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KOOPALINGS: THE TEENAGE YEARS

by Eightane / Foxy Boy

CHAPTER XXV, FINALE: WHAT ENDURES

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Dawn came to Grand Koopa City; no matter what, some things would not be suppressed, and one such miracle was the manifesting of a new day. Tattered canopies and brick rubble took on oranges and reds from the streaming of light, heavenly renewal.

Today was different in a splendid way... The first day without Kamek, with no evil magic, no chance to be squaring off. Koopas could walk out on their porches - or what was left of them, or they simply woke up under towels and sheets the now-homeless used for bedding - and know the sky would never fill with Toadies or bombardment again.

But uncertainty lived on. Recovery's process was painstaking; to rebuild, physically AND mentally, would take longer than some denizens' lifespans. This they accepted, each in their own way; there would be parties thrown for fixed properties, there would be graves visited and flowers laid down. There would be some who simply closed themselves off, ever-traumatized by horrors endured. They would disbelieve that Kamek was truly gone, no matter that he was. They'd have heavy doubts over Mario, too, so quickly allying with the man who ruled over them. This was expected in societies, that some wounds never heal.

Yet Bowser, showing his actionable side, set off to do what's right sans-delay. It hadn't been put off to this morning; Within half an hour of Larry and co.'s arrival, the youngest prince, Wendy and the plumber all three followed the king's dragging cape, down the walk to the infirmary. Peach and others stayed by to speak with families and soldiers, even cavort with those in better spirits; they could all use the benefits. Those who accompanied Bowser had greater business with whom he went to see.

Sharpness of sight came back to Morton; he'd already been mending in fine fashion, time and modern medicine were wondrous. When the door pushed open to his room, the white walls became faintly red, reflecting colour from his father's hair and tails. He sat up; a slight wince told Bowser that what he meant to do was indeed correct. Morton lifted an eyebrow, seeing a wand in the grasp of his dad. A magikoopa's.

"Morton..." began the monarch, whose face mixed love and regret. The son with the star on his eye almost leaned away, just an inch distant but retreating from Bowser. This had precedence, years' worth. And begrudge it Bowser didn't. Instead, he gave of himself. "If you hate me henceforth, for all the yesterdays, what filled them, I'd never call you wrong. And I will call you nothing from hereon but what fits for a son of the land."

Larry crowded in, as did their sister; Mario made sure to stand behind the king, until duty could be done. His turn would come. From the human's point of view, Bowser lifted one burly arm, light bathed his horns and shoulder scales, and the room felt lifted... Like eternal forces now pushed them up and hoisted them high. The truth was much greater; as Bowser's wand-holding hand lowered to point at Morton, beams shot across the paltry distance. Warmth filled this sterile medical space. Sparkling dust, almost fairylike, danced across the eyes and ears of Wendy, Larry. And it all coalesced on the injured, the burned, the son whose favour was restored.

Morton's body shone like his facial star was made real. From shoes to scalp, an emergence of glow, heightening, bright to where Wendy squinted, Larry looked away. Morton did not lift off the inpatient bed, or transform, neither were the goals. Rather he sighed, and the glow lessened, and when it was done with him... He was perfect. No wounds nor pain from skin grafts. No muscle aches or effects from sedatives.

He heard Wendy exclaim happiness. Had Larry's booming "Hell yeah!!" hit his eardrums. He bent his arms to raise up his hands; looked at them, one side then the other. They had seen the worst of the fiery wreck... And now, he stared on flawless hide.

"Arise, sir Morton, prince of Koopa... Earl of Deerfield." Proclaimed the king. Morton looked him in the eye.

"D-dad, I'm... I'm so-"

"What you are, is my pride and joy." Bowser returned. "No less you have new duties. I expect you'll get them done." He tried to sound firm, foreboding... But the grin on his chops gave him away. The new 'duties' were a new title... Earl meant landowner. "I'll carve out a wedge for you in the most eclectic of city quarters. One where diverse hearts and happiness dominate."

Then the king said something that even one month back would be close to impossible. "I was unfeeling for too long of a time. Now, you will take reigns on your future. You, and the man whose life you share."

And with that, a tall figure walked in behind Mario. Behind the king, and the two other loved ones present. He passed Bowser, and Morton *Stood*... Swung his feet off the bed and stood, to launch and throw his arms around Tom.

By Bowser's doing, the wand had found him first. And his supple skin, his smile, were as healed as the prince he loved. "Did I miss anything? Aside from you."

Morton leaned so hard, buried his face in his soulmate's chest. Wendy cooed as if two kittens were playing. Larry and their forebear both held happiness, not a speck of judgement. Seeing Morton so happy only further drove in that Bowser now did right by his son. "I know the pair of you will give all nearby subjects a reason to rejoice."

Tom kissed his love on the bald, youthful head... Stroked his chin with manful fingers. "If you need a while, to get your bearings and whatnot, we'll take it slow. There's all the time we could want."

