Chapter Text
The sky erupts in a bright and loud explosion. Vines, flowers, and clouds are ripped apart in the eruption leaving nothing behind as the mad monarch falls and shrivels up in the blast. Her last screams are cut off as her vocal cords are the first thing to be blown away by Kirby's Hypernova beam. She falls to her demise as the silence follows her dutifully to the grave. The vain queen of Floralia is finally laid to rest. She shall sleep forevermore, never to awaken from her glory-filled dreams.
Queen Sectonia’s reign ends with a bang and silent relief. Though, peace is far from within reach.
Taranza takes a deep breath and slowly counts to ten. He exhales as soon as he hits the mark. The gigantic parasitic flower - the moon blossom with its tyrian pink and heart-shaped petals with Sectonia’s hea-
Sectonia … She is gone. She is gone.
She is gone.
It - is gone. The Dreamstalk – the hopes and wishes of the sky people blossoms under the sparkling dawn. Despite how fitting it would be for it to fall apart in smoke and ash – the bridge that connects the islands of Floralia blooms beautifully. Small – though still large compared to their usual size – moon blossoms unfurl from tiny white bulbs. They sparkle and reach for the rising sun’s light. Soaking up the shimmering dust that is her remains.
The night has ended, and a new dawn has begun, Taranza notes bittersweetly. His wish came true. But at what cost? He wished for a sunrise not knowing what he would exchange to see the proverbial light of day again. If he had known he would have never made that lofty wish.
The aurora that streaks across the sky is stunning. Taranza almost forgets that he is holding King Dedede as he and the saviour of Dreamland – neigh – Popstar float down at the sight of it. Taranza adjusts his hold, puffing to stay afloat as he gently glides down. King Dedede is not a light man, he has discovered throughout carrying him all the way from the bottom to the top of the sky realm. He knows how much effort goes into carrying him. But to be fair, he had carried the strongman in his magic spider web. Holding onto him by the arms is different.
He has suggested using his web again. But by the King’s haggard look he kept his mouth shut. Opting to use two pairs of hands as his one free pair keeps him from plunging to their deaths. Flying magic comes with ease - every creature in the sky knows it! But it is different with cargo thrice his size and ten times his weight. It is oddly familiar; he muses with a sharp pain in his chest. He tries not to think back to that memory - to the reason this all started.
Taranza looks over at Kirby. The child – they cannot be a teenager! They are too bubbly and stubborn - believing that they will always stand on top and win every time. Not that Taranza can blame them for the arrogance. They demonstrated that the faith they have in themself is true. There are only a few people who can call themselves Kirby’s peers.
He has never seen someone so young be so powerful. It took him by surprise. Though perhaps he should not have been surprised. Kirby looks an awful lot like a cherub, down to the deceptive childlike cuteness and the sheer amount of power at the tips of their fingertips. The only things they are missing are a set of wings and a dozen blinking eyes. The cherubs of the books of old look more insect-like but he has heard the army scream ‘Engel! Verschwinde!!’ when he passed by. So, he knows he is not the only one who sees the resemblance. Only the brave stood their ground and they paid dearly for it.
He had been fed up with Kirby being so close on his tail that he had not cared that he was attacking a sprout. But now the guilt eats at him. He may not have directly attacked the youth but making all those monsters fight them and then their kingly friend is not much different from trying to kill them, himself. For once he wishes he had fought using his magic rather than puppeteering someone else to do the dirty work. Perhaps he would feel a teensy bit better. Although, he probably would not have forgiven himself if he attacked Kirby personally. This is not the only bad thing he has done in the last few months.
Taranza shakes his head. He ignores the nagging in the back of his mind. He knows he will have to face the music soon enough but for now, he can pretend everything is fine – that this is fine.
He is fine.
