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Chapter Text

Meta had once thought mirrors were beautiful. He found their clean, precise panes of glass and their illusion of depth fascinating. He had lost that inclination when his shadowy counterpart locked him within one and shattered it. Meta had hoped dearly that Dark was gone for good after being shattered by Kirby, and then again when he returned only to be defeated by Dedede. At least until Dark himself appeared in his bathroom mirror one morning shave, laughing and gloating about how Mirror-Worlders only temporarily shattered. Meta had found at least one upside in that Dark was unable to pass through to his side from a regular mirror. Unfortunately he was still subject to the doppelganger’s morally deficient ramblings.

“Good morning, my dear Meta. My, you seem a little rough around the edges,” Dark tittered, standing where Meta’s reflection should be. Meta shot back a withering glare.

“You say that every time you see me,” he grumbled. He felt his chin, pleased that it was suitably smooth. Facial hair was not a great look for someone whose natural hair color was blue.

“Well, perhaps you simply look dreadful every time I see you. Ever consider actually brushing your hideous blue mop,” Dark replied languidly, studying his nails. They were as perfectly maintained as the rest of him.

“Ever consider leaving my bathroom mirror,” Meta snapped, reaching for his toothbrush.

“It’s mine as well,” Dark countered, gesturing at the bathroom behind him. It was covered in an assortment of hygiene and beauty products that looked offensively pricey. The fixtures were all black tile, white marble and silver spigots.

“I’m not the one with the ability to gaze through mirrors,” Meta shot back. His side was quite utilitarian, composed of simple tile and steel. On another occasion Dark had mocked Meta for a solid 40 minutes over his cost-effective approach to hygiene products and his lack of anything to “touch up his grossly neglected face.” He’d tried to leave, but apparently the stainless steel of his workshop was reflective enough for Dark to follow.

“Only one of my many traits that make me better than you,” Dark preened.

“What, your voyeuristic tendencies? Oh what a shame that my psyche isn’t a Freudian nightmare like yours,” Meta drawled.

You know, shaming me for my twisted depravities might actually work if I was at all ashamed of them,” Dark purred, revealing his perfectly white fangs in a devilish grin. Meta made a face like he’d just stepped in gum.

“Oh I’m perfectly aware of that. You are remarkably descriptive about them,” he groaned. Many would find Dark’s silky voice and flirtatious mannerisms irresistible. He found the man about as charming as a seagull with chronic diarrhea.

“My morals are as absent as my gag reflex,” Dark added.

“If only you’d choke,” Meta said, not even waiting for a reaction as he loaded his toothbrush with toothpaste. He steadily and thoroughly cleaned his teeth, trying not to think about how they were both slightly yellow and slightly crooked compared to his counterpart’s flawless dentition. Whatever, his fangs were larger anyway. He became acutely aware of Dark’s single remaining eye staring him down as he spit out the toothpaste and rinsed.

“I gue-“

“If you make some insipid comment about spitting or swallowing, I will find a way to get through that mirror and I will wear your intestines as a necktie,” Meta snarled, causing Dark to actually recoil. Meta definitely had him beat when it came to pure intensity.

“And you accuse me of being depraved,” Dark quipped, running a hand through his perfectly coiffed hair. It returned to its original appearance, no doubt loaded with products as expensive as the average car.

“You are, by your own admission, a manipulative tyrant who thrives off of the darkest impulses and desires of your fellow man,” Meta said flatly. Dark pressed a hand to his cheek, feigning coyness.

“Aren’t you quite the charmer?” Dark paused, and made a sweeping motion with his hands “Go on.”

“I really ought to shatter this wretched mirror,” Meta sighed, leaning over to splash his face with cool water. Dark laughed, the sound hypnotic and borderline intoxicating. They may share the same voice, but Dark knew how to use it to its full potential.

“That’s what, the tenth time you’ve said this? Face it, you’re too intrigued to chase me away,” Dark chuckled. He quieted, and leaned forward, a deadly smile on his lips. “Too fascinated by how evil you could be,” the words were like poisoned honey, creeping into and sticking in Meta’s mind. Meta shuddered, leaning back an equal amount. He met the others gaze, expression fiery and steeled in equal amounts.

“As you are fascinated with how noble you could be. How clean and untainted you could be,” he said. His voice was as cutting as his blade. Something sparked in the other’s eye, but was quickly extinguished.

“It’s a morbid curiosity. It’s interesting to see what I would look like were my considerable sex appeal stripped away,” Dark said, narrowed eye betraying just the barest hint of genuine anger.

“You say this like I care” Meta said, mourning the loss of their briefly serious conversation. Dark gave Meta an appraising look, tapping on his chin.

“Although… We do share the same face, even if your style and grooming habits are atrocious. If you put just a little effort in maybe you wouldn’t be such an embarrassing mess,” he said.

“I am… How do the youth put it? Ah, yes. A hot mess,” Meta said, sarcasm dripping from his tongue. Dark let out a snort before clapping a hand over his mouth and composing himself.

“‘The youth’? We aren’t that old,” Dark chuckled. It was a surprisingly warm and genuine sound. His usual malevolent grin quickly found its way back onto his face. “Or, at least, not old for our kind.”

“Hm,” Meta responded, retrieving a towel from a small closet and looping it through a metal bar affixed to the wall. He gave a glance at his shower. It was enormous by all standards, custom built for accommodating his wings. He looked back at Dark. “Leave now,” he hissed.

“Oh? Not going to put the ‘show’ in ‘shower-“

“Now.”

“Very well. See you soon,” Dark purred, hoping he’d put enough huskiness in his voice to make the other uncomfortable. He leaned back in his chair as the mirror faded back to show his own reflection. He sighed and allowed himself to slouch out of the careful posture he usually held. Despite the fact that Meta was simply him from a parallel dimension, he was still terrifying and exhausting to face off with. No manipulation or mind games with him, only pure intimidation and sheer willpower. In his own realm, he was a feared tyrant. But he had no hold over Meta, no leverage or advantage. It was terrifying and tantalizing in equal measure.

Dark pushed his chair back and stood, stalking off to vent his frustrations on whatever poor bastard crossed his path first.

Chapter Text

                Dark strode through his palace, inky black coat trailing behind him.  He was of royal blood in this world, once the crown prince but now the king following the fall of Dark Mind.  His castle reflected both his opulent tastes as well as his sense of style.  The main corridor to the throne room was a thing of wonder.  Its walls were entirely lined with flawlessly cleaned mirrors, intricate light fixtures hanging down from the tall vaulted ceiling.  Priceless artifacts lined the hall, resting atop velvet cushions and carved obsidian pedestals.

                Nothing, however, could compare to the throne room itself.  It was an enormous, circular room, with intricate carvings of black stone lining every wall panel.  The gorgeous carvings told the history of Dreadland through their glimmering black tapestries.  The throne itself was Dark’s pride and joy.  It was a flawlessly etched combination of polished platinum, shimmering obsidian and sparkling sapphire.

                “Ah, my taste is flawless,” he breathed, gazing at his throne.  Humility was only for beings less flawless than he, after all.  The only thing that shattered the perfect ambiance was the smaller throne beside it.  It was a rectangular, almost utilitarian fixture of black marble and grey cushions.  It was like a sad, bootlegged version of his glorious masterpiece, though he supposed it suited the personality of its creator who was currently occupying it. 

                “New coat?” Shadow Kirby drawled, not even glancing up from his novel.  He didn’t need to look to know Dark was wearing something new.  He went through expensive couture at an incredible pace, and Shadow swore he didn’t let anything with a price tag under four figures to touch his skin. 

                “Of course,” Dark preened, doing a brief heel turn to show it off.

                “Looks nice,” Shadow mumbled.

                “You aren’t even looking,” Dark snapped.  Shadow closed his book with a sigh, and looked up.  He stared the man up and down, before shrugging.

                “Looks the same as the rest,” he deadpanned.

                “What?!  Do you know how many endangered animals went into making this coat?  It’s practically a wearable mass extinction!” Dark sputtered. 

                “You can’t go one day without being horrible, can you?” the child sighed. 

                “Nope,” Dark quipped, emphasizing the ‘p’.  Shadow rubbed his temples.  If only his dear brother had an ounce of morality, his life would be so much easier. 

                “You were talkin’ to your Dreamland self, right?  Try being more like him.  He’s got those pesky things called honor, a sense of duty, and morals,” Shadow huffed.  He recoiled slightly when Dark loomed over him, eye glowing a malevolent red.  He hated how he could do that on command.

                “I tried those, remember?  I got my eye gouged out in exchange for my kindness and mercy,” he hissed, voice low and dangerous.  Shadow flinched.  He remembered all too well, finding Dark crouched on the steps of the castle, screaming as blood pooled below him.  It had run down the steps like some sort of twisted red carpet, leading him to his broken sibling as he clutched his eye. 

                “Right, got it.  Sorry,” Shadow said quickly.  Dark flashed a smile that was more akin to baring his teeth than anything.

                “Good!  The sooner you learn how dangerous being kind is, the better,” he said brightly.  The sound of someone clearing their throat caused Dark to turn and Shadow to gaze over his shoulder.  A large man in a silken black robe stood in the archway, a perfectly neutral expression on his face. 

                “My lord, I have urgent news.  We’ve located the last shard of the Dimensional Mirror,” the man said, booming voice echoing through the open space.  Dark grinned wider, fully exposing his wickedly sharp set of teeth.  Shadow Dedede only offered a thin smile before returning to his usual neutrality.  Brick walls were more emotional.

                “Excellent!” Dark said, turning to look at the space behind his throne.  The cursed mirror stood there, golden frame missing one final chunk of glass.

                “Of course, it will only be one-way until the Dreamland side is restored as well,” Shadow Dedede interjected. 

                “I am aware,” Dark snapped.  Ugh, dimensional portals were such a pain. 

                “He’s gonna go in himself and fix it himself,” Shadow supplied.  Dark raised his hand to smack him upside the head, but Shadow Dedede interrupted the imminent assault.  

                “You what?!” he cried.  Dark gave Shadow a look that promised future pain, and turned back to his subordinate.

                “The Dreamlanders have no doubt hidden away the pieces after the havoc I’ve caused.  I intend to teach them a lesson about taking things that aren’t theirs,” Dark said venomously. 

                “With all due respect, sir, you technically only own this side-“

                “Shut.  Up.”

                “Right.  That is irrelevant.  Even so, you cannot just go off into another dimension for an unknown amount of time!  You have a kingdom to run!” Shadow Dedede urged.  Dark waved his hand in dismissal.

                “You and Shadow are more than capable of filling in.  It isn’t like it’s hard.  Threaten to slaughter our enemies, follow through if necessary, and pretend to care when the next inevitable tragedy happens!  It’s easy!  I only laughed twice when that hospital burned down last month!”

                “You told the grieving families that you ‘expected a warmer welcome’,” Shadow deadpanned.

                “And I kept a straight face, didn’t I?” Dark retorted, puffing out his chest.

                “You did proceed to ask them if anybody smelled bacon, sir,” Shadow Dedede added.  Shadow snorted.

                “He also told them that they might as well designate the whole place as a burn ward.”

                “And how he didn’t know that they provided in-hospital cremation.”

                “And when he decided to-“

                “ENOUGH!” Dark roared, grabbing Shadow Dedede by his collar and yanking him down to eye level.  “Shut your insipid mouth and go retrieve that shard immediately!”

                “Of course, your majesty!” he sputtered.  Dark released his iron grip, and the larger man scampered away down the hall, not even glancing back.  He then turned to his brother.

                “Jeez, I was only teasing,” Shadow muttered, hunching his shoulders and crossing his arms.  Dark closed his eye and took a deep breath, his usual smirk sliding back onto his face.  His eye then snapped open, glowing blood red.  Shadow gave a terrified smile, and skittered out of his throne, dodging under the enraged man’s legs and sprinting out of the throne room.  Dark let out a suitably evil cackle as he watched him flee.

                “Don’t sleep!” he called out gleefully.  They may be a king and a prince, but first and foremost they were siblings.  And as the elder of the pair, it was his duty to torment his dear little brother every day of his miserable life. 

                Dark turned back to gaze at the dimensional mirror.  He strode around his throne to stand before it, admiring his reflection.  Finally the ugly missing shard would no longer mar his beautiful mirror.  And then…

                He held out his hand, lightly touching the cool glass.  An unnatural band of light slid across the mirror, distorting his reflection.  Dark gazed at his handiwork, grinning.  The person in the mirror had two golden eyes as opposed to his single remaining pale yellow one.  Wild indigo hair sprouted from his head, and his skin was a warm brown as opposed to Dark’s pallid complexion.  A flawless replica of Meta stared back; following Dark’s every move like a true reflection.  His grin looked so unnerving and wrong on the facsimile’s face, and only became more twisted as it widened. 

                Then he would pay his dear counterpart a little visit.             

Chapter Text

                “You should really use your bed once in a while.”  Meta snapped awake, reflexively hurling an eraser at the source of the noise.  Sailor Dee let out a startled squeak as it bounced off of her nose and fell to the floor.  She then watched her esteemed leader stare at her with drool dripping off of his chin.

                “S-sorry about that,” he muttered, snatching a tissue from the box on his desk and wiping his face clean.  He set to work on the puddle left before him as Dee sighed, rubbing her nose.

                “Anyway… you’ve been holed up in your office the whole day, so I came to check on you.  Got any work done, or are you just napping?” Dee quipped.  Meta looked up from the drool-stained paper he was holding at arm’s length and huffed.

                “I was merely resting after drawing up some schematics-“Dee grabbed one of the scattered papers before he could react and studied it.  It appeared to be a crude drawing of Meta with rippling muscles on a throne as multiple equally poorly drawn subjects groveled around him.

                “The mini masks on the nipples are a nice touch sir,” she snickered.  Meta snatched the paper back and shoved it into the wastebasket.

                “I’ve just been… rather uninspired today,” he sighed, gathering all of the papers that had fallen victim to his drooling and sliding them into the trash.  Meta grabbed one of the few actual schematics and studied it.  It was an intricate diagram of a device capable of firing pieces of metal at high speed through the use of a combustible powder.  Apparently he’d reinvented the handgun whilst half asleep.

                “You know, nobody would judge you for taking a day off once in a while,” Dee said gently.  Meta sighed again, and slid a form from the edge of the desk before him.  It was an exceedingly complex order for a multitude of vital materials.

                “I would really rather not let this work pile up.”  He shuffled a few more pages around, searching for the measurements he needed.  He finally found the proper sheet, only to find the calculations half finished.  Meta was an engineer, calculations and measurements were his bread and butter.  But right now the thought of even beginning to complete the paper made his arms feel like lead.  

                “I’m perfectly capable of handling this for a day.  You hired me for a reason, you know,” Dee offered.  Sailor Dee was in no way a proficient fighter, but her intellectual capacity made her a vital component of Meta’s crew.  He’d never seen anyone program faster and she was more accurate than anyone he knew when it came to mental math. 

                “You have your own duties, and I would rather not overburden you,” Meta mumbled, reading the same line of numbers for what must have been the tenth time.  Dee gave him a heart wrenchingly concerned look, and he averted his eyes.  She was an angel in the body of a Waddle Dee.

                “What’s wrong?  Something’s eating at you,” she asked.  Meta grimaced.

                “If I tell you, you have to let it remain a secret from the others,” he groaned.  Dee perked up, interest piqued.

                “Of course!  What’s bothering you then?” she chirped.  Meta drummed his fingers on his desk, chewing his lip anxiously. 

                “You are aware of my… Mirror World counterpart, correct?” he began. 

                “Yeah, you told me about him…” Dee said, anger clouding her usually cheerful countenance. 

                “Well, apparently he doesn’t die but rather temporarily shatters before reforming,” Meta continued, tenting his fingers in front of him.

                “Oh, right!  The King encountered him during the Floralia incident, correct?  Even though I’m pretty sure he embellished the fight a little bit, he did say that Dark Meta Knight shattered into glass upon defeat.  And you told us about the incident with the Dimension Mirror where Kirby shattered him as well!  Is that like a Mirror-Worlder trait or something?” Dee babbled. 

                “You are exceedingly astute as usual.  Yes, apparently those from the Mirror World cannot suffer permanent death, but rather shatter temporarily before reforming,” Meta said. 

                “But King Dedede said he shattered the Dimension Mirror as well.  Why is Dark Meta Knight even relevant if he’s still trapped in a parallel dimension?”

                “Apparently his abilities are not what I assumed them to be.  Though he cannot utilize them to cross over, he can use regular mirrors to contact those in our realm,” Meta explained, watching the realization dawn on Dee’s face.

                “He’s been contacting you?!” she squeaked. 

                “It’s more akin to bothering me than anything.  I can barely even use mirrors anymore, he replaces my reflection!  I went to a meeting with doodles all over my helm because I couldn’t see them!” Meta ranted, gritting his teeth. 

                “Woah woah woah, he talks to you?  What does he say?” Dee urged. 

                “Absolute drivel is what he says.  He insults my appearance, compliments his own, propositions me, insults my tastes-“

                “He propositions you?!” Dee squealed, putting a hand over her mouth.  Meta rested his face in his hands.

                “He’s some sort of malignant narcissist.  I’m sure he’d just as soon tape a mirror over some poor sod’s face and go at it,” he snorted.  Meta squinted at Dee as she let out a short laugh.

                “Sorry, that’s just really weird,” she tittered.  Meta shook his head as he realized his important discussion had devolved into petty gossip and steeled his expression.

                “I’m certain that he is attempting to lull me into a false sense of security.  There is no conceivable way a megalomaniac like him isn’t harboring a grudge against our dimension,” he said.  Dee folded her arms and nodded, her expression turning serious as well.

                “We should warn the people guarding the shards, as well as the King.  He has the frame, so I’m certain he would be struck first in the event of another attack,” she offered.  After the latest incident, the Dimension Mirror’s shards had been scattered, given to different people to safe keep.  Meta shook his head.

                “There’s no way for him to enter our realm.  The only way for the mirror to be reassembled is for someone from this realm to gather the pieces,” he explained. 

                “Couldn’t he manipulate somebody?” Dee asked.

                “All of the shard holders are aware of his treachery.  Even if he convinces one to assist him, he’ll have the king and seven others to contend with.”

                “Right.  So you think he’s just annoying you because he’s trapped?”

                “Correct.  It’s just a pathetic final power play,” Meta growled, snatching a pen to angrily fidget with.  Dee frowned, giving him a sympathetic look.

                “Maybe avoid mirrors for now?  He’ll lose interest eventually, right?” she soothed. 

                “Perhaps, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction.  That pompous, self-important, egotistical wretch is going to lose this little game of his,” he hissed, gripping the pen tighter.

                “No need to get all worked up!” Dee said, backing away slightly.  Meta would never harm his crew in anger, but he was still a terrifying sight to behold when properly enraged.

                “Waltzing into my home and insulting my intelligence-“his grip finally exceeded what the pen could withstand.  The loud crack of plastic buckling foretold the spray of black ink that spattered both Meta and his desk.  He slowly looked at the dark splotch across his chest, and then at the puddle of the stuff on his desk.  Meta let the remains of the pen slide out of his hand, and took several deep breaths.  Dee eyed the vein still throbbing on his forehead.

