That won't do, will it? I'm sure they'd love some cake, wouldn't they? It'll be cool enough to eat soon; I know Ludwig won't mind sharing-" His mother chimed in, his name marred with a barely detectible exasperation he'd tuned himself to over the years.

"A chip off the old block, I figure. I'll bet your boy's just as bright as you, isn't he? I'm sure you've taught him everything you know…" A drier voice cut in, and he shrank in the tense silence that followed. He couldn't see but he knew his mother's face was drawn into a tight but polite smile, and his father cleared his throat like he did to punctuate the wordless conversation between them.

"Well…we've certainly done our best. But children will be children…they tend to distract easily. It can't be helped, as I'm sure you understand!" His father chuckled awkwardly.

"We should fetch him…it's really not like him to be gone this long." His mother's voice was just as uneasy. His whole body screamed, for what he couldn't say. He wanted them to see him so badly, but he knew it wouldn't be that simple because it never was.

"Yes…I must say I'm eager to confer with him-" Was the austere reply, abruptly cleaved by a frantic signal though the window only he appeared to see. There was a pause, and the hammer brother then nodded, proceeding to stand in front of the nearby door to entirely block the exit.

"However-!" He barked, then nervously seemed to clear his throat in the hopes they'd believe whatever had just happened was a once in a lifetime anomaly.

"Captain…?"

"…Children can be quite…unpredictable, can't they? But they always manage to find their way home eventually…it's business we unfortunately had to disturb you for. You'll let him practice on that piano of yours a little longer while we talk amongst ourselves, won't you? It isn't as if he'll get…well…'Lost'…shall we say?"

He could hear music from his window. If he was practicing, they would have been able to hear it-

"Lost…? You mean-?" His mother inquired slowly, carefully, and that seemed to be enough to pull them away from the door. His father sighed, highly irritated, like he usually did when he had to repeat himself.

"His Majesty has already warned us of his discontent with regards to these matters. If the king wishes to proclaim to all the tragic murder of his only heir, that is his prerogative. It is ours not to accept it for what it seems. With the deepest respect, the story as it stood made little sense, and His Majesty will agree that it changed multiple times before he settled the blame on some disgruntled magikoopa. Neither body was ever found. Those are the facts, and we are no revolutionaries for merely compiling these basic truths. We were much more inquisitive in our youth, but now we have more important things to worry about. We'll speak no further of it."

"Wait-! You say you believe the prince is alive, just…missing?"

"I said-"

"We believe you."

The sweeter tone had spoken up, and while it was just soft and warm enough to light a candle, it might as well have lit the fuse on a pipe bomb.

"Y-You do? Truly?" His father's voice lowered to where he could just hear it, though he appeared quite pleased that for all of his efforts and endless theorizing, someone had finally listened to him.

"Of course. It's not often people are willing to die for a cause they don't believe in." The statement was cold enough to make even his assailants eye each other uncomfortably. "I think your ideas are more revolutionary than you know."

"What makes you say that?" His mother attempted to play it off but the damage had been done.

"Oh…just a feeling…"

The ever-withering joviality of the room burnt immediately, like it had been thrown into the fireplace.

"Where is my son?" His father growled, oblivious as always to how close they truly were. He heard chairs shifting more aggressively, then fervent stomping that only appeared to amuse the captain, who snickered smugly.

"Blissfully unaware, as I told you, and as you told me, as a matter of fact…did you not inform me before that the boy was an ignorant fool? Best to leave him out of things that don't concern him, yes? Especially if he is useless-"

"How dare you-?" His mother began fiercely and his heart leapt as he waited for her to defend him so, in spite of the irony, he didn't have to pretend to know what they were talking about anymore. But there came nothing after but silence.

Every lesson he'd ever forgotten, every piece he'd ever ruined, every disappointed sigh, stern reprimanding, every time he'd ever looked up at the stupid moon and wished he were there instead…it all came crashing down on him in that moment. He squeezed his other eye closed painfully, if for no other reason than to gain back some demented sense of balance.

They loved him…they… how could they…?

Hot, angry tears stung his eyes as they rolled silently down his swollen face. He was going to die. He was going to die knowing the life he'd been meant to live was unattainable anyways.

"Better a fool than a traitor."

"Traitor? Were you not listening? Or has His Majesty gone mad at last? Since when do the contents of intellectual discussion constitute treason? Leave here, at once! You have no cause of action against us-!"

"I think," the captain hissed, "you would do well to watch your tongue. His Majesty rarely rebukes unless they are those most worthy of admonishment, wouldn't you agree? I'd say the attempted instigation of a foreign invasion is cause enough-"

"Invasion-? Surely the king doesn't believe we could support such a thing? He has placed his trust in us for years to ensure the prevention of that very conflict!"

"I see. I suppose then, you'll tell me you had absolutely no hand in this letter His Majesty had intercepted from your house? We suspect there are others like it, but only one was necessary to make your true intentions known. You have the audacity to inquire after his state of mind when you are the ones consorting with our enemies to plot His Majesty's overthrow? Have you not thought on the violent consequences your actions would have on the people of this land? You remember the queen…what makes you think they won't all slaughter each other to put their own children on the throne?"

Everyone tensed around him like they were on the same page of a book he was still desperately flipping through.

"You're intelligent people. I know you've already got a candidate in mind."

He wanted to scream, to struggle, to fight-anything that would remind him that he was still here. Every word they spoke served to remind him of how clueless he was but there was so much they never told him, all just swirling bits and pieces of a secretive foreign language they expected him to be fluent in. Characters from a drama well beyond its closing night ran through his mind in passing, lingering just long enough for him to be haunted by all the unspoken context he was severely lacking…

"Fortunately, His Majesty values that intellect. It would be truly remiss to waste it, so I'll make your decision simple. You tell us where the prince is…and your family will be forgiven. For how could he condemn the courageous people who saved his kingdom from the clutches of an imposter? One who would dare take the guise of his beloved child, murdered in cold blood as an infant-?"

"His Majesty is the murderer. He would only have us assassinate his own son now because he failed to accomplish the task the first time-" His mother spat in disgust.

"And what of your son? Who will save him from your dedication? My Lord seeks to prevent civil war with his actions. And still you resist…what will your child's death have been for?"

He couldn't do it anymore. They argued, his parents insisting they didn't know where the prince was which was half-true…they had a lead but it wasn't as though they would share anything with him like they used to…before they gave up on him. The captain would argue back just as voraciously, threatening them with ultimatums that only made him feel like more of a curse someone was getting stuck with than anything else.

They talked about killing him like they would swatting a fly, and in that moment he never felt more like he had wasted every single hour of his life trying to prove himself to people who would choose a stranger over him. The anger blazed painfully within him, why should he have to justify his existence? How could they think those things about him when he'd only ever given them his best…even if it wasn't good-

"Enough! This is your final chance!"

Then suddenly, it stopped. The tears dried, his contorted grimace ironed out and the sharp ache in his right eye faded to nothing more than a dulled pulse. He hadn't noticed how nervous the three outside had been getting the longer the yelling continued, how loose the magikoopa's grip was on his arm now, so he reached up to scrub the stains from his face. Realizing his mistake, the magikoopa attempted to retaliate, but he easily pulled himself out of his grip with a strength granted by determination alone. Still, he made no move to scramble away, so the three, startled back to attention by the movement, only stared at him, perplexed.

He pointed firmly at the door because he couldn't address them, and to his surprise, they appeared to instantly understand what he meant.

"Got something to say, kid?" The shy guy was nearly bouncing with excitement, earning him resentful looks from the others that he shakily shrugged off. "What? It's getting ugly in there. I just want get this over with and go home…"

They would see, eventually. Their dismissal would only stand to prove that they were just as blind as he was.

The wand was at his throat again, but with little time for threats, it was soon gone again and he felt his vocal chords begin to slowly thaw like they'd been frozen stiff. They yanked him up again and dragged him between them inside before he could find his footing.

"Sorry to interrupt…" The hammer bro fumbled as he nearly broke down the door in front of him, apparently just as eager to be done with the night.

