Chapter Text
One
You are ushered into a room and are told to wait. And so you oblige, standing tall, unmoving. You are Aeon Knight.
The meeting starts and you imagine yourself as one of the statued decorations. Perhaps not exactly the same height, but the same intimidating and powerful. Like them, you do not speak. There is no need.
You catch fleeting words of planets and threats and monsters as you zone out. If you try hard enough you subtly rearrange the sparks hovering around you into constellations and count the stars. To an outsider looking in you seem the perfect image of stoic. Sparks of magic idling flickering around you, a warning in itself.
When the meeting ends you are called for a mission on an isolated planet. You are wary of the new threat, your presume that is why they are sending one of if not their most powerful soldier. Saves on resources when you have the power to replace a whole army. You prepare to set out, the barebones of a crew behind you.
The planet is dense and forested with a thousand shadows to hide in. You can sense the negative energy emitted from every tree.
No matter.
A heart spear hums into existence as you hold it like a torch, beckoning your crew to follow. The Ancients had briefly informed you of the situation and you were tasked to destroy.
And destroy you did. Although the onslaught of creatures was powerful, they were still not enough for you. It seemed a few had escaped during the commotion, and you intent to hunt them down later. What matters now is to tend to the injuries your crew has sustained. You deny medical attention and ignore the lingering looks as your leave the group. You do not look back, cape billowing out behind you. You have known the exact same expressions a thousand times. Seeing such emotion would be bad for morale anyways, you muse.
You wander the long hallways of the once busy base the monsters had used. You track the trails of negative energy and finish them off with a quick piece of your land or energy sword.
They unsettle you. You are not scared, no, but you catch your reflection on the cold metal walls and stare. You stand over a bleeding corpse and for a moment you recognize the red shade of your eyes as the exact same as the hundreds you had slain. You blink and inspect the specks of blood that had found their way on you. It was necessary, you reassure yourself. And your reflection returns back to being Aeon Knight.
The negative energy dissipates quickly afterwards, and it seemed there were no creatures left. For some reason you don’t find yourself wanting to return just yet. The crescent moon had climbed high into the sky and without the oppressive darkness from the monsters you had just eliminated the crisp forest air seemed inviting. You imagine soaring high above the treetops, dancing with the moon, counting stars with the clouds. You imagine.
Instead you wander the darkness below. Reveling in the peaceful silence and serene darkness. You are alone to let your mind wander to whatever whimsy catches your attention. Nobody to put up a front for. You trace constellations and hum to yourself. A quick detour never hurt anybody, you always returned way later than any of your assigned partners anyways. It’s to be expected.
A flash of red catches your eye and you are immediately on the defensive, scanning the trees for movement. However you quickly sheathe your weapons when you realize what you saw was a flash of orange. The butterfly flaps its wings once, twice, before flutters away. A flash of impulse makes you quicken your steps to follow it.
You feel an odd tug resonating within your very being, and when you emerge into a clearing a wave of an unknown washes over you, causing your steps to stutter to a stop. The odd flash of feeling is gone immediately as you notice it and shake it off, eyes scanning the air before landing on the orange butterfly. It seemed ethereal, nearly glowing against the dark forested backdrop. Not wanting to disturb it, you try to approach as gently as you can.
Unsure why you had put so much effort into pursuing something as silly as a butterfly, you let out an amused huff as you reflect on the situation. The Aeon Hero? Chasing after butterflies?
Nevertheless, you note its strange behavior and despite its lack of negative energy deeming it a threat that needs to be destroyed, you lift a gloved hand out in an almost wary challenge. It lands on your slightly blood speckled gloves and you amuse yourself by recanting the way butterflies are attracted to blood. Perhaps whatever species that is has bright orange wings is just more partial to blood. You’ve seen the same fluttering butterfly appear wherever you are called to action after all.
The orange butterfly flutters off again, and you follow it at a slower pace, no longer concerned in losing sight of it. Oddly enough, the butterfly also seemed to lose its previous fervor and was slower and closer to the ground now.
It dips down out of sight in front of you and you settle for that goodbye, continuing in the same direction.
You feel your heart involuntarily quicken as the buzz of a strange magic hums into life around you. An presence draws you in, taking steps before you can register it. You hear the ragged sound of breathing and you brush apart the foliage to uncover what is on the other side. There is no apprehension to be felt despite the clear unease of the situation, only a burning curiosity.