                “Now just calm down-“

                “GODDAMNIT!”  Meta slammed his fist down onto his desk, splattering the ink puddle everywhere.          

Chapter Text

                Dark lounged in his bed, leaning against the backboard with his arms crossed behind his head.  He was clad in a luxurious silken black robe, and he had a smug grin plastered across his face.  The final shard had finally been returned to the mirror, and he had gathered all of the necessary supplies for his plan.  They sat in the corner within a backpack, looking out of place among all of the exquisitely expensive items scattered atop the plush carpet.  He would depart in the morning, but for now he allowed himself to indulge in one last bit of hedonism.

                Dark’s bedroom was as needlessly extravagant as everything else he owned.  It was mostly composed of reds and blacks, the style an eclectic combination of Victorian intricacy and modern geometric shapes.  His enormous bed seemed almost comical compared to the small man on top of it, shaded from the overhead light by a ruffled black canopy.  An untouched desk and a well-used vanity occupied the opposite end of the room, and a cluttered dresser and nightstand stood on either side of the bed.  A floor-length mirror was affixed to the inside of his door, and multiple paintings and photographs were hung from the walls.  Most were of Dark, though one featured the entirety of the castle staff and another showed Dark and Shadow smiling in the foreground as Dark Mind stood over them proudly.  The clothing strewn around the room was all in shades of red, black and navy.  An incredible variety of red and black boots were lined up outside of his closet.

                Dark turned his head to the side, looking at a small mirror propped up on his nightstand.  He had intended to torment Meta through it before he was able to do it in person, but the man had yet to appear.  He slid one of his hands out from behind his head to study his nails in boredom.  He started slightly when the sound of a faucet came from the mirror.  Dark grinned wickedly and tapped the mirror, his clawed finger clicking against the glass.

                “Fancy meeting you here,” he purred, batting his eyelashes.  He was quickly fixed in a familiar golden-eyed glare. 

                “Are you aware of the Bloody Mary legend?  You are somewhat similar, though even less pleasant,” Meta huffed, scrubbing the ink from his hands. 

                “Aw, did you say my name three times?”

                “Bloody moron, bloody moron, bloody moron…” Meta growled, rinsing the ink-stained lather from his hands.  He looked up and feigned surprise.  “Ah, so the legends are true.”

                “Yeah okay, very clever.  But I’m not the one covered in, erm, ink?” Dark quipped, eyeing the dark splotches on Meta’s face. 

                “Pen malfunction.”

                “How do you fuck up using a pen?” Dark cackled. 

                “I was doing actual work, which may be an alien concept to you.  And the pen I was utilizing to complete said work suffered a catastrophic failure and ejected its contents onto me,” Meta snarled, picking dried ink flakes from under his nails. 

                “How harrowing,” Dark yawned, stretching.  His robe slide from its precarious position on his chest, splaying out around him and exposing his torso.  He was lithe and lean, though his upper body and arms were considerably more muscular than the rest of him.  Two wicked scars ran parallel to one another across his abdomen, marring the otherwise flawless alabaster skin. 

                “You aren’t laying there in the nude, are you?” Meta asked, curling his lip in disgust. 

                “I’m not naked.  I have my robe,” Dark tittered, neglecting to mention that he was indeed wearing silk pajama pants.  Meta visibly recoiled, cheeks darkening slightly.

                “You had better keep both hands where I can see them, you exhibitionistic deviant!” he hissed. 

                “You say the most romantic things,” Dark sighed, resting the back of his hand on his forehead in a mock swoon.  Meta only glared at him before wetting a washcloth and dabbing at his face, trying to feel for where the ink was. 

                “It is difficult to properly insult you as there is always the nagging feeling that you are somehow deriving sexual gratification from it,” he mumbled, a mildly haunted look on his face. 

                “I’ll admit that I find it entertaining, but it is far from sexy,” Dark dismissed, sinking further back into his pillow.  He turned his eye to Meta lazily.  “It’s the things unsaid that tantalize somebody.”

                “Things unsaid…?” Meta asked, his curiosity speaking for him. 

                “The implicit is just as important as the explicit.  You can say a lot with the spaces between words.”

                “That was almost profound.  I am impressed,” Meta drawled, tone dripping with insincerity.  Dark closed his eye, smirking.

                “If I could wink, I would.  Winking is something you really come to miss with one eye.  That, and 3D movies,” he quipped.

                “What about depth perception?  Or peripheral vision?”

                “I’ve adapted well enough.  I always manage to keep an eye on things.”

                “That was so horrific that I am not even going to consider it an attempt at comedy.  Disgusting,” Meta huffed.  Dark put his hands up.

                “They can’t all be winners.  My incredible wit only lasts so long,” he sighed, putting a finger to his chin in a mocking gesture of thought. 

                “My patience for you is even briefer.  I’ve pressing matters to attend to,” Meta murmured, setting the now stained towel on the side of the sink.

                “What, tired of me already?  Should I take my robe off?”

                “Once I am gone you may do whatever you wish,” Meta snapped, heading for the door. 

                “Anything-?”

                “Not that,” Meta added, before slamming the door behind him.  Dark frowned and rolled over, propping his head up on one arm.  Well, there went his source of entertainment.  He sighed and shuffled around so he could slip beneath his heavy, luxurious comforter, resting his head on a black pillow.  His frown melted away as he comforted himself with thoughts of the mayhem he would wreak on Dreamland and the pathetic fools within it.  He let out a long, deep laugh filled with malicious glee.  Dark then remembered he was alone, and giggled shrilly instead.             

Chapter Text

                Shadow resisted the urge to worry his lip, and instead fidgeted with the comb in his sweatshirt pocket.  The comb was heavy and unusually cold, owing to the fact that it was ornately carved out of iridescent black stone.  It was heavy enough to annoyingly pull at his pocket, and the thick tines made it all but useless for actually combing his hair.  But it was a gift from Dark, and though Shadow was loathed to admit it, the smooth surface was exceedingly soothing to fidget with.  And Shadow certainly needed soothing at the moment.

                Dark looked radically different that he usually did.  He was clad in jeans and a black jacket with a pair of thick-rimmed glasses balanced on the bridge of his nose.  The scar on his face had been nearly totally concealed with makeup and his usually empty eye socket was occupied by a glass eye.  The usual vivid red eyeliner he wore was absent and his thick black hair was pulled back into a small ponytail.  He looked like a hipster douchebag, and Shadow would have told him so were he not so anxious.

                “They’ll never even notice me,” Dark chuckled, attempting to push up his glasses but only succeeding in planting a large fingerprint in the middle of his lens.  He huffed and quickly cleaned off the spot before replacing the glasses on his face.

                “Yeah, sure.  Nobody’ll notice some boy-band reject runnin’ about,” a woman interjected, punctuating her sentence with a snap of her gum “You’d think with as long as you lingered in the closet you’d know how to dress yourself.”

                “Shut it, Dee!” Dark hissed.  Officer Dee rolled her eyes, and popped another bubble.  She was a compact, sturdy woman clad in a military coat with the sleeves torn off.  An officer’s cap rested atop her frayed slate-colored hair, and she carried a suspiciously weapon-shaped bag slung over her shoulder.

                “Show some respect, Officer.  I trust you have everything you need, Sir?” Shadow Dedede asked, arms folded stiffly behind him.  Dee quietly mimicked his words, rolling her eyes again.

                “Yeah, I’ve got everything.”  Dark patted the backpack slung over his shoulders to emphasize his words. 

                “Then I bid you good fortune,” Shadow Dedede said, bowing slightly.  Dark started at a tap on his shoulder.  He turned to find Shadow staring firmly at the floor.

                “Don’t get yourself shattered again.  I hate piecing you back together,” he mumbled.  Dark gave his brother a crooked yet genuine smile, and ruffled his hair. 

                “I’ll make sure I don’t inconvenience you,” he teased, relenting as Shadow swatted his hand away. 

                “Whatever,” Shadow huffed, cheeks red and hair sticking in every direction.  Dark chuckled softly, and turned to the Dimensional Mirror.  A band of light slid across its surface, revealing a blank white expanse. 

                “Auf Wiedersehen!” he called, waving over his shoulder as he vanished into the mirror.  Shadow Dedede relaxed as soon as he was gone, pressing a hand over his heart.  Shadow Dedede was a naturally anxious man, and he’d suffered many a heart palpitation at the hands of Dark’s recklessness.  Dee grimaced and walked over, patting him on the back as he wheezed.

                “Relax, big guy.  When he comes back in a shoppin’ bag I’ll put em back together for ya,” she drawled.

                Dark slipped into the other side of the mirror, and immediately tumbled onto the floor, tangled in a dusty white sheet.  He coughed and sputtered, his pointed black nails extending and revealing themselves to be a wickedly sharp set of claws.  They cut through the cloth like paper, and
Dark freed himself, extricating the tatters of fabric from his needle-like talons.  There were certainly advantages to being… whatever he was.  Dark pushed the momentary existential crisis to the back of his mind and crept across the room.

                It was a large basement, filled with various antiques and aging furniture covered with sheets and cobwebs.  Dark’s eye easily pierced through the gloom, noting the strangely familiar layout.  So this was what his beloved trophy room looked like in Dreamland.  He wrinkled his nose, toeing an errant bauble out of his path.  What sort of utter slob left valuables to gather dust where they would never be seen?  He crouched slightly as he came upon several framed portraits depicting a somewhat regal figure, looking closely. 

                “Dedede…” he muttered bitterly.  Being shattered by his own servant’s doppelganger was humiliating, and he bore no small grudge for it.  He dragged his claws through the canvas, and continued on, bloodlust momentarily sated.  Dark continued on until he reached a bare staircase that lead up to a wooden door with light softly seeping through the cracks.   He surveyed the wall nearest the exit and silently moved a chair, sputtering at the whirlwind of dust he kicked up.  He produced a piece of chalk from his pocket, and began drawing an elaborate frame.  The frame lifted and solidified as he drew, forming into an intricately twisted silver frame.  Dark pocketed the chalk and delicately touched a finger to the blank space within the frame.  Glass spread from his touch, crackling and spreading like crystal until it reached the frame and stilled.  The newly formed mirror would serve as his gateway to and from the Dimensional Mirror’s frame. 

                Dark admired his handiwork.  He was the most powerful of Dreadland’s mirror mages, and his abilities lent themselves well to his crafty ways.  Dark replaced the chair, and turned to ascend the staircase, slipping soundlessly through the door. 

                The hallway he slipped into was bright and colorful, lined with reds and yellows.  Dark scanned up and down the corridor, before turning right and stalking off.  If his instincts were correct, this castle would have a layout that was identical but flipped compared to his own.  He darted through several different corridors, keeping his ears pricked.  They were elongated and pointed, and allowed him to pick up on the faintest of sounds.  The footsteps of patrolling guards echoed ahead, and Dark turned into what he was certain must be the courtyard.  He stepped into a grand hall, and darted through it, remaining behind the pillars as much as possible.  There was an archway ahead, and two figures milling about the room beyond it.  Dark felt his blood freeze as he recognized them, and he immediately scanned around for a mirror or reflective surface to hide within.  As he came up empty, he turned his gaze upward, and sighed. 

                “I simply cannot add any more thrust to the rocket hammer.  The handle would not withstand such forces,” Meta sighed, meandering half a step behind Dedede as they strolled back inside.  Dedede seemed to consider this, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

                “Could ya make another one?” he asked.  Meta snorted and put a hand to his mouth to muffle the sound, though the gesture was useless over his helm.

                “Oh?  Duel wielding them?  I am certain your enemies would cower in fear as you spun like a centrifuge and vomited,” he said.  Dedede crossed his arms.

                “I ain’t no centry-fuse.”

                “Centrifuge.  It is a machine that spins things rapidly,” Meta supplied.  They crossed through the atrium into the hall, footsteps muffled by the long red carpet. 

                “Eh, whatever it’s called.  Maybe you could make it shock people?” Dedede amended.  It was Meta’s turn to look thoughtful.

                “A blunt force Taser, hm?  That does seem rather fascinating…” he muttered.  Meta suddenly stopped, standing stock still.  Dedede stopped as well, turned back to give Meta a funny look.

                “Uh, Meta?”

                “Shh.  Did you hear that?” Meta asked, ears twitching beneath his helmet.  High above them, Dark clung desperately to a stone arch, claws leaving deep ruts in the rock.  He dug in deeper, desperate to halt his slow slide downward.

                “…No?  You feelin’ okay?” Dedede asked, shifting awkwardly.  Meta tilted his head.

                “From above.  An awful scraping noise.  Have you had troubles with vermin?” he said, still unmoving. 

                “Not unless you count Kirby,” Dedede responded dryly.  Meta turned to give him a look that was equal parts amused and irritated.  Several small pebbles fell between them, clattering across the floor.  The two instantly turned serious, and looked up to the source.  They each scattered backward as a figure with tattered wings landed awkwardly between them.  A sword and a hammer were instantly pointed at them as they straightened up, obviously favoring their right leg over the other.  If the wings didn’t give it away, the malevolent yellow eyes did.

                “Dark!” the two Dreamlanders yelled. 

Chapter Text

The errant mirror world resident stayed facing Meta, though he kept glancing back at Dedede. 

                “F-fancy seeing you here,” Dark sputtered, touching a hand to his injured leg.

                “I live here, mirror-douche,” Dedede shot back, hefting his hammer higher.  Dark’s slight smirk turned into a scowl, and he slipped a sliver hilt from his inner pocket.  Metal flowed from it like water as he swung it in an arc, forming a silver broadsword with a gleaming sapphire set in its hilt. 

                “You are plainly outmatched, Dark.  Slink off back into your wretched kingdom and accept your defeat,” Meta snapped, pressing the point of Galaxia to his back.  Dark arched away from the blade and spun on his heel, bringing his sword down on Meta’s with a deafening clang.  Meta slid backwards from the force, barely managing to halt the heavier blade.  He shifted so that Dark’s weapon was caught in one of Galaxia’s spines, and wrenched at the blade.  It slid through the spike and embedded itself into the floor just as a large hand grabbed the back of Dark’s coat and flung him sideways.  He slammed into a wall and tumbled gracelessly into a heap.  His single eye looked up to his opponents, red with hatred.

                “Fucking assholes!” he spat, slapping an open palm to the floor.  A glimmering ridge of razor sharp glass raced towards Dedede as Dark lunged for his sword, conjuring a mirror clone to occupy Meta.  The sound of shattering glass filled the hall as Dedede repelled the attack with a well-timed smash of his hammer.  Meta darted forward, shattering the clone and deftly snatching the blade before Dark could reach it.  The air around him seemed to momentarily warp, and suddenly the knight was standing beside the king, holding the pilfered blade beside him.

                “It would do you well to surrender, lest you be sent back in a dust pan,” Meta said, eyes alight with malice.  Dark charged at him, kicking up glimmering clouds of crushed glass.  He leapt back as Dedede’s hammer came within inches of his head.

                “Watch it you fucking oaf!” Dark snarled.

                “Somethin’ somethin’ glass houses.  I ain’t clever enough to think of anythin’,” Dedede admitted, staying at the ready.  Dark glanced between the two, cold panic creeping up his spine.  His plans couldn’t fall apart this quickly!  He used his foot to kick up a cloud of glass dust, ducking beneath the blind hammer swings that resulted and following the call of his cursed blade.  A kick landed to his stomach with shocking force, throwing him back and causing him to fall into a wheezing heap.  Meta stepped out of the swirling dust after him.

                “You cannot blind somebody wearing a visor you absolute imbecile,” he said, giving Dark a look utterly soaked in condescension. 

                “You broke my fucking ribs you maniac!” Dark choked, curling in on himself.  Every breath was absolute agony.  Usually fights he lost ended in him being shattered, so the pain was a novel experience. 

                “Ain’t you a peach?  Nova, my eyes…” Dedede groaned.

                “Enjoy exfoliating your eyeballs, dickhead!” Dark shot back, still writhing on the floor.  Meta strolled over and gave Dark’s stomach a light jab with his foot, eliciting another agonized noise. 

                “Glass bones, perhaps?” he tittered.  Dedede quickly stepped forward, positioning himself beside Meta.  The man’s sadistic tendencies were best left to the imagination.

                “Let’s toss him back now, let his cronies deal with him,” he offered.  Meta kept eye contact with his friend as he lifted his foot over the cowering man. 

                “I’ve already accumulated more than my fair share of bad luck.  What’s seven more years?” he asked. 

                “I don’t want to sweep him up.  I also don’t wanna see your murder fantasies,” Dedede added. 

                “The hell is wrong with you?” Dark groaned.

                “It was only a jest,” Meta said, feigning hurt.  “I do suppose that I’ve had my fill of schadenfreude though.  I will even retrieve the mirror frame so that you needn’t walk.”

                “Sorry to say, but… you’re stuck with me,” Dark said, smirking.  “With only my side complete, it’s a one-way trip.”  The two Dreamlanders looked at each other for a long moment, before Meta turned and darted off down the corridor without a word. 

                “Meta?!” the king called out.  There was a long stretch of silence, and he took stock of Dark’s condition.  The man smiled cruelly as they made eye contact.

                “Hey, want to make a bet?  What’ll kill you first: heart disease, or me?” Dark cackled, though the laughter quickly morphed into painful coughing.

                “Can it, ya little gremlin,” Dedede responded.  Meta reappeared at the end of the hallway before Dark could respond.  The large golden frame of the Dimensional Mirror was clasped in his hands, dwarfing the small man.  He darted towards Dark, and before a single word could be said he fiercely swung the frame downwards, smacking the metallic backing squarely over the man’s head.

                “Go through the damned mirror,” Meta hissed, smacking him a second time. 

                “Ah!!  What is your major malfunction?!” Dark shrieked, shielding his already injured chest. 

                “I will not have you lurking about with your insipid comments, constant inanities, and ridiculous hair!  I will develop an aneurysm!” Meta barked, continuing his assault.

                “My hair is effortlessly sophisticated you brute!”

                “THAT is what you focus on?!”  The frame was mercifully wrenched from Meta’s grasp and held high above his reach by Dedede.

                “Convinced now?” Dark huffed, lightly touching the goose egg forming on his head “If I could, I’d have fled this looney bin as soon as I’d had the chance!”  Dedede sighed, and set the frame beside him.

                “You know what this means, right?” he asked.  Meta nodded.

                “We have to kill him.”

                “No.  We gotta get the mirror back together so we can boot him back to his own place.”  Dedede leaned against the frame, rubbing his face.  “All while baby-sittin’ him.”

                “Quit bending the frame, tons-of-fun!” Dark snapped.  The other two gave him a brief look before returning to their conversation. 

                “You dealt with distributing the shards, so it stands to reason that you should be tasked with retrieving them,” Meta said, calming slightly.  Planning was something he took solace in.

                “And you make sure he don’t cause a ruckus,” Dedede finished.  Meta froze.

                “On second thought, my diplomacy skills are more than adequate.  Allow me to gather the shards.”

                “I don’t really want this guy around the Dees.”

                “I am certain that they are capable.  Bandanna Dee in particular can hold his own against most anyone.”

                “Well, he’s your reflection, so…”

                “I feel like I’m in a custody hearing!” Dark squawked.  Meta gave his counterpart a long look, and turned back to the king.

                “Very well.  I hope you are aware that it is only through a deeply felt platonic bond that I am willing to subject myself to this,” he groaned.