"Ludwig-!" His parents called for him but he refused to look at them. Instead, he fixed his phlegmatic gaze on the one he assumed to be the captain, who in turn eyed him with an amused curiosity.

"Well…what do we have here?"

Beside him stood another uniformed officer who looked every bit as meek as his voice betrayed him to be. Behind them a number of armored soldiers looking quite worse for wear and he wondered how they could have ever dared to call him an idiot when they'd invited their executioners inside-

"He says he knows something. Figured it's better than nothing-"

Their grip on him tightened and they held him there like a card they'd been saving…they didn't know what game they were even playing. It was irritating.

He tore himself away, stepping forward, emboldened when the captain merely waved them away behind him. He was determined to stand up on his own two feet because he was tired of everyone passing him around like that meant they would control him.

"Ludwig, don't-" They had those looks on their faces again. No surprise they didn't trust him. They were going to die, someone had to do something-

"Go on then, child. Prove to me you aren't the incompetent fool they believe you to be." There was an insatiable hunger in his eyes that he did his best to match with resolution.

"…I…k-kn…" Speaking felt like climbing uphill but everyone was looking at him now, he had no choice but to continue to trek onwards, no matter how pathetic it made him sound.

"…I…know…where…he…is…"

"Who?"

"…Prince…"

"Ludwig-!"

"Let the boy speak! My friend, you have my attention. Tell me."

"…I can…show you…"

"Oh? Can you now? And why should I believe you?"

He looked at them again. They glared at him together, always united against him, willing him to be silent like he hadn't just found his voice. Like it or not, he was in charge now…they were only upset because he had to take matters into his own hands. They'd never admit they didn't know everything, let alone take responsibility for the traits and tendencies and baggage he couldn't escape inheriting. But he was no fool. They taught him too well.

"…I know the warp system…I can prove it…"

He knew that would capture his attention. No one knew Darkland's warp system in its entirety because the project had been mapped out by his parents alone. It was knowledge they would never willingly share, though at this point it had about as much pointless sentimental value as would a family recipe that meant nothing compared to death.

"Very well. I knew you would not disappoint me. Come, lead the way." He gestured with his arm, beckoning him forward so that they could walk side by side. Revolted, but nevertheless convicted, he complied. Satisfied, the captain turned to address his inferiors.

"Corporal, with me. Take her as well." He pointed to his mother, who could only look to his father in horror. Ignoring them, he turned his attention to the group at the door.

"You three, bring up the rear. The rest of you will stay here. Keep an eye on him, and if he tries anything, do what you must. To have evaded detection for this long… it's fair to assume they are quite crafty."

A slight deviation from what he expected…but…he was accustomed to it. Every game of chess he'd ever played with his father involved some sort of last-minute dramatic upheaval from behind, so much so that everything seemed to feel like a trap. He tried to see what he was thinking but as usual, he didn't reveal much. He only looked at him a final time with that same look he always wore, and nodded in respect, he hoped. It didn't matter. He'd be back to wipe that expression off of his face himself soon enough.

He led them away from the house, beyond the little conservatory he didn't realize how dearly he treasured until he passed it again, and into the sweeping wooded area that sat behind it. Grubby pipes sat unused, sparsely littered throughout the area. At each one they stopped at, the captain would ask him where it let out, and he would answer. He would then regard him skeptically until he forced one of his three hired thugs to verify that he was being truthful. As they waited for them to return, he would steal looks at his mother, who spoke in hushed whispers with the corporal like they were old friends. She must have figured out where he was leading them, and why she'd want to warn anyone beforehand was beyond him but he had to look away as soon as he saw her point in his direction.

This happened twice until they finally reached the pipe he'd been seeking. It was practically indistinguishable from the rest.

"This is it? And where does this one lead?" He answered quickly, warning them that the terrain on the other side made this particular pipe more of a one-way trip unless they hiked all the way back up to it. It didn't really matter what he said because he knew that if he could just get them to take it then they wouldn't return because it was all a lie. The pipe was unfinished. No one knew where it led, if such a place even existed.

It was almost over.

"Ludwig…thank you. You've done well today. As such, I feel it would only be right if you did the honors." The captain replied, his voice eerily devoid of the smugness he'd come to associate with it.

Numbly, he climbed up on its rim. His mind raced, desperately grasping at straws to salvage his efforts. He couldn't fail here-

"As I mentioned, it's essentially a one-way trip. I'd need a way to-"

"You'd rather remain here?" It was a simple question, carried nonchalantly across the breeze like the distant scent of smoke. It made him sick and his confidence began to melt as he realized what was happening. The house-

"As I suspected. It must be defective…clever. I almost believed you. Unfortunately, child, you happen to be a terrible liar. You're no fool, I'll concede that, but your ambition will be your undoing…"

"He doesn't know anything! LET HIM GO!" His mother screamed in rage, and the three henchmen struggled to contain her as they watched the sky beyond the woods distort and darken to a sooty black.

With a flippant wave of his hand, the corporal moved out of his way, settling beside him next to the pipe. He couldn't move anymore…he couldn't think…think a way out of this, think! It was like talking to a brick wall. The adrenaline was wearing off, and his eye erupted in pain like he'd been struck again.

"Oh, I think you owe him more credit than that. He knows a lot more than he lets on. Even if he's truly clueless, with his knowledge of the warp system, our search efforts will be expedited. We will find the prince eventually. That means…" he sauntered up to her with a fiery arrogance matched by her cool defiance, "you've been made redundant."

She only ignored his threat, looking up and over in his own direction with a small but defeated smile that said everything without her ever opening her mouth. He'd done this. It was all his fault-why did he think he could do this? He just wanted to prove that-

The captain scoffed at her apparent dismissal and followed suit, regarding the rest of them with a certain vitriol that refused to be ignored.

"His Majesty will be glad to know that our journey here will not have been in vain. Take the child. He's bound to be more compliant in any case-"

They broke away and he nearly stumbled backwards into the pipe. Quicker than he had ever seen anyone move before, his mother was free for the smallest of moments and she took it, tearing away deeper into the woods with one last wistful glance over her shoulder.

"Y-you three! Don't just stand there! KILL HER!" He sputtered, screaming at his subordinates that stalled midway between them. They looked at one another briefly, then immediately gave chase, disappearing into the trees along with her.

"Corporal! The boy-! We can't let him get away!" He was unhinged, sprinting towards him like a hungry lion would the last scrap of food.

His mind was blank. He was floating again but there were no thoughts for him to get lost in and it felt like being burned because there was nowhere to hide from anything. Like an ant beneath a magnifying glass, all of his limitations were painfully outlined and he would have crumbled there. But he didn't.

He remembered little else than the faintest whisper of an apology he thought he'd imagined, followed by a light shove, the screams of voices that did not belong to him, and then darkness as he plummeted down, down to who knows where.

He fell for what felt like hours, maybe he'd fall forever but he couldn't bring himself to care what happened to him. Whatever his fate was, he deserved.

In retrospect it couldn't have been that long, because he hit the ground somewhere and lived. There was nothing but darkness all around him. The floor felt grimy and the wall he managed to find was even worse, moist and mangled like he'd been swallowed by a monster. He was underground, somewhere…There was a faint trickling of water in the distance and his brain, still rationalizing, planning, urged him to move there if he was going to survive because he couldn't help the things that had been ingrained in him…but he wouldn't budge.

His parents were gone, his home was gone, that stupid moon…he missed the moon…

The silence was a haunting aria, easily overwhelming any sound he could have made but he cried anyways if it meant it would keep him whole for longer. It was a weird duet, far from those more spontaneous and gentle duets his parents should have been singing but he didn't have the strength to do much but lie there because the world was disgusted with him…

So was he.

What he once considered a curse became his only salvation, and he collapsed in on himself, drifting away once again into oblivion.

---

Blue, like the vibrant tones of Larry's favorite blanket, wrapped desperately around him as a last-ditch effort to prevent things from getting any worse. It didn't work, of course, and he began to wail immediately, beating against his chest with his little arms with an anger that demanded retribution to a degree nothing short of total annihilation.