Morton glanced up, locking gaze with the one who completed him. "Only if time is part of you. You are what this ticker wants." He fistbumped his own chest, and surrendered to Tom's warmth.

Wendy looked close to bursting with adorable-overload. Mario, meantime, stepped careful around the king, and showed utter courage to approach the two whose life he so-nearly ruined.

Morton saw him first, and apprehension was quick and clear. Tom swung his head, and gave a "Whoa..." with anger measurable. Mario backed up, stood somewhat stooped. Respect that he felt, he showed, and this might be all that kept them from an outburst.

The Italian took it slow, made it gallant. "I-a did you wrong... It was my intention the whole time, because... I... Didn't think of you as-a more than opponents. For years now, which is why I'm not-a sorry for just the wreck. But for castles ruined. And bruises on-a the children you used to be." He took off his cap; feathery brown locks lay tangled and nappy while both hands held his hat over his heart.

Before he countinued, the king interjected. "I stand guilty though unaccused... It's not as if my orders to them as tykes nor principles I taught were not hand-in-hand. If you stomped them, I had been the overlying point." Bowser reckoned, without further ado, for years of pain and failure they did for him.

Mario still focused inward; such was a hero's nature. Sibling nobles heard him out. "I did all of that, from-a hate for your father. Whether he-a sent you to fight me or not, I always had a choice, how I handled it. We blindly swore death to one another. And I admit, I-a would have continued to... But then I kept my life, at his hand, when I should have been-a toast."

He refrained from naming the nightmare scene in the bowels of the castle, and he who nearly eviscerated him. They might already have known, but either way, priorities were elsewhere. Morton's face lay reddish still, and Tom loomed over the plumber in a pose that proved him unconvinced... But both men didn't seethe. Bowser's calm and unprovoked demeanor was noticed; thus listening still happened.

"... When that-a mercy came to me, by your-a king, I saw a new truth. The side of him never known. And if he had-a such capacity, he couldn't be alone. And he gave me the chance to redeem him from the worst... The one who-a spited me since I wore diapers."

Larry nodded, morose. Remembering. Wendy dabbed her eyes with tissue. Morton's scowl melted, gradually, to nothing. Tom's towering stance at least partly relaxed.

"I-a thank Bowser for that chance-a given. The chance-a taken, by him, to put-a faith in me. And now that-a we secured our world... I don't-a think we'll be going back to old ways."

The star-eyed prince took on awe. He looked at Bowser, who had the pittance of a smile. This had been fact, and the monarch explained. "Kamek is done. As too is the bad blood which brought us to destroy. If humans like him can liberate our darkest hour..." He reached over, actually put a hand on Mario's shoulder. "... They might just be entitled to peace. And their own lands to prosper."

Mario's moustache turned upwards with joy. "And-a you the same. You have a proud people. Their-a love and worth they own."

Wendy did the most impossible thing, in anyone's minds. Stepped over, stooped down, and hugged the pipefixer. He was startled, like Morton, the king or even Larry, but she was right. And steadily, respectfully, his gloved palms met her back, and held her likewise.

Once she let go, Larry hugged his sister; happy, but sad for what they lost to have this moment in so many departments. "You rock, sis." Was all he offered up. She was positively fine with that, all it didn't have to say.

Bowser waxed forlorn. Morton would surely ask where the rest were, and one such answer hurt. It still did as he told it before his healed son could inquest. "Larry, Wendy, our remaining troops, they returned with honour... Lemmy..." He choked up. "... Will not share in the rewards. His sacrifice, we carry with us always."

The next few moments were a blur. Morton's rise of panic, and grief, his husband watching him devolve to despair. Tom threw his arms around his partner, wishing he could stop the hurt. The world was changed, fundamentally, for each scale-skinned soul whose agony connected. A hole that would never be filled. Short statements flew of how the wand they now possessed carried limits, as if that cold fate was buffered by knowing. Other words of bare encouragement were tried by Bowser, but even he declined to keep it together. Not failing... Allowing wails for that which they suffered. Healing started only with acknowledgement.

Silent was the march out of that recovery room, with Morton, Tom, Larry, Wendy, the king and the enemy of yesteryear. Bowser hadn't had to lay out how thrilled so many would be that Morton walked up the stairs to the lobby on his own two feet; it was understood. Numb in many ways, aching in others, but ready for today and their tomorrows, the prince who loved a man reached the landing at the edge of gatherings. Peach smiled and waved at her charming crush, who twirled his 'stache and made her giggle. The koopa children who'd been talking to her wide-eyed traced where she looked. They saw Bowser, and three of his adolescent clutch, and forgot temselves. Ages 4 to 10 an up and crowded around Mario and Morton. The youngest even rubbed snot on Morton's clean washed pants on accident... He didn't care at all. And one of them - had to be 7 years young or so - had towering hair in cool colours. Just like Lemmy had.

Soon Morton was embracing Ludwig, who grumbled as his brother learned the hard way of his mostly-healed arm. He gave kudos to the heir for carrying the bag of lemonade as well as he had with "battle scars". Ludwig just as quickly reminded him scars would come later, bone pain was now. They nearly took each other off their feet, rocking left and right in another hug.