                “Love ya too, buddy,” Dedede responded.

Chapter Text

                Meta wondered idly what he could have possibly done to deserve this level of cosmic retribution.  He then realized he could probably make an alphabetized list of his misdeeds and began wallowing in self-pity with decidedly less self-reflection. 

                “You know, this entire situation is going to taint my enjoyment of bondage,” Dark whined.  He’d been securely restrained in a wheelchair for ease of transport, as his broken rib precluded him from walking easily.  The chair was old and stained with some mysterious biohazard, having been dug out from an old storage room in Meta’s base. 

                “I am certain that you will find some other form of depravity to entertain yourself with,” Meta snapped, gesturing angrily with his pen.  He returned to the mound of paperwork on his desk, which he considered to only be slightly more aggravating than his current captive. 

                “Oh definitely, watching you fill out those forms has me all hot and bothered.  Notarize me daddy!” Dark shrieked, cackling loudly at Meta’s affronted look.  He then winced and went silent from the resulting pain in his chest.  Their fight had severely degraded whatever Dark had used to conceal his scar.

                The scar was a dull pinkish tone that still managed to stand out against Dark’s unnaturally white skin.  In fact, now that he was without makeup Meta realized Dark’s skin was truly monochromatic, with slate-colored lips and gray bags beneath his eyes.  His usually tousled and styled hair was beginning to protest against whatever products he had used, the ends fluffing out and curling up in a manner similar to Meta’s own.  Dark seemed far more like a real person in this disheveled state.

                “You really are going to do paperwork the whole time, aren’t you?” Dark sighed.  Meta halted his silent visual appraisal, and narrowed his eyes.

                “That is entirely dependent on the time needed to return you to the Mirror World.  I have many other tasks to accomplish as well, and I refuse to allow your presence to preclude me from doing so,” he said.  Truthfully, he ached to return to several of his projects in his workshop, but he loathed the thought of pushing his charge around the base.  He hated the thought of being unable to directly supervise him even more, which took the option of dumping Dark on a crew member off the table.

                “What are you, some kind of glorified murderous accountant?  Live a little!” Dark chided. 

                “The more exciting aspects of my lifestyle are supported by such monotonous endeavors,” Meta responded.  Truthfully, he shirked paperwork as often as possible, either by passing it off on a crew member or “losing” it and daring clients to challenge him.  Dubiously legal weapons contracting was far from a by-the-book operation, even without Meta’s own enormous arsenal and penchant for destruction.  But they’d open an ice-rink on Hotbeat before Meta would admit that to Dark.

                “I have no clue how you can manage to sound so boring while also being able to murder a man with your bare hands.  It’s incredible.  Every time you open your mouth it’s like an event horizon of sexual appeal.  All this shit going for you just vanishes into the ether of your droning babble,” Dark drawled. 

                “The only time you have ever brought any sort of enjoyment by opening your mouth has been on your knees,” Meta snapped back.  Dark’s eye widened, his eyebrows rising in a comical expression of shock and slight offense.  Meta noticed the silence and sheepishly returned to his writing.

                “That was brutal.  Nice,” Dark quipped, forcing a painful-looking fake smile.  Meta frowned, letting his pen go still.  Did his remark actually… hurt Dark’s feelings?  He quickly dismissed the thought, shaking his head.

                “You truly aren’t going to let me work in peace, are you?” he hissed, pressing his pen harshly against the paper and watching a gleaming mound of ink form.

                “I have literally nothing else to do.  So yes,” Dark responded, shrugging as much as he could with his restraints.  Meta let out a long sigh and massaged his temples.  Dark noticed the gesture and gave a cat-like smile.  “How about a tour of the facilities?  I’d love to take a look at your equipment.”

                “I will show you the aircraft hangar if you will agree to remain silent afterwards.  And no, I will not justify your little double entendre with a response,” Meta huffed, resting his head on his hand.  Dark perked up at the prospect of entertainment.  And he would be lying if he said the prospect of seeing just what sort of aircraft his counterpart built didn’t excite him.

                “Deal,” he chirped.

                It was exceedingly difficult to leave Dark in awe.  He lived a life surrounded by the most lavish things his incredible fortune could buy, but this was impressive compared to even his most opulent buildings.  The hangar stretched to the very edge of Dark’s field of vision, and it was filled with a breathtaking array of air and spacecraft, with a few boats thrown in for good measure.  As his reluctant guide wheeled him closer, he noticed that nearly all of the machines were bristling with various weaponry. 

                “I thought you meant like, one or two fighter jets.  This is…” Dark trailed off into a rare loss for words.  Meta puffed up with pride somewhat at seeing his rival’s awestruck reaction.

                “An impressive catalogue is a must for any respectable business,” he said, letting smugness seep into his words.  Though the Halberd was his crown jewel, he was proud of every single one of the ships he constructed.

                “Business?  You’re a weapons dealer?” Dark squawked, incredulous.  He’d pegged Meta as a stuffy, by the books type, but he was proving to be far more of the roguish type.

                “I prefer the term military contractor.  These facilities are not free to build and maintain and staying on the cutting edge requires a steady flow of generous funds,” Meta responded, guiding them towards a row of smaller jets.

                “Contractor or not, these are definitely not regulation.  And that’s by Mirror-World standards.  It’s probably like double illegal here,” Dark observed.  He was startled by a barking laugh from Meta.

                “Heh, regulations.  By far the best joke you have told today,” he snickered.  Meta seemed far more relaxed and fluid in his movements, like he was discarding a façade.  He swept out an arm to present the machine before them.  It was both sleek and excessively lethal in appearance, with a long thin body and swept-back wings with upturned tips. 

                “This is the Cutlass III.  A fighter jet capable of supersonic speeds and capable of carrying up to thirty radar-guided missiles in addition to its four plasma guns.  Due to the small cold-fusion reactor powering it, it will only need refueling after a year of flight-time,” Meta said, pride evident in his tone.  For once, Dark would have to admit that the pride was warranted.  It was a seriously incredible piece of engineering.

                “I know that I tend towards sarcasm, but I will say with complete sincerity that that is the sexiest piece of machinery I have ever seen.  Can you paint it black?” Dark asked.

                “I do not talk business with hostages, nor do I sell cutting-edge weapons to my enemies,” Meta scoffed, crossing his arms. 

                “Damn shame.  Where’s the Cutlass I and II?”  Meta stiffened and conspicuously glanced away.

                “They… did not quite hold up under testing…”

                “And by that you mean…?”

                “The Cutlass I’s weapons system proved unstable and eventually targeted itself, resulting in a rather catastrophic disassembly.  We lost control of the Cutlass II during remote testing in the upper atmosphere,” Meta admitted, slightly irritated at the memories.

                “Nice.  Did you ever get the second one back?” Dark chuckled.

                “No, and since it was fully fueled it should still be rocketing through the atmosphere for approximately three more months.”

                “Where’s it going to land?”

                “Hopefully nowhere populated,” Meta sighed. 

                “It’ll probably hit an orphanage or something.  Push me closer, I want a better look,” Dark quipped.

                “Thank you for your optimistic input,” Meta sighed, obliging despite his irritation.  Dark watched his slightly murky reflection ripple over the metal surface of the jet, and a touch of homesickness clawed its way into his heart.  He quietly allowed some of his magic to flow out, causing his reflection to ripple and change.  Meta stayed back a short distance.  He’d allow Dark to contact his side, but he would have to do it under careful supervision.  As the new reflection became clearer, Meta caught a glimpse of red hair just before Dark suddenly shrieked in rage.

                “What the fuck are you doing in my- ah, fuck!” Dark slumped back down, pain blossoming through his chest.  Meta focused his gaze on the reflected figure and almost recoiled.

                “Susie,” he snarled, slipping a hand into his cape and around Galaxia’s hilt.  The woman looked at him with a red-lined grin, folding her hands behind her back.

                “I prefer the name Parallel,” she said.

Chapter Text

                The woman reflected in the cold steel was certainly not the Susie Haltmann Meta knew.  Her hair was a stark red and she was somewhat stockier than Susie, with defined muscles visible on her bare arms.  Dark was giving her a positively murderous glare.

                “Why are you in my castle, Parallel?” he snarled.  Meta glanced between the two, keeping his hand on Galaxia’s hilt. 

                “Taking what’s mine,” she responded, crossing her arms. 

                “I am the rightful heir!  How can you claim to have been my father’s most loyal ally when you ignore his wishes!” Dark spat, his eye glowing blood red “Where is my brother?!”

                “Dark Mind was going mad when he named you his heir.  Nobody in their right mind would choose such an unstable idiot to lead their kingdom,” Parallel drawled.

                “You disrespect his memory and his son?  You were only loyal when it benefited you!  Where did you put Shadow?!” Dark hissed.  The near permanent smirk he wore had disappeared, his lips pressed into a thin line.  Meta just stayed still, a look of clueless concern on his face.

                “You aren’t his son!  You are an abomination that was taken in out of pity!” Parallel snapped.  She paused to regain her composure and continued.  “Your brother is fine.”

                “Prove it!” Dark growled.  Parallel snapped her fingers, and a strange man stepped into view, dragging a bruised and resigned Shadow with him.  The man was clad in an extravagant purple and yellow coat, with two tri-colored horns jutting out from his head.  The fanged grin he wore reminded Meta of a new face he’d seen at Castle Dedede, though the man’s name eluded him.

                “Ta-da!  One ingrate prince!” the man cackled, dropping the poor boy to the floor.  Shadow’s torso was completely restrained with strange silk-like threads.

                “Hey bro…” Shadow mumbled, taking care not to disturb the painful bruise on his cheek.  Dark’s eye was now glowing with pure rage, adding a red cast to his features.  “And other bro,” Shadow added, looking at Meta.  Meta raised a hand awkwardly in greeting.

                “What did they do to you?” Dark asked, baring his fangs with every word.

                “I tried to fight em off, but it was two against one.  Nothing’s broken I think,” Shadow mumbled. 

                “How are the others?”

                “Fine.  ShadowDe escaped.  The rest are down in the old dungeon,” Shadow said, “Listen, bro, you need to hurry.  They’re trying to let out Eclipse.”

                “WHAT?!” Dark shrieked.  “Are you absolute fuckwits completely insane?!  What kind of head injury does it take to think letting out that maniac is a great idea!?”

                “It is a necessary idea if we are to be rid of you,” Parallel sneered.  Meta turned to Dark, completely lost.

                “Who are they?” he muttered. 

                “Parallel Susie and Dark Taranza, CEO of Haltmann Incorporated and king of Rosalia respectively.  They’re considered excessively cruel even among Mirror-World residents,” Dark deadpanned, not even looking at his counterpart.  Parallel seemed somewhat irritated by the description, but Dark Taranza only gave a mocking bow. 

                “A coup, hm?  Yet they wait for your absence… They must be quite fearful of you,” Meta said, just loudly enough for the two invaders to hear. 

                “You insolent-! “ Dark Taranza was cut off by Parallel raising an arm to block him.

                “Enough.  We have work to do, and I don’t feel like being insulted by some pathetic Dreamlander,” she barked. 

                “I’ll be ok, Dark.  Just get back here quickl…”  The reflection faded away before Shadow could complete his sentence.  Dark let out a horrible noise composed entirely of concentrated rage, then slumped back as his rib began throbbing again.  Meta gave him a wide-eyed look.

                “They have control of the mirror.  Which means…”

                “They can stir up trouble here too.  Though I’m currently more concerned with the fact that they are ACTIVELY TAKING OVER MY KINGDOM!” Dark screeched, letting out a second noise as he aggravated his injury.  Meta chewed his lip. 

                “Who is Eclipse?” he asked.  Dark shuddered at the name.

                “Eclipse Galacta.  She’s a crazy bitch with a lance capable of permanently killing or injuring us Mirror-Worlders,” Dark said bitterly. 

                “I do not follow,” Meta said.  He folded an arm behind his back and fidgeted restlessly with his cape.  Not knowing something was always anxiety inducing to him, but he’d be damned if he let Dark know that.

                “Mirror-World residents can only be shattered permanently when their counterpart is killed first.  Additionally, our injuries do not truly scar, as we ‘reset’ when we shatter and reform.  Eclipse and her lance are the only things to break those rules.  She was an… ally of mine before she went mad and cut my eye out,” Dark explained.  Meta frowned, narrowing his eyes.  There was a connection to Eclipse that he was hiding, but Meta had a far more pressing question to pose.

                “What would happen if a Mirror-World being was destroyed before the death of their Dreamland counterpart?” he asked.  Dark shook his head, looking genuinely disturbed.

                “I have no idea.  She never managed to kill anyone before he sealed her away.  Er, Dark Mind that is.  He used some ancient mirror mage technique to lock her in a glass crystal.  She’d been sealed away by someone else when I released her, but I have no idea who…” Dark said.  Meta crossed his arms, digesting this new information.  If something horrible happened to a person from their world when their mirror counterpart was killed, they could potentially be completely unable to defend themselves.  He had to intervene somehow…

                “Whoa, watch it!” Dark squawked as Meta roughly grabbed the wheelchair and pushed it, speeding off down a corridor at a pace that sent jolts of pain from Dark’s chest with each bump.  Meta rounded a corner, nearly tipping his unwilling passenger over, and slipped through a doorway.  The room was mid-sized and cluttered with various medical supplies.  They skidded to a stop in front of one of the empty stretchers.

                “Hold still,” Meta ordered, his voice accompanied by a faint clicking noise and the flash of a switch blade.

                “Holy shit, I don’t want any of your DIY surgery!” Dark squealed, squirming despite the pain.  He fell still when he felt the rope fall away from his arm. 

                “Ungrateful and high-strung,” Meta muttered, deftly slicing through the remaining restraints.  Dark stretched his aching limbs as much as he could.  “On the bed.”

                “You don’t need to ask twice,” Dark said sweetly, though his shriek of pain at moving his torso dampened his innuendo somewhat.  Meta kneeled beside the bed, aligning himself with the injured area.  “So what, you’re gonna load me up on painkillers?” 

                “No.  I am going to simply fix the issue,” Meta said.  An impossible breeze began to blow through the infirmary, ruffling the men’s hair.  Meta’s cape stretched and molded fluidly into his wings, and the faint outline of stars and galaxies began to show on the velvet-like membranes.

                “I should have known you were a mage,” Dark said, exerting a little of his own abilities to feel out Meta’s magic.  It felt like strong wind and biting sea-spray, as if an ocean gale flowed around his person.  There was something else there as well, beneath the wind and fury.  Something ancient and arcane, infused with the scent of entropy and decay.  It didn’t belong, but yet it lurked there, just beneath the plane of reality that Dark could sense.

                “Hold still.”

                “Wind mage, right?”

                “This is going to be exquisitely painful, yet brief.  Are you prepared?” Meta asked, ignoring the man’s question.

                “Painful?  I thought this was a healing charm or something!” Dark said.  Meta rolled his eyes.  Dark was such a primadonna…

                “Did you truly believe that knitting a bone back together sans anesthesia would be painless?” he asked, giving Dark a flat look. 

                “I mean, when you put it that way…” Dark mumbled, scowling.  Meta put his hands over the broken rib.

                “Are you ready?” he asked.

                “Oh ho ho, can’t keep your hands off of me-“

                “ARE.  YOU.  READY?” Meta snarled, losing his patience rapidly. 

                “As much as I can be,” Dark mumbled.  Meta let out a deep breath and relaxed, allowing his energy to flow into his palms.  A pale light washed over Dark’s chest, bringing with it a nearly unbearable yet strangely pleasant heat.  Meta was totally focused, gazing unblinkingly at his work.

                “Brace yourself,” he said.  Dark had barely processed his words before he went ramrod straight, mouth agape in a silent scream.  It felt as if Meta had jammed a white-hot knife beneath his rib and was now attempting to pry it out.  There was a final crescendo of pain accompanied by a sickening wet clicking sound, and it was over.  Dark slumped back into a relaxed position, his eye hazy and brimming with tears.  Meta put a hand to his chest, panting.  Healing magic certainly took its toll on him, though he knew he’d recover quickly.

                “Holy fucking shit,” Dark whimpered, a tear running off his face and disappearing into his hair.  Meta gave him a distinctly unsympathetic look as he stood and dusted off his knees. 

                “It was only one rib.  Compose yourself,” he huffed.  Dark carefully sat up.

                “You are such an asshole,” he sniffed, wiping his eye.  Meta shrugged.

                “I can live with that.  Now come, we have work to do and people to shatter,” he said.  Dark felt his chest to ensure that the pain was gone, then stood.

                “Oh, I’ll do more than just shatter them,” he grumbled, cracking his knuckles.  Meta raised his eyebrows at the display.

                “Indeed.”  He retrieved his helm from within his cape and slid it on, pausing before he led Dark out of the room.  “Ah, I remember now.  You should request an X-ray whenever possible.”

                “Uh, why?  It’s useless if it’s healed, right?” Dark said suspiciously. 

                “I am far from adept at regenerative magics.  Medical imaging should identify any… unwelcome anatomical changes you may have incurred,” Meta continued sheepishly.  Dark’s eye twitched.

                “WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY CHANGES?”

Chapter Text

                Meta sighed harshly as the call ended, wishing that Dedede had called his landline instead so that he could properly slam the phone down in frustration.  Once again, his best laid plans had gone awry.  The door to his office opened and he looked up, prepared to share the bad news.

                “Our plans have hit a- What are you wearing?!” Meta shrieked, nearly dropping his phone.  Dark leaned against the doorway, smirking.

                “Don’t you recognize it?  I found it in your closet, after all” Dark tittered, slipping a heeled boot through the long black coat.  The front of the coat was intricately designed, with Meta’s insignia over the right breast.  Dark’s arms were covered by gloves that stopped just short of his armpits, with both the gloves and boots being composed of a shiny, latex like material.  Meta knew this material well, as it was the imperfect and uncomfortable precursor to his current uniform.

                “You were in my closet?” Meta growled, bristling.  Dark shrugged.

                “You did tell me to grab some armor since all of mine is back in Dreadland,” he said, adjusting the captain’s hat perched on his head. 

                “From the armory, yes.”

                “Well, I figured that you would have the best shit.  And boy was I right,” Dark preened, walking up to Meta’s desk and stretching his leg out over it.  “Micro-woven metal, right?” he continued, patting the material.  Meta scrambled to catch the items scattered off his desk, scowling deeply.

                “Yes.  It was scrapped due to how uncomfortably it wears,” Meta hissed, shoving Dark’s leg off his desk.

                “Naw.  You totally scrapped it because it’s pure undiluted fetish fuel.  I actually can’t believe you wore this,” Dark laughed, performing a small heel-turn to illustrate his point. 

                “I only wore it for a year.  Now if you will quit frolicking about I have important news,” Meta huffed, massaging his temples.  Dark pressed his palms to the desk and leaned forward.

                “Lay it on me,” he quipped.  Meta folded his arms, entirely unimpressed.

                “The final shard holder is refusing to relinquish it until meeting you.”

                “What?!  Who is it?!” Dark screeched, losing his usual lax composure.  “I’ll flay the bastard alive!”

