Chapter Text
She feels them.
She knows they’re here, and it just makes her ecstatic. Finally, she’ll escape this monotone room, she’ll prove the Nightmare wizard wrong, her warrior will save her and possibly even destroy the Wizard right then and there. These long days of endless boredom will soon be behind her.
Come forth, dear heart!
Her spirit turns, bound by the red jewel. She’s on her toes, and she can’t help but feel a bit anxious. If the Nightmare Wizard hasn’t caught them yet, they must be stealthy. Maybe they won’t escape with fireworks and explosions like in her head, she figures she’ll have to make do. But her instincts are right. They’re quickly walking in her direction.
Who will it be? A noble madam? Perhaps a knight? A child full of wonder and endless possibilities? A stealthy ninja? A fearless warrior, surely, to get all the way here to rescue her.
The door finally opens and she can’t help but shine in the darkness. Come, she’s here!
The smallest of creatures peeks from the opening, squinting at the bright light. Their eyes are as clear as crystals, and her shine makes them twinkle like the youngest of stars. It’s small, it’s round, and she feels her spirit swell with how adorable they are. Their pink blush marks right over the midnight blue, and those eyes – she’d lose herself in simply looking into them.
The creature takes a step forward, hesitantly. Oh, such a sweet kid. So careful.
Wondrous child it is.
But then her heart sinks incredibly deep. She’d give anything to take a startling step back, yet she’s bound to the ground. The atmosphere is broken as a chilling laugh invades the perfect heaven the chamber was momentarily turned into and the space pummels into darkness as her twinkle vanishes.
It… It can’t be.
The kid turns around, and the silver eyes grasp the sharp features of the wizard, as he too marches through the door with a grin Galaxia wishes to wipe from his face with all of her force.
“Father? What’s funny?” The creature asks in a high, masculine voice. Galaxia feels herself drop.
‘Father’.
He did it.
The wizard did it.
“So, what do you say, pretty good, huh?” He leans over her, eyes shining maliciously just behind his dark glasses.
She can’t bring herself to speak. This is undoubtedly a creature that can take her power – and she’s already chosen him. She knows in her heart, she won’t be able to tell him no, she doesn’t want to. He’s already witnessed her shine, she is…
Is she really about to hand herself over to the Nightmare Wizard?
The kid looks unconvinced. He turns his gaze around with a neutral expression, but something is shifting inside of him. He’s… curious. Cautious. And his eyes lock with her ruby again, she melts.
It’s a child of the stars. After all of his failed attempts, the nasty wizard has managed to control the power of the void in the vastness of space and shape it to become a creature at his own disposal.
It’s terrifying. It sickens her.
“Hurry up, Meta.” He orders sternly, and it brings both of them out of their trances. “Pick up the sword.”
Meta, even if unconvinced, nods. He walks the two steps that separate him from the gilded weapon and takes it out of the ground.
Just as Galaxia always feels, her power surges through the external body. Electricity and fire crackle through every muscle and fiber, and the hollow body In front of her simply absorbs it.
She feels uneasy, almost nauseous. Usually, a host would share their energy back. A proper wielder would have no problem supporting her power.
But this one is a child. A terribly powerful child born of void, educated by the Nightmare Wizard to give nothing.
He turns towards his ‘father’.
“Is… something supposed to happen?” He mutters. The wizard laughs out, and Galaxia can feel her own spirit splintering. She trusted her instincts, acted too quickly and now she finds herself in this sticky situation. Desperation takes over all of her person, and she knows, this time the wizard has won. Her spirit begins to break, a long and painful crack tears herself apart. Usually, this wouldn’t be painful. The other’s person essence should fill in the gaps and turn them into a shared being. But if she breaks, because this child does not want to share a part of his being, like his master taught him, then the Wizard’s plan will be trounced in any case. Perhaps it’s better this way.
And then, something happens. Her spirit is resown together by another. Someone fills the emptiness with chilling darkness. It’s not pleasant, she’s drowned in the gloominess, but it’s so much better than helplessly drifting in nothing. When she manages to get back, she can feel her body occupying a space, she finds the child holding her hilt with one hand and her blade with the other.
“Are you okay?” He whispers. His eyes shift on the way she weakly shines, he looks concerned. She can’t give an answer, another tall laugh from the wizard booms and deafens her.