The social night carried on. Citizens and soldiers alike got to know Peach's charm, her principles, her likeable self. Mario was humanized, ironically enough, by the tales of war he told in great (and mimed) detail. Laughs, livations, even champagne was brought out before all was said and done. The next day would be different.

... And so it was. Back in the present and the magic hour, Bowser wasted no time attending what the prince who looked down from heaven had wanted. Morning air was crisp and chilling at the top of the castle, blowing past turrets. Shadows on the trees far below went five times longer than the trunks were tall. Wendy's black dress billowed, as did Peach's. Mario stood hatless in a gourdish tux. Larry's, Roy's, Morton's, Tom's, Iggy's, Ludwig's, were all better-fitted, with no less muted reverence. Honour-guard Troopas, seven trumpeters, a grand piano and a gnawing loss shared this lofty place. Early morning, solemn and bereaved, for Lemmy's funeral.

He lay in state, on a cobbled-together board... The king's own soldiers had lovingly crafted, never had to be so much as pushed or ordered to do so. Four-feet-by-eight, teak and locustwood, for strength. They'd even recreated the art on his favourite deck; the patterns, the initials of his brothers and sis. Bowser's tears streamed, blurring the fine threads of Lemmy's burial suit. It lay dotted with gemstones, stitched by thread infused with gold. No chatter adulterated this. Larry leaned on Morton for strength. Iggy barely moved, frozen, still in the sort of shock that persisted. Ludwig stood close to the one thing servants didn't like toting up to this perch... A grand piano, Ludwig's muse. The future king saw his father lift head to the skies; this was the cue for him to step to the ivories, sit on the stool.

Wood creaked as he lifted the lid over keys. Ludwig played, his elegy sweet and of personal tones. Bowser heeded every note, feeling as if Lemmy lived on in the music. When it concluded, he hardly held together, pouring out from his heart's grief and his cracking, frail voice. "When first I held you, Lemmy... In the room with your mother, as she'd worked so hard to bring you into this world... My life was more complete than ever it had been. I felt this for all my blessed arrivals, one through seven. But I knew, my son... The smile and gurgling told that you would be different. Ambitious for happiness. Grounded in simplicity. A soul who lived to have the freedom of wind in his hairdo. I forever thank the cosmos for allowing you that... The shine of a spirit needing so little. Intentional, or not, you impressed on the people that happy-go-lucky's not at odds with your line. I bought you the wheels you so used, and loved, because to see you thrive was to thrive myself. A part of me lies deceased, today..." Droplets hit the stone between his feet. "... And I suppose it's the natural way, when a child leaves this wicked world before their parent. Yet it isn't natural for those who remain. It's never meant to be like this... And for sending you off, signing you over to the risks that ultimately took you, I... I shall never be forgiven. This ensures." His right hand he placed over his chest, upon a heart so broken. It was Wendy that walked up, sobbing as he did but reaching high to place an arm around him. She whispered in his ear; Larry looked away, losing composure, sure that what she said told how they all disagreed with him. No apology had to come, there was no call for penance.

She rubbed his back, around the spikes on his shell, and quieted him just so as to continue. He found his royal pitch... It still suffered for the weight that would not dislodge within. "At a time such as this, it's unthinkable a man could be happy... But a fraction of me, it almost feels relief... Because I know who you've met there, on the golden shores... How you must be catching up, and all she has to tell you. I weep not for you, my son. My agony is ours, that we now take up our turn to miss you terribly. Her wait for you is over. Ours only begins."

Another piano piece flowed from the hands of Ludwig, Bach's finest and most bitter creation. Iggy knew it, and thus redoubled his agony. Esmerelda wore no mascara, so none could stream down her face while empathy pained. Beyond Lemmy's feet, further than his shined, treaded shoes, was a ramp; also finished overnight, from polished wood they recovered in town. Pieces of homes that were lost in war, now led a gentle swoop down to the grounds, where a giant valley awaited. At least twenty feet square, its bottom was a foam that would hold weight yet slow any movement. Dark loam lay piled around the depression; sad faces on six koopas, three of them named Bret, Todd and Walt, were to the left and right of this resting place. They could not hear the speech of Bowser's, but stood in dignity, crying no less than those above. They had asked to be among those with shovels; this would be the pallbearing they did to fulfill Lemmy's wish.

Bowser placed his foot careful on the large board holding the body... Green scales and claws gripped easily the gritty top. He took one last look at the face of his skater son. It seemed like this couldn't be real, but he delayed not; in the pit of him he knew it was. "Goodbye, Lemmy... You carry my love, and theirs, to your reward..."

As kindly as a father could, he pushed just enough to get the board to roll. Larry, Morton and Wendy said their own farewell; the rest couldn't bear to try and talk. Down the slope, Lemmy's final ride, in the cool breeze, on the platform and four wheels he'd emblemized. Coasting to the ground, to the foam-valley, it hiccupped, tossed a smidge, but came to stop in the center. The first shovel of dirt went in. The hardest thing Bret, or Walt, or Todd or the soldiers aiding them had ever done, took up the minutes while Bowser hugged his children, helped them to weather.