                “Taranza,” Meta said, neatening his desk.  Dark groaned and put his head in his hands as Meta reached into his cape and grabbed a small wreath of paper.  He tossed it onto his desk with a sharp crack.  “Once the loyal servant of Queen Sectonia, now ambassador of Floralia following her death.  As I understand it, you played a significant role in the Floralia incident.  I assume that there is some sort of bad blood between you two?”  Dark snatched the papers and quickly scanned the front page.  “Floralia Incident” was printed in bold across the top, with a brief summary below.  The bottom half was labeled “participants” and included three rows of portraits.  Sectonia was listed first, the label of “deceased” beneath her photo sending an icy chill up Dark’s spine.

                “Yeah,” Dark murmured, gazing at the picture.  His own photo was further down, though it was only a vague sketch.

                “Care to elaborate?” Meta asked, gently prying the papers away from Dark’s grip.

                “Look, I never meant to cause what I did, OK?  Her and I… we were going to rule both dimensions together.  I didn’t realize what that magic would do to her…”  Dark said, looking away.  Meta quickly flipped through the file before folding the pages back and sliding it towards Dark.  He pressed a finger over the pertinent passage.

                “So you supplied the magic that transformed her?” Meta pressed.  Dark looked sadly at the page.  Sectonia’s name was printed across the top, with several photos accompanying it.  Some were from before her transformation, and his gaze lingered on those, suppressed regret bubbling up and catching in his throat.

                “I only gave her the book.  I didn’t know how far she’d go!  I didn’t know…” Dark trailed off, clearing his throat.  “This isn’t even relevant,” he continued, rage creeping into his tone.

                “It explains why Taranza may be so eager to meet you,” Meta said.

                “He’s already met me.  What he wants is a fight.”  Dark paced the office briefly before once again stopping in front of the desk.  “And he’ll get one,” he continued, cracking his knuckles. 

                “Are you prepared?”

                “Definitely.”  Meta met Dark’s uncharacteristically fierce stare and nodded.

                “Very well.  Come with me,” he said, standing.

                The hangar they entered now was smaller than the previous one, but no less impressive due to the equipment within.  These machines all shared the Halberd’s color scheme and were emblazoned with Meta’s insignia.  The clicking of the two men’s boots echoed sharply around the space as they walked up to a sleek jet.  This aircraft lacked the obvious armaments of the others and bore Meta’s name as well as his logo on each side.  The area in front of the craft was bare, and sunlight filtered over the shining metal from the open hangar door.

                “We’re riding in style, huh?” Dark quipped, resting his hands on his hips and appraising the jet.  Meta nodded, a smug grin beneath his helmet.  If there was one redeeming factor about Dark, it was his consistent ability to bolster Meta’s ego.

                “The Xiphos is a first-class travel jet complete with hidden plasma cannons and radar-foiling alloys.  Taking into consideration your impaired flight, we will be utilizing it to travel to Floralia,” he said, gesturing grandly. 

                “None of these rocketing around the upper atmosphere, are there?” Dark chuckled.  Meta deflated slightly and gave Dark a reproachful glare as he grabbed a sleek remote from his cape.

                “No,” he grumbled, clicking a button and watching as a staircase quickly extended from the Xiphos.  The door slid open and Dark excitedly dashed up and into the craft, followed by Meta.  The interior was sleek and dark, composed of black leather and shining chrome.  Dark quickly hopped onto one of the long seats that curled around a flawless reflective table.  He looked almost as if he belonged there, with Meta’s old uniform matching the aesthetic perfectly.

                “Now this is more like it,” Dark purred, crossing his legs and leaning back.  Meta rolled his eyes.

                “Normally I would eschew such extravagance, but such faffery impresses clients,” he said, closing the door and retracting the stairs with another click of the remote. 

                “Aw come on, this is sweet- Hey!” Dark squawked as Meta snatched the hat from his head.  He placed it on his own and adjusted it until it sat perfectly straight.

                “A captain’s hat should be worn by the captain, yes?” Meta quipped.  Dark reddened slightly, wondering how the other man must have looked in the full uniform.

                “Jerk,” he huffed, chasing away his thoughts.  Meta shrugged, and continued to the cockpit.

                “I can deal with that.”  He sat down, clicking his seatbelt into place and performing a check on all the instruments.  Meta started up the engines, the sound nearly imperceptible within the insulated cabin.  The craft jerked slightly as it began taxiing out of the hangar, sunlight sliding over it to fully illuminate the Xiphos.  The jet turned, revealing a long runway that ended a few feet from the ocean. Meta throttled up the engines and the Xiphos slowly gained speed until it was racing down the runway.  He grabbed the intercom.  “Fasten your seatbelt.”

                “You don’t control me,” Dark huffed, glancing around for any sign of a liquor fridge.

                “Very well,” Meta responded, setting down the microphone and suddenly pushing the throttle to full power.  The jet took off abruptly, sending Dark over the back of the seat and into a painful heap.

                “You fucker!” he screeched.  There was a moment of silence before malicious laughter crackled through the speakers.

Chapter Text

                The Xiphos touched down on the castle’s courtyard, kicking up a generous amount of dust.  The roar of its engines cut out, and the staircase slowly descended.  The sleek jet looked horribly out of place among the lush gardens and bejeweled décor.  Dark darted out of the cabin door and raced down the stairs, running to the edge of the courtyard and falling to his hands and knees.  The sound of his retching greeted Meta’s ears as he exited at his own leisurely pace, spinning the keys to the Xiphos around his finger.

                “I would have never thought you of all people would possess a strong gag reflex,” he quipped, walking over to Dark after locking the aircraft.

                “Fuck you!  You were rolling the plane!” Dark snarled, wiping the drool away from his mouth.  Meta shrugged.

                “Just some necessary maneuvering,” he said, folding his arms behind his back and leaning over Dark. 

                “Bullshit,” Dark croaked.  Meta chuckled maliciously and set his hat back onto Dark’s head, straightening it in a patronizing manner.

                “Are you finished?” he asked, smirking beneath his helmet.  Dark flipped him the bird and staggered to his feet, still woozy.  He allowed his head to stop spinning before straightening his jacket and brushing the dust from his knees.

                “If we didn’t have such important business I’d be kicking your ass up and down this courtyard,” Dark snapped, jabbing a finger into Meta’s chest.  Meta responded by grabbing Dark’s wrist and painfully twisting it before using his foot to shove the man backwards.

                “Do not touch me,” Meta hissed.  Dark quickly recovered from the shove and rubbed at his wrist, grimacing.

                “You’re back on the shit list,” he spat.

                “I was unaware that I had ever left it,” Meta deadpanned, crossing his arms.  Dark opened his mouth to say something but was quickly cut off.

                “There you guys are!” Dedede said, walking up to the two men.  Meta immediately strode over to meet him, with Dark trailing behind in a dejected manner.

                “I apologize for the delay.  Is Taranza waiting within the castle?” Meta asked.  Dedede nodded.

                “Yeah.  DMK better be careful; he seems angry,” he responded.  Dark put his hands on his hips, scowling.

                “My kingdom is at stake!  I don’t have time for vendettas!” he huffed, gesturing angrily as his eyes tinged red.  Meta walked quickly towards the castle, not even glancing at Dark.

                “Then do not create them,” he intoned.  Dark resisted the urge to stamp his foot into the soil in a distinctly bratty manner, instead choosing to put his hands on his hips.  Dedede just glanced between the two, a strange look on his face.  Dark caught his gaze and rolled his eyes.

                “Is he always this bitchy?” he muttered. 

                “Watch it, he’s my friend,” Dedede shot back.  He then mulled over the question.  “But yes, yes he is,” he amended. 

                “Wow,” Dark murmured.  The three made their way to the castle doors and Dedede pushed the massive slabs of rock and metal filigree open with ease.  The high-vaulted ceiling hung far above their heads, somewhat obscured by the myriad of floating jewels held in mid air by some sort of magic.  Ornate flower pots and antique vases lined the walls and flanked the doors to the throne room, all of them overflowing with vibrant plants in every conceivable color.  Dedede and Dark both continued walking, being used to extravagant castle décor, but Meta hung back, surveying the greenery.

                The flowers were totally alien to him, though botany wasn’t his strong suit in the first place.  They were nothing like the sea-salt worn scrub that dotted the sandy hills around his base, but they bore a distinct resemblance to the orchids that Sailor Dee tended to in her free time.  A sharp whistle broke through his thoughts.

                “Meta, hurry up!” Dedede called out.  Meta jogged over to the two now impatient men, turning red underneath his helmet.  Being caught gazing at flowers whilst a potential crisis brewed wasn’t the best look.

                “This isn’t the time to stop and smell the roses,” Dark teased, though there was a distinct undercurrent of irritation in his voice. 

                “Alright, Taranza’s just ahead,” Dedede said, cutting off Meta’s incoming insult.  The two Knights went to push the door open when a broad arm halted Meta.  “Just Dark.”

                “Unfortunate,” Meta said flatly, backing off.  Dark pressed a hand to his chest in mock infatuation.

                “Worried about little old me? Oh Meta…” he tittered, swooning dramatically.  Meta’s eyes narrowed into slits.

                “Unfortunate that I do not get to witness you shattered due to the results of your own hubris,” he growled.  Dark only feigned a pout in response, before slipping through the heavy doors.  He shut them quietly and took a deep breath as anxiety bubbled up within his chest.  The throne room was wildly different from when Dark had last seen it, with potted plants filling the perimeter.  Taranza stood before the throne, humming quietly.

                “So you came,” Taranza said, his gentle voice still managing to unnerve Dark.  His four enchanted free-floating hands set down the empty watering cans they had been holding as he turned around, his two ordinary hands still clutching a full pail of water.  He delicately set the pail down beside him and walked forward to properly greet Dark. 

                “I need that shard.  The Mirror-World is in danger,” Dark said, his tone devoid of his usual mischief.  Taranza nodded and gestured behind him. 

                “It’s right here,” he said, and Dark followed his motions to gaze at the throne.  The shard lay leaned up against the ornate golden structure, but something else caught his eye as well.  A hauntingly familiar flower sat in a pot resting upon the throne.  Dark reached out with his magic, and just barely felt the thrum of a distinct aura.

                “Is that…?” he whispered, pain evident in his voice. 

                “Yes.  It’s all that’s left,” Taranza responded, his voice taking on a hollow quality.  Dark tilted his head up slightly to prevent the tears misting up his eyes from rolling down his cheeks.

                “Could I…?” he reached out in the direction of the flower.  Taranza’s expression hardened.

                “No,” he said lowly, positioning himself between Dark and the throne.  Dark bristled.

                “I loved her as well.  I only want a proper farewell,” he snarled.  Taranza clenched all six of his hands.

                “You wanted to corrupt her.  That isn’t love,” he hissed back.  Dark took a step forward so that he was toe-to-toe with Taranza. 

                “I never wanted this!  I wanted to help her!” he growled, baring his fangs with every word.  Taranza took a few deep breaths and backed away slightly.

                “I just want to know why,” he murmured. 

                “I loved her.  I wanted to help her become the ruler she wanted to be.  I never told her to mutate herself…” Dark responded.  He then shook his head as if he was trying to rid himself of the memory.  “I never knew that the ritual I lent my power to would do that…”

                “You did that?!” Taranza roared, conjuring a ball of magic and blasting it into Dark’s chest.  Dark was sent flying into a stone column, landing in a heap.  Before he could even register the pain, a spray of spider silk engulfed him, sticking him to the pillar.  Dark coughed a few times before regaining his voice.

                “I didn’t know!” he choked, a tear rolling out of his good eye.  Taranza strode over to the downed man, fury in his eyes. 

                “Do you even comprehend what you have caused?  The years and years of grief you made our kingdom go through?  I am still in mourning, Dark Meta Knight, but you aren’t,” he hissed.  Dark’s eyes went pure crimson as he thrashed against his bonds.

                “Of course I’m still in mourning you stupid fuck!  I miss her every goddamn day!  But I have a kingdom to run, and I can’t afford to act like a mopey piece of shit!” he spat. 

                “I have a kingdom to run as well.  And eliminating you is imperative to our safety,” Taranza said coldly, creating another larger ball of energy.  Dark braced himself for the impact and his inevitable shattering, shutting his eyes tightly.  But it never came.

                “Pardon my intrusion,” Meta said, deftly pushing Taranza back with a soft kick.

Chapter Text

                Taranza slid back, barely keeping his balance.  Meta stood before him in a battle stance, but his eyes lacked any real malice. 

                “Finally I meet the original.  Your reputation precedes you, Sir,” Taranza said, bowing slightly.  Meta blinked, then offered a short bow in return.

                “I apologize for the circumstances under which we now meet,” he responded.  Behind him, Dark quietly freed himself from the silk, landing on his feet.  Taranza snapped his gaze to the man and shot another blast of silk towards him.  With a brilliant flash Meta unsheathed Galaxia and intercepted the web, which burned away into cinders on contact with his blade.  Dark then lunged at Taranza, kicking the embers into a whirlwind with his movements.  Meta quickly grabbed the back of Dark’s coat and flung him backwards, sending him tumbling into the wall.

                “Let me have my revenge,” Taranza said evenly, all six of his hands now glowing a purplish color.  Meta flicked his gaze between the two combatants, shifting his stance to allow a view of both.

                “There are more pressing matters to attend to,” he said, carefully watching Dark as he slowly stood.  Dark’s eyes were still a vibrant crimson, and they now glowed brightly enough to bathe his cheeks in a reddish hue. 

                “This is my only chance to make him pay before he escapes!” Taranza shot back, the magic around his hands growing steadily brighter. 

                “The fate of both kingdoms is at stake-“Meta was cut off as the two once again charged at one another.  Dark sent a jagged wave of glass at Taranza, who deftly shattered it with a blast of magic.  There was a ripple in the air around Dark as a mirror-clone materialized next to him, and Meta saw his opportunity.  He grabbed the arm of the clone and flung it into Dark, knocking him backwards but not off his feet as the sound of breaking glass echoed through the room.

                “You fucker,” Dark snarled, wiping blood away from the fresh cut across his cheek.  Dark drew his own blade and darted towards his new target.  Meta grit his teeth and flourished his cape.  Dark’s eye went hazy for a moment as something he could not comprehend occurred before him.  Meta then reappeared behind Dark and grabbed his arm, twisting it painfully behind him.

                “Will you two stop fighting like children for one moment!?” Meta roared, pushing Dark’s arm further into his back.  Taranza let the ball of magic in his hands dissipate and looked sheepishly at the floor. 

                “Ow ow ow!  Fine, just let me go!” Dark squawked, stumbling forward as Meta released his grip.  He shook out his arm, glaring at Meta.

                “We must access the Mirror-World to prevent a great threat from being unleashed,” Meta explained, turning to Taranza but keeping an eye on Dark.  Taranza searched Meta’s eyes for any sign of deceit and found none.

                “What’s going on?” he asked. 

                “They’re going to let a very dangerous person out of her prison who can possibly destroy both of our worlds,” Dark interjected, holding a hand over the cut on his cheek.  Taranza put a hand to his chin, deep in thought.

                “They’re right, Taranza.  Let em go,” Dedede said, walking in through the open throne room doors.  He surveyed the shattered glass scattered around the room, and the blood seeping down Dark’s face.  “You just can’t behave yourself, can ya?” he added, looking at Dark.

                “He attacked me first!” Dark snapped, pointing at Taranza. 

                “For once, he is not lying,” Meta added. 

                “Look, we just really need that shard.  I know you’re suspicious, but I know Meta.  And Meta wouldn’t ask for the shards if it wasn’t real serious,” Dedede said, ignoring the two knights.  Taranza gave Dedede a long look, and then sighed.  

                “Alright,” Taranza said, no emotion in his tone.  He walked to the throne and retrieved the shard from behind it, handing it gently to Dedede.  Dedede gave the shard an intense look before handing it off to Meta. 

                “You two get goin’.  I’ll stay here for a lil bit,” he said, giving Taranza a concerned look.  The man’s expression was totally blank.

                “Of course.  I will contact you when this is resolved,” Meta said, slipping the shard into his cape.  He strode quickly out of the room, followed closely by Dark.  The two men practically jogged to the Xiphos, with Dark matching Meta’s frantic pace.

                “Why’re you running?” Dark asked, standing beside Meta as the staircase extended from the plane. 

                “This entire area smells of grief.  I can sense it,” he muttered, darting up the stairs as soon as they stopped moving.  Dark followed, frowning deeply.

                “You can sense that sort of stuff?” he asked.

                “Somewhat.  I can only sense negative emotions,” Meta responded.  He then gestured towards a seat.  “Sit.”

                “Why?” Dark said, sitting before he could really process the command.  Meta reached into his cape and procured a small first-aid kit and a small towel.  He tossed the towel to Dark.

                “I do not know.  Clean your wound before you get blood on the upholstery,” he said flatly.  Dark gently cleaned the cut on his face, taking care to not restart the flow of blood.  Thankfully, the towel was plush and soft, allowing it to not catch on the scab forming over the cut.  He then handed the soiled item back to Meta, who grabbed it with no hesitation.  “It is only blood,” he muttered, noticing Dark’s disgusted expression.  He swiftly stuck the towel in a plastic bag from his cape and slipped it back into his pocket dimension. 

                “You still shouldn’t be getting your hands all over it,” Dark said.  Meta shrugged slightly, opening the first-aid kit and retrieving a bandage.

                “Are you indicating that you carry some sort of disease?” Meta teased, peeling open the package and pulling off the backing of the bandage.

                “I’m not diseased you bastar-“Dark was cut off by Meta roughly grabbing his chin and pressing the bandage over the cut.  He was quickly released, but his cold skin still burned with heat where the other’s gloved hand had been. 

                “There.  It was bothering me,” Meta said coldly, turning and heading to the cockpit.  Dark touched where the other’s hand had been, scowling as he felt the heat radiating from his cheeks.  In the cockpit, Meta gazed at his hand for a long moment, his fingers still slightly cooler than usual from Dark’s icy skin.  He shook his thoughts away and hopped into the captain’s seat, grabbing the intercom.

                “Next stop: Dedede’s castle,” he intoned, voice crackling through the speakers.

Chapter Text

                The dark waters of Olive Ocean were totally still this far down, the only movement being the shadowy figures of ocean creatures flitting about.  Waves roiled and crashed into one another at the cliff base above, but here a deathly calm reigned.  The gloom of the depths was broken somewhat by a golden frame that lay wedged face-up between several obsidian boulders.  Large glass shards lay scattered about the seafloor around it, gleaming in the darkness. 

                Suddenly, a man clad in blues and purples slipped from the frame, the shock of the cold water causing him to suddenly inhale, drawing the icy liquid into his lungs.  Meta panicked, trying to push himself towards the surface, following the bubbles in their journey.  His cape melded into his wings, which he then unfurled and flapped furiously as he pushed at the water.  Meta watched the surface draw closer, but it was still so far away.  Darkness began to encroach on the edges of his vision as his lungs screamed for air.  His movements began to slowly falter.

                A hand soon crept through the frame as well, recoiling slightly at the shock of the icy water.  It slipped back into the shattered mirror before another figure surged through, deftly pumping his arms and legs in tandem with his tattered wings.  Dark shot upwards through the gloom, thankful that his naturally lower body temperature would buy him a few more minutes in the freezing currents of Olive Ocean.  His eyes widened as he spotted Meta drifting motionless above him, and he grabbed the man as he continued to swim upwards, barely slowing at the additional strain.  The churning currents began to buffet him as he ascended, and he grit his teeth at what he was going to have to do.