In retrospect, he should have known better. His siblings usually always just did what they wanted anyways…

"He hit me! He hit me!"

"I know, Larry-ow, stop it! You have to calm down-"

His little brother was well beyond the point of reason, ranting and raving about the small bruise that had formed on his forehead like he'd been shot and he didn't have the energy to argue with him anymore. It was hard enough just holding him still so he wouldn't fall off of the bed and drag him down with him. He sighed heavily, and while Larry fought him as he picked him up, he vaguely wondered where it was he'd learned to be so overdramatic.

He'd only been gone ten minutes, at most. He had slipped away from the dinner table for long enough to bring Lemmy some water, ensure that he'd taken his medicine for the night, and sneak him a cookie from the kitchen because they always made him smile, despite the fact that they probably weren't the best thing to snack on while ill. He left satisfied, only to return to absolute pandemonium in the dining room.

Lord Bowser was nowhere to be found. At least half of their meal that had been on the table was already now on the floor, and he had watched, mortified, as they hurled they rest at one another, coating each other with their food like it was war paint. Iggy was yelling at Roy angrily, but he'd been too busy laughing at Wendy, who was also ripping into him for using her as a shield, until she plucked the piece of food from her lap and smacked him with it, staining his cheek with sauce. He then stiffened, chucking it back in her direction but missing entirely, hitting Larry's arm on accident, which prompted him to throw the contents of his cup in his direction, not caring who he drenched…Wendy raised her arm while Roy cheered her on, Iggy was still yelling-

He hadn't any idea what had come over him to stun them into complete silence but he was too exasperated and embarrassed by them to process it. He stormed up to the table with the intent to reprimand them fiercely for the mess they'd made, but as he stood in the wreckage like they had before, he was just too used to it for him to care. It was always an inevitability for chaos to follow them because even though a year had passed now, they'd never really be able to escape it. He just couldn't bring himself to understand how they could be so flippant, so wasteful now of what they had nearly died without then…had they forgotten so quickly?

He exhaled deeply, and his anger receded as he ran his hands through his hair. His first move was to stop Morton, who had been underneath the table, from eating any more of the fallen food off of the dirty floor. He stood him up, attempting to wipe away the splotches on his brother's skin while he reached for more food on the table like he wasn't even there. Morton only made himself more of a mess, and he then gave up entirely when he noticed Larry was practically dripping with barbeque sauce.

Roy and Iggy were at each other's throats once again while Wendy tried to clean herself off, still too irritated to focus on anything else. Larry saw him coming out of the corner of his eye and started suddenly trying to lick off all the sauce on his arms before he could get to him which only made him move faster. This caused him to stumble over the rug, which made Iggy laugh before he could hope that no one noticed, and then they were all laughing at him…he didn't know how Lemmy could stand it half the time when the sound grated on him so much…reminding him how badly he was failing at something he'd been so good at not long ago. The only thing he was good at.

He snapped. Scrubbing away at Larry's face and arms he'd said…something. Whatever it was it was the wrong thing. It was increasingly more difficult to find the right words now that he had time to think on them, now that the standards were higher and it was easier for them to see right through him, now that they weren't too busy fleeing for their lives…

Iggy bristled, clutching his empty plate in his hands like he meant to break it in half. Apparently, he decided better of it, instead choosing to fling it across the table at him simultaneous to the moment he had picked Larry up out of his chair and it missed him entirely, striking Larry squarely in the forehead. Everyone froze until Roy snorted, unable to help himself. Tears were welling up in Larry's eyes now but he refused to cry in front of Roy because he supposed that he'd now reached the age kids get when they felt they had something to prove, no matter how ridiculous.

"It's not funny, Roy!" He had pouted, but it was difficult to take him seriously when the waterworks were just beyond the horizon…Roy had to push because he never knew when to quit.

"…It's pretty funny."

Larry then attempted to swing at Roy from his arms like he didn't care how futile a task it was. Lord Bowser re-entered the room with a bottle of hot sauce, his grin oblivious to the disarray.

"There you are! You gotta try…uh…oh wow…" His enthusiasm waned the longer he took in the scene.

Iggy stood and scurried off immediately, evidently liking his odds against potentially catching Lemmy's sickness against whatever was about to happen out here. Roy and Wendy hung their heads while Morton continued to absently pick scraps off of the table.

"I uh…I take it you didn't like the food, huh…" He joked, but it was flaccid enough that the confusion was clearly present in his tone. Nevertheless, he smiled wearily like he half-expected them to throw his kindness back in his face and he couldn't help but tense involuntarily, waiting for words Lord Bowser promised them he'd never say. They didn't come, of course.

So why was he so irritated?

Larry then whined like he'd found his resolve again, and he took it as a perfect opportunity to leave himself because he couldn't stand to be there anymore…

Without warning, he felt his hair yanked sharply downwards, wrenching him out of his thoughts and back into the present.

"Larry-!"

"Put me down!" He demanded. Even Larry was irritated with him; he never pulled at his hair because he knew how much he hated it. He had no energy to fight so he complied, setting him down at the door of the bedroom.

"If you're going to be a baby, I'm going to leave you here. You're too old to be acting this way."

He only turned his head in defiance, rooting himself firmly in place like if his heels could dig into stone they would have. Tears still fell, and he could only imagine that Roy had rubbed off on him in the worst possible way when Larry just tried to mask his pain with more anger. He was highly annoyed with him, but so long as he was in pain at all he couldn't bear for him to be upset, even though it was difficult for him to be sympathetic towards one with such a small sense of perspective…it wasn't Larry's fault. He was still so young. There was a part of him that prayed this would be the worst pain he'd remember when he was older.

The other part of him was envious, plain and simple.

"Fine. Stay here, then." He needed to get something for the swelling, there wasn't really much else he could do without Kamek's help, but he didn't even know where-

A knock at the door echoed, derailing his train of thought. It opened to reveal Bowser, mystifyingly three steps ahead of him as always, with an ice pack already in hand.

"I heard we had a man down in here…so I came prepared this time."

He made no mention of the mess, no mention of consequences, he just smiled like he usually did when they were around and it was so weird. It felt like being stuck in an elevator because he didn't know what to expect…alone with just his thoughts until everything gave way and he'd smash into the dark concrete below knowing he deserved it…at least then he wouldn't be left to waste away, forgotten.

As Lord Bowser moved inside, Kamek stepped in around him as well, the young prince clinging to his robes as they walked together. They all moved past him to Larry, who had taken the liberty of burying himself within the folds of his blanket there on the floor, like if he didn't move they'd ignore him.

"Man…it sure is a mess in here…who left this thing lying around?" The mound shifted away but it was pointless, and it was easily gathered up into the king's arms. "I should put it back where it belongs." He snickered as he made a show of lightly tossing the bundle onto the bed, and as it bounced he heard muted giggling followed by a sharp sniff to hide it.

"Your Carelessness! Easy now-!"

"What? He's fine, ain't ya kid?" Lord Bowser sat on the bed as Larry slowly unearthed himself. "See? He's tough. Look at that battle scar!" He pointed to the discoloration like it was the most impressive thing he'd ever seen, and though Larry pushed his arm away, it still made them shyly smile in a way that made Kamek laugh to himself too. "What do you make of that?"

"My Lord, it's a bruise. He'll live. I don't know why you dragged me here for-well, when it's all clearly been handled."

"Hey, better safe than sorry." He turned to Larry. "Hear that? You're gonna make it. I just need you to sit still for a sec so we can fix you up, okay? I'll need you with me if we're gonna get him back later."

"Lord Bowser-" Kamek began to scold, but Bowser Junior fussed behind him and any argument he may have once had died on his lips, replaced instead with disgruntled yet good-natured muttering as he lifted him up off of the ground about how it wasn't fair for him to never get a word in edgewise with the two of them around.

Larry whined too, his pain no longer forgotten. Lord Bowser placed the ice pack in his hands.

