Wildlife
Jauz & KARRA: Wildlife
Bowser skims through the piles of paperwork cluttering his desk, rubbing occasionally at his tired eyes. Though, he stubbornly presses onward and reads down the long list of issues needing addressing. He yawns audibly, thoughtlessly scribbling his name atop the thick black line to seal another deal with a farmer requesting aid from the castle. Bowser leans back in his chair with a groan, every bone in his body cracks in relief.
The grandfather clock ticks away the time he's losing sleep. Bowser hesitantly glances at the antique clock only to recoil at the current time.
1:36 AM.
Bowser takes a much needed swig of his coffee, hoping it'll give him another round of energy. He winces as soon as the disgusting taste attacks his taste buds. After sitting stagnant on the desk for hours the coffee has turned into a cold black sludge. Bowser sets it down trying unsuccessfully to get the nasty taste out of his mouth.
Recovering from the coffee, Bowser returns to his papers only to find his brain is now completely malfunctioning on him. He can barely read the paper in front of him anymore—let only comprehend it—and his back aches from sitting in a chair for over five hours without moving to stretch. He decides now is the proper time to call it a night.
Standing up from his chair causes some of the papers to flutter to the ground. Bowser is too exhausted to pay them much mind and instead heads out of his personal study. He nods in acknowledgement to one of the guards at the door. A rookie Koopa Troopa whose name escapes him, but the young soldier is very much wide awake and alert, carrying on duty with pride. Which is the complete opposite of Bowser, who drags his feet down the empty hallways like an undead monster.
Miraculously, he manages to make it halfway down the hallway towards his room without stumbling over his own feet. He consciously tries to keep his steps soundless when he passes by a set of guest room doors now inhabited by sleeping children. Until something unexpected catches his eye and he pauses in his tracks. He blinks rapidly and rubs at his eyes to ensure it's real and not his overworked mind playing silly tricks on him.
One of the children's doors is opened a crack and an unknown light source spills a gentle glow into the hallway. He blinks rapidly until he's satisfied to know that what he's seeing is definitely real. Bowser takes a meager step closer towards the open door. He racks his brain trying to recall who's room this is, drawing a blank because his brain is too tired to provide him with answers.
Part of him wants to label it as "nothing" so he can proceed to get some much needed sleep. But another part of him—some deep crevice in his mind that's still very much awake—adamantly disagrees with that idea and causes his stomach to unexpectedly lurch forward. Kamek calls this feeling Bowser's "fatherly instincts" which manifested almost instantaneously when Junior appeared in his life.
Apparently these paternal intuitions include the seven orphans currently living in his house. In other words, this means Bowser is doomed to experience these overwhelming feelings even more than before. His gut continues to churn uncomfortably and he surrenders because there is no way he can sleep under this indecipherable anxiety.
Bowser approaches the door quietly, hesitating for a quick moment before he peeks into the room. His eyes slowly widen. Bowser is bewildered by the sight since he honestly expected to find nothing amiss. It's not the first time his instincts had blown something completely out of proportion.
What he finds is little Morton, the child who avoids Bowser any opportunity he gets, latched desperately onto Lemmy, the child with the technicolored Mohawk, who can't remain still for very long. They sit on the extravagant guest bed, lush red and obsidian dyed blankets made of the finest silk and velvet remain unused while they sit on top of them, close to the edge of the mattress.
The light source Bowser spotted in the halls comes from one of the lamps resting on its' designated end table beside the bed. Silent tears flow down Morton's cheeks as Lemmy comfortingly rubs the younger child's head, murmuring gentle words for only him to hear.
As Morton continues to cry in silence, Bowser briefly wonders if Morton is selectively mute. He hasn't spoken one word to Bowser in the three weeks he's been here and, even as he cries rivers, he doesn't make much sound. It's like Bowser is watching a TV show with the volume down. Bowser doesn't recall a time when Morton spoke to his siblings aloud either. When being addressed by any of them, Morton responds with subtle gestures only they seem to understand or hushed whispers.
Bowser has never seen Morton display so much terror not personally directed at the King himself. The kid is quivering in Lemmy's arms, eyes squeezed tightly shut like he's trying to block out the entire world. Bowser's "fatherly instincts" had been right on the snout. Now he has to do something about it, right?
