6.

"Being offered the title of Imperial Chancellor? Hoo boy… I remember Mario breaking that news to me. Never in a million years saw it coming. How do you even process your greatest foe turning to you and saying, 'Things are dire; I need you to hold my empire together and keep it from imploding! Oh, and by the way, some schemers might target my heir, so stay sharp!' Bowser wasn't one to beg, so that request hit like a thunderbolt. Looking back, though, after everything we learned? I can't shake the feeling… did Bowser know more than he let on?"

Luigi Segale, Prince-Consort of Sarasaland, interviewed for Chronicles of the Imperial Throne, Caldera Historical Archives, 1010 SV

"Wait… what the fuck?!"

The words spilled out before he could rein them in, his mind recoiling at the absurdity. A cruel jest, surely—Bowser's wonder drug had warped his senses beyond repair. Yet the Emperor's gaze held steady, unyielding, and Mario's incredulity gave way to a disbelieving laugh. He clutched his sides, the sound swelling into a deep, breathless guffaw. Stumbling to the chair opposite Bowser, he collapsed into it, snorting as he gasped for air. "I'll give you that… I needed a good laugh!" He wheezed, glancing at Bowser and Kamek. Their somber faces drained his mirth, leaving a cold knot in his chest. "You're not serious…"

"I am," Bowser said, his voice a low, unshaken rasp.

Mario's jaw tightened, his laughter curdling into a scowl. "How bad did that drug fry your brain? Need me to spell out why this is insanity?"

Bowser drew a handkerchief, wiping blood from his claws with deliberate care. "By all means, enlighten me," he said, his eyebrows lifting in polite challenge.

Mario thrust up a finger. "First off, I'm no politician. I deal with enemies I can see, ones I can hit." His voice was firm, edged with defiance. He raised a second finger. "Second, I'm not even an Imperial citizen. I'm half-convinced you've got a squad outside ready to drag me to a cell—or worse, just slit my throat. One of your guards nearly shot me when Soryn brought me here!"

Bowser tsked, shaking his head, a faint smile curling his lips as he glanced at Kamek. "We anticipated resistance. But you're here, unharmed, thanks to Commodore Soryn's intervention, I presume." His smile sharpened, a glint of his old cunning surfacing. "As for killing you? Tempting, perhaps, but inefficient. If I wanted you dead, I wouldn't waste Imperial resources hauling you across the continent."

Mario's frustration surged, propelling him to his feet. He paced the room, muttering under his breath, his boots scuffing the marble. This had to be a ploy, a twisted scheme. Another wet, hacking breath from Bowser snapped his attention to Kamek, whose claws gripped his cane with white-knuckled tension. The war mage's concern hinted at a bond deeper than duty—perhaps the rumors of Kamek raising Bowser were true. Mario's anger faltered, replaced by a sting of insult. He wasn't a murderer. He'd taken lives, yes, but only in the chaos of battle, never with the cold calculation Kamek seemed to expect.

He shook his head, sinking back into the chair. "No," he said flatly. "Even if I wanted to help, your Empire would reject me. They'd call it a coup, claim I assassinated you to seize power."

Bowser leaned back, his sigh heavy with fatigue. "I didn't relish this choice either. But as for acceptance, I've prepared a proclamation for the ministers, governors, and General Assembly, naming you Chancellor." He coughed, the sound wet and strained. "Indulge me a moment. If I die, what follows?"

Mario scoffed, folding his arms. "Simple. Your son takes the crown."

"True," Bowser conceded, his voice darkening. "But consider this: the Empire teems with ambitious nobles and officers. One might bend it to their own vision, twisting its course. Worse, another could manipulate one of my adopted children, pitting them against their siblings to claim the throne." His eyes narrowed, grim and calculating. "At best, it's chaos. At worst, civil war, each faction proclaiming themselves my rightful heir."

Mario's voice sharpened, his frustration boiling over. "And why's that my mess to clean up? My loyalty's to the Mushroom Kingdom, not your crumbling empire!"