"You gonna hold that for me?" He nodded. "Good. Now c'mere."

He watched Larry squirm into the king's arms, every bit the sweet, shy, clingy toddler he'd once been. Maybe there was something about the way he fit there that gave him something he couldn't anymore…maybe there was a more natural easiness to it because it was a role he hadn't been compacted into.

Kamek moved to leave, satisfied he was no longer needed as Bowser Junior sank further and further against him, lulled by the newfound warm tranquility in the room. He mumbled a quick farewell, brushing past him with an urgency he'd become accustomed to the longer he knew him. It must have been a good omen if it made him move like he couldn't believe his luck.

"I got him."

Lord Bowser acknowledged him at last, and he realized how awkward it was for him to have been just sort of standing there the whole time. There was a finality in his tone that he probably meant to be reassuring but he couldn't help but read the inherent dismissal in it, as if he'd walked in on something he wasn't supposed to see when he'd been there longer. He'd have been lying if he said he didn't find it annoying at times, how often he'd tried to untangle their delicate knot of fuses only for Lord Bowser to thoughtlessly cleave it in half like it was always that simple.

He hated simple. Nothing in his life had ever been simple anyways, it was unbearably, unforgivably stark. The truth was easier to avoid tangled in his own mess of worries and responsibilities because it was the only thing that kept him suspended tentatively in midair…that if he became unraveled he'd hurtle downwards into that same darkness, crash into that same reality…

He never had control over anything. He was inept, a failure, no matter how hard he tried to change that, no matter how hard he tried to convince them otherwise-

"Ludwig? I promise, we're fine. I got it under control. Why don't you go try to find something to eat?"

He blinked and his vision momentarily blurred like it did when he used to binge on books late at night. Those more fanciful books with pleasant endings where all was well, every little plot point tied nicely into a little bow and here, he watched it play out in front of him as if it too lied past the unbreachable barrier of his own imagination. Everything just sort of…happened around him. Everything wrapped up comfortably content, like Larry as Lord Bowser held him, in a satisfying resolution he had little bearing on. These little tales all seemed to conclude in the same way these days.

He supposed there was some solace to be derived from the consistency at least, but…he never thought to ask where all of the narrators went after the story ends, after they'd outgrown their purpose.

---

Blue, like the scented candle that flickered atop the piano in the center of his room. It had been a spontaneous gift from Kamek approximately three months after his actual birthday had passed. Though he never mentioned specifically what it was for, he'd had this little prideful smile on his face like he had the world all figured out that he couldn't bring himself to correct.

Kamek had made it himself, and as such when he lit it for the first time, he'd expected the room to be immediately overtaken with his particular scent of antiquity that would remind him of home so much it hurt. But as he'd sat there on the bench, absently mashing together parts of various pieces he used to play so fluently, the aromatic lapping waves that eventually flooded the room smelled more like the beach than anything. It was curious, as Kamek hadn't ever expressed such a fondness before for such a messy and untamable place, but when he'd inquired about it the last time they met for training, he'd given him a wistful smile that was rife with sentiment.

The shores of Yoshi's Island had been his home for years. It was something that comforted him, he'd said, because it was something that lured him away from those endless thoughts that drove him further into hiding, that it was something that reminded him that the world had so much more to give than what lied neatly within the rigid four corners of a page. He'd joked about having acquired a taste for the seawater anyways because knowledge was a thirst that could never be satisfied, much like if he had attempted to drink straight from the ocean like Lord Bowser had time and time again as a child…

Therein lied the heart of the matter, and he'd sighed, settling comfortably into the memory like it had been a treasure unearthed at last. He'd struck a chord, and though it was a harmonious one, he'd accidently turned the rest of what was meant to be his magic lesson into a long, leisurely stroll down a lane that wasn't his to travel. The longer he went on, the more he appeared to remember his anger, and leisurely rapidly transformed into running down the side of a jagged cliff.

He'd rambled for a bit, upset about Lord Bowser's announcement, disappointed when he had worked so hard to protect him, to spare him the pain of suffering when nothing had been his fault, only for him to perpetuate the cycle for the sake of impossible vengeance. Heartbroken, he'd said, that one he'd tried to raise with such care could ever look at the broken world he'd inherited through eyes he'd inherited from the same place. Destruction, rage, revenge…it was why they were all here. Why he couldn't support the child he loved as his own for so long because it was the reason they had all been attacked, the reason why he ever took Lord Bowser away to that island in the first place because he couldn't find it within himself to get rid of him like he was supposed to-

Against his will, the irrational fear he had fought to keep submerged bubbled to the surface and crashed against him; images from that night struck him relentlessly. He'd forgotten how terrified of Kamek he'd been when they'd first met because he knew what he was capable of…his magic a force so powerful he hadn't really appreciated until he studied it himself. Knowing Kamek now, it was ridiculous to believe he'd ever agree to go through with acts far worse than those that had been done to him, but…everything always lead back to the same inexorable truth that held him just as firmly as his attackers had…as that magikoopa had…

He knew nothing.

The torrent subsided and he'd found Kamek apologizing but he didn't know what for. He always loved it when they spoke because it was one of the few times he felt as though he were treated as an equal. He was ruining it because he couldn't keep fears he should have long since put to bed from rearing their ugly heads at the worst times. He thought it had been dealt with, mostly…but everyone was pushing him away…the more free time he had the worse off he was. He really didn't want to lose this too, but it was too late.

Kamek had put on that expression he couldn't stand looking at directly, like he'd come across a wounded animal he needed to heal because he'd always been keen on fixing every convoluted hinge and sconce he could get his hands on. He'd looked about ready to pry him open at any given opportunity as if he were fascinated by him, and it was comparable to watching him rip pages out of his own book if for no other reason than to scribble notes about him over top of them. He'd excused himself before he could find out what Kamek had really been after.

He'd been too engrossed in his thoughts to realize he'd been hammering out his stream of consciousness on the keys of his poor mother's piano. Even after he'd tuned it, it never quite sounded the same…he wondered if it was her own little way of haunting him.

"Hey, Ludwig! Mind if I come in for a second?"

He didn't answer the call beyond the door, rolling his eyes because he knew Lord Bowser usually always just let himself in whether he wanted him to or not. Perhaps it was only fair, it being his castle and all, but he'd be lying if he said it didn't bother him most of the time…this was no doubt his father's way of haunting him.

He didn't even need to look back to know that Lord Bowser had shuffled in without the invitation, or his typical bravado.

"You alright? I've received a…uh, well actually several noise complaints from the other 'tenants'…figured I'd check up on you for them-"

"I know they're angry with me. But if my siblings wish to speak with me, they can do it themselves. You don't have to carry messages between us. I think we're both too old now for this kind of petulance."

The silence carried even as he felt the distance between them narrow. Lord Bowser tried to ease the tension with a bark of laughter, but it was so strained he forced himself to continue on playing something else off the top of his head if it meant he wouldn't have to endure anything else like it. Maybe he might be lucky. If he played long enough maybe he'd get the hint...though, knowing Lord Bowser it was probably wishful thinking.

"…How's your arm?"

He stopped short, readjusting the fresh bandages wrapped there like he meant to make them more presentable…he had a bad habit of that. Regardless, he fully intended to brush him off until the question lingered much longer than it should have, prompting him to look up at him for the first time since he'd entered. There were a number of papers in his arms, atop them all rested that same hunk of melted metal he'd tried to give him that day he'd returned with the piano.

"I told you I didn't want that." He snapped before he could stop himself, and though he stowed his frustration at the unwanted reminder, there still burned within him a distrust in the direction of this conversation that he couldn't shake off.

"…Why are you here?" He continued plainly, fingers fidgeting with the familiar nostalgic urge to practice like he couldn't manage to keep them still for a moment.

"I'm worried about you."

"Me? You've never been much the introspective type, have you?"

"What's that supposed to mean-?"

"You aim to depose the monarchies of seven kingdoms! I'd worry for you if I felt you'd actually take it into consideration, but I'm not convinced. You'd have my brothers fight for you because it's all they've ever known, and now you're here at my door, digging up the past because you refuse to let them grow here in peace-"

"Ludwig-"

"So I'll ask you again-why are you here?"