Bowser slowly opens the door completely, standing uselessly in the doorway as he stares blankly at the sullen sight. He commands his feet to move forward, but he's stuck in place like the coward he is. Why is he suddenly so nervous? They're just a bunch of kids in need of some good old-fashioned comfort. Is he honestly afraid he'll mess everything up when he hasn't even begun to try?
Another idea momentarily springs into Bowser's mind. There is another possible alternative. It's the most heartless option available to him. He could simply leave things as they are and pretend he saw nothing. How would he be able to help them anyways if he can't pull himself together?
Unfortunately for Bowser, Lemmy notices him then, eyes locking with Bowser's as he dumbly stands there debating internally with himself. Lemmy's eyes have dark heavy bags under them and the usual cheerful expressions that pass on his face faster than television ads are nonexistent, replaced by apparent exhaustion Bowser's only seen worn on adults his age. The kid is barely holding himself together let alone his brother.
Despite Lemmy's predicament, the child greets Bowser with a weary smile. It vanishes the moment Morton sniffs audibly, tightening his hold on poor Lemmy. Lemmy winces, but doesn't voice any complaints, biting his bottom lip hard instead, eyes wet from unshed tears. Bowser's decision is immediately made, all previous thoughts of abandonment tossed out the window and down into the lava pits below. He can't let this go on. Especially not when there's a slight chance he can offer his assistance.
He can do this! He has a son now and he's calmed him down plenty of times in the middle of the night.
Cautiously, Bowser steps into the room. The younger child hasn't noticed his presence yet so he tries to make as little noise as possible. The last thing Bowser wants to do is scare the poor kid and further upset him. Lemmy gets the unspoken hint to inform his brother about Bowser's sudden appearance. He gently begins shaking Morton, causing the child to perk up.
With Morton's full attention on Lemmy, Lemmy directs one of his signature grins towards Bowser, but it's so forced that it looks more like a grimace. Bowser can't stand the sorrowful attempt, yet he continues to hold Lemmy's gaze and flashes a pathetic smile of his own.
"Hello, Bowser," Lemmy greets, words coated in sugar, though slightly slurred by his fatigue. The kid sounds out of it. "I hope we didn't wake you up."
Morton peers meekly behind him to verify his brother's words are true. The little one's eyes widen in fear when he sees Bowser's monstrous figure looming in the dark shadows of the room not brightened by the lamp. A noise of discontent bubbles past Morton's lips before he buries himself further into his brother's embrace. With how tightly Morton clings to Lemmy, Bowser's surprised he hasn't accidentally snapped him in half. Lemmy glances to Bowser silently pleading for him to do something.
"Nope, I wasn't even asleep yet," Bowser's voice cracks slightly and he clears his throat awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head. "I was just about to head to bed."
Why is Bowser so nervous to talk to a bunch of children?
Lemmy continues to intensely stare at Bowser, patiently waiting for him to continue. What does Bowser even do in this scenario? This kid is practically begging him for a lifeline here and Bowser hesitantly tosses him one because Lemmy looks absolutely miserable.
"Why are you guys still up? It's pretty late."
The words stumble clumsily out of Bowser's mouth, his voice off pitch due to his uncertainty on how to approach the obvious problem. Amazingly enough, it's actually comprehendible to Lemmy because it sounded like gibberish to Bowser's ears. The kid sighs sadly, a frown forming on his face while he pats Morton on the back of his head affectionately.
"Morty had a nightmare."
Ah.
Bowser nods in understanding. It explains the waterfall of tears and Morton's uncontrollably jitters. The kid is jumping at all kinds of shadows. Although, he doubts Morton would want any assistance from him when he's terrified of him. Still, Bowser is a stubborn individual—Kamek reminds him of this fact daily—and Lemmy obviously needs his help with this.
Bowser takes another small step further inside, shutting the door quietly behind him. He leaves all his unwarranted fear and pessimistic thoughts behind the door where they'll hopefully stay in the silent hallways. He feels utterly pitiful when his legs shake slightly as Lemmy continues to stare at him quizzically, curious of Bowser's next move. Deciding that standing may become a tedious chore in his current frantic state, Bowser approaches Lemmy's bed big enough to fit all of the children currently living in his castle.