Life, after all, went on. They would all have chosen to retreat, find solace in their rooms to grieve, but too much needed attending. The walk down from the castle's roof had never been so grim... And they each had a station, so to speak, for what amounted to commitments. Some were necessary; Ludwig had studies to begin, for the continuing truth that one day he would govern and be strength and stay for all of Dark Land's breadth. Some were simply decided... The desires of six teens to rectify what lay in present or past.

"I tell you," Larry muttered with Wendy next to him on the rebuilt drawbridge, "I haven't had my phone blown up. That's new for me, with all the dealers who talked to Roy through me, or just me, who'ever wanted what... I think you know what that means."

Wendy looked over, ran her hand through his hair for seeing him so troubled, while he looked down at the wood beams rather than towards her. She spoke with sureness. "I don't. You might have to remind me."

He showed pain to spell it out, but didn't blame her for it. "They didn't survive the blitz. IF they had, they'd find a cell by now. This means... It means my burden's been sniped by fate, and I didn't deserve." She noted his downcast eyes while he brought his hands together, slotting fingers. "I don't know which ones might be redeemed, before the fire takes 'em... If that's even a thing... Fuck, sis, I'm in a place I don't wanna be..."

Wendy reached and hugged him hard, squeezing his scales white with her devotion to the hold. "Shhhh. You aren't on the hook for their life or where they wind up... I... I hate to say this, but it's better they go forgotten."

Larry hesitated. This was different, as he looked in his sibling's well-aware face. But he took a second, processed it... And offered up an option. "How do you feel about driving out today?"

... Deerfield was quiet, somber but not in the dark... LED's blazed from a local bar, named "Fat Doe Speakeasy". No strippers, no fetishized anything, just a countertop where Coors would be poured and troubles lost. A bright set of headlights came in the parking lot and shut off; Larry got out, and opened the door for his sis.

He had a lot to be here for, her not so much. She disembarked for the view upwards... Stars were out and brighter now with the cutdown in population. As Larry strolled inside, she fixed her blush with a compact and stared due-up, to Alpha Centauri. She could drink in the infinite distance, appreciate the eyes to see it more now than ever.

Wendy bowed her head and thanked the forces that be for her lot in life, to stand here now with views so unmarred. Knowing Haley, and how she was unable now, forever... Wendy was dissolved in sobs by the time Larry started his biz in the bar.

Conversation went quickly enough, with a girthy Boomerang Bro manning the counter. "Make way," Larry started, " Your boss knows the score and what I need to settle up."

"I'm sure, but that's HIS time, not mine." The man laid it out straight. "I don't talk business that ain't my niche."

"Then duck out to the break room, or the crapper", came a thunderous voice. Larry smiled, the barkeep cringed, and the head-man sauntered out to take the place of his hired help. Boom'Bro did indeed head to the break room; he didn't wanna see how the hardass who signed his checks dealt with nobles. The owner leaned over the inside-counter, lips wrinkled, nose stout. His Virginia-Slim he puffed. Larry leaned in, jacketed with leather, ready for anything.

The prince chuckled. "You never change, Cal."

"Save the acting. What brings a titled snob who runs a tab like it's toothpicks, to THIS dive, when he KNEW I'd be gettable?" He twirled the slender cig in his mouth, reducing Larry's prestige by association. Second by second, he aimed to rob the noble of dignity.

... Larry let it be so. His plot was more sympatico. "Returning the favour."

"... What?"

And with that, Larry stuffed a lighter AND a pack of Newports - unoped, virgin - in the front pocket of the heavyset barkeep. The proprietor, the very same he'd taunted weeks ago, after such a sour night. He spoke sober as a judge, while the man stood there and reeled with a surprise mildened. "I lit something I shoudn't, when I didn't give a shit. Do whatever you want with this... Sell it to a smoker who comes in, I don't give a shit." He smacked the cig' box onto the bar-wood. The owner twitched, but stood back, thinking.

He at last came through with retort. "... I, guess I'll take it, but ... You're not welcome here anymore."

Larry recalled the last meet. He understood in good form. "Not a problem. You, though, are still welcome castle-side. Swing by for a free dinner on us. We'll compensate our kitchen no-bullshit."

Larry swung around and hightailed it out. He turned one last time, opening the door, to see the B.M.O.C. smirk. Knowing scores were settled, and that their wealthy wares would feed a working man, premium haute-cuisine, for someone who suffered him the worst years.

... Wendy hopped to her sports-car door, as he left the modest dive. She oponed the driver's side with relief, how he hadn't arrived to stir chaos. "I'm proud of you."

He tried to make light of it. "You mean you weren't when I marched out to snuff that wizard-prick?"

She snapped back, controlled but good. "You were told to kill a man. This took guts. You're showing you were wrong to a guy who serves booze."