"I'll never be able to undo what's been done. I'm just trying to make as much right as I can."

"Is this how you would do it? Destroying the lives of innocents to level some sort of playing field?"

"They aren't innocent-"

"You don't know that! Just like you didn't know that Princess Toadstool was innocent until you'd already made a mess! Just admit it's a desperate bid for control and move on! There's no one left to impress! I can't allow you to do this to my siblings again!"

He expected Lord Bowser to be furious with him, but his face fell like he'd predicted this would happen. More irritating was the fact that he seemed to make himself comfortable in it, some imaginary set rhythm they adhered to like clockwork, plodding over to the bench and resting on it despite again not being invited.

"I'm not forcing anyone into anything. I just thought you'd never forgive me if I didn't give you a say in your own retribution because I really believed it was something you wanted…I'm sorry, I never meant to make you so angry with me. I'm not asking you to spill your guts because I know you hate that…I'm just asking you to hear me out before you decide, and maybe to have a little faith in me. This is about justice, not control. I don't know why you'd think that…I don't know what I've done to give you cause to believe that I always have the worst intentions."

There was something about his tone that prodded at him…the fact he was so confident about what he felt was best for them when he'd never seen them like he did. It didn't sit right with him but he really didn't want to talk about this anymore. Unfortunately, no matter how hard he attempted to steer the conversation in a different direction Lord Bowser would refuse to yield, leaving him either stranded or sunken and he couldn't decide which he preferred.

"You're here to replace Kamek, but if he leaves, I leave with him."

"Ludwig, no one is replacing Kamek, I couldn't even if I wanted to. But this isn't about him, this is about you. This is about your siblings; it always has been. I just want them to live in a world they can be proud of, a world they can feel safe in knowing that they belong there when all they've ever been told was that they didn't deserve to exist, and I know deep down you do too. You don't have to tell me it's impractical because I already know. I've always been more of an idealist, you know that…and you've always been much smarter than me. I can't protect them the way that you can because there's so much I don't know. I don't know what you all went through out there, I barely know my way around this kingdom, I don't know the warp system, I don't even know how long I would have survived had I been in your place-"

He continued on, rambling out his list like it was written on a resume for a job he never asked for. Qualification after qualification on why it was only logical for him to participate, how if Kamek wouldn't make his fanciful ideals a reality then he was a sufficient second pick and he should be honored to stand beside him…it made him angry because a part of him wanted to be honored. All he'd ever wanted was to stand by someone who believed in him heart and soul, it was a feeling he'd chased for years. It was nice for a moment, to be reminded that he was wanted, because he missed it dearly in these times when it didn't come so easily anymore.

But it remained, as most things often did, just out of his reach, taunting him. There was always an angle, always something they wanted from him more. It drove him mad, it never stopped because he couldn't stop…the knowledge he had a blessing because he'd lived and a curse because he'd then had to live with it. Of course Lord Bowser wanted to know what their weaknesses were, of course he'd want a way to fix everything without actually working for it, of course he'd want to know all about the warp system-

"I guess what I'm trying to say is that we don't want to do this without you. I don't want you to fight anymore."

Like magic, the anger that burned within him in that moment died out slowly, leaving him with nothing but the hopeless scorched ruins of his mind, and he was cold despite the warmth of the candle that flickered dangerously right above him. His eyes were firmly fixed on the keys, if he looked at anything else, he worried he'd lose his balance and tumble into despair.

"Neither do I. But you would have us do it anyways…"

"I wouldn't have you do anything you didn't want to do."

"But you know there's a part of me that does. There's a part of all of us that wishes for your success if it means that our suffering would not have been for nothing. I don't know why you've suddenly concerned yourself with it now when you knew we'd been hurting for all of these years."

"That's what I'm trying to explain-" He shuffled the papers in his arms again, attempting to shove them in his direction but he never looked at them, let alone reached for them.

"Is this what you wanted? Is this why we're here? I must not be as smart as you give me credit for, because for the life of me I can't figure you out. We came to you hungry and worn, and you took us in, asked us to stay not because you cared, but because you knew that the charity would probably boost your reputation, right? Why else would you only return after a month? I forgave you for that still. But I can't forgive you for letting them get attached to you like that, only for you to turn around and use their trauma for your own means. They trusted you…they needed you more than they needed me because they've grown up and I haven't. They think I don't know I can't keep up with them, they remind me at every possible opportunity! But what they'll never understand is that I don't have any desire to fight those kings for letting these things happen to me because I've never deserved anything better-!"

He couldn't stop because he didn't know how. It didn't deter him from desperately pulling the brakes anyways but it was useless; he'd already lost control. He found himself skidding, slipping, unable to prevent the tears from falling because he was falling too, like he had all those years ago, and like then he hadn't been able to just keep his stupid mouth shut-

He was stupid, stupid, stupid-!

"…it's all my fault…I…I k-killed them…" His voice was hoarse now; he'd been screaming silently for a while and hadn't noticed until the truth had been finally sifted from the wreckage.

"…so if those kings don't deserve to be forgiven…why should I?"

He tried vainly to hide himself but he had nowhere to go-his room normally served as his sanctuary away from those thoughts of inadequacy that plagued him every time he was thrown out of someone else's. He never used to put any consideration into their complaints of him, how he was too nosy, too detached, too overbearing...but it was harder now that it was almost constant.

He'd have been lying if he said it didn't remind him too much of his own parents when he'd promised to be better…but he'd have been lying no matter what he said to his siblings, to Kamek-to Lord Bowser-because it was all he was good at anymore.

The king said nothing for a while. He moved closer, but thankfully decided against reaching for him, choosing to instead gently, yet firmly push the papers in his hands into his.

"Because your parents knew what was going to happen to them."

His voice was soft, but there was an undercurrent of anger that stained it. It prompted him to look up, and through his glistening vision he could see Lord Bowser's face, serious as death, his eyes appearing as pained as he felt. Suddenly his gaze shifted downwards, towards the crumpled pages in his hands, and he at last gave into his curiosity as soon as he read the salutations.

There were seven letters, differentiated mostly by their signatures and seals as he flipped through them, all addressed to his parents in the form of a response that blurred the line between apology and apathy.

"I found those in with the sheet music."

It is with deepest regret…unfortunately not our place…stands in violation of the peace accords for which we must…cannot offer any involvement or assistance in those that concern the political matters of the…baseless claims without investigation…not assured of any such madness or danger…wish you all the best with regards to your child…

It was as he suspected. He'd just been too stubborn to concede anything to Roy at the time. How they could be so callous as to hide behind protocol when he'd been made to lose everything…it almost wasn't fair for them to be compared when the decisions he'd made that night, while horribly misguided, at least were decisions. He'd done what he'd done in order to save his family, and despite his worthless failing efforts, he fought for the sacred life he felt they were entitled to. Here…there was such a blatant disregard for it that it made his guilt and anger flare in a fight for dominance.

He clenched the stack in his hands, breaking his concentration to see Lord Bowser absently thumbing his father's melted medallion in his palm.

"…They tried to warn them…" He quavered, and the king nodded solemnly.

"Yes. They'd always known my father to be dangerous. But when your parents tried to warn them of what he was really capable of, what he was planning to do, essentially begging them to intervene before it was too late…they did nothing. They could have stopped this whole thing from ever happening and they didn't. It should have never fallen to you to save them, Ludwig. You were only a kid with the weight of the world on your shoulders. I can understand if you can't forgive me for this, but I can't bear to sit here and do nothing when they've forced my people-my children-to bear the brunt of the consequences of their inaction-"

He stopped himself at his slip of the tongue, but he looked too upset for him to be embarrassed. The raw emotion in his voice contrasted the stiff and cold formality of the letters, and for the first time in a long time he felt understood. Bowser wasn't making any attempt to fix him, keeping his promise not to force him into a conversation about that night if he didn't want to open one, and for a minute they sat there, both trying their hardest not to melt down completely. They were both hurting together like they were equals, and in the heat of the moment he supposed there was a certain kinship between them that caused him to slip up, and though he was technically correct, he chose not to correct him despite his horrible sense of timing.