                Dark didn’t stop beating his wings as he broke the surface, propelling himself with some difficulty above the turbulent waters with his unconscious cargo in tow.  He quickly lurched sideways as he spotted a nearby alcove, his strength draining with every flap of his damaged wings.  Dark inched lower and lower as he approached his destination until Meta’s legs were skimming the water.  He scowled at this and spent his final reserves of energy on a few final powerful flaps of his wings.  The action practically hurled the two men onto the small beach, sending them head over heels until Meta’s limp body came to rest atop Dark.

                Dark pulled himself up and shook Meta.  After garnering no response, he gently pushed the man off him, taking a closer look.  His blood chilled as he noted the lack of movement in Meta’s chest.

                “Fuck fuck fuck…” he breathed, kneeling beside Meta and pulling off the man’s helmet, preparing to begin CPR.  It only took a slight push to Meta’s chest for the man to begin violently coughing, and Dark rolled him onto his side as he began to vomit seawater.  Dark let out a heavy sigh of relief and patted the man’s back as he continued to retch and cough, murmuring words of encouragement.  Several minutes passed before Meta caught his breath and rolled onto his back, still panting.  His lips were tinged blue, and his eyes had a hazy quality to them.

                “What happened?” he wheezed.  Dark gave him a patronizing pat to the chest.

                “You didn’t bother to check the other side of mirror before jumping through, dipshit,” Dark teased, though there was an odd undercurrent of anger to his tone.  Meta’s skin tone was steadily improving, and his eyes were becoming more focused.

                “You saved me?” Meta asked, turning his head to peer up at Dark.  Meta looked so vulnerable like this, shivering and sprawled in the sand.  His hair was soaked and splayed over his face, obscuring his eyes.  Dark resisted the strange impulse to brush it aside.

                “Yes, I did indeed drag your soggy, sorry ass to shore,” Dark sniffed.  Meta managed to sit up with some effort, slumping forward slightly as he endured another coughing fit.  He then went silent and gazed out over the wave-worn shore.

                “Thank you.  I have never been a capable swimmer,” he mumbled, startling Dark.  He turned to look at the man, and Dark reddened slightly at the intense gaze. 

                “You live by a goddamn ocean and you can’t swim.  Incredible,” Dark huffed, chasing away the strange feeling in his chest.  Meta narrowed his eyes, scowling.

                “I am capable of swimming.  I merely happen to not be the most proficient at the activity,” he snapped.  Dark rolled his eyes.

                “You weren’t breathing when I pulled you out, moron.  Get better,” he drawled.  Meta blinked, and then squinted at Dark.

                “…Were you…Concerned about me?” he asked incredulously.  Dark stiffened, his smirk falling away into a thin frown.  Why was he so concerned?  He did need Meta’s help to take back his kingdom, but the panic that had gripped him when he noticed that Meta wasn’t breathing came from something else. 

                “A corpse can’t help me take back the throne!  And if you die, then I can die, remember?!” he snarled, the words coming out louder than intended.  Meta snorted derisively, red tinging his irises. 

                “Of course.  I am only a means to an end,” he hissed, gritting his teeth.  Was that disappointment in his tone?  Why did Dark hope it was?

                “Fine, I’ll admit I was worried about losing my favorite person to torment,” Dark amended, acutely aware of his warming cheeks.  Meta gave him a long look, the tinge in his eyes turning to green.

                “Do you consider me an ally?” he asked quietly.  Dark’s cheeks were burning now, and he was certain that Meta had to have noticed.  He looked down, tracing a pattern in the sand as he thought.

                “Do you?” he muttered, bracing himself for a sharp-tongued retort.  When none came, he glanced at Meta.  The other man was gazing at the sky, deep in thought.

                “Somewhat,” he said cryptically, donning his helmet and standing, “And you?”

                “I mean, after all the help you’ve given me, it sort of has to be a yes,” Dark mumbled, standing as well but keeping his gaze away from Meta. 

                “Hm,” Meta responded, turning towards the cliffs behind them and looking up.  Dark let out an indignant yelp as Meta suddenly grabbed his wrist and yanked him closer.

                “The fuck?!” he squawked.  Meta ignored him as he scooped the man up, thankful that the man was a flying creature like himself and thus just as light. 

                “Hold on,” he said, unfurling his wings to their full span.  A few powerful wingbeats sent them aloft, and Meta rapidly ascended the cliff face as Dark clung to him in terror.  His damaged wings prevented him from reaching these speeds, and he felt his stomach churn as the two continued to rocket upwards.  Finally, Meta cleared the cliff’s edge and slowed, gently touching down amongst the sea spray worn scrub.  He set Dark back on his feet and watched with amusement as the man nearly toppled over.

                “Give me a warning before you do this shit!” Dark cried, still swaying slightly.

                “If I gave you ample warning, you would have worked yourself up in anticipation,” Meta replied, scanning the horizon.  It was night here, but the moon was full and cast a bright silver light over the landscape.  “Where do we head now?”

                “Through the Radish Ruins,” Dark said, regaining his balance.  He pointed out over a lush forest, towards several crumbling towers jutting out above the canopy.  Meta gazed at their destination for a moment before nodding.

                “Then let us begin,” he intoned.  

Chapter Text

                The ruins were overgrown and desolate, with roots and vines weaving themselves into the crumbling stone.  Tattered banners hung from the remaining walls, fluttering in the breeze.  Meta bent down to study one of the larger pieces of debris, his eyes tracing over the eroded remnants of an intricate pattern carved into the stone.  He then peered upwards at the imposing structure, gazing at the signs of collapse present throughout. 

                “How long have these ruins been here?” he asked as he heard Dark’s approaching footsteps.  The footsteps halted as Dark stopped beside the man, thinking.

                “I don’t know.  They were here when I got here, and they’ve been here since,” he said finally, shrugging.

                “Ah.  How enlightening,” Meta responded dryly, straightening himself up and giving Dark a flat look.  Dark put his hands on his hips, an unimpressed look on his face.

                “I’m not a historian.  What does it matter anyway?  We’re just walking through it,” he huffed.  The seawater had eaten away the last remnants of whatever he used to style his hair, and his usually perfectly tousled locks were now frayed and fluffed out at impressive angles. 

                “Of course.  I should have surmised that any pursuit of knowledge bereft of personal gain would be an alien concept to you,” Meta sniffed, making his way forward and into the ruins.

                “Wow, that might be the most pretentious thing you’ve said yet.  And let me tell you, it’s still a close contest,” Dark shot back, following the other man.  Meta ignored him as he walked into the ruins, walking through a gaping hole in the decrepit building.  The crumbling stone floor crunched softly beneath his feet.  He cast a wary glance at the ceiling above.  If the rest of the structure was so severely eroded, surely there was significant danger of collapse.

                “Is this truly the most efficient route?” he pondered aloud.  Dark continued past Meta, hands casually behind his head.

                “Unless you want to spend hours hacking through the forest.  And the angry critters that live there,” he said.

                “This place looks to be seconds from collapse,” Meta pointed out.

                “It’s been like this for eons, I don’t think it’s gonna-“a fair-sized chunk of stone clattered to the floor right in front on Dark, stopping him in his tracks.  He regarded it silently as Meta chuckled gleefully.

                “Do you ever tire of being wrong?” he said haughtily, walking over to inspect the fallen debris as well.  He stopped and frowned as Dark began to back up, his long ears pricking up as they detected a hint of sound.  Meta focused on his senses and picked up a faint shuffling sound from high above them.

                “Not really, since I’m pretty sure someone knocked that down on purpose,” Dark said loudly, projecting his voice towards the ceiling.  A few long moments of silence passed, and both men drew their weapons as the shuffling grew louder.  Suddenly a dark figure appeared between the two with a burst of web-like energy.  He was clad in extravagant yellow and purple garb and had two large horns jutting from his head.  He let out a shrill cackle and used one of his two floating pairs of hands to ensnare Meta in a multitude of his web-like magic before turning to face Dark.

                “Ah, associating with another Other-Worlder, are we?  How about you tell this one what happened to your last fling?” the man laughed.  Dark deftly leveled his blade at the man, the tip mere inches from his throat.

                “Huh, Dark Taranza.  Tell me, did your bitchy wife put you up to this, or could you just not resist getting your slimy little hands on my kingdom?” Dark said lowly, his voice unusually cold.  Dark Taranza scowled and prepared to hurl an orb of energy at Dark, though he was interrupted by Meta breaking free.  He vanished again, narrowly avoiding a crushing blow from Galaxia that splintered the stone floor as it struck.  Dark Taranza blipped back into existence directly behind him, and Meta only barely dodged the burst of magic, bending out of the way in an incredible feat of flexibility. 

                “Bastard,” he hissed, swiping his sword at Dark Taranza and managing to slice part of the man’s cloak before he disappeared again.  Dark’s eyes narrowed as his tattered cape shimmered like glass before extending out into his wings.  The air around him crackled with magic as he pressed the tip of his sword into the floor.

                “Two can play at that game,” he growled.  Glass spread in a crystalline pattern from the tip of his blade, crackling as it covered the floor.  It continued to spread as Dark sank into the reflective surface, turning into a faint reflection as he darted around within the glass.  Meta flared his wings out as well, letting his magic surge.  His eyes glowed brightly as he felt for the faint signature of Dark Taranza’s magic. 

                “Come now, your majesty.  I’m very familiar with your tricks,” Dark Taranza cackled, flickering into view and hurling a massive orb of energy downwards.  The glass floor became spider-webbed with cracks, and the faint reflection of Dark vanished from view.  He then cast a malevolent glance at Meta, his fangs glinting as he grinned.  “Now I can simply kill your counterpart, so I can rid myself of you for good.”  Multiple large crystals materialized flanking Dark Taranza, and he hurled them at Meta. 

                “Simply, hm?” Meta scoffed, taking to the air and easily out-maneuvering the attack.  A few powerful wing-thrusts sent several blades of wind towards his foe, and Dark Taranza once again vanished from view.  Meta landed elegantly and hesitated for a moment before performing a brutal back-kick, slamming into Dark Taranza’s stomach as he appeared and sending the man sprawling onto the floor.  Meta spun on his heel and approached his downed foe, twirling his sword several times before leveling it at Dark Taranza’s neck.

                “How predictable.  Taking me out was apparently so simple, and yet you could not manage to switch up your attack pattern,” Meta hissed.  Dark Taranza only smirked as a faint aura formed around him.

                “Bit of an oversight on my part, apologies.  I’ll be sure to slaughter you with my next move!” he shrieked, letting out a massive burst of energy that swept Meta off his feet.  He recovered with a quick handspring, landing on his feet only to find that his enemy had vanished.  He then reappeared directly in front of Meta, letting out another burst of magic and sending the man hurtling into the stone wall behind him.  Meta had no time to recover before Dark Taranza surged forward, pinning him by the neck to the wall.

                “Just as pathetic as your counterpart!  All that arrogance and attitude for such a pathetic display!” he said, cackling as he watched Meta drop his sword and clutch at the man’s arm in a desperate bid to breathe.  He could see his reflection in the man’s visor, and he realized the implications of this just a second too late.  Dark reached through the reflective surface, landing a brutal right hook directly into Dark Taranza’s face, causing the man to release Meta.  Meta landed on his feet, wheezing and furious as Dark’s arm retracted within the glass.

                “Arrogant prick!” Meta choked out, stepping forward.  He then spun and landed a perfectly aimed kick to Dark Taranza’s chin, causing the man to spin around and collapse face-first onto the floor.  He tried to scramble away but was halted by Meta’s boot slamming into his back.  The cracks healed from a small portion of the glass coating on the floor, and Dark emerged, standing over Dark Taranza with an irritated expression.

                “Should I make a joke about an itsy-bitsy spider or is that too obvious?” he sneered, kneeling and lifting Dark Taranza’s head by one of his horns.  The man’s face was already turning black and blue, and his nose was at a funny angle.  Several tiny cracks could be seen spreading out from the impact points.

                “Can’t face me alone, huh?” Dark Taranza spat, blood streaming from his nose.  Meta’s eyes narrowed to slits as he gingerly felt at his neck.  There was already a wicked hand-shaped bruise forming there.

                “I would not boast about relying entirely on teleportation if I were you,” Meta hissed.

                “So, you wanna tell me where my brother and my royal guard are, or do I have to rearrange your face to get that info?” Dark cooed, his tone sickly sweet as he clenched his free hand into a fist. 

                “They’re back at the castle, of course.  It would be simply terrible if they were to miss the main event,” Dark Taranza shot back, smiling maliciously.  Dark scowled at him, tempted to punch him again for the hell of it.

                “Eclipse will slaughter all of you.  She was sealed away for a reason, you fucking idiot,” he hissed.  Dark Taranza only laughed cruelly in response.

                “A reason?!  You couldn’t handle your girlfriend and got your precious king to get rid of her-“ Dark cut off the man by landing a second brutal blow to his face.  He then noticed Meta giving him a look of surprise and coughed demurely into his now blood-spattered hand.

                “Ah, I see Parallel has told you her version of events.  But did she tell you the part where Eclipse swore to burn our world to ashes?” Dark said.  Dark Taranza spat out a mouthful of blood, still smirking.

                “You really think we don’t have a plan for controlling her?” he laughed.

                “Your puppetry magic is nothing against her,” Dark snapped.

                “Oh, I know that.  Do you take me for a fool?”

                “Uh…yeah.  I do.”

                “It is an excellent thing then that I care not for the opinions of a monarch who would allow his love life to jeopardize his-“ Dark Taranza was once again silenced by Dark’s fist as Meta mulled over the man’s words.  He blanched a little as he realized just what plan Parallel may have.

                “They intend to mechanize her,” Meta said, causing Dark to look up at him in surprise.

                “Hey, at least your counterpart seems to have some level of intelligence!” Dark Taranza said, slurring his words a little owing to his freshly split lip.  He then flinched a little as Dark gave him a distinctly threatening look.

                “That’s impossible!  It took almost all of Dark Mind’s power to seal her away, you think technology can stop her?”

                “I think it can stop you!” Dark Taranza shrieked, tossing a small circular object into the air with one of his floating hands.  The room went totally white, and both Meta and Dark staggered back, shielding their eyes.  They stood stock still as their vision slowly returned, only to find a blank spot where Dark Taranza had been.

                “He flash-banged us,” Meta deadpanned, blinking the spots out of his vision.

                “Dammit, I wanted to punch him a few more times,” Dark hissed, shaking the ringing from his ears.  Meta took a quick second look at the bruise on his neck, pulling his collar out and looking down it.  The bruise was already dark purple, and he could clearly make out the individual fingers.  He narrowed his eyes, wishing that he’d taken the chance to inflict a little more damage on his foe when he had the chance.

                “We should hurry to the castle.  It seems as if the release of Eclipse may be imminent,” Meta said, smoothing his collar back to its normal state. 

                “You’re right.  I don’t know if we could stop Eclipse if she was freed,” Dark responded, his tone haunted.

                “I did defeat Galacta Knight.  Surely Eclipse possesses a similar level of power?”  Dark laughed at that and spoke quickly as to avoid any irritated response from Meta.

                “Eclipse is different.  She stole secrets and artifacts from the planets she destroyed.  She is miles ahead of any other Mirror-World entity,” Dark said quietly.  Meta quirked an eyebrow, catching the other’s gaze.

                “Dark Taranza said some…interesting statements.  What was the nature of your involvement with Eclipse?”

                “What does it matter?” Dark snapped, his usual levity missing from his tone.

                “I believe that with my level of involvement here I deserve to know.  Scorned lover?” Meta hissed, eyes narrowed.  Dark let out a barking laugh completely bereft of any amusement.

                “I wish it was that simple!  No, she was far worse,” Dark said, standing and starting to walk further into the ruins.  Meta followed after quickly snatching his sword and dropping it in his cape.

                “Worse?  How so?” he pressed.  Dark went silent, staring straight ahead before turning his head just enough so that Meta could see his missing eye.

                “Let’s just say that she really helped me learn which foundations cover bruises the best,” Dark said hollowly.  Meta mulled over the implications for a second before giving Dark a concerned look.  That statement hurt his heart a little more than he cared to admit, but he didn’t know what to say.  He never really knew what to say at times like this, and his convoluted feelings towards Dark didn’t help at all. 

                “We will stop her,” Meta said firmly, nodding at Dark.  A small smirk formed on Dark’s face before he looked forward again, hiding his face from the other’s view.  They continued in silence, walking towards Dark’s castle and another inevitable battle.

Chapter Text

                The town surrounding Castle Dark was beautiful in a strange sort of way.  It was distinctly modern with a Victorian twist, with the numerous street lights and lanterns creating a gorgeous carpet of light that shone in the gloomy night.  The town was compact as well, with buildings stacked atop one another to the point that there were multiple street levels.  The streets were cobblestone and shone slightly under the lights owing to the misting rain.  The streets were totally empty aside from Dark Taranza’s insect soldiers, and it made Dark bristle a little to see the normally bustling town like this. 

                “They’ve taken complete control,” Dark hissed, lowering his borrowed binoculars.  Meta snatched the binoculars and took another scan of the town, mentally tallying the soldiers.  The two men were perched on a cliff that overlooked the buildings below, hidden from view by a craggy ridge that rose before them.

                “There are too many to easily dispatch without alarming Dark Taranza and Parallel,” Meta said, slipping the binoculars into his cape.  Dark scowled, tapping his fingers on the stone before him.

                “We could always make a break for it down the main street.  But we’re so outnumbered…” he huffed.  Meta seemed to ponder something for a moment before turning to face Dark.

                “You can disguise yourself as others aside from me, correct?” he asked.  Dark blinked.

                “Yeah…?” he said slowly.

                “How accurately can you copy one of those soldiers?” Meta continued.  Dark smirked as he realized what the other was getting at.

                “Perfectly,” Dark said.  Meta nodded, and surprised Dark by sliding his helm off his head.  He dropped it into his cape and turned to face Dark again.

                “If I am to play the part of your prisoner, it must be convincing.  Punch me in the face,” Meta said.  Dark gave him a long look.

                “I don’t know if we need to go that far,” he responded.

                “Surely it would raise suspicion were I to be uninjured.  And I lack any supplies to fake such an injury,” Meta explained.  He then raised a hand and tapped at his nose.  “There merely needs to be enough force to bruise me and provoke bleeding from the nose.” 

                “It’s not exactly easy to be that precise,” Dark huffed.  Meta only rolled his eyes.

                “If you truly wish to spend your time discussing this and not reclaiming your kingdom, then I will depart alone,” he snapped.

                “Good luck with that, idiot,” Dark snarled.  Meta shrugged.

                “Idiot, hm?  Tell me, which one of us left his kingdom without its ruler for petty revenge, resulting in this mess-“ Dark landed a swift blow to the center of Meta’s face, cutting off the man’s insult. 

                “There,” Dark said, barely concealed rage in his tone.  Meta gave him a remarkably smug look for someone whose nose was streaming blood.

                “A little encouragement is occasionally required, is it not?” Meta said, blood dripping onto his coat from his chin.  Dark gave him a look that was part amusement and part irritation. 