“This is simply perfect!” he gloats, “using the power of the sacred sword, there won’t be anything that can stand in my way! All shall bow to me!” A dark eye shines in her direction, voice trailing low. “I told you, it was simply a matter of time. Meta, that sword is now yours. Get to your tasks.”
The boy bows.
“Yes, father.”
Inside, Galaxia feels glee, and a wave of thankful pride from the boy, at knowing his ‘father’ is proud of him.
If she had a physical body, she would have puked right then and there.
“So, uhm, who are you?” Meta asks quietly as he’s making his way trough dark alleys.
Galaxia can’t answer again. Her mind is too busy racing. Has she just condemned the universe, now? What should she even answer to such a question? An asset in an unstoppable conquest? A weapon soon to be—
“Ack, stop doing that!” The other squirms, blocking an ear with a hand. “Quit talking into my head!”
That’s one of the things she’s no longer used to, right.
I… apologize, young one. Being alone, I picked up the habit of talking to myself. She has to fight with herself to calm down without any more words. You may call me Galaxia.
“Ah. I… My name is Meta,” he explains, “are… uh, are you someone famous?” The sword manages to emerge from the thoughts she’s trying to keep away and turns to him.
What do you mean by that?
“No, I just… everyone is looking at me weird. They didn’t do that before I got you.” Leaning into his senses, with a startle from him, reveals as much. Everyone is now wary, and they steer clear of him. Nobody supports his gaze and they flee the moment he tries to start a conversation. “I… don’t know why.”
Galaxia feels her spirit trembling again. She recognizes some that have tried to claim her before. There is the first, who know brings a Mace along. Another, looking robotic and hovering in mid-air follows them.
“Those are Mace and Javelin.” Meta explains, pointing at them as he wears a small hopeful smile, but it quickly dissipates as the two, hearing their names being spoken, flee towards another corridor and are never seen afterwards. “Oh.”
The child’s surprise is great, and under it is a fresh tone of sorrow and sadness.
Were they… your friends?
“What’s a friend?” Galaxia’s spirit might just as well shatter there. The words remain stuck in her metaphorical throat, and she grows quiet again.
She can now probably understand Nightmare’s plan. This child is formed, his body at least is, but his mind is malleable. He created a being she wouldn’t despise right away, and will probably try to educate him to obey.
… Not if she can do something about it. At this point, it’s her best bet.
“I… I don’t know how much you know about this place. I could give you a tour?” He asks, uncertain. She sends dissent through their bond.
There is no need. Why don’t you tell me more about those two? She prods. His gaze lands heavily on the alleyway they disappeared into, mourning deep in his heart.
“Mace and Javelin… they are called like that because of the weapons they specialize in. I don’t think they have another name. I like them, we train together. I hope we can do that again…”
Why do you think not?
The child’s mood worsens. “Well, they’ve never evaded me like this… it seems that getting you changed a few things.”
I think things will be back to normal in a bit, my dear heart. They might need some time to settle, as well.
The child, though, feels unconvinced. His feelings slip easily out of his grasp and within their shared mind. “I hope so.”
Part of his tasks, Meta explains, is to train and get stronger. He makes his way to a training room, where he invites someone else to spar. It’s a creature with the head of a skull, a helmet with horns sprouting from it and carrying a broad ax behind. He does not speak, just gets into position when Meta proposes, which makes the kid frown.
The fight does not last long. Rules are the first to land three hits is the winner, and Meta manages that in less than a minute, which is unusual. Before he can ask an explanation to the one carrying the ax, he’s already gone.
“He… just left.” He says, dejected, seemingly to nobody.
Galaxia does her best to keep her gloomy thoughts to herself, but she can’t help but notice how all of the people he tries to interact with seem scared of him. There is another one, when Meta exits the room. They are small, wearing purple armor and with a crescent moon on their helmet. They flinch, tremble, and sprint back into the shadows the very moment Meta comes into view.
The kid, angered and hurt, heads in the opposite direction.
Neither of them speak for more time. Galaxia does not know what to say but she does not wish to pry either, it seems like a touchy subject for the kid. After all, if those were his friends, having all of them turn their back on him must feel painful.