There is a stone on the ground is your first thought. That is not a living being is your second. The faint light of the crescent moon makes the tiny creature’s fuzz shimmer silver, and its ragged breathing quickens. It opens its eyes and you can feel the distinct something sing within yourself as the buzzing aura snaps into a calm.
Looking into its eyes, it’s as if the moon and stars were whispering to you. You forget to breathe for a strange second.
The spell is broken as the small round creature blinks at you before narrowing its eyes into a glare and hissing. Or its best impression of one. An incredibly cute display, you decide and cautiously scoot closer. It loses the bravado and shrinks down even smaller, now only eyeing you warily. You notice that it’s shivering, and how its eyes are near closed.
Poor thing. You wonder if it had lost its parents to the influx of monsters that had infiltrated the planet.
You want to help, you need to help. You scoop the small creature up, wincing at the stained parts of your gloves and hope that it doesn’t give off the wrong impression.
A zap of something zips through you and you jolt slightly. Subconsciously smoothing out the ruffles edges of their fur, you feel the full force of their shiver and the pulse of a heartbeat underneath. You don’t know how much longer they can make it. Weighing out your options, you opt to unclasp your cape and bundle them up, before quickly retracing your steps back to the monster’s base.
Now in the much more sheltered building, tracing runes into the floor using the tip of your lance, you summon a fire into existence. Setting the bundle down, you sit down beside them. You watch as the small creature snuggles into the cape and lets a trill of contentment, previous hostility tossed aside. You resolve to return later than your crew again as you set to stay the night. You fall asleep to a crackling fire and soft breathing.
You wake up early, or what you presume is early. Momentarily, you are disoriented by your unfamiliar surroundings and the fog of sleep.
You realize your wings are out and your feathers are in a disarray. The magic within the fire has burnt out.
The windows provide a warm lighting in the otherwise cold steel and you squint at bright sunlight. A sound directs your attention and oh.
You don’t know what spurred your instincts to feel so responsible for this creature but they stare at you unblinkingly from within the folds of your cape. You stare back and they tilt their head in question. You lift them up with your hands to inspect them closer. They let out a squeak of alarm, but don’t struggle. You don’t know how you missed the clawed winged appendages sprouting from their back, but the sheer strangeness of your encounter makes it shrug it off. Letting out a contemplative hum, there’s an odd sense of connection that you feel.
You freeze, breath catching in your throat. Now that without any shadows obscuring their features, don’t they look like you? Maybe not like you, but like the same species. An Astral, you recall being called.
You’ve never thought of yourself as one of a kind, no, but the sheer rareness of those that are like you often has you wishing-
Not to mention no other has had the same blessing of wings in their back. What makes you, us, so different? You feel words rush out in a faint whisper.
The puff in your hands gives a confused blink back, this is no longer an odd critter anymore. This, you realize, is a child.
You do not know if the child realizes it yet, your mask creating confusion no doubt. But if you can feel the same thrum of stars in their heartbeat, there is no doubt they can feel the same. The odd instincts that pulled so strongly at your gut and the surge of connection makes sense now. For a species as rare as yours, survival lies not only in your natural strength but rather in the aid of a guardian, especially when astrals are as young as this.
If you had not found them in time…
A paw slaps your mask and they muster out a strained noise. A forgotten part of your brain strains to translate. It’s been a long time since you’ve heard Starspeak. It’s cutesy enough to be unassuming. To be interpreted as babbling or a strange verbal tic, but it’s enough to be understood. It’s been a long time since you’ve spoken your species’ language, you’ve long since dropped it for the more practical Halcandrian.
“Po- poyo.” They try again. They’re asking you a question. They’re asking you… if you’re safe, if you two are the same. Tripping over your words, you affirm it with a poyo in reply. Starspeak is only known by astrals after all.
Reassured despite your appearance, the puff gives the mask two resounding pats before presuming an unblinking stare. You feel the corners of your mouth lift as you swaddle the puff using your cape.
You decide to immediately head back to Halcandra, after a quick preen to align your feathers. The child appears starstruck by your wings and their gaze doesn’t leave you at all.