Bowser takes a seat on the bed right beside Lemmy and Morton. His huge mass causes the mattress to sag under him and both children, not expecting the sudden shift, sink into him. Lemmy giggles tiredly, amused with the situation he's now stuck in. He doesn't appear to mind his head is now using the King's huge arm as a pillow. It's even endearing when Lemmy's eyes briefly flutter close, completely comfortable where he is.
Morton responds the exact opposite; whimpering in distress despite being in the safety of Lemmy's arms. The younger child attempts to shuffle away from Bowser while still holding onto Lemmy for dear life, practically strangling the his big brother. Morton wants his brother to move with him, but Lemmy is too exhausted to budge even slightly. Eventually, Morton submits, sagging against Lemmy in defeat, purposely turning his head away from Bowser.
"So," Bowser starts, staring at his hands folded into his lap. He tries not to move around too much, hoping to leave Lemmy undisturbed. He spares Morton a quick glimpse, meeting the back of the child's pale head. Morton is very determined to not meet Bowser's eyes. "What was the nightmare about?"
If Bowser had to guess, probably something cliché, like scary monsters under his bed or the shadows dancing around in his room contorting into gangly shapes. Morton is an extremely anxious child, it wouldn't surprise Bowser if he conjures up imaginary foes with glinting teeth and crazed red eyes. Ironically, Bowser has both of those features which probably explains why Morton is so afraid of him. For once in his life, Bowser wishes his most recognizable features weren't so intimidating.
Lemmy nudges Morton to grab his attention. When Morton meets Lemmy's gaze, the eldest child greets his bewildered stare with a radiant but obviously fake grin. It doesn't reach Lemmy's eyes like it should, their familiar twinkle of mirth absent. Bowser knows Morton won't catch the flaws Bowser clearly spots because he's far too young to understand the farce. Children Morton's age only take these things at face value.
"You can tell him, Morton," Lemmy coaxes encouragingly. "He's not going to hurt you, I promise. Bowser is here to help."
Bowser is briefly touched by Lemmy's faith in him and Morton appears to be persuaded enough by Lemmy to finally glance timidly back at Bowser. The child's eyes are puffy and bright red, he looks just as exhausted as Lemmy does. How he is still able to have the energy to stay awake, Bowser can't begin to guess.
"There was fire," is all Morton says before he loses his confidence. He hides his face in the crook of Lemmy's shoulder. Lemmy rewards Morton's brief moment of bravery with a few absentminded pats on his shell and a drowsy but meaningful "good job."
The significance of Morton's words click immediately in Bowser's mind. Morton's nightmares aren't childish fabrications about simple fears, but about the death of his parents and how a house fire ripped it all away from him. His fears go much deeper than Bowser initially thought and now Bowser's left staring at an endless pit, completely lost on how to deal with this situation.
How old was Morton again? Four? Five?
Bowser's heart sinks and he's overcome with guilt from a tragedy he had no hand in. This child shouldn't carry such substantial weight in his heart when he can barely count to ten on his pudgy fingers. Bowser's sorrowful gaze flickers down at Lemmy, gauging his reaction. Lemmy's baby face is contorted into a deep frown, eyes glistening from tears he doesn't allow to fall.
He's holding himself together for Morton, but just barely.
Then there's Lemmy, who's taken on the burden of being one of the group's go-to parental figures. He's the one Morton sought out first, traversing the dark halls to Lemmy's room despite Morton constantly following Roy around like a lost puppy. Roy—boisterous, obnoxious Roy—doesn't come off as an easygoing boy, lacking the patience Lemmy has displayed tonight. It would make sense for Lemmy to be Morton's first choice instead of Roy.
Lemmy appears to be the ground the rest of the children stand on. Although it's a rocky ground, riddled with cracks, seconds away from collapsing in on itself; he remains firm for them. Bowser had been wrong, he initially believed it was Ludwig or Roy that kept the children sane while they tried to survive. But Ludwig and Roy simply provided the children with food and shelter, Lemmy had been the one to offer all of them the mental support children need in life altering situations such as this. His optimism is an endless supply he willingly shares with anyone who needs it and who would need it more than a pack of orphaned children?