"Shaddup, Malibu Barbie." Larry snarked. Wendy's laugh erupted in his ears, and he was fine with that.

But her next words weren't kidding around. Once she cranked the engine and left Deerfield behind, her thoughts translated to an impulse decision. He could hear in the tone conveyed. "Larry... I need to see her house. You know the way there."

They ended up at Haley's old home... Or rather, the gravel lot taken over by ivy. She might have been felled in the crash, but her parents were no luckier; two faces in the paper when it re-started printing, more victims of Kamek's last days. The town had started cleanup, and left only imprints, foundations. Wendy leapt out the gull-wing door to her own Lambo's passenger seat... Larry had agreed to drive her there. He knew the state she'd be in the closer they got, and now, seeing her crumple, lose stature as she shrank down towards gravity for seeing the nothing where her closest friend had once slept, he sped out the passenger door and accompanied. She walked to Haley's makeshift grave with a friend, a brother. And where it lay, her best friend would not be alone. Mother, Father, Haley, all spirits investing a family plot, no headstones, not one marker to dignify. Larry wiped his only sister's tears. She poured out her soul to the rocky field.

"I don't think I hate how this looks, now..." She sniffled, glum but keeping it together. "And I know I should. It... Suits you, girl. You didn't need a mansion to be a million bucks. Never... Had to have honours to be upstanding..." She struggled, but bit back her sorrows through the lower lip. It bled by the time she got to finish. "You deserved more than for me to bring you into that, stupid as I did."

"Hey, hey..." Larry half-comforted half-scolded, though his wish for her to not blame herself was already on her mind. She took his hand and delivered the rest with level head and heart.

"But that was just part of the life you had while I was lucky to know you. Who knows what you're getting into now... I bet the dates are cute in heaven... When it's my time, Haley, you gotta set me up. Find me River Phoenix, I bet he's a knockout every day." She actually smiled, and laughed... In a way she could feel Haley, happy herself. This place would always be hers.

Matter of fact, her mind stuck to that as Larry asked her the natural thing. "You gonna be okay, sis? Anything I can do?"

She didn't speak at first... Only reached down and picked up a rock. Tumbling it in her hand, examining the shape, the colours, each side. She laid it gently back down. "I'll made a deal with you... You can drive my baby home-" She glanced back, to the sweet car that carried them here. "-If you'll be next to me when daddy hears my idea for a historical marker." She could finally look at Larry, smiling, eyes swollen red all the same. "The only thing I'll let them add to this plot is a plaque."

His face lit up. A notion like that told him she would be okay... And her next turn proved this further, losing the crackle in her voice. "I'm sorry for the cold words, when things were different. Most of me figured you had a new 'normal', and if you hadn't brought us all to task that one night..."

"D'awww, no worries. I was a piece o' work, I'd have been pissed at me too on the regular." He patted her shoulder. "I lived for me, and for a while. But there's always a flipside, a drawback, a tradeoff. To have it scot-free would mean the rules of life had croaked. And I wouldn't'a earned it anyway. Hope you forgive me for the flunkie I was, out there 'n' smartassed."

He got her to laugh. "It's fine, if you didn't have a 'tude you wouldn't be young, dumb and full of more dumb."

He chuckled, socked her side very gentle. She mussed one side of his hair to make it extra-ridiculous. Even the rubble and the unattended bombing-sites took on a charm for the implied: that this, too, would pass into memory, a pain shelved and managed. So much else was already set to be that way, in this whisper of how Grand the city whose name had that word had once been.

Still, the way home was pockmarked with jabs to the gut. They had to make it past wooden beams that were painted with Le Baron's name... Renewal hadn't yet come to that address. The old maitre'd station even half-emerged, jagged, splintered from a business she'd laboured for. Wendy couldn't stand to look; no more customers would walk behind her, on the way to good food and fun. It didn't get easier when a few more stoplights had them pass the nail salon. Haley made so many young fashionistas glow; her accomplishments would stay in their lives as it did in Wendy's.

The koopa princess cried not, kept composed. After leaving the first site nothing else meant quite as much. And now she'd had her evening to reckon with it. Tomorrow was the first day of a future she'd be making herself.

By all rights she'd be more independent than before... For herself, and for Haley. "I may want you getting used to this girl and her steering," Wendy said of the car as Larry cruised comfortably, "It'll be yours someday."

He almost slammed on brakes, but settled for just gazing over carefully, in abbreved shock. He had one thing to say. "If you lemme paint it first."

She chortled; she'd miss the pretty purple hue, when that day came.

Air was warm tonight. They returned with optimism. If one thing changed for the better, since the sorceror's demise, their father was ten times easier to talk and engage.

Their arrival showed them a closed double-door. There was quizzical shock from Larry and Wendy; Two elite troopas stood, crossing spears to further project the king's being busied. This only happened when he was on the throne and hearing out an honoured guest... For want of trust and confidence, he'd entertain them undisturbed.