                “You’re pretty good at encouraging people to punch you, I’ll give you that,” he chuckled.  Dark then closed his single eye, gathering his magic.  He’d only seen the insect soldiers up close a few times during diplomatic meetings with Rosalia, but luckily for Dark he had an excellent visual memory.  A mirror-like shine traveled over his body, and the air almost seemed to glitter around him.  Meta blinked, and suddenly a Rosalian soldier stood before him in place of Dark.

                “Impressive,” he said, reaching out to touch one of the red pauldrons on the “soldier’s” shoulders.  His hand went through the ornate thorn-like protrusion and instead rested on some sort of fabric beneath it.

                “It’s just an illusion, it isn’t really there,” Dark said, noting Meta’s look of confusion.

                “Ah, so we mustn’t let them touch you,” Meta commented.  Dark nodded before adopting a look of determination.

                “Alright, let’s go.  We’ll take the main route in,” he said.  The two began their descent, nimbly hopping down the rocky terrain.  They reached the ground rather quickly, and Dark moved behind Meta, grabbing at his arms and pushing them into a locked position behind his back.  Meta bowed his head, practicing the role of the sullen prisoner.

                Meta looked up as the two neared the town, gazing up at the impressive wall that surrounded the city.  They were nearing a massive stone gate with two of Dark Taranza’s men posted outside.  The two soldiers immediately drew their weapons and brandished them, before lowering them as they caught sight of Dark. 

                “What’ve you got there, comrade?” the taller one asked.  Dark hesitated for a moment before hoisting Meta up a little.  Meta quickly played along, grimacing as if he was in great pain.

                “Caught this pathetic Dreamlander trying to get into the town.  Thought I should bring em to the king,” Dark said, carefully disguising his voice.  His accent was very distinctive, and it would be a dead giveaway if he used his normal voice.  The smaller guard walked to meet Dark as he approached, giving Meta a once over.

                “He looks an awful lot like King Dark.  Must be Meta Knight,” the man said, grabbing Meta’s face and examining him.  Meta didn’t need to feign his angry response, and he bared his impressive fangs at the soldier.  The taller soldier jogged up, a look of amazement visible on his features that remained uncovered by his helm.

                “Woah, they say he’s just as strong as King Dark.  How did you catch him?” he asked in amazement.

                “Element of surprise,” Dark said.  The short soldier appraised Meta a little more before releasing his face and walking back towards his post.  The man withdrew a set of intricate black keys and unlocked a small side entrance, opening it for Dark to proceed.  Dark headed towards the opening, tailed by the tall soldier.

                “Gotta say, I didn’t even know we were doing patrols outside of the perimeter,” the small soldier said as Dark neared him.

                “Yeah, we’ve been stuck here the whole time!” the taller one chimed in. 

                “His majesty has been very busy.  I’m sure he simply hasn’t had the time to announce the new patrols yet,” Dark lied, starting through the door.  The taller one laughed at this.

                “Yeah, since he got his ass kicked by King Dark.  Damn, I miss when Queen Exonia would command us, but she’s not been able to get on the front lines since, well, you know…” the man trailed off, and the shorter one cleared his throat.

                “We shouldn’t be talking about this in front of a prisoner.  Anyway, hurry up and get Mr. Knight here to the king, he’s been taking his loss out on all of us,” he said.  Dark nodded and walked the rest of the way through the small tunnel connected to the door.

                “Good luck dealing with that asshole.  And I’m not talking about the prisoner,” the tall guard added before shutting the door.  It was only after they’d put some distance between them and the door that Meta spoke up.

                “Those two would struggle to pour water from my boot if I wrote the instructions on the heel,” Meta said, keeping his voice down.  Dark chuckled.

                “They’ve really gone downhill without the direct influence of Exonia.  Dark Taranza may be a strategist but he knows nothing about inspiring or training his troops,” he replied.

                “She perished, I assume?”

                “No, but with the death of Sectonia she no longer leaves her castle.  You remember what I said about how you can permanently kill a Mirror-Worlder, right?” Dark said.  Meta thought back to the conversation and nodded.

                “Ah, that is correct.  She wishes to avoid a permanent shattering.  It also explains a motive for Dark Taranza’s involvement in this mess.”

                “Permanent shattering is a funny way to say it really.  If a Mirror-Worlder truly dies they don’t shatter at all, just like how one from your world would die,” Dark explained as the continued to walk down the wide cobblestone road, “As for a motive for the bastard to stick his ugly nose where it doesn’t belong, he doesn’t need one.  He’s been growing resentful of Exonia since she’s become in danger of permanent death, since he can’t hide behind her anymore.  If anything, he’s mad that I inconvenienced him rather than being angry that I endangered his wife.”

                “What a positively lovely individual,” Meta drawled.

                “To be fair, if you knew Exonia you’d agree that she deserves all of this.  The word tyrant in the dictionary is accompanied by her photo.  She sacrificed everything else in her country for that army of hers, and now even that is collapsing.  It’s hilarious,” Dark chuckled maliciously.  She’d always been so sure that Rosalia would triumph over Dreadland, and yet her bid for power had ended miserably.  What pompousness, what arrogance, what short-sightedness!  No, she was nothing compared to the short-lived glory of Queen Sectonia…

                “It sounds as if their kingdom is crumbling of its own accord,” Meta said, slightly put off by the cold malice he heard in the other’s tone.  There was certainly quite a history there that Meta was not privy to.

                “Oh I’m already drawing up schematics for when I inevitably acquire it.  Covered in thorns or not, a sky kingdom is strategically valuable-“  Two large hands suddenly grabbed the men, yanking them unseen into a narrow alleyway.  Meta was tossed aside, but Dark was slammed against the wall by the large figure.

                “Where is King Dark?!” the figure hissed, menacing the man with a large polished halberd that he’d conjured.  Meta rushed to grasp the handle of the weapon, stopping the man from inflicting any damage.

                “You happen to be looking at him,” Meta said urgently.  The figure blinked and reexamined Dark, moving his hand until it was over part of the false helmet.  He released him when he felt skin instead of metal.

                “Your Majesty!  Are you unhurt?” he cried.  Dark winced a little at his newly sore back but offered a grin to the man regardless as he allowed his disguise to crumble away.

                “So you really did get away!  This is Meta Knight by the way, but I’m sure you guessed that,” Dark said excitedly, gesturing at Meta.

                “Ah, your counterpart.  I am Shadow Dedede.  My liege has told me much about you, your Majesty,” Shadow Dedede intoned, bowing towards Meta.  As expected, he looked identical in basic shape to Dedede, though he seemed a little thinner.  His clothes were all gray, black and red, and his skin was a dark slate color.  His eyes were the most startling change, as they were pure white and pupiless, and seemed to glow softly in the gloom.

                “I am not royalty, but I am flattered nonetheless,” Meta said, returning the bow.  Shadow Dedede gave Dark a confused look, and Dark laughed.

                “He’s a weapons dealer, don’t let the humble act fool you.  He’s loaded,” he tittered, earning a glare from Meta.

                “Military.  Contractor,” Meta hissed, only making Dark laugh harder.  Shadow Dedede looked between the two with an unreadable expression before he spoke.

                “Your Majesty, what are your plans for retaking the castle,” he asked.

                “Use my disguise to get inside, and then strike at the leaders.  These soldiers don’t exactly care much for Dark Taranza, so I doubt they’ll stick around once I shatter him.  And Parallel isn’t much of a threat if we can catch her away from that mech of hers,” Dark said, the concept of revenge making him positively giddy.  Meta frowned.

                “You know, one thing has been confusing me.  What reason does Parallel have for usurping you?  You appeared to have history when you spoke,” Meta pondered, idly picking at the dried blood beneath his nose.  Dark seemed to become a little sullen at his words.

                “Dark Mind took her in after her father died in the course of their invasion.  We used to be like siblings, but we drifted apart after she left the castle to start her own company.  She blames me for the fall of Dark Mind, thinks I should have stopped him earlier,” Dark said.  He rubbed at his arms uncomfortably, causing Shadow Dedede to frown.

                “Sire, perhaps this topic is best left alone,” he said, concerned.  Dark waved off his concern.

                “It’s fine, I’m fine.  There’s no reason to skirt around the issue now.  Parallel…” Dark trailed off, mulling over his words, “She thinks she knows the best for everyone, and she doesn’t really see the perspectives of others.  I didn’t handle it how she thinks she would have, so I’m wrong and unfit to rule.  I always thought she was a little naïve and controlling but…”

                “You did not think she would go this far,” Meta supplied.  Dark nodded, running a hand through his hair in exasperation.

                “I know it sounds rich coming from me but she’s definitely one of the more rash and arrogant people I’ve known.  I’ll bet anything that she really thinks she can control Eclipse,” he huffed. 

                “Control Eclipse?!” Shadow Dedede squawked, eyes wide. 

                “They intend to release and control her via utilizing some form of technology,” Meta explained.

                “They’re fucking idiots, what else is new?  It’s down to us to knock some sense into them,” Dark added, cracking his knuckles.  Shadow Dedede nodded and hefted his massive halberd onto his shoulder.

                “Then let us demonstrate the full power of Dreadland,” he said ominously.  Meta looked at the two and nodded, his eyes glowing brightly.

                “They have become rather comfortable tossing rocks out from that glass house of theirs, haven’t they?  How about we bring some of our own stones?” he quipped, touching his fingers to Galaxia’s hilt.

Chapter Text

                Castle Dark was massive, and it bristled with numerous towers that jutted up from the main building.  It was built from shining black stone, and there were numerous banners and pennants that Meta assumed usually bore Dark’s insignia.  Not that he could tell now, as the banners were all tattered and shredded, no doubt courtesy of the ones who currently occupied the castle.  Meta gazed up at the building in slight awe as he was marched forward by the disguised Dark, only to have the man suddenly force him to stop.

                The castle gate lay before them, and it was adorned with intricately wrought black metal that also formed the gate itself.  Meta glanced downwards and was startled to see that there was a seemingly bottomless abyss that separated the castle’s gate from the area they were now.  Meta flinched as a bright light enveloped the two men, and he squinted through to glimpse two Rosalian soldiers atop the gate, armed with floodlights. 

                “I have captured Meta Knight!” Dark called out, his voice perfectly disguised.  The two soldiers looked to each other and turned the floodlights away, much to Meta’s relief.  His eyes were photosensitive, and without the protective glass of his visor the light had been agony.

                “Very well, you may enter,” one of them shouted, and they both moved to the ends of the wall.  Each end was attached to a tower, and they disappeared into the small rooms they contained.  There was a moment of silence before a loud rumbling sound started up, and a large slab of stone suddenly shot out from a slot beneath the gate, creating a bridge.  Dark gently pushed him forward and they began to cross as the soldiers peeked out from the rooms.

                “Long live Rosalia!” they shouted in unison, saluting.  Dark returned the motion, rolling his eyes beneath the obscuring helmet of his illusion.

                “Long live Rosalia!” he responded.  How tacky, at least he limited such things to ceremonies.  The intricate locking mechanisms of the gate were quickly unlatching, and Meta found himself impressed by the engineering that must have gone into it.  It wasn’t the most practical lock, but it was certainly a spectacle to watch it work.  It finally finished, and the gates themselves slid into the walls as the two passed through.

                The garden within the courtyard was probably beautiful when it wasn’t ensnared within a mess of thorny vines.  The vines also tangled around the black marble statues and a large fountain in the center, which was leaking water across the cobblestone path that lead to the castle.  As they walked through the courtyard Meta noticed that most of the statues were untouched, save for two that featured Shadow Kirby and Dark respectively.  The heads of the statues had been knocked off, and the crumbled bits of marble scattered about indicated that whoever defaced them wanted it to be hard to repair.

                “Fucking animals,” Dark muttered underneath his breath, his true voice slipping through.  The vines were even winding across the enormous statue of Dark Mind atop the fountain, and Dark made a mental note to teach Dark Taranza a thing or two about respect.  Preferably with his fists.  They passed more soldiers patrolling about as they made their way towards the castle entrance, and Dark exchanged a few more shouts of “long live Rosalia” with them.  They made their way up the red velvet runner that decorated the stairs to the castle and finally entered it.

                It seemed as if no depiction of Dark or his emblem had escaped destruction, as the center of the black marble floor showed hints of a design through the horrible cracks that had been inflicted on it.  The portraits that hung along the walls of the parlor were also damaged, save for the largest one that hung over the entrance to the next room.  It was a portrait of Dark Mind in regal garb set within a silver frame.  Meta could sense the boiling rage emanating from Dark, and he chose to stay totally silent.

                The next few rooms were similarly damaged, and Dark only grew angrier, though he hid it well from the guards they passed.  The two guarding the entrance to the throne room were clad in far more extravagant armor than the rest of the soldiers they’d encountered, and they brandished their large weapons, blocking the entrance.

                “I have captured Meta Knight,” Dark intoned, presenting his false prisoner to the two.  They gave the man steely looks.  These were obviously higher ranked soldiers, and they’d obviously heard that Meta had played a hand in their king’s defeat.

                “We will deliver the prisoner to him,” one said, and Dark’s blood ran a little cold.

                “I insist on an audience with the king.  This capture was no easy task,” he protested as the two guards closed in. 

                “He has requested no visitors,” the other said, grasping Meta’s arm.  The other moved to pat Dark on the shoulder before the man could dodge.

                “You have done good work soldier-“  His hand went right through Dark’s illusion, and his eyes widened.  He had no time to react before he was impaled with a glass sword that jutted up from the ground, shattering the guard instantly.  The other recoiled in alarm.

                “Your majesty!” she screamed.  Meta rapidly drew his blade and delivered a fatal strike, shattering her as well.  Dark let his disguise fall away, and he nodded at Meta.

                “Cover’s blown!  Let’s strike now!” he said, darting into the room.  Meta followed, watching as Dark drew his own cursed blade.  Dark Taranza was standing facing the throne, and he whirled around at the intruders.  A radio was in his hand, and he smiled cruelly as he spoke into it.

                “They broke in.  Release her,” he said, loud enough for the two to hear.

                “That’s your death warrant, you idiot,” Dark shrieked, a touch of panic in his tone.  Dark Taranza laughed and flared out all his hands, his form glowing a bright purple.  Web-like magic quickly covered all the exits as Dark Taranza cackled madly.

                “You aren’t going anywhere!  Shatter me all you like, it won’t save you!” he laughed, sending a blast of energy at the two.  They easily dodged only for Dark Taranza to ensnare Dark and drag him closer, a mad look in his eyes as he tossed the radio aside.  “You’re finally going to pay for what you’ve done to Rosalia!  For what you’ve done to me!” he sneered, conjuring a few large crystals. 

                “What about your wife?  Isn’t she the one I wronged?” Dark hissed, slashing through a few of the webs that tangled around him.  Dark Taranza only laughed harder, preparing his attack.

                “What?  I should be shaking your hand for that!  You made it so easy!” he said, causing Dark’s eyes to widen.  Dark Taranza was suddenly slammed into by a blueish blur, and he was thrown into a wall hard enough to crack him.  Meta straightened up from his attack, twirling his sword before pursuing the man.  Dark Taranza blinked out of existence, and Meta let his senses take over, trying to feel for where the man would appear.  He was too quick for Meta, and he managed to hurl a crystal into him as Dark Taranza reappeared to his side.  Meta skidded back, nearly falling from the brutal hit and getting cut on the flying shrapnel as the crystal shattered.  Dark Taranza prepared a second attack only to be grabbed by Dark and kicked in the gut.  Meta ran to assist despite his wounds but stopped as Dark hurled Dark Taranza into the floor.

                “What does that mean?” Dark asked, letting his magic entrap the man in a crust of glass.  Dark Taranza only smirked.

                “What?  Did you think I wouldn’t jump at the opportunity to seize my kingdom back?  You made it easy for me,” he cackled.

                “You were only waiting for an opportunity, then?  I suppose it is par for the course from a traitor like you,” Dark said, unimpressed.  It wasn’t like he cared for either of them, and it wasn’t like he was surprised by Dark Taranza being treacherous.  The trapped man only cackled harder as Meta approached, silently watching the situation.

                “Who said I waited?  Like I said, you made it easy for me to strike.”  Dark frowned and placed his boot over the man’s neck, pressing down lightly.

                “What did you do?” Dark said, his tone emotionless yet brimming with danger.  Dark Taranza smiled at him, glee on his face.

                “You don’t think your dear little Sectonia managed to corrupt herself all on her lonesome?  You know as well as I do that the little spell book you gave her shouldn’t have been able to mutate her so severely,” he said sweetly.  Dark’s face was totally blank as he stared down at him.

                “You wanted her to die,” he said.

                “And it worked fabulously!  I have all the power I wanted, and all the loyalty she commanded!  And now, I’m about to be rid of you-“ he was quickly cut off as Dark smashed his blade down onto his neck, shattering him instantly.  The mirror knight’s eye was blazing red, and glass was crackling across the floor as Dark’s magic ran amok. 

                “He fucking killed her,” he spat, slashing and stomping on the scattered shards.  He tossed his sword aside as he fell to his knees and grasped handfuls of the glass, flinging it aside and crushing at it in a furious frenzy.  Meta grabbed at his shoulders and tried to pull him away, concern on his face.

                “This will do nothing, calm down,” Meta said.  Dark whirled around, hopping to his feet and causing Meta to back away.  He wasn’t quite fast enough to avoid having Dark grab him by the collar.

                “Calm down?  CALM DOWN?  HE KILLED HER, AND I CAN DO NOTHING MORE THAN SHATTER HIM!  HE WILL MAKE IT BACK TO HIS LITTLE KINGDOM AND REAP THE REWARDS OF MURDERING SOMEONE I LOVED!  AND NOW DUE TO HIS ACTIONS EVERYONE I KNOW IS IN DANGER!  I CANNOT CALM DOWN!” he screamed, yanking at Meta.  Meta gave him a wide-eyed look, choking a little as his collar was tightened around his neck.

                “Please, there will be time for this later.  We must deal with the crisis now,” Meta rasped, dropping his sword and placing his hands over Dark’s.  The enraged man’s grip weakened a little, and Meta gently slipped his collar out of Dark’s grip.

                “I…” Dark swallowed thickly, “I know.”  Meta lowered his hands, and he could feel Dark curl his fingers around them a little.

                “Despite the crisis, you have many who stand with you.  Your citizens, your guard… Shadow Dedede is trying to head them off as we speak.  And…” Meta looked away for a moment before turning back to look directly into Dark’s eye.  “I stand with you as well.”  Dark nodded silently and clasped at Meta’s hands, his eye fading back into its usual pale yellow.

                “Thank you,” he said softly, a slight smile on his face.  The smile then quickly twisted into a wicked smirk.  “Then let’s go fuck them up.”  Meta nodded, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

                “I second that notion,” he said, releasing Dark’s hands.  He noted how he could still feel the lingering coolness from Dark’s hands, and he shook away the thought as he picked his sword up from the ground.  Dark grabbed his own weapon and turned back to Meta.

                “Follow me, and shatter anyone who tries to stop you,” he said.  Meta allowed his cape to meld into his wings, and he flared then out.

                “Duly noted,” he responded.  Dark stretched his own tattered wings and darted through the door, Dark Taranza’s magic having dissipated when he was shattered.  They tore through the castle, effortlessly shattering any soldier that got in their way as they worked their way to the lower levels.  They finally reached the corridor to the lowest room, and they followed the long cables and metal hoses that had assumedly been installed by Parallel.

