Chapter Text
He remembers the event all too well, as if it were chewed gum in his unruly hair.
He remembers when his love was taken by those beasts, taken to that monster - that stupid wizard. The same wizard that the king is currently buying monsters from.
He remembers when he saw his love again, the hope he felt that he was okay, the horror when he realized what had happened. The wizard had turned his love against him, turned him into one of the monsters.
He remembers that someone had gotten a lucky shot and broke the knight’s mask right in half, the fight had gotten worse at that point. His love took out most of the army stationed there.
He remembers that his love’s movements were more like a stringed puppet than his usual grace, no doubt that he was being puppeteered by that wizard.
He remembers when the strings were cut. The legendary Galaxia plunged through the chest of the one he loved the most. He laughs bitterly at that, both of his old friends had been killed due to the sacred blade.
He remembers the blood pooling around them. The blood of his love coating the ground. He recalls that soldiers had been afraid of the “new” horns and wings, the two wings, he recalls that the other two were torn off, probably by that damned wizard.
He remembers finding the dimensional cape on his bed. He had gone through it, emptying it of all the notes and assorted trinkets his love had stored within it. He looked at the swords hanging off the wall adjacent to where he was laying, three different blades, going together like those of the three musketeers. His sword in the middle with his old friends’ on either side, there was a ring hanging off of his love’s golden blade.
He recalls finding a couple of rocks in the cape, his friends had always enjoyed giving him rocks whenever they went on missions, oh how he misses that now. The kid has given him a couple of rocks, he’s quite similar to the knight he adored oh so much. There had been a warning on a note in the cape, saying that the wizard was working on something, something big. He’s pretty sure that the project had been the young star warrior.
He looked at his mantle, sitting on top there were the halves of his love’s mask and the tiara, which he remade from scratch, of an old friend. He hopes that if there is an afterlife that they’re having a good time, doing whatever it was they did in their freetime.
He heard a light knocking coming from his door, “poyo. . .?” came the small voice.
He shoved himself off of his bed and trudged to the door, “what is it this time, Kid?” he asked while opening the door. He was surprised to see the kid with tears streaming down his little face, “woah, kiddo, what’s wrong?” he asked as gently as he could, kneeling down to wipe the tears off the kid’s face.
“Poyo. . .poy-poyo. . .” The kid babbled while tightly hugging the older star warrior. He lightly stroked the young one’s hair while he babbled incoherently into his chest.
He scooped the kid up into his arms, and stood up, “do you want something to eat, Kirbster?” he carefully asked the kid, who lightly nodded in response, the kid looked ready to fall asleep right in the older star warrior’s arms.
He walked to the kitchens, all too used to making midnight snacks for others, mostly his old love. He opened the large doors to the kitchen, and tried to put the kid in a chair, but he was firmly stuck around the warrior’s torso. He grabbed a small cup, and a cutting board. He went through the fridge, grabbing some berries and yogurt. He chopped the fruits and put them with the yogurt in the cup, grabbing a spoon from where they were kept, then giving the finished parfait to the kid, who actually took bites instead of just inhaling it.
He fondly recalls making parfaits for his love, who crept through the halls and ate them in secret in the middle of the night. It took him a bit to break that habit when his love died.
When the kid was done with the treat he threw the cup in the sink, which already had a pile in it, then trudged to the library. Might as well read a story to the kid (also there was a particularly comfortable chair he liked).
He hadn’t even gotten halfway through the story, some book about a princess in a tower or something, before passing out like the kid had moments prior.
. . .He recalls having a pleasant dream that night.