Wendy started to approach the leftmost guard; expecting a fight with this sort of sight. "Hey, we need to see our father. What's going on in there?"

The elite balked, somewhat softly however. "Nothing that's about you."

She was about to lift her arm, undo her hair and get combative; but the guard let slip a smile, stepped back, and the other guard relented as well. They opened the doors for her. Seeing into the room they'd sought, who should be knelt there but Morton.

A sword lay in Bowser's hand... It sat on the koopa prince's shoulder. Bowser looked up, saw two more of his children and did not take on anger.

Larry walked ahead of his sister. They both heard warm words. "It is made official now. You have six city blocks awaiting you... Go forth, Morton, you and your partner. Thrive in happiness and peace."

Bowser almost choked up, seeing such joy on the face with a star and a new lease on life. Morton turned, hearing footsteps behind him... Seeing Larry, they met up in a masculine hug, and Wendy followed, adding a kiss on Morton's cheek. They listened to the new Earl's verbal diarrhea. "I'm gonna go out and pick up a new suit, no two, I want Tom shining just as loud as me the second we step foot on there, I heard they're already building a brownstone and I'll be out there helping make the community garden, Tom wanted a plot for growing veggies for the neighbourhood and I think that if we start with squash and corn we can look into pumpkins later in the season-"

"Easy, easy, slow down tiger!" Larry joked, batting his ear in play. "You'll have plenty of time for the deats. I'd be goin' out to join Tom if I were you, he's gotta be waiting in fine form."

Wendy recalled mentally the look of Tom, fully-healed and fit. Morton had good taste in men. "THAT'S a definite yes."

"Oh, Wendy," the king spoke with power. All eyes turned to him. "There's the little matter of my klown kopter, and repairs..."

Her heart sank; a chill ran up her spine, and a queazy turn hit her stomach. Larry suppressed a chuckle. She clocked his chest with a half-slap without ever taking eyes off their dad.

Bowser took a deep, formal breath. "... The royal machinists just finished them. No charge was put to my treasury... Thus, none to you either."

Wendy's eyes nearly rolled back in her head, so pronounced was her loss of stress. Relief untied to knot in her gut as Bowser explained. "By all rights their minds digest who was there when our land's enemy fell. The head of my repair crew told me personally that his wife lives, as does he, from only that victory." Though a good heart was evident from his softened features, he titled down his chin and opened eyes a bit wider. "Your luck is better than his, Miss Absconder."

Morton and Larry both trilled an "Ooooooo!!", like 5-year-old them had resurfaced hearing their sis called out. She revived some old ways herself, stomping one foot as she gave them the shit-eating grin that says 'you'll be quieting down now'.

They complied, talking to and fro as they left the chambers. About Tom, about music, and the car Larry would soon inherit... As if nothing had ever changed, from halcyon days. Most things indeed returned, slow or fast, to those years of bright and carefree.

... In another room, two sat close. "Darling," Esmerelda asked Ludwig, high in their castle loft, while television lit their cheeks on a lavish couch. "Did I tell you who I encountered at the feast, when they all came home?"

"Hmm..." The heir scratched his chin fuzz... He'd started cultivating facial hair, as he'd always planned once his 20's approached, but as of yet it was just peach-coloured weeds on a regal face. "Many people, I'm sure, but I von't know vich youre z'inking of. Whom?"

She grew to be coy, even delighted at what she thought on. "A little boy koopa, couldn't have been more than 3. He spoke well for his age, but... A bit funny. Casual and lazy, like his father."

Ludwig cut his gaze away from the drama they'd been watching, to the loveliness beside him. "... And who might zat be?"

"A fellow by the name of KP. I talked at-length about the man with Mario, they'd apparently done some clandestine wrestling league in an earlier time. The story was fascinating, but... I don't really want to recount it. Very much unpleasant. It's enough to say the man is... Not with us anymore."

"Ohh, no." Ludwig's regret was genuine. "Is ze boy doing alright? How's his mother?"

"... Gone, as well. Kamek's siege saw to that. She was one of far, far too many."

A tense silence enveloped them. Ludwig made the difficult follow-up. "Are zere surviving relations he stays vith?"

"Well... That's just the thing..." She cozied up to her husband's side, her comfort. "The orphanage has had him for a while. And others continue to be placed there... Life still cheats many out of plenty. He... He seemed really taken with me. Aaaand when your name came up, he seemed elated that he might someday meet you..."

Ludwig's mouth opened a slight bit. He reached for the remote, and switched off the TV. She had his full attention, indicating already where this might be headed.

Nothing she said was less-than-jubilant. Positivity leaked from her every phrase. "I know we have a lot to consider. And I also know, at the heart of it, I can't deny I've thought on the ability to show love in this house to more than just the man I wed. A different kind. The sound of little socked feet on our floors..."

Ludwig reached over; scooped up her delicate frame with gentle hands. His own heart started to swell. "My sveetness... If you vant to adopt, I'll take every step vith you, zis process. I know ven something matters to you. Hearing how you tell it, here... I'm as open as you need me to be."