"Sorry…it just makes me so upset. I can't stand to see any of you blame yourself for something that isn't your fault. Don't let them fool you into taking the fall for them. They knew what they were doing…I knew what I was doing when I took you guys in. I was just so scared to fail…I never expected to get as attached as I did, but I swore then I'd never to anything to hurt you again. You've been through enough. Though I guess some things are bound to slip through the cracks if you aren't paying enough attention…"

"No, I'm sorry. It wasn't fair of me to bring that up; I know you've changed. My siblings have changed too…I know they don't need me to worry about them anymore, but I can't break the habit. I just don't want them to get hurt."

"It's too late for that. Sometimes you just gotta accept that some things can't be fixed with what you have. The only way we're ever gonna be able to rebuild something new is if we address the ruins first."

A lesson he'd learned many times on their increasingly frequent missions out into the kingdom, where structure after structure lie crumbled, neglected like ugly stains on a long-forgotten tapestry. Healing and pain were just that, the construction and destruction of self that cycled continuously, interchangeably…it was foolish of him to think he could stop it any more than a ten-year-old could an army.

A small smile crawled its way onto Bowser's face as he removed the letters from his hands. He sighed heavily, reviewing them with a plaintive disgust, but there was a light in his eyes he couldn't remember seeing before.

"Your parents were brave to write those letters, knowing what it meant if they were discovered…they knew what would happen and they still fought so hard to protect this kingdom when I couldn't. The least I could do for them is make sure that their kid loves himself as much as they did. You didn't deserve any of that, you hear me? What you deserve is to be happy."

So many emotions swirled within him it felt as though he were drowning. He really wasn't able to wrap his brain around it and it made him feel numb and stupid again, but for the first time he didn't care. It made plummeting much less scary, like knowing at least you'd land on something soft when it was all over, whenever that was. He knew he'd never be able to make peace with himself after what he'd done…but it was nice to finally be on agreeable terms with someone without having to exchange it for information that wasn't his to give.

He didn't know what to do, so he picked the easiest thing and just sat there, openly weeping to the ugly, discordant tune of his elbows hitting the keys as he tried to bury his face in his arms. The next thing he felt was the shift of the bench, then a hand nestled at the top of his head, much gentler than his regular mischievous cuff.

Muted apologies followed and he hung onto each of them because they were comfortingly genuine. Another hand slowly pulled him back off of the piano fairly easily, he didn't have the energy to protest.

"…can't let you get your snot on this thing, it's too fancy…"

A sharp exhale shot out of him before he could stop it, and while it wasn't that funny, he could at least appreciate Bowser's consistency. There was such a quiet fondness in his gaze he'd done nothing to earn and it tore him up inside.

"I'm still not very good at this, huh?" Bowser moved to give him a soft nudge to the arm, but the moment he opened his own, he found himself almost desperate to remember what it felt like to be innocent. He'd never fit there the same as Larry or Junior would but it didn't stop him from trying anyways.

Bowser seemed surprised at first but he recovered quickly. He carefully pulled him onto his lap, highly mindful of his injured arm, in a way that may have mortified him on those occasions where even he forgot how old he actually was. There was no possible way for him to fully embrace him, as he was just as large and imposing as he'd ever been, so he just curled into himself to allow Bowser to more easily wrap his arms around him instead.

Their mournful vigil carried on for some time, and it wasn't until the sniffling stopped that Bowser spoke again.

"You know how I know you have grown? Today, you were honest with me. I don't care if you don't agree with everything I say, it's important for us to be able to talk to each other." He paused, chuckling to himself. "…Without trying to assassinate the others' character. Though, your insults have gotten more sophisticated since last time, I'll give you that."

The room was so warm now…that candle was bound to be nothing but liquid at this point. His laugh, in kind, was equally watery.

"You're just upset that you lost an argument to a twelve-year-old."

"Maybe so." He shrugged. "I said it then, and I'll say it again; I've never stopped being proud of you. No matter what you decide to do. I'm so proud of all of you…you've all grown up on me. I can't tell you how happy it makes me to know that Junior's got some good people to look up to…besides me, of course!"

Bowser huffed, and they snickered together as he scrubbed the leftover tears from his face. As soon as they were gone, the comfortable atmosphere became awkward again. Thankfully, Bowser appeared to sense it too, and let him slide back down into place on the bench.

"…thank you…" He mumbled, his sheepish gaze now affixed again to the piano.

"You're a part of this crew, whether you like it or not!" Bowser snorted, but he sobered soon after. "I mean…well, just promise me you'll give it some thought, okay? You don't have to decide right now, but I know it won't be the same without you or Wendy."

"What about Kamek?"

"Bah, he's a curmudgeonly old man…you know the type. Too stuck in his ways."

His tone was so jovial for how much he knew Kamek fretted about him constantly.

"…He loves you though…"

Bowser's expression once again melted into one more sincere. He hummed as he stood, letters crumpled and momentarily forgotten in his arms.

"Yeah. I guess so. He's put up with me this long for a reason, right?"

He gave him a playful pat on the shoulder to signify his departure, but the silence continued to gnaw at him because he found no comfort in ignorance anymore. Questions still seared him from the inside and it was useless to prolong this conversation when there wasn't anything else to be said but he couldn't stay quiet when being voiceless was something that greatly frightened him.

"You would know." It was a muted joke, but Bowser still picked it up from across the room anyways, turning around seemingly perplexed.

"How's that?"

He cursed under his breath, annoyed that his inability to say the right words always took a back seat to his constant need to speak his mind.

He couldn't help it. He'd been so worried all this time that they were only being recycled again for whatever purpose they'd been deemed worthy of. He couldn't stand the thoughts that incessantly badgered him from the moment Bowser's invasion scheme had been announced. They told him they were just being used as a means to an end, that they could never truly be loved without an obvious utility to them that made them useful to a degree, that they could never be free, that there was always, always, always something…he just needed to make sure before he put those voices, and subsequently himself, to bed.

"…why'd you really do it…? Why did you adopt us…?"

Bowser barely missed a beat, his bright grin more successfully managing to light the room than the ever-dimming candles.

"You're a smart kid…you know the answer."

He left with little fanfare, just a simple wave and an earnest reminder to eat something because he so often forgot when he became focused on anything for too long.

It wasn't so much that he didn't know the answer-he'd figured it out quite some time ago. The matter always came down to whether or not he was willing to believe his intentions were genuine. Paranoia was just something so far ingrained in him now, like a scar that refused to surface, but as he'd learned the hard way many times, he couldn't afford not to be careful, lest his little siblings suffer at his hands too…

He had to stop thinking of them like that, but it was difficult when they'd been all he had left. If he had lost them…he was already losing them now, much as he loathed to admit it. He'd only ever wanted what was best for them, but he was starting to realize that he wouldn't know what was best if it punched him in the face. He'd never let them know that, of course, but it was still yet another thing to add to the list of shortcomings that kept him awake at night, right next to him accidently turning into his own parents.

He'd never willingly defend those who'd hurt his brothers and sister so badly without good reason, but his resolve faltered when he discovered the extent of the damage he'd done to them in aligning those rulers with himself. It wasn't like he'd wanted to categorize himself with them; there was no prestige in playing an advocate to the devil. He just couldn't stomach the thought of them ever regarding him with the same contempt for his actions because he knew it was a blow he'd never recover from.

The whole thing left him unsure…as he delicately fiddled again with the piano's keys, he began to channel the uncomfortable feeling into a language only he and his parents understood. It was almost as if they were communicating in a macabre way. Warmth draped around his shoulders like his mother was hovering over them in the way she usually did when she was concerned by the languid key he'd chosen, and he nearly felt the weight of his father sitting next to him where Bowser had tacitly left his ruined medallion. But the moment was fleeting, as all things were, and before he could think to ask them what they wanted for him they were gone.