                “How far underground are we?” Meta asked as they approached an arched doorway.

                “6 stories.  It’s just ahead,” Dark responded.  The fear radiating from the man was palpable, but he kept admirably cool.  The two hesitated before the door before entering.  This new room was massive, with tall vaulted ceilings.  Numerous equipment was scattered about, and Parallel stood at the center with her back turned.  Dark’s blood ran ice cold as he realized that the massive glass crystal before her was empty and shattered. 

                “Took you long enough.  I have to say, I’ll regret killing your counterpart.  He seems to have a good head on his shoulders,” Parallel said, turning to them with a large remote clutched in her hands.

                “I wish I could return the compliment,” Meta deadpanned.

                “Where is she?!” Dark demanded.  Parallel only laughed, pressing the button on her remote.  The two whirled to see behind them as they heard a clanking sound approaching.  Dark resisted the urge to flee as a winged figure came into view.

                “How do you like it?  I call her Electro Galacta,” Parallel said.

Chapter Text

                Eclipse was outfitted with a multitude of robotic parts and wires, her face obscured by a metal helm.  It was hauntingly similar to the armor that had been forced onto Meta during his brief stint as Mecha Knight, though the accents were pink instead of blue.  Eclipse flared her black feathered wings, lights blinking on the metal augmentations that had been attached to them.  She then slowly made her way towards the two men, swaying slightly as she walked.

                “Aren’t you going to say hello, Dark?” Parallel taunted.  Eclipse seemed to perk up at her words, and she tilted her head, looking at the occupants of the room. 

                “Dark…” she mumbled, causing the man to scramble backwards and brandish his weapon.  He was obviously terrified, which seemed to greatly amuse Parallel.

                “Dispose of them, Electro Galacta!” she cackled, flipping a switch on the remote.  Electricity began to spark over the augmentations, yet Eclipse didn’t move aside from shifting her shield a little.  Parallel frowned and flicked the switch on and off to no effect.

                “It is already failing,” Meta commented, backing away.  Parallel snarled and held her remote aloft.

                “I have a backup,” she hissed, pressing down another button.  The electricity sparking over the armor stopped momentarily before intensifying, causing Eclipse’s body to go rigid as she cried out.  Eclipse curled in on herself, shuddering violently.  A scream of rage ripped itself from her throat, and she flung her shield like a frisbee, barely missing the two men and slamming into Parallel, shattering her and sticking into the remains of the crystal prison.  Eclipse then relaxed and straightened up, walking leisurely between the men and towards her shield, causing the two to scatter away from her.

                She pulled the armor off as she went, starting with the visor and removing the chest piece next.  Her horns were a pure white color, and one of them was partially missing.  She pulled off the metal gauntlents and let them fall to the floor, running a hand through her black hair.  Eclipse walked straight through the pile of Parallel’s shards and retrieved her shield.

                “How annoying!” she said, her voice airy and sweet.  Eclipse then flared her wings out to their full impressive span, sending out a burst of energy that caused the remaining robotic armor to break into pieces.  She shook the shards off and surveyed the two men.  Her eyes were a bright pink color, and her gaze felt almost predatory despite the easy smile.  “Oh, is this your counterpart?” she asked, walking towards Meta as Dark fell into a trembling battle stance.

                “Stay away from him,” Dark hissed, fear evident in his tone.  There was a flash of anger in Eclipse’s eyes, but it was gone in an instant.  Meta stood his ground; brandishing Galaxia as Eclipse drew closer.  Her shield was pointed instead of round like Galacta’s, and the lance she wielded was long, ending in a needle-thin point.

                “Whatever is an Other-Worlder doing in your castle, darling?” Eclipse asked.  Meta unflinchingly met her gaze.

                “I am here to assist in your defeat,” he said.  Eclipse giggled at his answer and glanced over at Dark.

                “Oh?  Aren’t you feisty?  Are you the reason my little Dark is being so grumpy?” she said, menacingly looming over Meta.  Meta backed up to gain back his strategic distance, scowling.

                “He isn’t yours, wretch,” he snarled.  Eclipse gave him a flat look, and in the blink of an eye she discarded her shield and grabbed him by the neck.  Her eyes burned with fury despite her still smiling.

                “You don’t speak for him, and he isn’t saying much at all.  He very well knows where his loyalty should lie,” she said, turning her head to look at Dark.  The man was frozen in terror, his sword shaking in his grip.  “In his future queen, not some pathetic Dreamlander.  Don’t be afraid, love, I forgive you.  I could sense when Dark Mind fell, and I couldn’t wait to rule with you!  Without him between us, we can conquer both dimensions!” she cooed, genuine manic glee on her face.  Meta tried to use his dwindling strength to swipe at her, but she effortlessly disarmed him with her lance.

                “D-Dark…” he choked, looking desperately at the man as he remained motionless.  Eclipse laughed, the sound melodic and sweet.

                “Do not worry, I can protect you after I kill this interloper.  It won’t matter that he’s gone, I’ll never let anything near you!” she said before conjuring a small floating knife out of black energy.  She cruelly ran the blade over Meta’s cheek, inflicting a shallow cut that caused Meta to flinch even in his oxygen deprived state.  “Other-Worlders are so pathetic and frail, bleeding with every little cut,” Eclipse purred, adding a second cut above the first.  She then hovered the blade over his left eye, a mad grin on her face.  “Perhaps if I cut out your eye, I can bear to keep you around.  You’ll look just like my darling then.”

                “Please…” Meta whispered, still looking at Dark.  The man looked right back, his single eye’s pupil pinned with terror.  He was tensed up now, and his sword shook just a little less.

                “He won’t help you.  He knows his place, and it is beside me, not some pathetic interloper.  Isn’t he a cute little coward?  Dark knows that I’m the only one who would ever love him, he wouldn’t dare to defy me-“

                “LET HIM GO, YOU BITCH!” Dark snarled, landing a brutal blow to her side with his blade that sent her flying into the distant wall.  Meta fell to his knees, coughing violently.  He recovered quickly, grabbing his sword and standing.  Another horrible bruise was forming atop the one he had already received from Dark Taranza, and a fair amount of blood ran from the fresh cuts on his face.

                “I am growing very tired of being strangled,” he hissed, keeping his gaze on Eclipse.  Dark was still trembling, but his red eye told Meta that it was from rage this time.  Glass crackled out over the floor from his feet as his magic surged, and he pointed his blade at her, flaring his wings over his head.

                “FUCK YOU!  HE’S DONE MORE FOR ME THAN YOU EVER DID!” Dark roared.  He then glanced at Meta, his fierce expression causing a fluttering feeling in Meta’s chest that was separate from the stress of battle.  “I’m sorry I didn’t step up sooner.  But I’m ready to end this now,” he said.

                “What is the end game here?  Shatter her?” Meta asked, pushing down his strange feelings.  Dark looked back to where Eclipse lay slumped against the wall.

                “I’m going to seal her away again,” he intoned.  Meta frowned.

                “I was under the impression that Dark Mind imprisoned her,” he said.

                “Yes, but the remaining part of the crystal should give me enough magic to draw on if we can shove her back into the hole she created,” Dark responded.  The two men focused their attention back to Eclipse as the woman got to her feet.  She was guarding her injured side, and a few cracks spiderwebbed out from the impact point.  She wasn’t smiling anymore.

                “You pathetic little shit.  You don’t have a damn clue, do you?  I could give you everything, but you chose a wretched little Dreamlander,” Eclipse snarled, flaring out her wings.  A magenta aura roiled off her form, and both men could sense the incredible amount of magic she was giving off.

                “I’ve gotten stronger, Eclipse, and I’ve gotten smarter.  And I’ve realized that the only things you have to offer are pain and fear,” Dark hissed, the earlier tremble in his voice having completely vanished.  Eclipse sneered and conjured a multitude of black blades.

                “You are nothing without me!” she screamed, sending a volley of the blades towards the men.  Meta deftly dodged the projectiles as Dark stood his ground, shattering them and creating a mound of black shards around him.  Eclipse then took to the air, hovering in place as she sent out another rain of blades and dove towards Meta.  The air shimmered around Meta and he vanished as the tip of her lance struck where he had been standing, reappearing behind her.  She barely parried his swing and shot back into the air.

                “I’m better off without you and you know that!” Dark snapped.  The stone floor was just reflective enough to bend to Dark’s magic, and he sunk into it, lurking within and waiting for a moment to strike.  Meta raised his sword, his eyes glowing brightly with magic.

                “You are rather delusional, aren’t you?” Meta drawled, sending a massive sword beam towards Eclipse.  She never even tried to dodge it, instead destroying the blade of energy with a single swipe of her lance.

                “You are both nothing compared to my power.  You are only delaying your deaths,” she said, thrusting her lance into the air.  It shot out a powerful beam of light that Meta barely dodged, and the beam pursued him as he fled through the air.  It finally dissipated, leaving a scorched trail in its wake.  Meta landed and glanced to his side as Dark reemerged from the floor.

                “Any particular plan of attack?” Meta asked.  Dark remained staring forward without response, and Meta leapt away from the area as Eclipse landed as well, lunging at Dark.  He parried her blows as well as he could, but he failed to keep up with her pace.  Meta cried out as he saw her lance pierce straight through Dark’s chest, and he stood in hollow shock for a few moments before Dark’s body began to crack and crumble.  Meta sighed in relief as he processed the implication, and it wasn’t much of a surprise when Dark landed a devastating blow from behind, totally cracking off one of Eclipse’s wings.  He slipped back into the floor before she could land a retaliatory blow, emerging next to Meta.

                “A perfect diversion,” he quipped.  Eclipse shook with rage as her wing continued to crumble away until it was merely a stump.  She held out a hand and summoned an object in a burst of magenta magic.  It was a frost coated bottle that had something fluttering about within it.

                “Don’t think you’ve come even close to defeating me,” she snarled, gripping the cork and popping open the bottle.  A dragonfly seemingly made entirely of blue light darted out, and Eclipse held her hand out for it to land.  It alighted on her palm, and she gazed at it with a mad look in her eyes.  “A shard of a fallen demigod…” she muttered, before suddenly clenching her hand into a fist, seemingly crushing the insect.  “Its power will be mine!”  Eclipse laughed wildly as she dissolved into a cloud of blue dragonflies, leaving one larger one in the center.

                “What the hell?” Dark exclaimed, his breath fogging in the suddenly cold air. 

                “Just like that butterfly,” Meta said, watching the spectacle with wide eyes.  The larger dragonfly let out a blinding light, causing the two men to avert their eyes.  When they could finally look back, they were shocked at what stood before them.

                Eclipse was now adorned in glimmering cobalt armor, clutching twin blades that were shaped just like the four dragonfly wings that now jutted from her back.  Her black hair had turned snow white, and her horns had vanished.  Ice crystals crackled across the floor, and a wintry wind blew through the room as Galacta opened her now pitch-black eyes.  She grinned and twirled her blades, before pointing one at each of her foes.

                “Take it in!  The demigod that governs winter and the heavens!  The power of Nympha Knight!” Eclipse cackled, a full sheet of ice forming around her feet.  Meta and Dark glanced at each other as they were buffeted by the icy gale.

                “Fuck,” Dark said simply.

Chapter Text

                Meta and Dark backed away as power surged from the transformed Eclipse.  She was laughing madly as she exerted her newfound magic, causing frost to creep over every surface.  Her wings began to buzz, and she darted into the air, zipping around at blinding speeds. 

                “Are you both prepared to die?” she taunted, raising her blades.  Eclipse slashed them downwards, sending out several blue blades of light.  Meta quickly side-stepped the attack as Dark tried to block it, only to have ice begin to creep up his sword.  He was forced to discard it as the ice reached the hilt, and the sword was quickly overtaken entirely by jagged ice crystals, fusing to the floor. 

                “Shit,” he hissed, conjuring a mirror blade and snatching it.  It was brittle, but it was better than nothing.  Eclipse spotted this and darted towards him.  He barely managed to intercept her swing, blocking the second sword by conjuring a jagged spire of glass.  Dark pushed at her blade with all his might, but his own fragile weapon was beginning to crack under the pressure.  The mirror blade shattered just as Meta charged into Eclipse from the side, sparing Dark.

                Meta broke away before Eclipse could retaliate, but she recovered quickly and engaged him.  Meta was only barely keeping up with her flurry of blows, and their weapons were mere blurs as they dueled.  The edges of Meta’s form flickered, and he teleported back and out of range, taking to the air.  Eclipse grinned and vanished in a flurry of icy fog, reappearing directly in front of Meta.  She swung one of her blades down in a brutal blow that Meta blocked, though it knocked him backwards.  Before Meta could recover, she surged forward and landed a direct blow across Meta’s chest, sending him hurtling to the floor below.

                “Meta!” Dark cried, sprinting towards him.  He caught the fallen man and leapt away as another volley of icy projectiles stuck the ground where they had been.  Meta regained his senses quickly, wincing at the sharp pain in his chest.  The blow would have been lethal without his hidden armored vest, but Eclipse’s blade had still managed to cut through it and lacerate his skin. 

                “It is a minor wound, you may let me down,” he said.  Dark swiftly set him back on his feet and they both whipped around to face their foe.  To their confusion Eclipse was zipping around erratically, seemingly in pain.

                “Stop this-!” she wailed, though her voice sounded different.  Eclipse then hovered in place, shaking off whatever had come over her and turning her attention back to the two men.  She raised her twin blades into the air, and they began to glow brightly.  “Anyway, back to killing you!” she shrieked as the weapons grew to a massive size.  Dark and Meta looked at each other in alarm and leapt away as Eclipse smashed the massive swords into the floor, buckling it and sending up a cloud of debris.  The force of the impact sent the men flying, slamming Meta into a wall and allowing Dark to slip into the reflective stone.  Meta slid from the wall and onto his feet, standing firm despite the hard blow.

                “Dammit,” he hissed.  He couldn’t afford another hit like that, but Eclipse had already lifted the weapons for a second blow.  Meta watched the blades like a hawk, and he vanished at the moment of impact, reappearing shortly after.  Eclipse scowled as he emerged unscathed and hefted one of the enormous weapons, stabbing the tip at him.  Meta dodged the thrust by bending backwards in an incredible display of flexibility, causing the blade to sink into the wall behind him.  The shining surface glinted above him as he rolled out from under it, and he could swear he saw a figure moving over it.

                “Why don’t you give up?  I’ll grant you a painless death then,” Eclipse cooed, fixing Meta in her predatory gaze.  Dark suddenly sprang out of the surface of the massive blade and ran along it, sprinting towards Eclipse with two mirror blades in his hands.  He brought them both down onto her shoulders, shattering the weapons and causing her to cry out in pain.  Her swords dissolved into their original size, and she kicked Dark away as he fell.  He slowed himself with his wings and landed lightly, a few cracks running over where she’d kicked his stomach.

                “I think I like our chances,” Dark taunted.  The armor on Eclipse’s shoulders had crumbled under the blow, and her shoulders themselves were badly cracked.  The blue aura around her surged as she let out another scream of rage.

                “I’LL DESTROY YOU!  I’LL BURN THIS KINGDOM TO ASH!” she screamed, diving towards Dark.  Dark conjured another blade and blocked her, though she was able to hurl him into the wall.  Eclipse was before him faster than he could recover, and she crossed her blades over his neck.  Meta rushed to help but was repelled by several more waves of energy swords. 

                “Dark!” Meta called out, desperately fighting to get closer.  Eclipse ignored him, sliding her blades closer to his neck.

                “He can’t save you now,” she purred.  Dark stared back defiantly, his eye glowing brightly with magic.

                “I don’t need him to,” he shot back, driving Eclipse back by causing an enormous glass sword to shoot up between them.  She snarled and slammed the hilts of her blades into the glass, but Dark was nowhere to be found as it shattered.  Her eyes widened, and she leapt back as Dark reached out from the wall to punch her.  Eclipse darted into the air, narrowly avoiding Meta as he lunged at her.

                “You!  You…” Eclipse began to shudder violently, and her swords dissolved away as she clutched at her head.  “No, I won’t let you-“ she fell silent, and slowly looked up at Dark and Meta.

                “Help me,” she said, in a different voice.  Meta stepped forward, still cautiously brandishing Galaxia.

                “Who are you?” he asked, earning a funny look from Dark.  The person that looked like Eclipse gave him a pleading look.

                “I am Ny-“ she cried out again and darted around wildly before hovering in place again.  Someone looked up with a blank expression as they summoned their blades.

                “Enough of that,” Eclipse hissed, her face twisting into a scowl.  She conjured more projectiles and flung them at the men, flying at Meta as the two dodged them.  Meta blocked her first strike as Dark intercepted her second sword.

                “It seems that you are of two minds about this,” Meta jeered, pushing back against her blade.  Eclipse snarled and darted back into the air, allowing magic to surge into her weapons.

                “I won’t be bested by a half-dead demigod!  I’ll destroy you both-“ Eclipse let out another scream and clutched at her head, her swords dissolving into energy as they hit the floor.  “No, no!  I won’t let you!  I WON’T LET YOU!” Eclipse screamed, darting about erratically.  Her wings stilled and she fell to the ground, the wintry gale whipping through the room petering out as she plummeted.  She lay still for a long moment, and the two men cautiously approached the fallen warrior.  Her hands suddenly clenched at the floor, and they quickly backed off again as she stood.  A sense of serenity filled the room as she looked at the two, her expression gentle.

                “I apologize for how my power was being used,” she said, in a voice that was not Eclipse’s.  Dark lowered his weapon a little, searching for any sign of this being a ploy.

                “Are you…?” he asked, finding none.  A gentle breeze began to flow through the room, and it felt cool and fresh on the men’s faces.

                “I am Nympha Knight,” she said.  Her voice was almost like a lullaby, lilting and rich.  Meta finally lowered his blade as well.

                “Have you regained full control?” Meta asked, still wary.  Nympha shook her head, a genuinely sorrowful look on her borrowed face.

                “Not for long.  This vessel is powerful, and she seethes with hatred,” she responded.

                “I need to seal her in that crystal,” Dark said, pointing at the shattered prison, “Could you help us hold her there?”

                “I can buy you a few minutes,” Nympha said.  She then grimaced and rubbed at her arms.  “This vessel has killed many innocents, I can hear their spirits screaming out.  I would be glad to assist in sealing her.”

                “Thank you,” Dark said.  Nympha smiled gently and darted over to the crystal, moving far more elegantly than Eclipse had.  Dark followed her, and Meta trailed behind him, taking a moment to survey the wound on his chest.  The cut was shallow but spanned across his entire chest, and he could feel warm blood seeping into his clothing. 

                “This will need stitches,” he groused.

                “Perhaps I can test a healing charm out on you?  Since the experience was so very pleasant for me…” Dark teased, glancing back at Meta.

                “Yes, because a moment of pain is worse than a month of recovery,” Meta snapped.  Dark only chuckled and looked forward again, stopping as he reached the crystal.  It towered over him, the broken section glittering in the ambient light.  Nympha looked at the hole and turned to face Dark, her expression serious.

                “She will only be unconscious for a few minutes once I leave this vessel,” she said.

                “It’ll only take a minute for the sealing spell to work since I’m drawing on what’s already here,” Dark replied.  Meta stood a foot back, observing silently.