It is disturbing how easy it is to ignore his bad thoughts. The joy of victory is infectious. The lower land spreads underneath their feet, the lowest clouds parting at their descent. Taranza stares in wonder. He was born on a little patch of dirt not too far from Endless Explosions. All he had ever known were the islands. A whole swath of land is unheard of, and here he is looking at it – the land of legends! Only Aidon was big enough for the whole sky to inhabit, grow food and have enough life stock to feed everyone. Yet here there is no end in sight for the green land below. It feels as if he is dreaming.
Kirby cheers as they spot it as well. King Dedede flinches, lost in thought as he hears Kirby hollering. He looks down, a relieved smile making its way on the king's face.
“It’s home, poyo! Yahoo!” Kirby wiggles their arms – probably wanting to jump for joy or do one of their peculiar victory dances. The people of the sky follow along with their motions. They do not show a hint of Kirby being tiring to carry. Taranza on the other hand wishes they could trade places. No, he retracts that statement. He does not want to touch Kirby even with a ten-foot pole.
He nervously observes Kirby's hands. They look so innocent, rosy with scraps and old white scars. They are the hands of a child and yet, those hands kill - ended- did in Sectoni–
He stops himself before he can continue that dreadful thought. His throat burns.
"Aye," King Dedede's words crawl out of his throat like a bad cough, still recovering from the strain he went through - the things Taranza put him through. The ache in Taranza's chest worsens.
"Thet sure is Dreamland."
“Dreamland?” Taranza muses out loud. It sounds like a name out of a storybook.
King Dedede looks up at the spider, his eyes hard as he studies the adolescent’s expression. Taranza's face is that of awe. But as much as Taranza is impressed – it is also hollow. It is the expression of someone who sees paradise right after tragedy befell them. It is uncanny to see the guy with so much energy and duty look so empty. It is strange how fast one's worldview can change - how fast their world can fall apart right in front of their eyes.
King Dedede sighs, his eyes softening as they take on the tender edge of whenever he thinks of his great country – of all his wonderful citizens and the people he loves.
“Yeah, Dreamland, thuh best country on all of Popstar. A beaut, ain’t she?”
Taranza wants to protest. His patriotism surges forth on a matter of principle. But it is a weak argument with his country is in tatters by nothing other than his hands. He made a big mess up there.
“It is beautiful.” He admits. The land of dreams is a fitting title. If under any other circumstance he would have believed Aidon was not a place in the furthest reaches of the sky nobody could reach but rather the lands below. A misconception by their ancestors that worshipped space rather than the scarce earth beneath their feet. But if it had been that easy - he would wail in the cursed tragedy of such a revelation. It is not Aidon but it is beautiful all the same.
The air here is different from the clouds. Taranza’s body feels heavy as the ground comes closer. His chest constricts, and sweat pours down his forehead. All the layers of clothes he wears, despite their holes – feel unbearable and hot. The temperature feels as if it is rising in a matter of seconds since they breached the cloud barrier.
Taranza knows what is happening, having read about what happened to early explorers who wanted to know about the lands below. But he is too late, the effects have already taken hold. His vision goes black.
“Taranza? Are you okay, buddy – Urk!” Dedede's voice cuts off as they fall, and Taranza goes limp.
Darkness is what greets Taranza. He knows it well and by the strain in his neck slowly travelling towards his temple he knows what kind of day it will be.
Taranza groans, rubbing his face as he comes to. He feels drunk. It is strangely reminiscent of the hangover he experienced after Sectonia’s coronation. His head feels like a sole pickle inside of a pickle jar, sloshing around to meet the edges of the glass every time it is jostled around. His focus latches onto the nausea swimming in his gut, ignoring his surroundings. He recognises the feeling, and he wonders how many drinks he had if he does not remember drinking anything the previous night.
He smacks his lips, his mouth dry and tangy. He does not taste the sweet alcohols Moonlight Capital is known for. But it would not be the first time he took a shot and blacked out right thereafter. Bitter drinks tend to not linger, not like the sweet honey that softens the heavier drinks.