He couldn't blame them. He didn't even know why Bowser had wanted him around but it was clear to him now that though he couldn't understand his sentiments, they were genuine enough to make him want to believe everything that came out of his mouth if it meant he'd never have to be alone with his thoughts again. He'd wanted to hear so badly that he was loved again but he never knew what came after that, like a grueling climb to the peak of a mountain he'd never seen the other side of. A dangerous road to traverse when he'd always made a point to be so careful…if nothing else he'd proven for better or for worse that he knew his way around.

The solemn piece concluded, and though it had been badly disjointed at times, there were fragments he became fond of. He hummed what he remembered, latching on to the parts worth keeping, hoping to hold it there in his head long enough for him to write it down later. He picked up the medal and turned it in his palm a few times, unsure still what he wanted to do with it. Finally, he decided to set it atop the piano, next to Kamek's candle that smelled more like burnt wax now than the crisp scent of the beach. The stench too, reminded him of things he'd rather forget, the dying flame now snapping at him angrily.

He subconsciously pulled at his bandages again and, perhaps more eagerly than he should have, put out the fire at last.

---

Blue, like the gem that gleamed atop the wand it was fixed to.

The shadows reached for him there and he swatted them away but they just kept coming…reaching for him, pulling at him, grasping him and he couldn't get away-

"Get off! Get off of me!"

"Sir! It's us!"

"Are you alright?"

Recognition filtered in slowly, and exhaustion was quicker to follow, slamming into him once the blind panic he'd experienced had been adequately subdued. He stopped fighting, confident he was being supported and not restrained, and at last his vision cleared as he was again returned to his feet. It wasn't a great sight, all things considered.

All eyes burned into him as he heaved there, desperately attempting to calm his shaken nerves. He was so tired he could barely keep himself up, magic having drained a good chunk of his energy, only for the king to subsequently drain him of the rest.

He regarded the plant where he'd once stood with disdain, watching in half-lidded amusement as it gnashed its teeth endlessly. It seemed to almost resemble him in that respect, as he always prattled on and on with his useless words and pseudo-philosophy, and for all his talk of diplomacy and peace it would never amount to more than this thoughtless display. His advisor muttered neurotically to himself, still pinned underneath one of his crewmates.

"Let him up." He called once he managed to pull himself together, and the soldier complied. "He's no threat. Let him bask in the ruins of what he's brought about."

His tone was harsh, austere, commanding…somehow he found very little satisfaction in it. The momentary gratification he'd gotten from his administration of justice was nothing compared to the overwhelming uncertainty of the fallout-something Lord Bowser had forgotten to mention because he never thought his actions through either. He hadn't expected to get so emotional about it…but as mortifying as it was for him, it, like everything else, was in the past now. If his troops felt any particular way about it, they were excellent at keeping their mouths shut like it had never happened at all.

His ego told him he deserved to rest with his plan moving along this smoothly, and weary as he was, he couldn't afford to heed it when there was a nagging doubt that pulled him from repose even now. He was too smart to believe anything could play out to his favor even when he tried, and it was his stubborn addiction to caution that had saved him many times from total humiliation. He just couldn't put his finger on it until someone said it out loud.

"And what of the princess?"

Ah. That was it.

He floundered, sputtering in embarrassment at having allowed his mental and physical fatigue to cause him to forget her entirely until it was too late. She'd gotten the better of him without even doing anything. Some leader he was…

"WHERE IS THE PRINCESS?"

The adrenaline began to pump again, and he was on his feet, shouting, directing, organizing…and it's the first time he feels as though his intricate work is all pointless. It didn't matter where she was because he knew where she was going, even if she didn't. So he improvised, leaving a sizable group at the castle to finish the commandeering in his place as he raced with the others to the Pipe Yard. His hair flows wildly in the pursuit, and he's reminded again of how paper thin this operation really is, how easily it became unraveled by pulling on only one thread. The aftermath was about as sustainable as operating out of a building marked for demolition.

It's the first time he wonders what he'd been thinking.

He doesn't wonder for long as they approached their destination. There were sounds of a struggle and shouting in the distance, and as they drew near it was increasingly evident that Princess Toadstool had already been apprehended. He allowed himself a small smile and a quiet sigh of relief. His reputation was saved, and he mentally thanked all the stars in the sky for his good luck, that the problem had been resolved before it could escalate. It's everything he could have wished for, but his mind still refused to settle.

"Let. Me. Go!" She shouted, clearly enraged, and it made him grimace in guilt. She glared at him in revulsion when he advanced towards her, fighting against the soldiers that had spotted her as well as she was able within their iron-clad grip…it made his insides burn in such a way that he couldn't look at it anymore.

He pointed the wand in her direction, its muted glow emanating from the end; a warning that bubbled underneath the surface. She was clever to have slipped away, evidently also strong enough to manually slide off the metal cover blocking the entrance to the pipe she'd intended to take…also not in the mood for taking prisoners judging by her attitude but he couldn't fault her for that. He wasn't either.

"All of you, leave us. Go round up the rest of her party, and ensure that they do not escape. I will take care of Princess Toadstool myself."

"Just try it." She spat at him, and it cut him where he didn't expect it to.

She had little in terms of power in this situation and still commanded the conversation in a way he never could…in a way he deeply respected. He'd grown to respect her profoundly the longer they worked together, and he found himself inexplicably lamenting the loss of the gentle concern that flowed through her only hours before because it was something he sorely missed. She'd actually tried to help because the injustice of it all burned her just as badly…her only crime was simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It hurt him to do this as much as it probably hurt her to look him in the eyes right now, but her hardened stare never faltered.

"Are you sure?"

"You're wasting time." He snapped, and his troops got the message, scrambling away with little more than a quick salute, and in an instant they were alone again.

The authoritative mask crumbled away, and in that moment, he felt as small as he'd felt in those days when his mother would reprimand him for taking something that didn't belong to him. He swayed as he fought to keep himself upright, thankful that the raised wand in his hand convinced her more than his pathetic, deflated expression.

"…Princess, I don't have much time-"

"Neither do I. I have an invasion to prevent-"

"There will be no invasion. Your kingdom is safe."

"Why should I believe anything you have to say-?"

"I have no reason to lie to you anymore. I know it's not much, but peace is the least I can offer as an apology. I told you before, Lord Bowser exonerated you because he knows now that you weren't aware of the attacks that took place and are therefore innocent, which is more than I can say for the rulers of the neighboring kingdoms. You were never meant to be involved in this at all, but now that you're here…you have information I can't allow to be disseminated."

"What authority does he possess to determine who is innocent and who isn't? What right do you have to tell me that this doesn't involve me-?"

"Because it shouldn't. My parents wrote letters to warn the other kingdoms of what was to come, and they chose to do nothing. I know they were received because I have their responses-"

"We never received any such letter-"

"Exactly. Yours was intercepted before it could reach you."

She moved suddenly as if to test him, and he shot a small ball of energy in the space between her and the uncovered pipe, forcing her backwards. Neither moved after that; he was too winded and she was too surprised for anything significant to come of it. All the while they eyed one another cautiously.

"Even if I believed you…" She breathed, tensing like she half-expected his entire army to ambush her at that moment. "If I believed you, Ludwig…you can't just keep me here indefinitely. You'd let my kingdom fall to ruin in my absence when I've done nothing but try to help yours? I don't know what to believe anymore, but I certainly don't believe you want that…do you?"

The guilt wracked him, flooding into him faster than he could wheeze it out. The anger in her tone was gone, but it was still stern, demanding him to return to his logic and reason when he'd been led around by his emotions for far too long…that was why he didn't know what he'd been thinking this whole time, agreeing to this…because he wasn't thinking.

"Please believe I wish nothing but the best for you. I'm sorry I couldn't convince you to leave sooner-"

"Well I'm not. You think I'd rather be ignorant? I can't possibly be more ignorant than you! Even if you speak the truth, you were too blinded by your savage need for revenge to notice that you got the wrong person! The previous king may have ignored you, which is deplorable in its own right, but you would visit his mistakes on his poor son? Can't you see how unsustainable this cycle is?"