                “Alright, I will begin then.  May we meet again under more favorable circumstances,” Nympha said, floating backwards into the hole.

                “Anything would be more favorable than this,” Dark said wryly, gathering his magic.  Nympha smiled in amusement before closing her eyes and becoming enveloped in blue light.  There was a brilliant flash, and then Eclipse lay there, back to her original form with her lance lying by her side.  A glowing blue dragonfly flitted away from the unconscious woman and hovered near Dark and then Meta for a moment each.  It then shot off down the corridor behind them as Meta tracked it with his eyes.  He turned back to see magic surging from Dark’s form, his body becoming surrounded by multiple floating geometric mirrors.

                “Incredible,” he said, sensing the immense power flowing from the man.  The crystal shone brightly as it began to heal, the cracks and breaks slowly fading into flawless glass.  The hole began to inch closed, and Meta came closer as to better see the spectacle.

                “I can’t believe I ever loved her,” Dark said as the other man approached.  Meta stood to his side, giving him a glance.

                “People like her know what to exploit.  You are no lesser for having been a victim to it,” he said, still watching the hole close.  Meta was startled into looking at the other as Dark let out a loud laugh.  Dark noticed Meta’s confused look and quickly stifled the sound.

                “Sorry, it’s just that before all this I had the totally wrong impression of you.  I thought you were some arrogant, pompous asshole, but you’re actually not bad at all.  Who I thought you were would never say something like that,” he explained. 

                “Not bad, hm?  High praise,” Meta drawled, though his tone was light.  Dark gave him an amused look before his expression morphed into something more thoughtful.

                “Hey, after all this mess gets sorted out, would you like to-“ Dark cut himself off with a surprised sound, and Meta frowned, turning to face him.

                “What-?” Meta’s blood froze as he saw Eclipse’s lance pierced through Dark’s stomach, the blood coated tip jutting out of his back.  Eclipse was straining against the crystal that had already covered her, and an insane grin twisted her lips.

                “How about a parting gift?”

Chapter Text

                Meta stared for just a moment in shock before his battle instincts kicked in, followed by a surge of seething rage. 

                “You…” he snarled, shifting his weight, “YOU ABSOLUTE BITCH!”  Meta landed a brutal kick to Eclipse’s face that forced her deeper into the hole within the crystal.  The lance slipped from Dark’s body and fell within the crystal as the man staggered back.  Eclipse looked up at the two, half of her face marred by cracks.

                “I said he wouldn’t survive without me, and I’m going to ensure that he doesn’t,” she cackled.  Meta only watched as the hole continued to close, his expression hollow.

                “Why…” he said, unable to find his words.  Eclipse only gave him a sweet smile.

                “Because I love him!” she said, finally falling silent as glass crept over her face.  The crystal finally sealed itself, and Meta snapped out of his trance and rushed to Dark, catching him before he could fall.  Meta laid him gently on the floor and immediately pulled open the man’s jacket, hoping to better see the wound.

                “Wow, did the passion of battle get to you this much?” Dark chuckled weakly, wincing as his stomach moved. 

                “Save your breath,” Meta scolded, finding the wound and pulling Dark’s undershirt up to expose it.  Blood was flowing out of it at an alarming pace, and Meta mentally noted its location, running through a mental checklist of the anatomy there. 

                “I can breathe fine, but I’m bleeding badly I think,” Dark said.  Meta allowed his wings to meld into his cape, and he retrieved some gauze from his pocket dimension. 

                “I think your liver may have been punctured.  I need to apply pressure and it is going to hurt,” Meta said.  Dark looked down at the steady stream of blood and swallowed thickly.

                “Damn, alright.  I’m ready,” he replied.  Meta pressed down firmly, causing Dark to cry out in pain and grasp the edge of the man’s cape.

                “External pressure like this will not stop internal bleeding.  We need medical attention immediately,” Meta urged.

                “Mirror-Worlders usually shatter, they don’t bleed like this.  No doctor will have anything to stop this here,” Dark said through gritted teeth.  Meta blanched a little at his words, cold panic rising in his chest.

                “Then I will use a healing charm to partially fix it and transport you to Dreamland.  Our physicians can help you,” Meta suggested.  His heart sank as Dark gave him a sad look.

                “Eclipse’s lance negates healing magic,” he explained, “And the Dimensional Mirror is at the bottom of Olive Ocean.”  Meta gave Dark a terrified look, his usual confidence having totally deserted him now.

                “What do I do?” he asked.

                “I don’t know,” Dark murmured, starting to feel light-headed.  Both then turned to look at the room’s entrance as footsteps rapidly approached.  A child with black hair sprinted towards them, and Dark’s face brightened a little.

                “Shadow!” he cried.  Shadow reached them and immediately knelt by Dark’s head, his eyes wide.

                “Dark, what happened?” he asked, looking at the blood seeping up beneath Meta’s hands.

                “We fought Eclipse and she got me with the lance.  Where’s everyone else?”

                “They’re retaking the castle and town,” Shadow explained.  He then turned to Meta with fear in his eyes.  “Will he be alright?”  Meta resisted the urge to lie.

                “It is dire,” he said.

                “Look, I’m sure it’ll be OK,” Dark began.

                “Don’t lie to me!  It looks really bad!” Shadow cried, tears welling up in his eyes.  Meta felt like he was going to begin panicking at any moment, but he forced himself to at least appear calm.

                “I am doing my best to control the bleeding, but he needs a doctor,” he urged.  Shadow shook his head and wiped at his eyes.

                “The doctors here don’t do this sorta stuff!” he wailed.  Dark looked up at his brother, his eyes having dulled a little.

                “Don’t cry,” he said, his voice sounding weaker.  His skin was beginning to feel colder beneath Meta’s fingers.

                “He is going into shock.  Reach into my cape and place the blanket there over him, Shadow,” Meta said, his voice firm.  Shadow hesitated for a second before reaching in, shuddering at how cold it was.  He retrieved the blanket and spread it over Dark.

                “I feel cold…Is that blood loss?” Dark asked. 

                “Yes, stay calm,” Meta soothed.  The gauze under his hands was now saturated with blood. 

                “I feel faint…”

                “Stay awake, Dark!” Shadow sniffled.  Dark’s eyes slid shut, and he did not respond to several more attempts by Shadow to rouse him.

                “I’m sorry…” Dark finally whispered.  He then fell silent again.

                “Dark!” Meta shouted.  The man’s eyelids fluttered, and he groaned softly.  Meta grit his teeth.

                “Brother, wake up!” Shadow sobbed, clutching at the man’s chest.

                “Dark, you are not dying here!” Meta snarled, pressing down harder on the wound.  The man’s breathing was becoming shallower.

                “Dark…” Shadow’s words melded together into an incomprehensible mess as he sobbed.  Meta’s eyes narrowed.

                “You are not going to just die after all of this, Dark.  Not after how hard you have fought, not after…” Meta fought through the lump in his throat, “…Not after making me like you.”  Dark had no response, and he was barely breathing.  Something wet trailed down Meta’s face, and he only realized he was crying when the tears dripped onto Dark, trailing over the small cracks in his stomach from the fight.  Cracks…

                “What?!” Shadow cried as Meta leapt to his feet, tearing off the blanket and darting for his sword.  The child jumped in front of his brother as Meta returned, brandishing the weapon.  “What are you doing?!”

                “If I shatter him before the wound kills him, he will survive, yes?” Meta asked.  Shadow stared blankly for a moment before he moved aside, hope brimming in his eyes.

                “Yes, if the killing blow isn’t the lance, he’ll be fine!” he cried.  Meta ran to Dark’s side, and his blood chilled as he noticed how still the man’s chest was.

                “Forgive me for this,” he muttered, plunging his blade directly into Dark’s heart.  Nothing happened, and Meta stood in hollow shock.  Fresh tears began to drip down his face, and he fell to his knees.  He buried his face into his hands and silently sobbed.  Then, there was a faint crunching noise.

                “Is he…?” Shadow asked, returning to his brother’s side as Meta looked up at Dark.  Tiny cracks began to radiate out from Galaxia that soon grew larger.  The child broke into a huge grin as Meta got to his feet, for once happy that Dark was shattering.

                “He will live,” Meta said, almost feeling faint from relief.  There would be time later to process why he’d been so crushed.  For now he allowed himself to be happy as he watched Dark crumble into a pile of large glass shards.  The pile was glittering and glinting, catching and bending the ambient light.

                “Hey, other brother…”  Meta wiped his tears onto his sleeve before addressing Shadow. 

                “Er, yes?” he asked, retrieving his sword and slipping it into his cape.

                “Do you have anything to carry the shards with?  It’ll be a good few hours before he reforms, and he’d probably like to be in his room,” Shadow asked.  Meta rummaged in his cape for a minute before retrieving a large bucket.

                “If I may, I would like to remain here until he reforms,” he requested.  Shadow took the bucket and began to dutifully gather the shards, being careful not to cut himself.

                “You helped save him, and the kingdom.  You can stay for a while if you want,” Shadow said.  Meta knelt to assist the child, offering a spare pair of gloves from his cape as well.  Shadow took them gratefully and donned them.

                “Thank you,” Meta said simply.  Shadow gave him a funny look.

                “Though, don’t you want to get home?  Why stay here?” he asked.  Meta silently gathered shards for a moment before responding.

                “There are matters I wish to discuss with Dark,” he responded.

Chapter Text

Meta sat reclined on the bed, stretched out and impatiently fidgeting.  It had been a good seven hours since Dark had shattered, and he had still failed to reform.  Shadow Kirby had explained that the damage he took would mean a longer period before he reformed, but it didn’t make Meta any less impatient to talk to him.  He’d been offered a guestroom to wait in, and though it was certainly luxurious it still did little to assuage Meta’s rapidly deteriorating mood.

                The cuts to his face and chest had been bandaged up, and he’d discarded his ruined coat and shirt, wearing a simple black shirt for comfort’s sake.  A novel lay discarded next to him, as he had been entirely unable to concentrate enough to read it.  His mind was still a chaotic swirl of thoughts and emotions and he had resigned himself to simply ruminating on them.  Meta’s ears pricked up as he heard someone knocking at the door, and he went to open it.

                “Has he reformed-?” he began, but he fell silent as he caught sight of his visitor. 

                “I’m back,” Dark said.  The injuries and cracks inflicted on the man had vanished, but he was still rather disheveled looking.  Meta blinked.

                “I see that,” he replied.  An uncomfortable silence fell, and Dark shifted a little.

                “Can I come in?” he asked, startling Meta a little. 

                “Of course,” Meta said, moving aside.  Dark walked in and made a beeline right to the bed, sitting on the edge and crossing his legs.  Meta closed the door and walked over to him, leaning against the nightstand. 

                “There’s a lot for me to do, but Shadow said you wanted to talk to me so…” Dark said, looking at Meta.

                “Yes, that is correct,” Meta responded.  Dark gave him a long look.

                “So…talk?” he urged, gesturing for Meta to continue.  Meta crossed his arms, tapping his fingers against himself.

                “Yes, well…” he began, looking uncomfortable, “I wanted to discuss something with you.”

                “You’re being really vague, which concerns me,” Dark drawled, leaning back a little.  Meta gave him a narrow-eyed look.

                “I am having difficulty gathering my thoughts,” he admitted.  Dark put a hand to his chin, looking thoughtful.

                “Well, does it have anything to do with what you said when I was dying?” he asked.  Meta seemed to curl in on himself a little at the other’s words, and he pointedly looked away.

                “You heard that.”

                “I thought I imagined it honestly, but apparently not,” Dark said.  He leaned further back, looking up at the canopy above the bed.  “You know, when I thought I was done for, I had an odd thought.”

                “I was under the impression that all of your thoughts were odd,” Meta quipped.  Dark leaned forward again and shot him an amused look.

                “Maybe they are.  But this one stood out,” he responded.  Meta raised an eyebrow.

                “What was it?” he asked.  Dark laughed, though he sounded almost nervous.

                “You know, after I thought about how everyone would do without me, I couldn’t stop thinking…” he said, glancing down and then back up to Meta, “I was so very sad that I wouldn’t get to see you again.”  Meta tilted his head and uncrossed his arms, placing his hands on the edge of the nightstand.

                “Why?” he asked. 

                “Well, I’ve just gotten to really know you, yeah?  And I was sad that I couldn’t ever learn more about you,” Dark confessed.  He shifted a little and looked away.  “It seems kinda childish now, but it really hurt at the time.”

                “I do not think such a notion is childish, particularly when facing death,” Meta assured, “But I am confused as to why it was me.”

                “Like I said before, I thought you were an entirely different person than you really are.  But who you really are is someone that I think, uh…” Dark cleared his throat awkwardly.  “I think you’ve become pretty important to me, honestly.”  Meta gave the man a startled look.

                “Really?” he asked, unable to come up with anything clever to say.  Dark only laughed and shook his head.

                “Is it really hard for you to believe that?  I mean, I know you were concerned for your own people too, but you still helped me regain my kingdom with nothing to gain.  Even if you acted like an absolute tit at first,” Dark explained, “You stayed there when I lost everything, even though I’d done nothing for you but lock you in a mirror once.  It’s a rare sort of person who would do that.”

                “I was simply drawn in,” Meta responded.

                “Oh come on, take the compliment.  I’m the last person you need to show humility around.”

                “I was curious as to what would happen.”

                “Why are you so desperate to seem like an asshole?  You did a good thing because you’re a good guy, that’s it,” Dark sighed.  Meta frowned.

                “I am not a good person,” he began, only to have Dark cut him off.

                “I don’t want to hear whatever emo bullshit you’re about to spout.  Even if it doesn’t mean anything coming from someone like me, I think you’re a good person.  Great, even.”

                “It does mean something,” Meta said.  The uncomfortable fluttering feeling in his chest was making it difficult to speak.  Dark gave him a mildly surprised look.

                “Huh.  Well, I mean it.  Maybe it isn’t true, and this is just one degenerate talking to another, but…” Dark turned his head so that his face wasn’t visible, “You’re a remarkable man.  I wish I was more like you.”  Meta tilted his head a little.

                “How so?” he asked.  Dark turned back so that Meta could see his face, but his eye was downcast.

                “I wish I had your confidence and bravery,” Dark confessed. 

                “I have not noticed an absence of either of those traits,” Meta responded, a confused look on his face.

                “I mean, I can fake confidence well enough.  But I was so scared during that battle that I nearly let her kill you,” Dark said, fidgeting.  It was strange to see him without any of his usual bravado.

                “While I would have appreciated not being nearly strangled to death, I recognize that you had far more to fear than I in that situation.  She cut out your eye, trauma like that never leaves you,” Meta assured.  He then sighed and crossed his arms again.  “At the risk of sounding like some insipid inspirational poster, there is no bravery without fear to overcome.”

                “God that’s cheesy,” Dark laughed.  Meta only shrugged.

                “Perhaps, but it is still true.  You displayed remarkable strength facing her like that after what she inflicted on you,” he said.

                “Couldn’t have done it alone, that’s for sure,” Dark said.

                “Likewise,” Meta responded.  Dark chewed nervously at his lip for a moment before he turned to face Meta.

                “I have to say this.  Thank you.  Really honestly thank you.  No sarcasm, no qualifiers.  You saved my life and helped take back my kingdom, and I am infinitely grateful that you were there by my side for this whole thing,” he gushed, his tone and expression entirely earnest.  Meta flushed a little and glanced away.

                “Um, you are welcome,” he muttered, feeling rather flustered.  The two sat in silence for a few long moments, and Meta shifted through his thoughts for something to say.  He frowned as he recalled a particular conversation.  “Do you remember speaking to me before you were injured?”

                “Hm?  Oh, yeah.  I remember it fine, why?” Dark said, snapping out of his own thoughts.

                “I am curious.  You intended to ask me something before you were wounded.  What was it?” Meta asked.  Dark thought for a moment before he remembered what he’d been saying.

                “Ah, yes.  Well, I was wondering…” Dark said, the light flush to his cheeks standing out on his pale skin.

                “Yes?” Meta urged. 

                “I was going to ask if you wished to join me for dinner.  The offer is still open if you’d like,” Dark said.  Meta blinked.

                “A date?” he asked slowly.  Dark gave him a surprised look.

                “Not necessarily, it doesn’t have to be any sort of intimate candle-lit affair or anything,” he said.  Meta’s blush deepened as he pointedly looked at the floor, though it was hard to see against his dark skin.

                “I would not object to a date, if that is what you wish,” he muttered.  Dark gave him a shocked look.

                “Really?!” he cried.  Meta gave him a blank look.

                “You incessantly flirted with me before all of this.  Why are you so surprised?” he deadpanned. 

                “I mean I didn’t think it would work.  I sort of do that to anyone I think looks good,” Dark replied.  Meta startled him by letting out a quiet laugh.

                “It did not work,” he chuckled.  He then noted Dark’s crestfallen look and amended himself.  “Flirting is not why I agreed to a date.”

                “What?  Quit being vague,” Dark whined, though he had perked up considerably. 

                “Like I said earlier, you made me like you.  Something about you wormed its way in and refuses to leave,” Meta mused.

                “Wow.  Romantic.”

                “You should know by now that I am not adept in matters of emotion.  I am sure you can grasp what I mean rather than the words I say,” Meta huffed.  Dark rolled his eyes.

                “And you should know by now that I’m teasing you,” he quipped.

                “I am trying to be sincere and heartfelt, and here you are bringing sarcasm into it,” Meta responded, though his tone was light.  Dark leaned on his knees, looking up at Meta with a small smile.

                “All joking aside, I understand what you’re saying.  And even ignoring the fact that you’re my reflection and I’m a raging narcissist…” Dark said, “You’re truly unforgettable.  I can’t imagine how many hearts you’ve broken by being so oblivious.”

                “I am not oblivious,” Meta huffed.  Dark laughed and shifted closer to Meta, putting a hand on his shoulder.

                “Hey, if I’m gonna feed your ego this much I have to knock you down a peg too,” he chuckled.  Meta gave Dark an irritated look, but it quickly faded to something else.  Dark tilted his head as the other man continued to stare.  “What is it?”

                “Nothing, it is just that…” Meta trailed off and shook his head.  “Never mind.”

                “Oh come on, now I’m curious,” Dark pouted.

                “It was a silly impulse, pay me no heed,” Meta muttered, reddening.  Dark stuck his tongue out at him.

                “Fine, don’t tell me your secrets,” he drawled.  Meta shifted uncomfortably, looking everywhere else before looking back at Dark.

                “It is not verbal,” he murmured.  Dark raised an eyebrow.

                “Oh?”

                “If you are so very curious, I could demonstrate.”

                “Of course I’m going to be curious when you’re being so vague!” Dark whined.

                “Then hush,” Meta said, leaning forward to gently kiss Dark.  He drew back after only a moment, looking almost shocked at his own actions.  Dark gave him his own look of shock before he relaxed and began to grin.

                “Hey, that’s a pretty good way to shut me up.  You should use it more often,” he said, looking positively gleeful.  Meta continued to stare blankly for a long moment before he turned an impressive shade of red and stood abruptly.

                “Excuse me,” he said, before turning and darting out of the room.  Dark sat in surprise for a second before he leapt up and pursued him, an irritated look on his face.

                “You can’t just kiss me and run off!  It’s too cliché!” he shrieked.