And yet she remembers them. Every single one, she’s already met them. They were other creatures trying to wield her, and they had all failed and yet survived.
Because beyond her own bias, she’d seen some good in them even if they were born as monsters, and she could not bring herself to kill them off despite having no trouble doing so to other beings who were just pure evil and weak enough to never wield her. The wizard, regretfully, is well-versed in magic and knows how to neutralize her shocks, even if he can never wield her properly and use her magic like Meta will some day be able to.
The rest of the day, even if she can’t discern morning from evening as there aren’t any natural light sources here, is uneventful. The kid decides to study something in the library. What, she’s not really sure, but at least it helps distract him from the heartache.
When his stomach growls, he has no other choice than to go grab some food. The cafeteria, or canteen, is small. There is no order, just some slob they all appear to fight their way to, and who gets there first can eat more, Meta says.
It’s a good thing there are very few people, or well monsters, right now, because she fears Meta would cause some real bloodshed with how foul his mood is. The situation takes a turn for the worse when he mutters barely loud enough for Galaxia to hear: “We used to meet up all together here for lunch.”
He grabs some of the slob in a cheap plastic plate and looks around the room to find it completely silent. And empty.
Galaxia can’t help but feel bad for the kid. And yet, there are two people leaving the room via another exit, on their tip-toes. She probably shouldn’t point them out, lest she cause more pain to her champion, and yet he’s as sharp as her. He turns, meeting their gazes. They still have half-full plates on their hands.
“Hey!” Meta calls out to them, and they flinch, hastily making their way outside. “Not you too!” He cries, and somehow they stop, their necks buried deep in their shoulders.
Galaxia tries to keep the question about their relationship to herself, but she’s not sure she manages.
“Uh… Meta…” The first one, in a heavy and dirty cobalt armor, croaks out. The other, wearing some lighter pieces of armor, colored a light green and diluted pink, jabs the other in the side. “Ow! What do you want me to say?”
“You can start by telling me what’s going on!” Meta says, struggling to keep the hurt out of his voice. “Sword, Blade, we used to meet all together in the hall to eat. Why is it that every one of you’s missing?”
“Well, uh…” The dark-colored one, Sword Meta’s mind supplies, fidgets with his plate.
“We’re just all very busy today.” The other continues. Meta frowns, because he may be young but he’s not that gullible.
“I saw all of you. You just escaped, it doesn’t seem like you were working to me.”
“Ack.” The purple one whispers.
“Well, we… uh…”
“We’d better get going. Sorry, we’ll get to working right away.” Sword grabs Blade by his pauldron, dragging him away.
“That’s not at all what I want!” Meta Knight shrieks out, panic rising.
“Ah… you… don’t…?”
“No! Where is the rest of you, is what I’d like to know. We meet here for every meal! Or at least… we used to.”
The two swordmen look at each other, shrugging.
“You tell him.” Sword whispers to the other.
“What? You’re crazy. You stopped, so you tell him!” Blade continues, unaware of how much tumult they are causing inside of Galaxia’s champion’s heart. Sword sighs.
“Okay. Look, it’s… that sword.” He says, and Meta’s breathing stops. “You managed to pick it up. Which, uh, is great. You’re a… high-ranking monster now. C-congrats, I guess.”
“And so what? You can’t hang out with me anymore because of this?” Meta replies after recovering from his shock, unsheathing Galaxia. She glints eerily in a place with no natural sunlight, her blade covered fìin lightning and fire that the two monsters remember well, and they are fast on their feet to get as far away as possible as they can.
It dawns on Galaxia. And on Meta, sadly, by consequence.
They are afraid of the sword. And of its wielder. They are afraid of him.
“But… nothing changed for me,” Meta says gloomily, “I still want to sit down and have a meal with you.”
Their afraid gazes shift from him, to the sword, to the food they still have in their hands. Then they drop their plates on the floor as if they’re suddenly burning.
“You can have it.” The blue one croaks out.
“Y… yeah. I ate too much already,” the green continues, “have my part too. We have to go. Bye.”
And just like that, they are running away and soon they are gone.
Meta can’t hide the hurt from her, not when it envelops his whole heart like this, in a dark and oppressing veil, choking it. He stops, in the middle of the corridor. He sheathes the sword, once more, leaving only the darkness to embrace him.