Being Queen Sectonia’s right-hand man is an honourable job. He would not trade it in for the world! But it is stressful and sometimes he adds a little too much spice to his juice to keep him relaxed when he wants to rip the talons from his hands. It is a total normal response, he reasoned a long time ago. Though maybe it is not a good sign he is unsurprised to wake up to a migraine. But it beats anxiously racking through his hair and accidentally pulling his roots out. Sectonia will not have it if his hair is uneven.
Taranza is laying on his back in the dirt. He has no idea how he wound up on the ground far away from his bed. Oh well, he thinks. Them’s the breaks. He still has to get a move on. He can agonise about how he fell asleep in a patch of earth later. There is paperwork to finalise and rebellions to squash.
He uses his arms to push himself upright. But he can barely lift himself from the ground. His head lands in the grass with a thud. Taranza’s whole body aches as it if has been ripped apart by the seams. What happened? The question bounces inside his head, joining in with his raging headache. What gobbled me up and spat me out again? I feel like a waking nightmare.
Taranza opens his eyes, yet the sun pushes them back shut as if to punish him for his boldness. Gosh, that is fierce! Ow! Taranza is used to how stark the sun can be from living in Royal Road his whole life, but it still stings to get the glare in his eyes. He is lucky most of his seeing eyes are on the back of his head.
He hisses in his hands, covering his face. He can feel his other hands grapple onto his clothes and his hair, steadying his breath by feeling familiar sensations. Strangely, they feel different. However, he cannot put his finger on why.
The pain leaves him breathless. His hands are rough on his face, and he wrinkles his nose. He might not see anything from how hard he clenches his eyes shut but he can still feel. His gloves are ripped and the skin of his palm meets his cheek. His digits press into his face and catch on his glasses. But instead of touching the glass and smudging it – they give and touch his closed eyelids.
Huh, echoes through Taranza’s mind as he feels the edges. The glass inside of his frames is gone, shattered by the feeling of sharp glass poking at his fingertips.
He hears a voice above him and with the state his glasses are in, it can only mean bad things.
Okay, he thinks in a voice that sounds a little too calm for how panicked he feels. Now I really need to know what happened.
Taranza painfully pries his eyes open, gagging as the light burns his retinas. He fights through it, his vision clearing to see the dawn. The sky is baby blue and tapers off into pinks and yellows. A beautiful stream of lights dances across the heavens. The sight puzzles him. The blue yonder of his home should be closer. Why is it so far away?
His mind is slow, so slow the thought of queen Sectonia killing him for his no doubt improper appearance does not scare him as much as it should. If she knows he would be in the dungeon for his fashion crimes and although he is far from comfortable, he is not locked up or anywhere near the palace. He is more scared of not getting home than he is of her wrath.
The barrier of clouds is far above his head. He cannot recognise any of Floralia’s landmarks and worse, the Dreamstalk reaches far overhead. The sight of it is a bad omen. He cannot see where it ends.
His throat tightens, knowing all too well what that means. All the sunstones have been gathered and anyone can walk their way up to Royal Road. Especially that pink meddle-
Taranza flinches. The king who he took from his shoddy castle abode, is standing over him. Taranza never realised, having always had the upper hand – how much the king towers over him. He is a twig compared to him.
“Easy, easy! Ya took a tumble thayure, Tazz.” The king tries to ease Taranza, throwing up his hands in a placating gesture. Taranza hunches in on himself, trying to make himself appear smaller. But the man is built like a brick house with the height to match. Whatever he does, he will always be massive compared to a guy like Taranza. He never thought he would have to be scared of someone because of their height since he is on the lean side. Past him is a fool.
Taranza yelps, inching away as he drags his sorry arse across the dirt. He blinks, the eyes on the back of his head taking in how soft and pleasing the grass looks. There are wildflowers scattered among the field. He sits up, admiring the far plains. An unknown environment greets him from all sides. They are on a hill that overlooks green pastures. In the distance, there are dirt spirals-like formations that reach from the ground, star-shaped plants and natural forming windmills with dragonfly wings as blades. It is a new world, and a single word stands out when he catches his bearings.