Bowser tilted his head, his eyes glinting with a weary, unyielding resolve. "If the Empire fractures into civil war, what follows?" His voice, though strained, carried a chilling weight. "Innocents perish in the chaos—thousands, millions, caught in the crossfire. Survivors, desperate, would flee through the Frontier's venomous jungles or the Dark Lands' molten wastes. Most would die. Those who endure would flood the borders of the Mushroom Kingdom, the Waffle Kingdom, Sarasaland—begging for refuge, straining every nation to the breaking point."

Mario exhaled heavily, the scenario sinking in. Luigi had once mused that nations like Ferros might seize a weakened Empire to reclaim old territories, but the Koopa Empire's sheer scale made conquest a fool's errand. And the Frontier—Soryn and Fontiere's warnings about its lethal flora and frenzied fauna echoed in his mind. A refugee crisis, though? The Mushroom Kingdom could barely handle its own harvests some years. How many rulers would open their gates to starving hordes?

"So you're saying it could get so bad people might look back on your reign with nostalgia?" Mario asked, his tone dark, edged with disbelief.

Bowser coughed into his handkerchief, the sound wet and labored, his nod grim. "Among worse fates. Opportunists like King Russet or Emperor Cedaris would leap to install a puppet ruler, one pliable to their agendas." His scowl deepened, his voice dropping to a growl. "A monarch seen as an extension of the Mushroom Kingdom or Sarasaland would ignite rebellion, plunging the continent into deeper chaos."

Mario snorted, folding his arms. "And picking me fixes that? I'm still a foreigner, a Mushroom Kingdom citizen. How's that not the same problem?"

Bowser raised a trembling finger, his gaze piercing despite his frailty. "One critical distinction. You'd be my chosen representative, appointed by imperial decree." He leaned forward, his voice low, commanding. "Your chancellorship would bridge the gap until Kamek finds a cure. If I perish, you'd serve as Regent for my son, guiding him until he's of age to rule."

Mario shook his head, his voice firm. "You'd be better off with Luigi. He's got a head for politics, not me."

Bowser's lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. "Would Luigi have come? He's entangled in Sarasaland's court, tethered to Princess Daisy's side."

"Then why not Daisy? Or Peach?" Mario shot back. "They were raised for this—trained in diplomacy, governance."

Bowser's sigh was heavy, his eyes narrowing. "Both are bound to their fathers' ambitions. Even someone as unassuming as Princess Éclair answers to King Challah's whims. A foreign royal would be a lightning rod for dissent." His voice hardened, each word deliberate. "You, Mario, are unbound by such ties. Your defiance, your resolve—it's why you're here."

Mario buried his face in his hands, a muffled groan escaping him. A cold knot twisted in his gut, tightening as the weight of Bowser's words pressed down. It was a choice between swallowing poison or choking on ashes. The surreal truth gnawed at him—Bowser, the tyrant, was begging for his aid. He tore off his cap, fingers raking through his hair, his mind a storm of doubt and dread. Raising his head, he met Bowser's gaze, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry… but I can't."

The knot in Mario's gut didn't ease—it hardened into a leaden weight, sinking deeper. Bowser's reaction only deepened his unease. Instead of the expected rage or relentless persuasion, the Emperor offered a weary, resigned smile and a slow nod. Kamek, predictably, bristled, his voice sharp with indignation. "That's it? You've seen his condition—"

Bowser's trembling hand rose, silencing the war mage. "Kamek, enough," he rasped, his tone firm despite its frailty. He tapped his cane against the floor, the sound sharp in the stillness. "Very well, Mario. I see your mind is set."

Mario's shock at Bowser's concession paled against Kamek's apoplectic glare. "Your Majesty!" the wizard sputtered, his voice cracking with protest.

Bowser's eyes narrowed, a flicker of his old fire cutting through his haggard visage. "You warned me this might happen. I underestimated his resolve, but you will compose yourself." His gaze softened as it shifted to Mario, a glint of something almost wistful in it. "Still, Mario, do you grasp the opportunity before you?"

Mario's brow furrowed. "Come again?"

Bowser's faint smile returned, his claw gesturing weakly around the shadowed chamber. "You stand in the heart of my empire." A brittle chuckle escaped him. "And you're my honored guest."