The vacuum of space doesn’t bother either of you.
Two
Your minder gives his standard speech after you return late, but nobody has ever exactly put out any hard stops either. The blood present on your gloves and armour draw flickering glances but nothing more. That is until you present your cargo.
You don’t know how he’ll react, but the effect is immediate when the people bustling around the room are quickly dismissed. Silence rings in the room as he holds out his robed arms. A primal part of you wants to hiss and your feathers bristle slightly. If he notices, he doesn’t react as the puff is taken from you. They squeak as the cape is unwrapped, and you tense. Your cape is handed back to you and you toss it over yourself quickly. You too, are dismissed with a wave.
Your steps drag into the carpet far more than they should and you close the door a little louder than you intend. Shaking yourself slightly, you compose yourself and walk away. Head held high.
You don’t think about the puff at all. You’re lying. Some nights the constellations are too bright and the light of the moon reminds you too much of silver that you have to look away. And though you forget their presence in the palace, it seems fate loves to sprinkle reminders into your everyday life. You listen too closely to the maids you recognize as the puff’s caretakers, but that is a secret you bury even from yourself.
Gossip travels incredibly fast in the palace, more so when it relates to you, the mysterious Aeon Knight. More often than not, your enhanced hearing allows you to pick up on these words. From the maids to the chefs and to the scholars that travel in and out of your place of residence they all whisper of the uneasy appearance the astral has. Their darker coloring and clawed wings must’ve brought uncomfortable comparisons.
You shrug it off as the easy way gossip spirals. There’s clearly no danger to be found, and though the Ancients have not taken a stance on the matter, they still provide care to the child and that is what matters.
Some nights when you patrol the halls, you can hear soft lullabies through the doors and giggling within the room. There is an inexplicable comfort that the sounds bring, and you assume it’s natural instinct. A tether ties you both to the stars and each connection vibrates to you because of that.
All was well. Or that’s what you assumed until your are called into a meeting and told to speak. You’ve never thought about how the Ancients were near blind in the your species. They had been your guardian when you were young as well. But here you are, the center of attention, being asked questions on caretaking.
You try to answer most of the questions stumbling over your words as you begin, Halcandran coming easily but speaking clearly not.
Afterwards, they nod sagely and look towards you again. Your minder thanks you and you are dismissed from the room. A nagging feeling causes you to steer towards the direction of where the child is kept. Hopefully they were asking because they needed specifics and not a lack of knowledge. It has been a while since you were that young well. Having convinced yourself, you continue your daily routes, lightly advising apprentice mages and being the silent overhead threat as the workers head home without trouble.
That night as you wander something nips at the end of your heels, yourself unaware. You unwittingly arrive at a door tucked into a less grandiose corner of the palace. The same feeling draws you close and you knock politely. And again, before slowly opening the door. It’s your old room, you realize as you step in. It’s different and looks nothing like you last left it, but you vaguely recognize the structure and faint permanent scorch marks on the walls. There’s a large window which allows the large beaming light of the full moon to shine down, illuminating the room. A window for starlight.
There’s a cradle in the room, it must be the puff you had rescued. Stepping closer, you peer down into it, mind taking note of the physical changes. It’s been a couple months hasn’t it? The time is enough to bring about change, not to mention children grow incredibly fast. Or so you’ve heard.
The astral is larger than you’ve remembered, but still small enough for you to hold in both paws. It’s nearly a marvel, being in such close proximity with something so small, so delicate. You reach a gloved paw out and it lightly brushes the top of their head. It’s warm.
The wings on the back of their back twitch slightly and you mentally calculate their wingspan. You don’t know what growth milestones young astrals have, as you only have fleeting memories of your youth. Their wings twitch again and you are drawn out of your reminiscing by the movement. Your hand is still brushing the top of their head, completely settled on it now, and you draw it back swiftly. You don’t know what it is, but the presence of the child seems to cause you to lose focus with some foreign feeling. You blame the stars that you both had come from and the untapped part of your brain that must be the instincts driving this. You should be better than this. Under the Ancients instructions you had undergone mental training to prevent mind magic and other manipulations.