Her conviction made his blood run cold, and he was frozen to the spot while the world caved in around him. He'd gotten the wrong…how could he have missed that? It was because he wasn't thinking reasonably, he hadn't bothered to familiarize himself with the Pipe Kingdom because he had once again assumed he knew all he needed to know in order to condemn them to this fate. He'd been so concerned with honoring his parents, appeasing his siblings…proving his worth to the dead and the living so no one would dare question his intellect, his usefulness…his devotion to achievements a thinly veiled plea for validation so he wouldn't have to pretend to love himself so superficially-

"I…I didn't know…" He stammered pitifully. Her expression mirrored the sentiment.

"…Ignorance is no excuse, Ludwig. If I couldn't use it, then neither can you."

She was right. He'd been backed into a corner because there was truly nowhere else to go from here without smashing through the wall. Even if he had the energy, he wouldn't have had the strength to pull it off.

"…It's not too late. You can still fix this…" She tried softly.

It was never that simple. He'd already learned this lesson the hard way…or rather he thought he'd learned it…he'd never be able to fix anything. He wasn't clever enough, too weak mentally and physically now to resist what he'd already set in motion. The plan was already in effect, there was no stopping it even if he wanted to…and for a fleeting moment he hated that he didn't.

He knew what it was to be alone, trapped in the decaying carnage of solitude where even screams became as rehearsed as those melodies he used to play. She'd never know how hard it had been for him to claw his way out, how hard he'd fought for how little he had…he knew he'd never be able to directly undermine Bowser or his siblings in their efforts to heal because he'd fall right with them, straight back down into the inky abyss. He'd never be able to defy the ones who had given him everything.

"I can't…" He used the last of his energy to conjure her forgotten parasol, and she looked at him incredulously.

"…but you can."

He looked around to ensure they were alone before he limped over to the pipe, handing over a possession she eagerly took despite her suspicion.

"There is no direct pipe to your kingdom I'm afraid, but this one will take you to the outskirts of the Grasslands. If I know Larry, he'll be taking his time…you should be able to pass through without incident. From there it's about a half a day's journey to the west before you'll reach your own kingdom."

"Larry? Who's-?"

"Another one of us." He stated plainly, despite how much it pained him.

He had to do this, there was no other way they'd be able to live normal lives because there was no such thing as the other side of a circle. He needed to take action now, what little he was able to manage, because though it was excruciating, he loved them too much for them to cycle endlessly like this. Princess Toadstool looked horrified herself, like she'd just pulled something from the depths of her memories.

"It may not be too late. You can still try to warn them, or at the very least send them whatever assistance you can."

"Right…I'll make certain these letters don't get intercepted, if you'll allow me the time."

"I'll do my best. I'm sorry to ask so many favors of you, especially when I am not entitled to your help, but if I may request one thing…please tell them…your rescuers…" He shook his head before his eyes became cloudy, and his disposition steeled in a determination that demanded nothing less than capitulation.

"I know they are as righteous as you…please…please tell them to be gentle…when my time comes, I will accept defeat gracefully, whatever must be done to me. But I beg you to please spare them…do you understand? I cannot let you go if you don't promise me-"

"You're asking after the other generals-?"

"They aren't generals, Princess. They're my younger siblings-"

"…What? You know that's not normal, right? How much younger-?"

"Listen, I don't have the time or the energy to get into specifics with you at the moment. Do we have a deal or not?"

She looked at him thoughtfully, inspecting him for any trace of deception until she appeared satisfied.

"Yes, so long as they haven't gone out of their way to hurt civilians-"

"They're on strict orders not to, though it's a pointless precaution. We know what it is like to live in the barren aftermath of such destruction…it's not something we'd ever wish on anyone."

There was a faint call from the castle…time was running out.

"They're coming. Quickly, I must ask something else of you before you go but it…may seem a bit foolish."

"What is it?"

He skittishly pointed at her parasol.

"I'm very tired. I have no energy left for magic… I need to buy you some time to escape so…one good crack ought to do it, if you understand me…"

She lifted her umbrella so that it laid comfortably across her shoulders.

"You want me to-with…? Uh…alright…"

"They're outside already, if would be too suspicious if I remained silent while you escaped, even if I couldn't stop you. If you take a swing at me, it would look to anyone who could be watchi-"

He was interrupted by a swift blow to the side of his head, and while it wasn't enough to knock him out, it wasn't gentle either. His knees buckled again and he crumpled to the ground before he had any time to react.

"…I didn't mean…actually hit me…" He grumbled, cheek pressed against the ground in a way that slurred his speech and made his vision swim.

"I know. But you deserved that."

It was another argument of hers he couldn't rebut, so he laid there in silence because his vitality had been drained to the point where he could barely move. The best he could do was hope he'd lose consciousness soon so at least he wouldn't have a barrage of regrets to contend with when those voices inevitably returned.

Was he always destined to fail? Could he ever manage to do anything right?

"…Ludwig…thank you…" It was faint but still firm, like an old oath unbroken. He heard her slip away down the pipe and he mentally wished her the best of luck the best he could in his addled state.

He laid there for what felt like hours, and despite the voices around him he remained largely undisturbed. He almost hoped no one would find him like this, so broken and beaten and worn down like he'd crawled straight out of a storm drain. Who could be proud of him like this?

His parents were gone, even in a spiritual sense he felt disconnected with them like they refused to talk to him still, like they wanted nothing to do with him. He'd abandoned Kamek, his teachings since twisted, used to spite him and others against their intended purpose in the ultimate display of defiance. His siblings would never look up again to the one who selfishly cut them down so he wouldn't have to keep pruning their poisonous offshoots. Lord Bowser…he couldn't even say when it had happened, but the man had such a dizzying amount of power over him when he so much as smiled in his direction because it made him complete in a way he wasn't willing to admit. He could never hope to explain it...what did Lord Bowser ever see in him?

Still, in those short-lived moments of clarity he knew he'd done what he had to, even if it meant laying alone in the dark forever. He cared about them too much for them to ever follow in his footsteps.

Footsteps…

They pounded against his eardrums as the shadows returned, swarming him all of a sudden. He didn't have the energy to fight back anymore, he was no longer able to articulate himself…he could only hope wherever they were taking him was somewhere peaceful, but he knew deep down there was no such place for him. He felt the wand gently nudged out of his tight grip and out of nowhere he felt himself float again like he hadn't in years…it was weird...to be this weightless…unburdened in whatever form it took…he finally went limp.

They carried him away to nowhere; he'd slipped away into exhausted delirium long before he could ever argue he belonged anywhere else.

---

Age:

1) 10

2) 13 (?)

3-4) 14.5 (?)

---

My turn to spread the love ^-^ (I'll keep it brief bc I know this was a long one)

Thanks first to my beta, SuplexCity, for being there since the beginning. Ruining your life is my absolute favorite part of the day.

Amethyst Goldenwind, I know you've heard this from everyone already, but I can't thank you enough for your time. It really means a lot to me to see your thoughts, your questions, and your reactions in the comments because it means someone other than me is having a good time, which always makes me feel a little less goofy about it. I also absolutely adore your writing style, you're the best :)

Samantha Nuttly, the one who started this, thanks for spreading your positivity, and thanks for the shoutout. It made me inordinately happy and grateful that I'm able to share my favorite nonsense with everyone. Best of luck to you and your newest fic! (Evidently you also like BJJ which is ^^interesting^^ so...noted)

CheeseCakeParty, my friend, I look forward to our conversations constantly because it is truly fascinating how similar our headcanons are. Thank you for your encouragement and engagement, they really go a lot further than you could imagine, and I think my stories are better for it. I'd tell y'all to read Playlist but if you're here, chances are good you already have.

Lastly, thank you to everyone who made it this far. I don't know when to shut up, but your continued support and kind words just sort of cause words to hemorrhage out of me, apologies. We've got one more in the queue, and I bet you can figure out where this one's going.

Until then, much love, as always.

-Q