"Then work some imperial magic and send me home," Mario muttered, his voice thick with suspicion.

Bowser clicked his tongue, a spark of wry amusement in his eyes. "That's the rub. The only officer I trust not to harm you is Commodore Soryn, and I've granted him and his crew shore leave."

Mario's glare sharpened, his hands balling into fists. "So I'm stuck here?"

"Only briefly," Bowser replied, his smile disarming yet calculated. "Soryn rarely lingers beyond a week. In the meantime, you're free to explore the Citadel and Caldera—under guard, of course." He tapped his cane again, rising unsteadily, his frame trembling with the effort. "This audience is concluded. Edmund!"

The doors slid open, revealing a toad in a black-and-red suit, his black mushroom cap speckled with white spots. He bowed deeply. "Yes, Your Majesty?"

Bowser's frame buckled, a violent coughing fit seizing him. He collapsed back into his chair, the sound of his rattling breaths clawing at Mario's nerves. Guilt twisted in his chest, sharp and unbidden. Why? This wasn't his burden. If Bowser had asked him to find a leader for the Empire, he'd have jumped at the chance. But this—playing Chancellor? It was unthinkable. The Emperor's gaunt, deathly appearance only made it worse.

"Escort His Majesty's guest to the guest chambers," Kamek ordered, his voice tight. He fixed Mario with an unreadable stare. "See that he receives every courtesy."

Mario rose, shoving his hands into his pockets, his frown deepening. Bowser's proposal was lunacy—asking him to steer an empire? He knew pipes, not politics. Yet the memory of Bowser's labored breathing, that wretched rattle, gnawed at him. He turned, desperate to escape the sound, but his mind churned. Bowser's plan was absurd, yet the Emperor's desperation had been raw, unguarded. Unlike their clash at Booster's Tower, where Bowser's "request" for aid was all bluster and veiled threats, this plea was different—stripped bare, almost vulnerable.

"Oh… and Mario?" Bowser's voice, frail but piercing, stopped him cold. Mario didn't turn, his back rigid. "If you reconsider… you know where to find me."

Mario stayed silent, following Edmund out. The doors sealed shut, muffling Bowser's rattling breaths. As he trailed the toad through the Citadel's marble corridors, Mario's thoughts spiraled. Bowser's offer was madness—but the Emperor's uncharacteristic humility, his naked plea, lingered like a splinter in his mind. Crazy or not, it was real.

Mario's gaze lingered on the portraits lining the Citadel's corridor, each frame capturing the regal poise of the Koopa Empire's past emperors and empresses. He'd expected brutish warlords, echoes of Bowser's ferocity, but these figures exuded a statesmanlike dignity, their eyes sharp with purpose, their postures refined. His steps slowed before one portrait: an emperor clad in a striking suit of black, red, and gold, his wild mane of fiery red hair barely tamed. Mario's frown deepened. Without context, he'd never have recognized this as Bowser. The regal bearing, the commanding presence—it clashed with the domineering tyrant who plagued the Mushroom Kingdom and bore no resemblance to the broken, dying koopa he'd just left behind.

"You mustn't linger, sir," Edmund murmured, startling Mario. The toad chuckled softly. "My apologies." His eyes flicked to the portrait, his smile fading.

"You're Edmund, right?" Mario asked, his voice low. "What're the odds he pulls through?"

Edmund's face remained somber, his sigh heavy. "I've served as His Majesty's aide for much of my life. But he doesn't share all his burdens with me." He gestured toward Bowser's chambers. "This is one such matter. You're troubled?"

Mario's jaw tightened. The Mushroom Kingdom's dream—Bowser's demise, the Empire's morale shattered—should've felt like triumph. A new emperor might be swayed toward peace. Would King Russet even entertain it? Peach, as Prime Minister, would push for diplomacy, but her father's approval was a steep hurdle. Yet the victory felt hollow, tainted. Mario glanced at Edmund, his voice barely audible. "It's not right. Feels… off, somehow."

Edmund's frown was thoughtful, probing. "I'd have thought you'd welcome the news."

Mario snorted, shaking his head. "I'm not some vulture, am I?"