And yet…
And yet the something that compels you to stay and stare seems to be stronger than anything you have ever experienced. Watching the child sleep serenely under the moon and starlight, it brings a peace to you. A kind of peace that you have not felt in a long time. The moonbeams give a sheen to their fur and shines through their wings in a way that makes them look like galaxies. If you focus you can hear the stars buzzing underneath, sound strengthened by your proximity.
The astral blinks sleepily and their silver eyes appear even brighter. Like starlight, you marvel again and oh- you must’ve awakened them.
“Sorry little one.” you mumble apologetically. You’ve never learned their name have you? Always referring to them as child or puff or astral.
You could ask the caretakers that frequent the room, but at the same time you don’t want to. The Ancients might’ve given them a great name, maybe something grand like Aeon. But the stars had whispered something different that day and you don’t think you want this child to be named as you did.
Because the stars had sang you your name and it sounded like Galacta, but the ancients had given you Aeon, so it’s what you answer to. You should be proud of the title bestowed upon you, but some days it feels like you are more Aeon than Galacta and the thought had always brought a feeling of-
No, you want to them to live with their true name. And though the Ancients don’t ever call you Galacta, if you bring it up fast enough, then this child might have a different fate. You two are the same species after all, they just had to listen.
A paw taps your mask and the puff gives an impatient glare. Instantly you are reminded of when you had just met them and a chuckle escapes you. Huffing impatiently at the lack of a response, they slap both their paws on your mask, hard. You can’t help but wince at the sting as the metal is flicked into your face. They must be confused by the mask, you suppose you look very strange to them.
Should you be doing this? The thought stills your breathing for a moment. Was all this necessary? It’s not like they are your child, the Ancients were your guardian and they would be the puff’s guardian as well. Maybe you two shared the same species, but that wasn’t a reason to hover around like this. You’ve already been too attached lately, not to mention the fact that you have snuck into their room in the dead of night.
But at the same time, looking at the child with their wide eyes makes your brain scramble to justify your behavior. Yes, petty instinct is what has been causing this. You could fix it if you do what your brain tells you to do. Then you could continue everyday as it always been. And this was fixing it, indulging this child’s curiosity couldn’t hurt.
Taking a breath, you take off your mask carefully. You blink at the adjustment in vision, at the moon’s brightness. You put your mask to the side, directing your attention back the puff. They stare at you wide-eyed for a couple nervous seconds before letting out a couple quick excited poyos.
Then they reach out again an give you a firm pat on the cheek as if to check if you were real. The stars are so loud now, with the contact. And a connection snaps snugly into place. You mind it less than you should, welcoming it.
Carefully controlling your magic, you slowly feel around the star strands connecting you two. You know immediately when you find it and you gently take the child’s paw into your gloved one. “Your name is Meta,” you announce to him and the moon and stars and nobody. Meta.
“Mm- m-e,” he tries to vocalize, but hisses in frustration instead when the sound doesn’t line up. He taps your hand with a questioning poyo. Your name?
Aeon, you find on the tip of your tongue. Aeon you should say. But that would be hypocritical. But it’s the name that you’ve lived by.
“Galacta”, you whisper instead.
Even though the only thing you’ve shared is only your name it causes a swirl of unidentifiable emotion to bubble up.
Galacta, a giddy trill escapes you. The sound shocks you so much that the noise breaks off abruptly.
Meta purrs back in delight, unaware of your inner crisis.
You take a step back. And he makes a questioning noise. This was too much.
Warriors, knights, the ancients had told you should prioritize those they’ve sworn themselves to above all else. And they’ve said it was for the better. You’ve seen the grief that has racked families and the target it paints on them. It was only logical that family was a thought for retirement.
You are being selfish again.
You’re putting this child in danger by being near him. If your enemies find out that there is a small vulnerable weakness to exploit then…
You back away more, shaking your head and grabbing your mask. The Ancients had raised you well enough, Meta is no different. He’ll be fine without your interference, he’ll be safe.
Making up your mind, you put on your mask. You’ve done enough, all you needed to do was to find out his name.
Meta droops slightly, and he waves at you. The sight makes your heart clench and you force your hand to wave back.
“Sorry, goodbye,” you say to him in Starspeak.
Stumbling slightly, you turn to open the doors and walk out.
I’ll head to bed early tonight, you think. And pretend that the lingering connection you feel is purely due to the fact that you are both the species. Not anything else. Please.