Dreamland. I'm in Dreamland.
The sunlight, as weak as it may be - is warm on his skin.
“Um, Popstar to Taranza – ya in there, bud?” Taranza cocks his head, taking in the hero of Lower Lan- No, the King of Dreamland. His clothes are torn. The hem of his robe is torn, revealing the claw-like feet poking out from his sandals. His footwear is reinforced with a steel-like contraption. it looks uncomfortable yet does not screech or thump as sabatons should. Taranza does not what he is looking at and does not bother to understand it.
King Dedede’s kimono is not faring much better. The collar has been ripped in the battle. It is a miracle that Dedede’s clothes are still hanging on, as threadbare as they are from the abuse. Though, perhaps it is the large belt around his waist keeping everything together. Taranza would not know. He has never seen such a style before until he popped in over to kidnap King Dedede. Lowland fashion is weird.
Taranza shakes his head, eyes darting around the hill again. Confusion is making his headache worse. Why is he in Dreamland?
“Wh-where am I?”
“In Dreamland! How hard did ya hit chur head? Though, it is naw wonder you look so dazed. Thet wuz one nasty fall!” King Dedede chuckles, but he does not sound as carefree as he wants to be. The King rubs the back of his neck. His face looks gaunt and Taranza wonders when that happened. King Dedede despite his dishevelled appearance should have been fed with his magic spider web. Why does he look so-
All at once, the memories filter in. Kidnapping the king of Dreamland on Sectonia’s orders, the supposed hero of the lower lands with the real hero chasing after him, hot on his trail. The people of the sky, working against them and standing in his way at every turn. He ordered his subordinates to capture them to keep them out of his business and finally the battle. The Battle.
Sectonia, Taranza's breath hitches staring up at the clouds once more. She is… No, it can't be. But it is true, the Dreamstalk is in bloom and that can only mean one thing. There is no queen of Floralia, not anymore.
But Taranza cannot mourn. He may have helped the King and Kirby defeat his former queen but that does not mean he is off the hook. One right does not right all the wrongs he committed.
Taranza scrambles upwards, flushing for showing weakness. It is undignifying for someone of his position. He is in the middle of dusting himself off when he recalls that he is not the right hand of a powerful monarch anymore. He swallows thickly, ignoring the growing pit in his stomach.
“You alright? You suddenly passed out in thuh sky. Is thayure an injury we’re not aware of? Well, aside from hitting ya noggin supah hard.” King Dedede asks with a snort. He straightens and it is as Taranza suspected, at his full height the man is twice his size. He could so easily crush him. Taranza has no energy to summon his magic and forget teleporting. He refuses to shudder at the realisation of how vulnerable he is. He will not succumb.
Taranza frantically searches for the bubblegum pink hero, feeling fear creep up his spine at the thought of not knowing where they are. A day ago, that would have been a good sign. It meant he shook Kirby off his trail. Now though, it is a fine opportunity to jump him and finish the job.
Taranza sidesteps Dedede, the king’s curious gaze following him. Kirby is behind Dedede a few paces away. They are sitting in the grass, fiddling with a rectangle device, seemingly waiting for something. Taranza does not want to know what they are waiting for.
“Huh – no! I suppose exhaustion must have gotten the best of me. I'm so sorry to have worried you, your majesty.” Taranza glances back at the King, cringing. It hurts to call someone else by that title. But he fears the retribution of not addressing a king in his land without the proper honorific. In Floralia, even as Sectonia’s best friend when she was a princess - he would not have gotten away with that with people around.
He bows at the waist. It feels like pouring salt into his wounds.
“Hey! It’s alright, naw need tuh bow! If you’re still dizzy it is best tuh keep docile.” King Dedede guffaws, slapping Taranza on the back. Taranza falls over, only catching himself as his hands clutch onto Dedede’s robe to keep himself upright.