Even Bowser, who has only known the child for a short amount of time, feels at ease when Lemmy so much as gazes brightly up at him. There's a warmth inside that child that just seems to bring out the best in others and the cheerful energy he carries around so freely reminds Bowser that even when the world works against you; there's still a reason to smile.
Bowser's thoughts are interrupted when Morton's silent crying morphs into a full on fit. He's a blubbering mess of hot tears and snot, no longer able to remain silent anymore as the shoddy dam he's built up collapses. Lemmy immediately tries to hush his brother, but Morton refuses to quiet down. Instead, he squeezes Lemmy tight enough to leave claw marks on his arms and draw small amounts of blood. The older child clenches his teeth as he exhales deeply out of his nostrils. His eyes speak for him, exposing the pain he cannot completely hide.
Lemmy is suffering and he just lets it happen because his strong-point is also his weakness; his selflessness. Morton, unintentionally, is taking advantage of his brother's kindness. Bowser, without thinking twice, jumps into action.
Bowser easily plucks Morton off of Lemmy. Morton is too startled to react at first, not putting up a fight as he's forcefully removed off his brother. Bowser lifts the child up, then settles Morton cozily into his own embrace. The child, having recovered from his shock, begins to struggle to free himself, whimpering and squirming in Bowser grasp.
"Ease up, kid," Bowser murmurs soothingly. He effortlessly holds Morton steady; the child weighs next to nothing compared to Bowser and paired with the child's sleep deprivation; Morton isn't putting up much of a fight to begin with. "I'm not gonna hurt you."
Eventually, Morton admits defeat with a drawn out huff and goes limp in Bowser arms. Then he begins to cry once again. Though he doesn't hesitate to squeeze the life out of Bowser despite Morton's negative reaction moments ago. A part of Bowser starts to panic when the child audibly sobs, but he mimics what Lemmy had done; adjusting Morton in his arms so he's facing him, then starts rubbing the back of the child's head and gently swaying him to a lullaby Bowser hums to his baby boy.
He isn't sure how Lemmy managed to handle Morton's claws digging into him because even Bowser finds himself wincing at the tiny needles of pain as Morton attempts to wrap his short arms around Bowser's huge body.
"Morton, are you trying to strange me to death?" Bowser asks jokingly, tapping the child's shell lightly. He hopes that the Koopa child will ease his grip. Though, this causes the child to cry harder, any trances of humor ignored.
Kamek's snarky comments about Bowser making quips at the worst of times echo mockingly in Bowser's head, followed by a deserved "I told you so" from his own conscience. Bowser immediately feels guilty and allows Morton to continue gripping painfully onto to him as punishment for his lack of empathy. Lemmy blindly extends out a hand to briefly pat Morton's knee, his voice a gentle whisper as he assures Morton once again of Bowser's good intentions. He's still trying to help Bowser in anyway he can.
"Morton's scared," Morton fearfully admits to anyone willingly to listen to his deeply rooted pain. His voice is so quiet, like a faint brush of fingertips on Bowser's scales, and Bowser isn't sure he had heard his heartbreaking confession correctly. That is until Bowser hears the clatter of teeth and Morton begins shaking wildly in his arms.
Bowser speaks softly to Morton, reassuring him the nightmares will eventually fade. Like Lemmy's failed attempts before, Morton isn't calmed in the slightest and his jitters continue to rack his entire body. Lemmy is beginning to panic now too, saying anything he can to get his brother to stop crying. Seeing his brother all worked up, Bowser watches Lemmy physically struggle to hold in his own tears.
This isn't working.
Nothing they're doing is working.
Bowser decides to form a different plan from thin air. Instead of murmuring soothing sentences meant to comfort Morton, Bowser tries something else. Something that unearths his childhood memories buried beneath his adult responsibilities.
When he was swamped by his own nightmares as a child, he found solace when Kamek would ramble on about his day while little Bowser rested his head against the Magikoopa's chest. The sound of Kamek's familiar voice, paired with his steady strumming heartbeat, mitigated Bowser's despair and he'd find his eyes slowly drooping closed, drifting off to a dreamless sleep.