“I’m not hungry anymore.” He whispers, and beat, goes to his room to cry his heart out. Galaxia cannot do much else. She tries to soothe his weeping heart with her warmth, but Meta pushes her away, throws her haphazardly into the room and curls up into his bed by himself.
When her champion doesn’t have any more tears to shed, and has been run dry, he slips into a light dreamless sleep, full of nothing but the same emptiness he feels in his heart.
The next time he wakes up, Meta is quick to get out of bed, a bit refreshed but with his mood still as an all-time low (and even if Galaxia can’t tell what was his usual bar, it doesn’t seem to be too high). The wizard has things in mind now that he can wield the sword, and intends to stretch Meta’s limits immediately.
Of course, he doesn’t word it like that, but Galaxia can read between the lines.
Meta silently hopes his ‘father’ will be proud of him. Unfortunately, what he’s tasked to do is to make a sword beam, and Galaxia’s spirit sinks in complete contrast to Meta’s high hope.
Meta tries, hard and over and over again, but the energy fizzles every time he tries to concentrate it on the blade. It slips away, like rain, and little by little his mood darkens too.
She will give this much to him, he’s strong and determined. He’s close to making one. But the main problem is that Meta does not know how Galaxia’s magic works. It’s nothing like the strong winds and waves of darkness the wizard has taught him to call forth. Her fire is scorching, ravenous, her lightning is quick and precise. She can’t help him, either, she’s only known him for a few hours.
It was a quest doomed to fail from the beginning.
The Nightmare Wizard goes from all smiles to a threatening manic smirk, to the most loathing displeasure. He’s not satisfied, he wants everything immediately, and since Meta cannot comply, he punishes him: an entire day, in the darkness of a dungeon, where there is no company but spirits and dissonant whisper gathered around to try and twist Meta’s mind into something more sinister, to sew doubt into his heart, to scar his very being because he couldn’t comply to an impossible task.
Galaxia uses every single ounce of her magic to keep the offending spirits and ghosts at bay, both on the outside, by providing light and warmth and letting her champion know he will never be alone, and on the inside, where for every word of discomfort and deprecation she counters with ones of affirmations and love. It’s exhausting, and taxing, but her mind does not reason like a typical one, and certainly not like the one of a child. Her spirit is stronger, firmer. She will not let such blatant harm come to her vulnerable champion.
Which leaves Meta’s internal voices and whispers, ones the Wizard has planted over the years, telling him that he wasn’t good enough roam free into his mind, but she can’t do much about those unless Meta decides to talk, and he rots in his frustration until he’s let out of the prison.
The same thing happens as yesterday. People avoid him, he barely misses them and they get out of his way with a passion, escaping his view before he can even say one word. It builds up as frustration inside of Meta Knight and struggling to pull off the initial movements of a sword beam, anticipating the wizard will demand of him to create one again, does nothing to ease his mind.
You are getting closer. Galaxia assures after the golden magic evaporates out of her body for the umpteenth time, accompanied by a growl from her wielder. Mastering the art of a sword beam is no easy task, dear heart. But your strides are admirable.
“It’s not enough. I need to figure it out.” He replies, voice strained with the emotions almost spilling out of him. He decides to try and use those as a power source this time, since his energies are running low. Galaxia herself advises against it.
He doesn’t listen.
The magic is much more explosive than last time. It bursts, out of his control, and Meta is thrown on his back before he even has a chance at regaining his balance. His emotions are clawed out of him, for a blissful moment he feels numb.
But then they just come crashing back down, pounding on his stomach, and this time the tears threaten to spill.
Dear heart, I suggest we stop for today. She says after a moment.
“Stop? I can’t stop, only the weak stop!” He counters, hastily getting up.
You are getting tired, you’re not reasonable. Please listen to me, you must take care of yourself—
“Why would I listen to you?!” he shouts instead, “you’re the one who got me into this mess in the first place!”
I… I did? She asks, genuinely confused.
“Well, nobody turned the other way when he saw me coming before you came along, for starters. My father did not ask me to learn a whole other technique before I extracted you out of that blasted pedestal!”
Dear heart, I—
“Don’t care! It’s all your fault! Why couldn’t someone else take you out, huh? Did you want to cast this misery on me specifically?!”