“Ah, sorry! I forget mah strength sometimes. Ya ok?” He helps steady Taranza, and the spider backs away. Grateful for the assistance but wary. He feels uneasy being around the king. It is bizarre how friendly he is. One would think if one kidnapped and possessed someone to fight on their behalf, they would be angry. But King Dedede appears anything but mad. He is an odd man.
“I’m fine, thank you for your concern, your majesty.”
“You’re welcome and call me King Dedede, Tazz, everyone does.”
Taranza’s perfect smile twitches.
“Okay, King Dedede.”
“See? Much better, raht?” King Dedede smiles. If Taranza did not know better, he would think Dedede was just a good-natured middle-aged man giving him a pep talk he met on the street, not a powerful warrior king of a vast country. A warrior king who could so easily break him in half. Taranza quickly nods, wanting Dedede’s intense eyes off of him.
King Dedede, despite his his less than delicate ways – notices Taranza curl into himself and distances himself from him. Dedede takes a step back and blissfully, points his attention elsewhere. He coughs in his hand.
“Kirbay, when is Bandee coming?”
Kirby perks up. They energetically bounce up from their crouch and stretch their limbs. They shake their device in the air with a sunny smile.
“Poyo po-po! In a moment, Dedede! The people of the sky are helping everyone get down who got caught up in the Dreamstalk, po. Bandee wants to stay behind for a bit to help them out.” They go back to typing, giggling as they stare at their screen.
King Dedede shrugs.
“Heh, fair. He has always been tuh responsible one.” He nudges Taranza's shoulder but stops short when he sees the way Taranza freezes. Dedede awkwardly rubs his elbow.
“Kids these days, ey? Glued tuh thur phones.”
“Yes! Of course. I concur wholeheartedly.” Taranza quickly agrees. He does want to anger the ruler of these lands. He may be terrified but with being Sectonia’s right hand for a good while he knows how to pacify a quick-tempered monarch. Saying yes to whatever mystifying thing Dedede says is familiar and safe territory. He can do this.
He has no idea what a phone is.
Dedede looks disappointed, or sad at his words. It is hard to tell. But before Taranza can scramble to salvage the situation, he moves on to the next topic. Ignoring Taranza's attempt at appeasing him.
“Oh, it is good tuh be home!” King Dedede stretches his arms above his head, groaning as his back pops. A wide smile blooms across his tired face nonetheless, “I need a long vacation wheyun everythin' has calmed down.”
He scratches his back and groans in only a way a person can when they have been awake for too long. Taranza would suggest a back massage or soaking in hot water, anything to bring him the good graces of someone who could throw him in the dungeons to starve. He is not sure if King Dedede knows the power he has over him or not, but he would rather not risk getting on his bad side. There are worse things than death.
“But you didn’t do anything, po?” Kirby pipes up. Their unspoken rule of not coming close to the high-strung spider seems to not matter anymore. Taranza shouts in surprise as Kirby jumps on Dedede’s back. Dedede does not budge at Kirby’s weight, not even a little! He looks over his shoulder at the pink hero who slings an arm around Dedede's neck to steady themself. His eyebrow twitches.
“Kirbay, shut it ya menace! I absolutely did sumpn! I saved you from thet vine and I helped with thuh canon.” He shakes his fist at Kirby. Kirby pockets their phone and sticks out their tongue. Their eyes narrow with mischief.
“Did I not have to save your sorry butt first though? Poyo?" They ruffle the hair underneath King Dedede's crown-like cap. The short yet thick blue tufts of hair shine in the sun, sticking up with sweat and grease.
King Dedede growls and Kirby jumps off, sensing danger before the first strike.
“You little-!” King Dedede roars after them, forgetting his hat as it tumbles from his head. Kirby runs away, childish laughter spilling out their mouth as they duck and roll away from Dedede’s grasp. They run in circles in a weird game of tag with the king lunging at them while Kirby dashes out of the way with years of honing their dodging skills. Finding the perfect time frame to duck and roll away with a giggle and a laugh.