So, with his childhood fresh in his mind, the King begins talking casually about his day because the choking silence of the world around Morton is what is overwhelming him. Speaking in whispers doesn't reflect the stillness in the air that leaves the child alone with his own thoughts. Which isn't what Morton needs right now. He needs a good distraction, he needs something to stop the endless void of fear from expanding.
Lemmy easily catches on, sleepily joining in on the conversation himself. The sound of his older brother's voice intermingling with Bowser's causes Morton's sobs to lull until they are no longer soaking Bowser's chest. Instead, the youngster chooses to listen to Lemmy's animated retelling of something that happened yesterday before he delves into another story about his favorite desserts. There are times when Lemmy asks Morton an occasional question which the child responds to with a nod of his head or a fleeting hum.
The conversation shifts into numerous topics which jump from one to the next leaving little time in between for Morton to stop and think about his nightmare. Bowser can hardly keep up with Lemmy. When Bowser runs out of things to say—mind lagging behind due to his forgotten fatigue—Lemmy is quick to switch topics to something more lively. As the random discussions continue, Morton readjusts himself so that he's tucked neatly in the crook of Bowser's left side, cradled nicely in his left arm, but still able to watch his brother's overdramatic but languid hand gestures.
Eventually, Morton's shivers cease, his breathing becomes more even. Bowser briefly peers down to find him fast asleep. Bowser exhales heavily in response, thankful that his poor excuse of a plan actually worked. He'll randomly thank Kamek later on, amused by the fact the mage will ponder about the unexplainable sign of gratitude for the rest of the day.
Lemmy's energy deflates all at once like a balloon losing air. The spark of energy he had on full display moments before now completely spent. He curls into Bowser's right side releasing his own sigh of relief. The atmosphere in the room is incredibly serene, only the creaks of the old castle and occasional shuffling of a guard passing by fill the silence.
Minutes tick by, Bowser assumes Lemmy has succumbed to his own lack of sleep, only to spare a quick peek down at him and be proven wrong. Bowser is genuinely surprised to find the child still wide awake.
"How often does Morton get these nightmares?" Bowser questions, tone hushed.
Lemmy attempts to shrug his shoulders, only for him to give up on the action halfway and snuggle into Bowser's arm instead. A warmth stirs in Bowser's chest at the action. He can't stop the goofy smile that momentarily spreads across his face.
"He usually gets them every other night," Lemmy's voice is just as muted. He pauses in thought before continuing, fingers tracing mindless patterns on Bowser's arm. The tiny motions of his finger slightly tickle Bowser's scales. "I hope, one day, they don't get them at all."
"They?"
"It's not just Morton," Lemmy admits quietly "Sometimes it's Iggy or Wendy..." He pauses his thought, reluctant to continue before he seems to decide that what he's about to say isn't a promise he's meant to keep locked away.
"Roy, too."
Bowser's eyes widen at the thought of Roy seeking out the emotional comfort of another individual. And here he thought Roy would share Ludwig's awful habit of internalizing his problems. Lemmy really is someone all the children can talk to without the fear of being harshly judged for their weaknesses.
"And they all come to you?"
Lemmy nods, a ghost of a smile on his face, "I don't mind."
He may not mind, but Bowser surely does.
It's hypocritical to berate Lemmy for ignoring his own health to provide for his siblings since Bowser has done the exact same for his own child. There have been countless sleepless nights fretting over his son's wellbeing. When the baby had a slight case of the sniffles, Bowser rushed him to Kamek, begging and pleading with the mage for assistance.
The king refused to leave the infant's side, wiping the baby's runny nose and securing him in a cocoon of blankets to fight away the shivers. He didn't leave Junior alone until his cold had completely disappeared. The entire week Bowser neglected, not only his duties as king, but his basic needs too. Kamek had to forcibly get Bowser to eat his meals and promise Bowser he'd watch over his son so Bowser could take care of himself.
Although, there's a huge difference here; Lemmy is a kid. The child is still growing. He shouldn't be taking on such burdensome responsibilities when he's not even in the double digits age wise. Yet here he is playing parent for his siblings without any complaints. Bowser is quickly piecing together Lemmy's complex personality.
