Hello and welcome readers. Traditional Mario pairings have been on my mind as of late, so enjoy this three part fanfic about the first kidnapping post-Odyssey. Happy reading :)

WARNING: Graphic depictions of violence.

Peach


My hands are locked around the oily bars of my cage. Satin gloves slide atop grimy metal, but I bring them back into position each time. The joints of my fingers long to loosen and straighten themselves, but I won't let them.

"Peach, your gloves! And I just had them cleaned for you!"

A trivial matter that doesn't merit a response, a passing glance. My eyes have never been so set on staring at the studded metal doors of Bowser's throne room. Tears form at the intensity; I blink to release them and repeatedly reset. Even the burning, smoke-filled air isn't enough to make me quit.

My hair is tucked behind ears eager to be peaked by the slightest sound of a scuffle. For days it's been nothing but coquetry from the King and the soft flicker of torches on the walls. Every so often, when the lava outside surges, I smell and hear it. The faintest sound of popping bubbles and traces of remaining meltables being consumed. But blue-collar boots stomping goombas and the like have yet to make themselves known.

"I hate to see you so anxious, Peaches," Bowser tries again.

I refrain from tightening my lips into a line so thin the artificial tint would cease to be visible. Despite my countless refusals to his requests for romance, relentless kidnappings over the years have forged a relationship of sorts, and as much as I could deny it, he reads me well, and knows it, too.

"It is taking him a while though isn't it?" My stomach clenches at the smile that's surely parting his fangs. "Much longer than usual."

"He'll be here," I say, though it comes out less confident than I'd like. When my hands slide again, I almost let them fall and come together to wring themselves. "He'll be here," I say again.

"It doesn't seem like it," he pokes, and I hear him blow a smoke ring. "Fine by me, I hate when we're interrupted."

My heartbeat grows more palpable, pounding with an intensity that would be visible in the form of an outline under my skin if I were to take a look. Prolonged absence continues to cause nervous heat to rise within me; I feel sweat gather on my back, neck, face, in my gloves, and under my arms. A loose tendril of golden thread sticks to my temple. I must be glistening.

My legs quiver and my throat dries the more I fixate on the stillness. My mind flashes to Honeylune, and the night after. Alone. On my balcony. Under the moon instead of on it. It was cold then but the cynic between my ears was what made me shiver. It appeared for only a moment, but a moment was all it took to plant a thought. A what if? A dreadful scenario that lay dormant until now.

"Peach!" The cage twists and my hands slip. I catch myself but still send a dull pain through my hip when I land. Bowser's eyes, nose, and mouth flare but extinguish as soon as his eyes meet mine, "Peaches, you'll love the Koopa Kingdom, you just have to give it a chance!" Even if I turned away he'd twist the cage again and force me to face him. He leans closer, snout an inch or so from the greasy metal. "Give me a chance, Peaches," he murmurs. "You won't regret it."

A shout is cut short outside the doors and we both tense. We listen to blocks break and their brick pieces clink on the floor. Metal clangs and reverberates as it slowly settles on the ground. We hear an empty shell slam back and forth, nearly frictionless against polished marble. Another shout, this one deciphered as a cry for the king, and Bowser's face flares again: nose and mouth smokey, pupils narrow.

My hands find the bars and I pull myself back up. The doors burst open on the second slam, sending clouds of dust forward. My hero looks so small in the frame, even with the added height and build of a super mushroom. His fists are looser than usual and his breathing is ragged. He's maculated with sweat, dirt, and ink. But what makes my mouth fall most is his gaze, focused on anything but me.

Bowser lets the cage swing back and forth. "Just the plumber I wanted to see." He stands from his throne, scowl unwavering, "That's sarcasm if you couldn't tell."

The doors begin to close out of their own volition, and Mario moves forward before they can clip his heels. My hero hasn't looked this drained since his first journey through the kingdom, and yet Bowser's glare is the harshest I've ever seen. If his eyes spewed fire instead of his mouth I wouldn't be surprised. His knuckles crack as his fists clench, and his grimace, his arms, his everything is tight enough to tear his skin.

"Still sucking up to a princess that will never be yours," Bowser chastises with a pitch black tone. "How stupid can you be?"

I swallow as Mario stands there, stoic for what feels like hours before blading his body. He raises clenched hands and slows the rise and fall of his shoulders to soften his breathing, eyes fixed on his foe.

A guttural growl escapes the Koopa King as he steps down from his throne, "Very stupid apparently."

"I'm here to return the princess to her people," His lack of a passing glance makes my heart sink more than it already has. "Since you've once again taken her from them."

"They don't deserve her," he utters, smoke steaming from his nostrils. "You don't deserve her either."

Mario's eyes quiver; I've never seen his cerulean blues look so moist. When he speaks again his voice is soft, weak, by no means meant to bait but it does so nonetheless, "And you do?"

Bowser roars, charging forward at a speed that makes me gasp. He rams his fist forward when he's within punching distance, but Mario wall jumps off of a pillar to avoid it. He bounces on the Koopa's head after ricocheting, then plants his feet back on the ground with an off-balance landing. Bowser swings his tail as he turns to re-face his opponent, knocking the former plumber on his back while he's still steadying.