The sight would be comical if it is not for how confused Taranza is. He knows the King is a bit of an oaf from the lackeys he sent down to do recon before the people of the sky decided to plant their seed of invasion. An invasion that never happened because the People of the sky brought the citizens of Dreamland to them. But seeing him run after a child – a powerful one but still a child – is inconceivable to witniss.
Taranza wishes he was dreaming. But the pain in his chest is too great to be just a dream. He clutches at his breast, biting his teeth as he looks down at himself. By Aidon, he looks horrible! He is lucky nobody else is here to see him in this sorry state. King Dedede and Kirby do not count, they are just as if not even more banged up than he is.
“Got ya!”
Taranza is brought out of his thoughts by a loud shout. He looks and sees King Dedede holding Kirby in his arm. His size dwarfs the already small hero. It is unbelievable to think someone at Kirby’s size and age chased him all around Floralia and ki- defeated Sectonia.
Kirby is yelling, squirming in Dedede’s bear hug. But the sounds are joyous, Taranza guesses. He is not sure as Kirby’s laughter sounds closer to how a kid would scream bloody murder than being tickled.
“Take thet ya brat!” King Dedede shouts gleefully. Kirby squeals and tries to stop Dedede by holding the arm he is using to tickle them. Not that it does much. With their small hands, they cannot even wrap two around Dedede’s wrist. Though, Taranza has a feeling if Kirby does not want to be tickled - they would have found a way to get out of Dedede’s grasp. He has a hard time believing someone like Kirby would suffer under such treatment if they hated it.
“I know, I know! Poyo yo po! I was teasing Dedede. Have mercy - haha hee!”
“Never!” Dedede cries, pressing Kirby close against him in a crushing embrace. He cards his fingers through Kirby’s hair, turning their face into his chest. The king’s smile falters, letting the sadness peek through as Kirby wrestles their way out of his arms. He plasters on a carefree façade as soon as Kirby rips their way out of his rough if affectionate treatment. Not letting the youngster see the pain and exhaustion weighing him down.
King Dedede swipes to get Kirby back into his arms for another noogie but Kirby weaves out of the way, repeating their song and dance.
Their buoyant laughter echoes through the rolling hills. It would be such a picture-perfect scene. Two friends, a family almost - playing in the scenic landscape of green fields and odd-shaped wildflowers.
Taranza bites his cheek, his fangs piercing through the soft tissue of his mouth. He tastes iron on his tongue. It is almost sweet how the pain soothes his misery.
Sectonia… He cannot stop thinking about what happened mere moments ago. About how she is gone, about how she cast him aside. It is only because King Dedede puts a halt to his and Kirby’s play fighting that he stops his downwards spiral. It is mercy as much as it is a curse. He wants to be left alone but he knows the second that he is – he will only have his stormy thoughts to keep him company. Taranza chuckles dryly, hiding it behind a charred glove. One way or another, he suffers.
“Wayul, it is time tuh get back tuh thuh castle me thinks.” King Dedede states as he holds Kirby by the back of their shirt. He raises his other hand to look in the distance. He squints his eyes, searching for his castle until he finds it. His joy is short lived and he groans at how far Mt Dedede is from their hill.
Kirby wiggles, puffing their cheeks to stay afloat. They do not weigh much but their shirt is going to give if Dedede keeps dangling them like this. They do not want it to rip, even as battered as it is. It is a good shirt!
“You wanna come with, Kirbay? You’re probly hawngry after goin' all supernova on thet witc- uh, lady!” Dedede quickly backtracks, eyeing Taranza. Taranza stares at him with an owlish stare. Only the eyes on his forehead blink. The white ones once hidden by his broken glasses, gaze at him emotionlessly. It is as if they were never eyes, to begin with. King Dedede decides to not bother.
“What do ya say, Kirbs? Wanna eat thuh entire pantry empty after all our troubles?” Dedede asks. Kirby releases the air from their cheeks and flaps their arms. Stars shine in the deep blue sea of Kirby's eyes as they clasp their hands together in glee. Their answer is clear from the get-go.