The aide shrugged, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "We've only had tales and rumors about you. It's… refreshing to see they might be just that—tales." He cleared his throat. "Come, we've tarried too long. You must be tired."

Mario followed in silence, casting a final glance at the sealed doors to Bowser's chamber. Questions churned in his mind. If their roles were reversed, would Bowser feel this same unease at Mario's deathbed? Would he gloat, or seize the chance to crush the Mushroom Kingdom? Mario's thoughts halted as he stepped into a sprawling chamber, its sheer size dwarfing his entire home—living room, bedroom, and kitchen combined. The Citadel's signature marble walls and floors gleamed, but the opulent décor—silk drapes, gold-trimmed furniture, a chandelier shaped like sakura blossoms—felt alien compared to his modest life.

"I… think I'm in the wrong place," Mario murmured, his voice trailing off.

Edmund chuckled, bustling to a bench where he laid out a crisp white button-down shirt, black slacks, and polished black boots. "Not at all, sir," he said cheerfully. "His Majesty had this chamber prepared for you. It's yours for the duration of your stay." He gestured to the clothes. "These are for tomorrow, tailored precisely to your measurements."

The realization that the Empire had his exact measurements sent a shiver down Mario's spine. Fontiere's words echoed—every detail, from his height to his bank statements, meticulously cataloged. Had Bowser been so certain Mario would leap at the Chancellor role without hesitation? Or was this just the Empire's obsessive precision at work, anticipating every contingency? The rustle of fabric snapped his attention to Edmund, who drew back a heavy curtain to reveal a vast window framing Caldera's sprawling skyline.

"Mama… Mia…" Mario breathed, the words escaping in a slow, awestruck whisper.

"Will you require anything further tonight, sir?" Edmund asked, his tone polite but distant.

Mario shook his head, his eyes still fixed on the city. "No, not tonight. Thanks," he murmured, barely registering the toad's bow as Edmund slipped out, leaving him alone.

He tugged off his cap, tossing it onto the bed with a scowl. The chamber's opulence—the silk bedding, the sakura-shaped chandelier—felt like a gilded cage. Stepping to the window, he gazed at the sunset, its deep orange and crimson hues bleeding across the sky like a wound. Caldera's lights flickered to life, their glow doing little to ease the turmoil churning within him. The lead weight in his gut grew heavier, a cold anchor pulling at his resolve. This was beyond surreal—it was a nightmare dressed in marble and sakura.

His mind raced, each thought a jagged edge. Run an empire? Him? The idea was laughable, yet Bowser's desperate plea lingered, raw and unfeigned. Help Kamek find a cure? He was no scientist; his hands were built for wrenches, not vials. Find someone else to lead? That felt like the only sane option, but who could navigate the Empire's web of ambitious nobles and restless governors without sparking chaos? The Mushroom Kingdom's victory—Bowser's demise—should've been a triumph, but it tasted like ash. A power vacuum here could destabilize the continent, flooding the Mushroom Kingdom with refugees or worse, inviting vultures like King Russet to meddle. And Peach—would her push for peace survive her father's hunger for dominance?

Mario exhaled, his breath fogging the glass. His eyes flicked to the bed, its plush expanse tempting but hollow. Sleep was a distant hope, not with Caldera's lights burning into his thoughts, each one a reminder of the impossible choice Bowser had thrust upon him. He pressed a hand to the window, the cool surface grounding him, but the city's pulse seemed to mock his indecision. Bowser's rattling breaths, Kamek's grim stare, the portrait of a regal Bowser—all clashed in his mind, a storm with no clear path through.

Belle had checked with Commodore Soryn before disembarking, ensuring he had no last-minute orders. His only directive was to savor her shore leave—a command she intended to follow with relish. Shedding her crisp uniform felt like shedding a second skin. She'd traded it for the loose, comfortable clothes she'd worn in New Donk City, her hair swept into a haphazard ponytail, still damp from the Citadel's showers. The Vigilant had its amenities, but there was an unmatched clarity to bathing on solid ground, the water somehow sharper, cleaner. Repositioning her duffle bag, she shivered as a cool breeze grazed her neck, tugging at stray strands of hair.