There's more to him than just a smile and cute face.
Clearly, Lemmy doesn't care about being woken up every other night despite the physical toll it's taken on his tiny body. It explains his lack of attention during breakfast some days and why his energy level is an unpredictable curve. One day, he'll be fine, eager to do even the menial of tasks with indescribable excitement. Another day, Kamek struggles to keep the child awake during school lessons and he's passed out cold on a couch by lunch time.
Bowser is suddenly proud of a child he scarcely knows.
"You really are a good kid," Bowser blurts out. He feels the child stiffen beside him and Bowser briefly panics, thinking he's somehow said the wrong thing. Until he notices Lemmy grinning as widely as he can under the countless hours of sleeplessness.
"And you really are a good king," Lemmy mirrors back.
The way Lemmy says "king" a tad coyly insinuates there's a double meaning to the word Bowser can't decipher but the compliment is genuine and catches Bowser off guard. These meaningful words meant to bring Bowser up somehow end up dragging him further down.
Doubt is a confidence destroying monster and Bowser has difficulty believing Lemmy's statement holds any truth to it at all. All of the awful things he's ever done suddenly crash into him like a huge wave crashes into a tiny boat. He barely able to keep his head above the water.
As if sensing Bowser's reluctance to accept the generous compliment, Lemmy grips Bowser's arm a little tighter. The sensation brings Bowser back to the surface before he drowns in remorse and self-pity. The child laughs listlessly, the sound cutting into the silence. He pats Bowser's arm affectionately.
"You're just like Roy sometimes."
This kid really can see through everything, huh?
Bowser doesn't respond because he knows Lemmy is one-hundred percent right. Every time Bowser sees Roy; he sees a younger version of himself glaring challengingly right back at him, fists curled and ready to swing. Though Roy's stance yells he's eager to brawl, something about his demeanor doesn't quite match his confident stature.
Why do Roy's legs tremble ever so slightly beneath him when he taunts his foes?
Why does he look so overcome with guilt when any mention of his parents is brought into a conversation?
Roy's self-confidence is just as fake as Bowser's.
Their lack of confidence isn't the only trait shared between Roy and Bowser. How they tackle their problems is scarily identical. Roy prefers harsher methods, using violence and insults to force his way through them. Any problem he can't physically solve with his fists, he outright ignores and hopes that time will solve it for him. Bowser readily admits he does the exact same thing.
But Bowser also admits he's grown softer since his son was dropped off at his doorsteps and the pack of children occupying his castle are slowly teaching him that not everything can be solved with bloodshed or with the passage of time. Allowing these children's negative feelings to fester while they continue to unconsciously plant their agony deeper into their psyche will only worsen their pain.
Kamek had to do some hard pushing in order for Bowser to gain any ounce of courage to try to talk to them about their somber past. He didn't want to open old wounds that are barely healing to begin with. Still, Bowser can't keep ignoring the warning signals blaring loudly in his ears; but how does he fix this? Bowser refuses to add more misery to their already gigantic stack of problems.
Kamek insisted that for a mental wound as severe as this to heal properly, Bowser had to talk it over with them instead of avoiding it completely like he has a tendency to do. Only when they were ready to talk, though. Kamek nagged on and on about the importance of trust in this scenario. If they didn't trust him; why would they open their fragile hearts to him?
The old fart is, unfortunately, right. He usually always is and that irritates Bowser to no end. Although, Bowser can confidently say he's made some progress here tonight. Lemmy had been more than willing to spill his thoughts to Bowser. He never hesitated to lean on him—physically and mentally—for support. He even appeared relieved to have someone to vent to.
Morton, on the other hand, would require more patience and time.
Looking down at Lemmy, Bowser smiles tenderly at the sight of the child now passed out cold, soft snores escaping past his lips. He looks even more fragile than when he's awake and, if Bowser's hands weren't already holding one child, he'd happily run his hands through the child's vibrant hair. He'd watch the bright colors sift through his fingers, and promise Lemmy that nothing would ever hurt him this deeply again.
Bowser pauses at that thought.