That is blatantly false and you have no proof to say that, she says, level headed. Other creatures—
“Monsters. It’s monsters, who we are! Beasts!”
Other creatures, she replies sterner in his mind, tried to take me. But they could not. They did not have the power necessary to hold me. You do, but those who have tried to wield me and survived are… perhaps, jealous of you for this reason, but it is not your fault or mine.
“Well, they can have you! Go find someone else! Go on another planet for all I care!” He grasps her hilt and points her upwards. She can feel in his mind his body getting ready to throw her across the room in retaliation. But leaving him alone, to draw false conclusions and spread hate within himself is the exact opposite of what he should be doing.
Well maybe you could go somewhere else too? With your friends? She tries to say. Meta hesitates, for one singular moment. He was aiming for the window in the room, probably hoping to launch her so strongly across she’d break it and really get lost in the depths of space. This, at least, makes him reconsider. He doesn’t aim for the glass anymore, but he still throws her away.
She lands with a painless yet loud clang in a corner of the training room. He cries, his emotions finally getting the better of him.
“I still have no idea what these ‘friends’ are, because you never give a straight answer! Get lost!” It’s about then that he turns, turns off the lights in a fit and slams the door behind himself, leaving her in the darkness. Where he goes, it’s anyone’s guess but she does not believe he will be happy in the near future.
She was probably too direct, was she not? It’s true that she does not want his champion under the influence of the dark wizard, but it’s regretfully true that he’s attached. Maybe the wizard has treated him nicely once, maybe her champion has simply never known anything else in his life, and he’s the only thing that’s ever brought him joy.
She remembers how much he wished to make him proud, and not just because of the dungeon, even if that was an experience she hopes neither he nor her ever have to repeat.
What she has privately been dubbing Meta’s friends walk though the door. They check that nobody is inside, except for her of course but she’s not who they’re expecting and so she easily flies under their radar. The dark-armored and green-armored beings walk in first, followed by four more.
“Is it clear?” One asks, with a more robotic voice, floating in mid-air.
“Yeah, yeah, nobody is here.” The skull-person, the last one her champion faced against, huffs at the reply.
“Thank goodness…”
“Don’t you… find that a bit weird?” Sword asks as he turns on the lights, while the rest of the group make their way in.
“What are you talking about?” The one with a crescent moon on his front questions, going to grab a weapon, a trident, from a shelf.
“You’ve been gloomy all day, Sword, cheer up!” Another, with big black eyes and wearing a purple robe, smiles as he goes to take something more heavy duty, a big spiked mace. “We didn’t even encounter Meta today, that’s something to be cherished!”
“Don’t say it yet, the day has yet to end!” The skull person replies, waving an ax around with measured movements.
Most of the people in the group shiver at the mere mention of the name.
“It’s… him, I’m worried about, though.” Sword replies.
“What? Did the talk we had yesterday get to your head?” His green companion nudges.
“You talked to him?”
“No way, what ghost of bravery possessed you?!”
“I’m betting it was a dare…”
“No, it’s just… he asked to speak with us,” Sword continues, “asked us why we were evading him. He looked lonely, he said nothing changed for him.”
“Easy for him to say!” The one with the big ax scoffs, pointing it at Sword. “He has the power of the almighty sword on his side!”
“I still remember that electricity almost frying me completely…” The floating one adds, having by now grabbed something looking like a javelin. “I don’t want to come in contact with that weapon ever again.”
“And to make matters worse, he’s even better than the both of us at waving a sword around.” Blade tosses a small sword, looking mostly like a dagger, to Sword. “Trust me, we don’t want to mess with him right now. The boss will want him to be a general or something. And having debts, or worse favors, with generals never gets you anywhere good.”
“But… but then what?” The one with the crescent moon asks, looking intently at his trident. “Should we just leave him alone? Wouldn’t that be too cruel?”
Regretful silence falls over the group, but in the end Mace speaks up.
“He’ll bite your head off if you try to get close to him right now. All generals become like that. In no time he’ll be barking orders and executing those that don’t meet standards. I don’t know if we can do much else by now.” The others nod.
Galaxia is left to watch and wonder how good was her support, when his own friends are starting to lose faith in him so quickly…