With a nod to the guards, she descended the Citadel's grand staircase, turning away from its imposing silhouette. Caldera's familiar scent—smoke, sakura, and sizzling street food—filled her lungs as she strolled along the avenue. The sunset painted the sky in molten hues, a fleeting spectacle she rarely caught but always cherished. Settling onto a bench, she let her thoughts drift. Home beckoned, her apartment's worn couch promising collapse, but a glance at her watch sparked a slow, eager smile. She looked up as a bus rumbled to a stop. Hoisting her bag, she dropped coins into the farebox, murmured her destination to the driver, and claimed a seat near the rear.

Her mind wandered to Mario, their sparse interactions flickering like half-remembered dreams. She'd bristled at the mission initially, wary of escorting the Empire's boogeyman, but it had been a refreshing detour from chasing pirates through Imperial skies. Soryn kept his opinions on the plumber close, yet she suspected the Commodore read Mario better than most—perhaps even rivaling the Emperor's insight. Staring out the window, a sudden thought struck her: Lucinia would lose her mind when she heard about this assignment.

The bus halted too soon, the driver's voice breaking her reverie. "Coldvein Academy, ma'am!"

Belle flashed a smile, slinging her bag over her shoulder. She nodded to the driver and stepped off, her eyes softening at the academy's familiar facade. Memories surged—of arriving as a raw cadet from Crestwood, paired with Soryn under the Emperor's decree. A rural nobody and a foreign vyrn, they'd been easy targets for the elite cadets, their polished pedigrees sharpened into sneers. Yet those years had forged her, and Coldvein held a strange warmth now.

She flashed her military ID to the guards, who waved her through. The building's warmth enveloped her as she entered, her boots soft on the polished floor. A lone office glowed at the corridor's end, its light spilling into the dim hall. Belle's lips curved into a mischievous grin. She crept to the doorway, staying just out of sight, and rapped her knuckles against the frame.

"Unless it's urgent, Cadet Claythrone, it can wait," came a tired, familiar voice.

Belle arched an eyebrow, sauntering into view. She leaned against the doorframe, her smirk widening. "Wait till when, babe?"

The woman's violet hair whipped around, silver eyes flaring with surprise. "Belle!" Lucinia shot to her feet, her chair scraping as she rushed forward.

Belle's duffle hit the floor with a muffled thud as Lucinia's momentum pinned her against the doorframe, their lips meeting in a fierce, hungry kiss. Belle's grin deepened, her hands sliding to Lucinia's waist before she pulled back, cupping her girlfriend's cheek with a gentle touch. "Missed you too, Luce," she murmured, her voice warm, teasing. Her smile faltered at the exhaustion etched into Lucinia's face, the faint shadows under her eyes. "You holding up okay?"

Lucinia's arms tightened around Belle, her sigh warm against the crook of Belle's neck. "So much better now," she murmured, nuzzling closer. She pulled back slightly, silver eyes glinting with exasperation. "Gods, it's been a slog wrangling these noble-born brats. They wave their family names like they're untouchable, whining for special treatment."

Belle snorted, her lips quirking. "Some things never change, huh? So… Claythorne's the worst of 'em?"

Lucinia's smile turned sharp, her voice dripping with mockery. "Oh, Evelyn Claythorne—such a gem. Always squawking in that grating, high-pitched whine, 'My daddy'll fix this!' or 'Do you know who my father is?'" She rolled her eyes, hands settling on Belle's hips. "Spoiled doesn't cover it. Thinks her lineage makes her a prodigy when she can barely salute straight." Her expression softened, curiosity flickering. "When'd you get back, anyway?"

"Couple hours ago," Belle said, her grin widening. "Got shore leave, too. You won't believe the mission I was on. The Commodore—"

"Hold up," Lucinia cut in, tilting her head. "Soryn's a Commodore now? Last I heard, he was still Captain."

Belle clicked her tongue, chuckling. "Yeah, no big ceremony for it." She knelt, unzipping her duffle bag and pulling out a bronze oak leaf, its weight unfamiliar in her palm. "I got bumped up too. Lieutenant-Commander Fontiere—still feels weird saying it."