He really does want to protect these kids.
He laughs under his breath; he's already too attached to them and he's only had them under his roof for three weeks. The impatient part of him wants them to share the sentiment, but the rational side of him reminds him that these things will take time.
Perhaps, one day, Lemmy, Roy, and Ludwig won't have to play the roles of their parents. They all deserve a childhood filled with happiness, free of parental duties. Bowser knows he will take on that task for them. After all, he is the actual adult here.
Bowser hopes the children don't misinterpret his intentions. He isn't here to replace the parents they've already lost. He can never fill those empty holes in their hearts, but he can provide the children with what a parent is meant to do. If they eventually see him as a father figure, Bowser finds he'll willingly accept that role.
What the Hell is happening to him? When did he become so ready to be a father?
He snorts amusingly to himself; he knows that answers already.
It all started the day a baby was randomly left at the castle gate with a poorly written letter. The letter, hardly illegible, boldly claimed the newly hatched infant was Bowser's illegitimate son. Bowser insisted that the child wasn't his and left Kamek in charge of the baby while Bowser did everything he could to avoid the kid.
Bowser remained resolute on the matter, but how could he ignore the uncanny resemblance?
All it took was one smile from the baby, one damn toothless smile, and Bowser practically drowned in a puddle of his own tears. There is a part of him that still feels remorse for the way he first reacted. Bowser realized, as he was bouncing the fussy infant in his arms after a long night of the baby crying, he had been mirroring the exact behavior of his own father. The man also shoved all his parental duties onto Kamek instead of raising his own son.
In Bowser's eyes, Kamek had always been his father; the former King of the Darklands was just a stranger he saw in passing. The death of the king meant little to Bowser, he did not shed tears for a man who did not love him.
Bowser promised his son he'd never be like his own father.
The feelings that came with being a new parent were foreign and confusing. Bowser wonders how Kamek had done this without any help. Bowser found himself constantly worried. He'd worry about the infant sleeping in his crib despite there being no sign of danger, he'd worry about the unforeseeable future, and he'd worry about the possibility of failing his son.
He realized rather quickly that being a parent had its ups and downs, but hearing the baby giggle and smile, grasping at the air with his tiny claws so his Dad would get the hint that he wanted attention made every moment worth it. Bowser is experiencing those same fuzzy emotions now as he watches both kids sleep.
He really is doomed.
Too exhausted to keep thinking, Bowser decides to try and get some sleep. Although, he realizes he has a predicament here; there is no possible way for him to scoot onto the bed without jostling the children awake. If he were to leave and Morton woke up again, Lemmy would be alone in the battle to stop the barrage of tears.
Bowser begins to shift around slightly, occasionally peeking down at the children to ensure they're still sleeping. Since Morton is cradled in his left arm, Bowser uses his right to gently scoop up Lemmy, trying not to wake up both of the children and ruin all his hard work. Lemmy wakes momentarily causing Bowser to tense up, preparing for catastrophe. Thankfully, Lemmy only melts into his new position, then falls back asleep.
Bowser releases a relieved sigh, then sits up from the bed with a muted groan. His eyes scan the room for an empty space to rest against the wall. Though he finds that there is too much miscellaneous furniture spread out in the room for him to fit anywhere.
"Why is there so much crap shoved into these stupid guest rooms? Who are we trying to impress here?"
Running out of ideas and patience, he carefully plops himself down on the floor at the edge of the bed. He leans his shell against the bed frame for support and attempts to get as comfortable as he can in his current predicament. His arms and back will ache in the morning, this he's sure of, but he knows it's worth it. He's never seen Morton so comfortable in his presence or Lemmy look so peaceful.
Bowser can't fight the smirk on his lips at the sudden thought of Kamek entering his chambers to wake him up only to find an empty bed. The mage would certainly overreact, going into a frenzy, frantically searching every nook and cranny of the castle, inquiring anyone unlucky enough to cross his path about Bowser's possible whereabouts.
Bowser feels a bit guilty for finding humor in the mage's misfortune, but Kamek needs some excitement in his life anyways.
Bowser exhales heavily, closing his eyes. Within minutes, he's finally asleep.
Thank you for the support. It means a lot to me.