She grinned, and pressed her head into his pecs. She now knew, so certainly, they'd be seeking out this boy. Training themselves through book or class on how to be the best of parents. And if it be fate's will, and theirs, two persons would be signing the paperwork together.

He kept in this embrace, minute after minute. Feeling her breath, thanking silently all things that could have paved the way for them to sit here now. Eventually he reached for the remote again; they'd at least catch the plot-wrapup on the show they liked.

They'd sleep soundly tonight, with dreams vivid and kind, free of fear or nightmare.

Kurt slept like a toddler with both parents and five pillows around them. The honours he received - a medal etched in themes of the magic-heavy battlefield - had shone in the flames of the throne-room torches. Whatever optics of decorating nonnobles were obscured. He'd been celebrated, no matter the stead. Now, back home he snoozed in style... With two seagull lasses, who stanned him for whatever purpose they deigned to agree upon. This kind of minor fame he could live with.

In the same-tier vein, X' found his worthiness. Bowser had let Iggy lay down the righteous praise AND riches, for how the man's mind helped the cause. Machinations would never more need to suffer unfunded... The teamup of Iggy and X. opened the door for a future of tech-apaloozas. The people were beneficiaries; most of their churned-out wonders would lay within buying reach. Truly limitless.

Hal found his zen for raising his baby son, and his partner, when Brooke put loads of her new entitlement to income from the crown towards him. Her preference for a life sans-descendant didn't keep her from sharing the figures. He'd no longer struggle and hustle to put food in his boy's mouth... Though maybe he'd still run some numbers, make the rounds, to keep from getting rusty. AND to stay in good with old friends, those who remained. Growing up on the grind put fun into the unbecoming edges. Roy might tell you as much.

Peach arrived back to parades she didn't need to ask for. Her gloved, hand held Mario's from the second she crossed to viewable from balconies of her castle. Toads with binoculars, telescopes, followed her every step. Women with pink-dotted caps, young boys in overalls or polos or anything inbetween, all were welcome there to welcome back Her Highness. Toad soldiers threw confetti and flower petals, dusting the carpet rolled out for her and her short Italian crush. A shroomish old man walked with a cane, tears down his wrinkles making jagged paths to follow the depths of age; Toadsworth saw her back safe and sound. He hobbled up, defying his legs by having speed in reaching her tails; he fell to his knees, picked up a small bit of the train on her lilac robes in utmost respect. She smiled and even giggled. "Oh Toadsworth, you don't need to prove a thing. I could see how happy you were; the cane gave it away." There it lay alright, back near the castle gate. Forgotten and superfluous.

She was handed cakes and biscuits, frosted treats, cups of steaming tea and coffee; she made selections of which she liked, and handed the rest to kids who approached without fear. Well, except for the coffee of course; that went to the servants, all showing thanks in their beadlike eyes. A chef's hat over a cap identified the bearer of a huge platter; carved, slowcooked roast, turnips and potatoes as garnish under chili-hollandaise sauce infusion. The princess, the plumber, the populace and plenty else ate as hearty as Dark Kingdom's partygoers.

But the greatest revelries waited for the airborne division; this was Peach's chioice alone. That night, under stars and a new moon, she invited every pilot what accompanied her grand assault on Kamek... Plus the families of those who didn't come home. Never had there been more fireworks, or a grander feast, or greater dignities handed down to fungi from the lovely lady than this warm and blessed twilight. Her announcement - which caused the main time all day where folk literally jumped for joy - was a plan to distribute assets toward those veterans and widows. No toadperson involved with the magician's war would go without paying bills again.

Peach ended the night with charades, and old parlour games. Favourites of hers in which those of all ages could participate. Everyone noticed when her most delighted moments were Mario's turns; clapping at his attempts to draw a horse, or losing first at musical chairs. His blush made his moustache so much cuter.

It was anyone's guess if an 'outlier' game might be played closer to dawn, once the doors to her bedroom closed. Guesses that went unspoken on the part of both randy Toadstool gents, and the randier Toad ladies who saw the same upsides in this squat little macho pipefitter that she did.

Far, far off, in mountains that connected towns of Dark Kingdom, a sign went up. Detailing who perished, and why, where a car had been before. A mouse slighted, and his crony, were now history in all terms. For schools it wouldn't be a main study - incidental, and paled so much next to magic's work in the days nearby - but a man like Mouser wouldn't vanish from accounts.

What he bungled, and how it got to that, spoke of many things. The lesson some dispensed, when his name they spoke, involved not letting anyone get left to fester. If parents wound up diligent in even one time when they would've overlooked problems or signs of unrest... They would count the sign and his life's end as of use. It stood to be the greatest thing connected to his odd and twisted self... He was lucky one could even say that.