“Do I! But it’s Hypernova! Not supernova – Hyper, po!” Kirby jabs his finger in Dedede’s face. Dedede rolls his eyes but agrees, throwing Kirby on his back in one smooth motion.
“Yeah, yeah! Hypernova Kirbay, got it!” Kirby scrambles to right themself. They seem used to the treatment as they wrap their arms around Dedede’s neck. Their battered body sinks into the fluff of the king’s robe. With a sigh, they close their eyes. Taranza is not sure if their energy was a façade or if they naturally gonk out as soon as they lay down on something soft. Yet regardless of the truth, they nestle in the crook of King Dedede’s neck. Oblivious to the wreckage they had brought into so many people’s lives. Though as much as Taranza wants to blame them, he cannot ask a child to be held responsible for the state Floralia is in. The problems started long before Kirby came into the picture.
King Dedede’s face is soft. He lovingly pats Kirby’s head as a doting father would, “Sleep wayul Kirbs, wheyun you wake thayure will be a banquet waitin' fahwar ya." He makes sure Kirby will not fall as he adjusts the child on his back. Dedede holds Kirby as if they are his kid.
His gaze lands on Taranza and he exhales with a performative sigh. He gestures to his back with an exasperated if fond look. Taranza has a feeling Kirby has Dedede aged a thousand years ever since they met. But the look on the king’s face is one Taranza is familiar with. He was once a head priest; he knows when he sees a caring father.
“Thuh rascal needs thur beauty sleep or they get cranky. They tend tuh run themself ragged wheyunever adventure calls. I have mah hands full with them, can ya believe it?”
“Yes, I can imagine your majes- your highness.” Dedede gives him a look but gives up when Taranza smiles too wide to be comfortable. He shrugs.
“Eh, close enough.” He gestures to his back again and Taranza expects Dedede to tell him another tidbit about Kirby. He feels puzzled when Dedede winks instead, pointing with his thumb to his left shoulder.
“Okay, hop on Tazz! We’re departing fahwar Mt Dedede, and it is gunna to be a journey and a half tuh get thayure!”
“What?! No, I can’t! You’re- you’re!” Royalty! I would have been tossed on the curb for this on Floralia. Heck, he had gotten really close to getting his life ripped apart by gossip because of his closeness with the late queen. He does not want to think of what could have happened to him if he has been fired during her reign. He would have been fish food for the sharks smelling blood. A prime target for the revolutionaries wanting to make an example of him. Though, it probably would not have gotten to that. Queen Sectonia would have killed him first before he could give away sensitive information. He knows that now. She would not have hesitated.
He swallows thickly. The scene where she disregarded flashes before his eyes. It was the moment he realised she was too far gone. If she had not been preoccupied with Kirby, she would have – he would-
Taranza cannot bring himself to finish that thought. He feels dizzy, the world is spinning. His horns buzz and every strand of hair on top of his head scraps against them the wrong way. Everything feels too much.
His knees give out underneath him and he cannot protest King Dedede’s support in keeping him upright. He feels himself being lifted on Dedede’s back. The king grumbles something under his breath. Taranza does not hear it. The King jogs down the hill. His running should make Taranza sick, but with the soft robe cradling his aching body, nausea is far from his mind. It is pathetic but he finds himself not able to focus on the humiliation he no doubt will once he is a little more coherent.
His thoughts drift to the fight and he looks up at the sky, sailing off to an exhausted doze. He cannot see Floralia from here. But he can see the Dreamstalk and makes an educated guess where Royal Road is. He cannot imagine the crisis that is happening in his absence.
Taranza sighs and lets the pace of Dedede’s gait lull him into closing his eyes.
Dissociating, Taranza knows it well. Yet he does not fight the beast. He rests his hands on his stomach and focuses on staying calm. His floating hands hold onto Dedede’s robe for stability, and he breathes in and out. He can only hope that the worse is now behind them.