Lucinia's smirk was pure mischief. "Should I salute you, Lieutenant-Commander?"

"Oi!" Belle's cheeks flushed, her protest half-laughed. "Don't you dare get formal on me!"

Lucinia's faint smile bloomed, and she leaned in, brushing a quick, teasing kiss across Belle's lips. Her gaze shifted to the desk, where a chaotic sprawl of paperwork loomed. She glared at it, her nose wrinkling in disdain. Belle's smirk deepened—she knew that loathing well, having drowned in her own stacks of reports as Soryn's aide. Lucinia swept the papers into a neat stack, tucking them into a manilla folder and sliding it into a drawer. "You know what? This junk can wait." She turned, her eyes bright. "I'd rather be with you."

Belle's grin turned sly. "Greasy takeout and terrible flicks?"

"That," Lucinia said, her eyebrows arching, "and you spilling the details on this mystery mission with Soryn. What, you two track down Captain Syrup or something?"

Belle laughed, shaking her head. "Nah, Soryn's pretty sure she's long gone. Trust me, Luce, it's a wild story. I'll fill you in once we're in the car."

Lucinia's grin didn't falter, unfazed by the delay. "Deal!"

As Lucinia tidied her desk, Belle's stomach twisted with a quiet dread. Mario's presence in Caldera wouldn't stay hushed for long, and when Lucinia found out, she'd spiral—her girlfriend's knack for overthinking rivaled her own. It was selfish, maybe, but Belle craved a few stolen moments of normalcy, just the two of them. The Citadel hadn't crumbled yet; surely that meant disaster wasn't imminent.

"You okay, hun?" Lucinia's voice, bright and teasing, broke through.

Belle flinched, catching Lucinia holding a briefcase, her violet hair catching the office's soft light. She forced a faint smile. "Yeah, just… more wiped than I thought."

They left the building, the evening air crisp against Belle's skin as they approached Lucinia's car. Belle tossed her duffle into the back seat and slid into the passenger side, sinking into the familiar leather. Lucinia settled behind the wheel, her grin playful. "So, what's with you not driving? Too fancy for it now, Lieutenant-Commander?"

"Half dead on my feet, and last time I drove your car, you nearly had a heart attack over me 'abusing your precious baby,'" Belle teased, her grin sharp. "Besides, Sofia'd have my head if I so much as scuffed the bumper again."

Lucinia let out a loud snort, her silver eyes glinting with mischief. "Oh, she'd do worse than that—probably weld me to the chassis for letting you near it." She eased the car into traffic, her hands steady on the wheel. "Speaking of Sofia, she's gunning for quartermaster now."

Belle's eyebrow arched, her grin widening. "Quartermaster? I pegged her for a mechanic, tearing apart engines for fun. Still can't forget your dad's face when she gutted his truck like it was a science project."

Lucinia's laugh was warm, her gaze softening with nostalgia. "Yeah, Dad was livid—thought his truck was a goner." Her voice turned fond. "But Sofia's got stars in her eyes now. Heard about you and Soryn's adventures and decided she wants to serve on an airship, just like her big sister's girlfriend."

Belle's lips curved into a quiet smile, memories of her own Navy dreams flickering—back when she'd aimed for supply officer, only to learn it was a soul-crushing desk job. Sofia, though? She'd thrive, grease-stained and grinning, fixing airship engines. But Lucinia's face betrayed a flicker of worry, her jaw tightening. Belle reached over, her hand finding Lucinia's, squeezing gently. "She'll be alright, Luce," she said, her voice soft but sure. "Airship life's not the nonstop thrill the Ministry hypes it up to be."

"I know," Lucinia sighed, her grip tightening briefly. "It's just… both of you, the two women I love most, always dancing with danger? Wears on me, you know?"

Belle nodded, her thumb brushing over Lucinia's knuckles. "I get it. Sounds awful, but I live for the pirate chases—keeps the blood pumping. Rest of the time? I'm drowning in shipping manifests or twiddling my thumbs till Soryn spots something worth chasing."