"Of course I deserve her!" the king booms, mouth filling with fire. "I'm the only one who does! She's fit for a king, and a king only!"

His last word is almost lost amidst the torrent inferno. Despite the rage, his aim is spot on, a vast, filled funnel of flame shooting at my hero. Mario rolls but not fast enough, clothes catching fire. He continues along the floor until extinguished, and Bowser stomps after him. The Koopa crouches low then leaps, gaining staggering height before beginning his deadly descent.

"Mario!" I shout.

He lies dazed for a moment before pulling to his feet and bounding back, escaping the King's crater and resulting shockwave by the skin of his teeth. I exhale as he cradles his nearly charred arm, pieces of black, melted clothing sticking to it. His shoulders again rise and fall at an alarming, exhausting speed, forcing air in and out at a rate he can barely keep up with.

When they move out of view,. I rip two bobby pins from my head and pull hair out in the process. Kidnapping has small upsides, for one thing, learning a skill or two. I bend one pin to a right angle and make an angled loop out of the other. Stripping my hands almost does more harm than good; they're too sweaty for me to get a good grip. Combined with the brutal, palpable sounds of battle, I make slow progress. I wipe my hands on my skirt and grab the lock when they're dry enough. Pull off the nub and bend the end of the pin, insert the loop in the lock, unseize the pins inside it, and…

It's one of my slowest records but I've never felt so much pressure leave at seeing the latch separate from its base. I loop the lock out of the cage and let it fall. Pushing the door out of the way, I gather my dress in my hands and make for a floaty descent, but in my haste I drop faster than I'd like, opening my parachute too late. Luckily skirt layers make for decent cushioning

I ditch my heels and run to the source of a sudden scream, too human to be Bowser's. It sounds again, throatier this time, less shocked but more pained. Reaching the concealed corner of the room, I see Bowser bent low over my hero, steamy saliva spilling from his mouth, "You always put up a good fight, plumber." He towers above, golden scales and armored shell showing meager signs of damage. "Off your game today?" he goads, laced with a venom I didn't know a koopa was capable of producing.

He reaches for bloody overalls but is sent back with a swift swing of a candelabra. The Koopa King falls with a roar that makes chandeliers shake. He mops hot wax off his face, cutting himself in his attempt to quickly remove it.

Mario jumps when my hands find his shoulders, helping him to his feet, "Princess! You need to get out of here!"

He actually looks at me, though with a trickle of blood traveling over one eye, I'm not sure how much he sees. He's covered in cuts and soon bruises, standing on mostly one leg with his arms clutching his stomach. Sleeves and gloves are stained with a fresh coat of crimson.

"You're b-bleeding," I breathe, wide-eyed.

"It's not safe for you here. Head out the back and stay hidden."

"I'LL KILL YOU, PLUMBER!"

Mario lifts his hands and urges me toward the exit, but I won't let my knees bend.

"NOT DESTROY YOU, NOT STOMP YOU INTO SPACE BITS, OR ANY OTHER BEAT AROUND THE BUSH TERM! YOU'RE DEAD!"

"Princess," Mario manages to maintain his soft tone. "Please, go."

Water weighs my eyes down, and I take a quick glance at Bowser, who viciously clears the remaining wax. Now hard and stuck to his face, he uses his nails to scrape it off. The rage behind each thrash as he claws his eyes should be enough to make me move. "What about you?"

"I'll be right behind," Mario assures, pushing me gently towards the exit again before bringing his arms to his sides. He puts weight on his bad leg and breaks into a run, stopping in the center of the room to shout, "If you want to kill me you'll have to catch me first, koopa!" Bowser's eyes open wide to stare bloodshot at their target. "Let's-a-go!" The Koopa King bellows, rushing towards him with his claws raised. "Go!" my hero repeats, before giving his full attention back to his nemesis.

I break into a sprint with handfuls of skirt in my arms, leaving my feet free to move without fear of tripping on fabric. The violent score echoes off the walls, even in the lower ceilinged, narrow passage. It distorts due to distance and one too many whispers down the lane, but each bang, crash, and shout still makes my heart pound faster. Running speed is short-lived due to extra weight, but the passage isn't long.

The pungent scent and feel of smog overwhelms as I reach the outside. I catch my breath between stifled coughs and volcanic gas. The incandescence of the toxic, dark land can be bewitching, but I turn back to the tunnel. Amidst the steaming vents, bubbling lava, and patrol soldiers above, the passage has gone quiet.

I wait for his footsteps, likely off rhythm due to injury but audible nonetheless. I tune my hearing to panting, too. Groans, a glove sliding on the wall, shuffling feet. My heart hammers and lungs and eyes burn the longer the silence drones. "Any minute, a-any second now," I repeat to drown out the voice between my ears. If only it were possible.


I hope you're all enjoying yourselves so far; be sure to follow if interested in seeing where this story goes. Feedback is more than welcome, I'm always happy to answer questions. And above all, thank you, thank you for reading. It means the world :)