Triclyde, and his mania, rested in pieces at a site unmarked, unspecified. His sin was being too good at what the king had slotted for him, shaping soldiers. And he was his own kind of history; the last victim of a cruel ruler, when Bowser woke up to the fact of what he'd done by decreeing this. Traumatizing Lemmy, going whole-hog and heartless himself... For this alone, Bowser went unplagued by guilt's pangs. More important was to learn, and go on in ways admirable.

The grace here, Bowser knew, was that of citizens who let him have the chance.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Cars honked lightly at the six strolling down the sidewalk; greetings of respect, not revulsion. Morton laughed off Iggy's joke; Roy spat quickly and repeatedly when a bug flew onto his lips, which just made Morton snort louder. Larry reached up and 'tagged' a tree branch as they passed underneath. Ludwig discussed hair product with Wendy, having taken interest in good care. The better smells that gained on them were of a bakery, the crowning glory of a new midtown. Nowhere in history had glow-ups so enhanced a city... The second 'edition' of Grand Koopa brought them out for breeze and chatter. Pastry-aromas didn't hurt.

Morton might, though, from too much amusement. He held his side. "I- *snicker* I tell you, smoke follows beauty. So do gnats."

"Keep flappin', liver-lips." Roy retorted, and they all heard the lack of edge. Nothing cut into the R&R; acrimony lay absent.

"Hey, vas zat a Viper?" Ludwig asked of Larry, supposing the car-model they passed at a parallel space was thus.

"Nah, those have cleaner lines. It looked custom, though, like a Charger with some kits thrown on." He talked knowledge, glad to be versed on vehicles as Iggy was with compounds.

A wordless nod from the classical koopa. Roy got up the urge to flex; being clean now, his gym gains were crazier than ever. Both arms went high, then firm and bulging. Wendy noticed whistling from a Goomba girl across the way.

It got her to remark. "Wonder if she'd still be psyched to holler at you if she knew you." She elbowed Roy's hip.

He got her back with a tug on the nose. "Only one way to learn. She gets it."

Morton corrected him. "You mean she can get it?"

Ludwig blew chuckles through his lips, raspberrying.

Iggy always avoided cracks on the grey pavers. Morton stepped on every third one, a superstition. He didn't think on this, though, but rather on the pot-roast Tom intended to cook all day. Once this evening constitutional ended, it was due to come out of the crock-pot. Enough portions for nine to dine; the handsome chef himself, Morie, Esmerelda, and this string of happy ramblers.

Iggy felt a leaf brush his face as it curled through air on the way to fall. Soon after he quit listening to the hubbub; at first his siblings carried on no different. It was Roy that finally asked. "You ok, big-brain? It's like y' went mute there."

Iggy answered with truth, and a smile. "No dilemma here. Just, deja-vu from a decade past."

"Oh yeah?"

"That used to be higher." Iggy pointed to a telephone pole. "Back when I had that ant farm and ran around collecting species to settle it. I'm positive."

"Hey... Yeah! " Larry looked and agreed. "Check it out, y' can see saw marks at the top. They just brought out a power tool and called it a day."

Morton rolled his eyes. "Might be someone's complaint about a blocked view. As if it's worth the time and the bitching to authorities." He had his own stances on certain things. No further talk of this commenced.

In fact, speaking in general diminished. They lost the odours of the bake shop, but gained that of tanned leather. Armor-crafters still got business, even if soldiers were now needed far less. Just enough to stay afloat, and take pride in the part they played. Ludwig visualized in silence; how he'd look when he ascended to rule, and had to wear those ridiculous plates for sake of pageantry, he couldn't fathom. It would happen either way.

His next thought was what colour he should paint their extra bedroom... Or, not extra anymore, as it belonged to a child he would love all his life.

Wendy couldn't empty her mind of the night before, when Morie surprised her with a catered night at a cabaret. The high-brow type, set amongst chantilly lace and chardonnay. His new income - restored to his birthrights - provided for fun, where Wendy's new gig as a lifeguard handled bills. Her ease of sinking into this stability was nearly that at which she fell asleep on Morie's shoulder, the perfect pillow it was.

In both cases, Bowser made it so. No one might refuse his wishes. Now more than ever, for alms and not duress.

For no reason, irrespective of anything, Iggy hummed. At first an indistinct tune, but Roy soon caught that it was Journey's 'Separate Ways'. Any other time he'd have laughed at the choice. Today, he hummed a harmony.

Wendy joined in, adding higher-voiced depth. Larry and Morton laid down a mean tenor for the hell of it. And Ludwig, though so much more of a pianist, made a solid effort with vocal pipes. The block filled with a music and a means for cheer.

Three sparrows flew behind them, then a Pidgit, young and struggling but flying all the same. One sparrow circled back, and spotted food stuck to a railing. As it set down and pecked to nibble, its feet steadied on a divet; one which still bore marks from a skateboard.

Whatever came and went, or arrived to remain, they'd always have today. And every day before. Futures would change, waffle as they tend to... And when such a curveball may come, it would find them bundled. Strong like the sticks in a parable.

Friends, of blood and so much more.

--THE END--

"Drama... Is something that lets you know you're alive." - Lorrie Morgan