The car rolled into a fast-food drive-thru line, and Lucinia shot Belle a playful glance. "Speaking of Soryn, how'd he jump to Commodore so fast? Captains usually stew for years before that kind of bump."

Belle braced herself, a wry smile tugging at her lips. "Got summoned back to the Citadel, and I was sure Soryn had ticked off another noble—wouldn't be the first time he's ruffled fancy feathers. Thought we were facing a high command inquisition. Instead, we got called to meet the First Minister."

Lucinia's eyes widened, her grin turning gleeful. "No way! The First Minister and the Emperor? Look at you, hobnobbing with the big shots!" She leaned closer, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Spill, Lieutenant-Commander Fancy-Pants. What's it like dining with imperial royalty?"

Belle groaned, swatting Lucinia's arm. "Oh, shut it, you menace! No dining, just a lot of standing stiff and hoping I didn't trip over my own boots."

"So, no royal feasts—what went down?" Lucinia pressed, her tone light but curious.

Belle grimaced, bracing herself. "Yeah, well… First Minister reviewed our records, then hit us with a mission: head to the Mushroom Kingdom."

Lucinia's smile vanished, her brow furrowing. "For what?"

Belle's wince deepened, her voice sheepish. "Here's the part you're gonna hate. His Majesty ordered us to bring Mario Segale to the Capital."

Lucinia's silver eyes widened, her grip tightening on the wheel as the drive-thru line crawled. She whipped her head toward Belle, disbelief etched across her face. "Why? Why the hell would His Majesty want the Flamebreaker? And what was Soryn thinking, taking that on?!"

Belle threw up her hands, palms out, trying to defuse the tension. "Easy, babe, easy. Soryn? You know he lives for impossible odds." She forced a weak chuckle. "Why His Majesty wanted him? No idea. I thought Soryn was out of his mind, too."

Lucinia's snort was sharp, laced with scorn. "Oh, he's certifiable." She slumped back, exhaling hard. "The Flamebreaker's probably plotting to torch Caldera as we speak, isn't he?"

Belle shook her head, her frown thoughtful. "I'm not so sure. On the trip back, Mario kept to himself. Two weeks, and I was braced for him to sabotage the Vigilant or worse." She paused, her voice softening. "But when we got here, he was… different. Like some wide-eyed traveler seeing the city for the first time, not a saboteur."

Lucinia's grimace lingered, her fingers tapping the wheel as she processed. She let out a slow, uneasy breath. "Guess we'll see what chaos he brings…" Her voice was dark, resigned. Belle opened her mouth, but Lucinia raised a hand, cutting her off. "Let's drop it. You're on shore leave, right?"

Belle seized the lifeline, her smile brightening. "Yup! His Majesty himself granted it. The brass are probably thrilled to have Soryn out of their hair for a bit. Knowing him, he'll be climbing the walls by day three. Me? I'm all yours till then."

Lucinia's smirk returned, a playful glint in her eyes. "Well, I got an invite to a brunch tomorrow. They said I could bring a plus-one, if you're game."

Belle's grin widened, leaning closer. "Oh, come on, Luce, don't play coy—just say you want me there! Who's hosting?"

"The Countess of Crestwood," Lucinia said casually, her smirk growing at Belle's reaction.

Belle's eyes popped wide. "The Countess? And you're just now telling me? Hell yeah, I'm in!"

A sharp honk jolted them—they'd stalled the line. Lucinia cursed under her breath, inching forward to place their order. Belle sank back, exhaling softly. The mission talk had soured the mood, but Lucinia's restraint was a small mercy. Belle wasn't sure she'd have stayed as composed if Lucinia—or worse, Sofia—had been tangled in a mission involving the Flamebreaker. The thought of Sofia facing that kind of danger sent a chill through her, and she shoved it aside, focusing on Lucinia's profile, the familiar curve of her smirk grounding her in the moment.

The savory scent of burgers and fries flooded the car, yanking Belle from her thoughts. Her hand darted toward the bag, fingers itching for a fry, but Lucinia's quick swat thwarted her. "Not in my car, Belle!" she teased, her voice a mock-scold, eyes glinting with mischief.

