Chapter Text
The planets furthest out took notice first: a gravitational anomaly, a pressure that pulsed, pinched, but did not seize. A traveler, thought at the time not to mean much of anything.
Hardly a threat.
Neptune was the first to say hello: a friendly, irreverent planet; at worst the odd-looking stranger would just rebuff him and be on its way.
But she blinked, and smiled, and something about both those actions felt terribly, terribly wrong. Yet Neptune shrugged it off, since he knew what it was like to have quirks.
... Several hours later, he came chasing after the stranger in a panic, demanding to know where several of his moons had gone. He always remembered his moons, his family - how could they be missing?
And again the stranger - Iris, her name had been - blinked, and smiled. This was not a nice smile.
"As I am the Iris, you shall be the lens. They're not your moons any more."
Uranus may not have heard the scream, but he did hear several of his moons catching sight of Triton. Cracked far more than any normal rocky body could be while still being intact, he nevertheless could move.
But the look in his eyes was one of fear, and he tried not to come too close.
"It's- some new planet- she's a danger, don't let her get close - don't come close to me!"
Uranus did not spend any time fooling around, even if it meant leaving someone so distressed and damaged behind. He even ordered his own moons to pick travel buddies, to better keep track of each other.
Shortly thereafter, one of the dwarf planets arrived - Haumea, with his own ring but none of his moons. "I can't find a-any of the others," he'd said. "I don't remember- I don't know where my moons are!"
Uranus allowed him to tag along, more out of worry on if he ran across Triton than because he really wanted to watch over more celestial objects.
Indeed, perhaps this was serious enough that it was time to take this to the Sun...
The result of that conversation was enough to prevent the Iris from being sighted again for several hundred million years.
She'd made no sound, no overt fuss; instead, Jupiter simply came across her communing with Saturn, his oldest friend unnaturally quiet and still.
"What... what are you doing? What did you want with him?" Jupiter made sure not to be overly aggressive, but he was very, very alarmed and his tone of voice showed it.
"Oh, I'm forming a gateway! Very necessary step in my process, you see."
Before Jupiter could ask any questions - such as, gateway to what? - Ganymede soared forth, scowling. Europa shot Jupiter a startled look; apparently they were not on the same page here.
"And what'd you do with his moons, huh? They can't have all just run away; they could've come to us!"
The strange gas giant chuckled - a low, unnerving sound. "No, no, some of them did. Apparently their connection to this planet isn't very strong. But the others... they were very educational."
"Educational about what?" As much as Jupiter worried sometimes when his larger moons took initiative like this, these were definitely good questions to ask.
"Well, they've been very educational for my moons, for one. Not all of them know how moons work, and I'm afraid it takes a more 'hands on' approach to learn everything than these little ones were expecting... No harm done, however."
Jupiter found his own voice. "No harm done? No harm done? Where have you put these moons, then? Are they still alive?!"
The anger was no surprise, but then there was the fear - and that fear was swiftly validated, as with a very small pull of her gravity, she revealed her cluster.
Moons merged with each other - not just by gravity, but by some organic substance. Moons torn apart and fused with other moons.
And yes, some of them were still alive - and Jupiter as well as his moons were horrified at this, for even with their faces hidden, they could still speak.
Mostly to scream, but they were aware.
Jupiter decided he'd seen enough - and, warning the smallest moons to head to the asteroid belt, to warn the inner planets and the Sun, he charged.
Several hours later, those small moons returned: the Iris was gone, leaving Saturn in a coma, Jupiter mute and with far worse storms than normal... and several distorted moons.
Ganymede had been taken - dead, or worse, none of the survivors would say.
No one knew where Titan had gone, either.
At the same time - and quite possibly as a distraction - two entirely new moons had manifested inside the inner solar system, companioning the two planets closest to the Sun.
Well, companioning wasn't quite the right word: Venus, upon getting one look at 'Neith', and finding her appearance way too close to certain departed friends, declared, "Oh hell no, I am not going through with this 'monkey's paw' bullshit. No thanks!"
And promptly headed the opposite way, deranging his whole orbit in the process. Which meant he didn't see when Neith, frowning faintly, was torn apart by the solar wind...
But the others did. Mars, Mercury, and Earth and Luna. The Sun stared back, alarmed and baffled at once.
Then there was Vulcan, who was much more verbose - and disgruntled. "Seriously, boss? Did you think this through? I can guarantee I have less than a year existing in this orbit."
Mercury, eyes wide, struggled to find words for almost a minute. "O-okay, who are you?! A-and who's your boss?"
Vulcan sighed, tilting at the smallest planet in a dispassionate sort of way. "The Iris, of course. But there's no point running a long game when I'm going to be dead shortly, so... ask me anything?"
They certainly did, with each of the planets taking notes in their own way. And sure enough, being so close to the Sun's plasma dissolved the not-quite-real planet - not just in less than a year, but in a matter of weeks. Neith had been denied a chance to be truly acknowledged, but even getting attention wasn't enough to postpone that true death for Vulcan.
The changes kept coming, and faster. One day, Mars simply appeared in Earth's orbit - instead of having a chance to play and relieve stress, Mars had a ring, and Earth knew what that meant.
But since it was far too soon for either Phobos or even Deimos to have been ended that way, it also meant-
"Did... was it Iris?" Not The Iris, just Iris; Earth refused to give that interloper any kind of reverence. Mars hesitated, then shook no.
"She... she marked them, Earth. They were changing, and they were scared, a-a-and... I didn't want them to suffer, okay?" Mars choked up harder, tears beginning to track across his surface; Earth suspected this wasn't for the first time.
Coming as close as their Roche Limits would allow, Earth held Mars as best he could, offered what comfort he could.
But what really chilled him was what Mars said, after gaining back some modicum of composure:
"Earth- Earth, don't let her get Luna!"