Belle pouted, her stomach rumbling in betrayal. "C'mon, Luce, I'm starving!" she whined, batting her eyelashes for effect. "One fry won't hurt your precious baby!"

Lucinia stuck out her tongue, undeterred. "Nope! Keep those sneaky paws off till we're home, or I'm hiding the ketchup!" She winked, her grin infectious.

Belle slumped back, feigning defeat, but a smirk tugged at her lips. She closed her eyes, letting the car's gentle hum soothe her aching muscles. A catchy beat crackled through the speakers as Lucinia cranked the volume, the rhythm pulsing through the air. Belle cracked an eye open, catching Lucinia's head bobbing to the tune. Soon, Belle was swaying along, their synchronized nods turning into a playful dance of glances and giggles. By the time Lucinia pulled into the apartment complex, Belle was humming the chorus, her earlier tension melting away.

Her muscles groaned as she climbed out, slinging her duffle bag over her shoulder. The evening chill nipped at her skin, and she shivered, trailing Lucinia up the path to their apartment. Lucinia unlocked the door, and as they stepped inside, the familiar warmth enveloped Belle like a hug. She dropped her bag on a bench, letting out a theatrical groan. "I'm wrecked," she moaned, flopping her arms dramatically. "One more second on that ship, and I'd have mutinied!"

Lucinia snorted, locking the door with a flourish. "Yeah, right. I'm still half-braced for Soryn to barge in with some urgent mission." She shot a mock-wary glance at the door, her lips twitching.

"Luce!" Belle whined, dragging out the syllable as she kicked off her boots. "Don't jinx it! I need this break, or I'm staging a one-woman strike!"

Lucinia's smile softened, her silver eyes gleaming with warmth. "Oh, please. Soryn's had you for six months straight. It's my turn now." She sauntered closer, her voice dropping to a playful purr. "So, what's the vibe tonight? Cheesy comedy or scream-worthy horror?"

Belle grinned, tapping her chin. "With our track record for picking the campiest flicks? Let's go comedy. I'm not in the mood to jump at shadows."

They changed into cozy loungewear— Belle in a soft tank top and shorts, Lucinia in an oversized sweater that slipped off one shoulder. With their food plated and the movie queued, Belle nestled against Lucinia on the couch, her body melting into the familiar curve of her girlfriend's side. Lucinia's fingertips traced lazy patterns along Belle's upper arm, each stroke sending a quiet thrill through her. Belle tilted her head, catching Lucinia's gaze, and leaned in, their lips meeting in a slow, tender kiss. The warmth of Lucinia's breath, the faint taste of her cherry lip balm, sparked a flutter in Belle's chest.

Without breaking the kiss, Belle shifted, straddling Lucinia's lap, her hands sliding to cup her girlfriend's face. The kiss deepened, soft and unhurried at first, then growing hungrier, a spark flaring into a steady burn. Lucinia's hands found Belle's waist, pulling her closer, her fingers slipping just under the hem of Belle's tank top, grazing bare skin. The movie's canned laughter faded, the plates of fries and burgers forgotten on the coffee table. All that existed was the heat of Lucinia's touch, the rhythm of their breaths syncing, and the quiet promise of the night stretching out before them.

Note from the Author:

Initially, I wrote this scene with only Mario's interaction with Bowser in mind. But really? I like the idea of including a scene with Belle, especially as the tone was very different from what Mario was dealing with. Writing Lucinia was challenging, especially since we don't see much of her in Meta Runner. Still, given that she and Belle are in a confirmed relationship in the show, it gave me an angle to work with.

I've always been a bit critical of the depiction of LGBTQIA relationships in media because it never feels authentic and more like a move by major corporations to try and market themselves. They have the appearance but not the substance of diversity, as it were. This is especially compounded by the fact that the same corporations seem to rely on stereotypes and gratuitous content, and in my view, the community deserves better representation. This is partly why I wrote Belle and Lucinia's relationship like I did. The other part stems from the fact that I've never written a same-sex couple before, so this is me throwing my hat into the ring on that end. So, I hope I've done my part and given the relationship between Belle and Lucinia the respect it deserves.