Chapter Text
The Empress held her child for the first time, her husband coming up to stand beside her. They both smiled, looking down at the little ball of fluff cradled in the Empress’ flippers, and then at the vast snowy empire that extended for miles across Ice Island below the palace balcony.
“Welcome to the world, my little King…”
The Empress lowered her head, and gave the cheeping, newborn Emperor Pengi a tender kiss.
Deluxe Extravaganza
Prologue
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🍳 Waking to a Culinary (and Flowery) Coup! 👑
“Mom… mmmnh… thirty more minuuuuuutes…” A nightcap-clad pink Puffball groaned as unrelenting morning sunlight pounded on his closed eyelids like a persistent visitor. With a reluctant groan, Kirby rolled away from the window so he wouldn’t be blinded immediately and cracked one eye open. He yawned, rubbed the eye, and then opened both, before sitting up with a mighty stretch, shimmering pink wings spreading to their full span behind him as he did so.
“Mmh, morning already, poyo…?”
Seriously, it felt like he had just been at the dinner table with Dedede, El and Will, laughing at Chef Steve!
“Heehee… Chef Steve…”
Shaking his head to get himself back on track, Kirby took off his nightcap, depositing it into his Hammerspace, and hopped out of bed onto light feet.
Alright, first thing’s first, I need to figure out why the sun’s so blinding today! Seriously, is Mr. Bright getting married today or something?
Kirby, halfheartedly considering yelling at the sun, made his way over to the window to look outside, groaning as the light blinded him. When it eventually died down and Kirby could see, he almost found himself believing he was still dreaming.
There… There was no ground. There was an endless sea of blue, and a layer of clouds below. “What in NOVA’S name…?” He muttered, eyes squinted in confusion, before he looked down.
The second shock of the morning.
There was a giant plant wrapped around the bottom of Castle Dedede! Green vines, green leaves… it was like a giant beanstalk had—!
Oh.
Ohhhhhhh, stars!
Whipping around, Kirby charged toward the door and exited the room.
The hallway outside was pandemonium. Waddle Dees dropping trays, spilling tea and food all over the extravagant red carpet. The little orange servants were running all over the place, screaming their heads off.
NOVA, this is crazy!!
Kirby dodged the little guys as they attempted to dogpile and/or cling to him, all of them begging for answers. Kirby’s eyes, though, were set firmly on the prize at the end of the hallway: El and Will’s doors, both right across from each other.
Kirby flapped his wings and lifted off the ground slightly to give himself an extra boost, eventually arriving at the two doors. He was fully prepared to pound on them, but they both burst open at the same time, before Kirby had the chance to do anything.
Both El and Will looked, perhaps out of panic and rushing, like they had gotten dressed in the dark. Will’s shirt was backwards, El’s was slipping off one shoulder slightly, their pants were ruffled and their hair was varying degrees of messy—El’s frizzy and Will’s sticking up in several places. Their general dishevelment, however, hardly held a candle to the looks on their faces.
El’s face looked on the verge of crumpling at any second, her eyes panicked, and Will looked green.
“Guys!” Kirby exclaimed, and they finally turned from each other and noticed him. Their eyes both widened and El seemed to relax at least a bit more. “W—W—What’s going on…?” Will asked him shakily, as if he knew. Kirby did his best to sound reassuring with his response, but frankly, he had no reassuring answer.
“I dunno, but we should get to Dedede! He’ll know what to do! C’mon!”
All three kids turned and ran down the hall the way Kirby had come, dodging around some Waddle Dees who had legitimately fallen in their panic, others who had laid down in some vain attempt to fuse themselves to the ground, too scared to move, and others still who attempted to grab onto them—whether to beg them to do something or just because they needed someone to hold onto, none knew. Luckily, there was at least one familiar ally who soon emerged from within the orange mess, running up to keep pace beside them, his identifying headwear flashing blue atop his head before he came fully into view, running by Kirby’s side.
“Bandee!” Kirby exclaimed, relieved to see that one of his best friends was okay. Bandee didn’t look at Kirby, instead keeping his eyes fixed firmly ahead, set in a determined glare.
“We n—need to get to Great King!”
Kirby nodded and set his gaze firmly forward as well, charging toward the area that led to the throne room.
Taranza drifted along through the unguarded portcullis as though he owned the flimsy little castle that apparently housed the sworn enemy of Her Majesty. Smirking confidently, he giggled into one of his six floating hands as he watched hordes of Waddle Dees running out from the mouths of the many halls feeding into the grandiose one Taranza currently floated through—the one leading up to his prize.
Such… unorganized, panicky little things, they were. A shame the Lower World’s excuse of a monarch had surrounded himself with them, instead of actual, competent guards. Well, a shame for him, anyway. For Taranza, this meant a swifter fulfillment of his Queen’s order.
As he approached the throne, Taranza managed a better look at his target. An overweight, blue, feathery monarch who, frankly, could stand to be more physically active sat upon a golden throne, glaring at him with what Taranza could only assume was an attempt at defiance; a trembling, unnaturally tall and gangly creature with—admittedly impressive—hair and wearing a chef’s toque stood beside him, clutching a wooden bat with what looked to be nails driven into it as it glared at Taranza with bared teeth.
Taranza almost—almost—allowed his confident smirk to drop. The unfamiliar creature must have been even more savage than the other Lower-Worlders; something about the look in its eyes was primal, and it held a weapon so… primitive.
It was disgusting, and Taranza could not wait to be back in Floralia, where people were civilized.
Wasting no further time, Taranza charged a blast of pink Magic between his hands and flung it forward, instantly knocking all of the Lower King’s feeble, spear-wielding Waddle Dee guards around the room like bowling pins. Looking around him at his defeated guards, the King of the Lower World savages charged at him with an indignant cry, giant wooden mallet raised high, with his apparent Royal Chef following suit with its savage weapon.
Making a point to let his fangs protrude further as he did so, Taranza allowed his smirk to broaden into a full-on grin as charged up and fired two consecutive pink orbs of Magic at the King and his companion just before they could reach him, flinging them both backward and sending them into magically-induced unconsciousness.
That was far easier than I expected. Her Majesty will be quite pleased…
As Taranza approached the two unconscious figures—savage though he was, the lanky creature was clearly a chef, and Her Majesty was in need of a replacement after the previous had not seasoned her dinner to her liking—an angered cry from behind caught his attention.
“Halt, intruder!”
All eight eyes briefly widening, Taranza quickly allowed his calm smirk to slot back into place as he turned to face whoever was fool enough to think they could challenge him. The sight he was met with was an angered, spear-wielding Waddle Dee wearing a blue bandana, weapon leveled in his direction, accompanied by an assortment of odd creatures. Two of them seemed to be of the same species as the avian King’s Chef—pale, tall, and lanky things with dark hair and unusual clothing. One had a hairstyle quite similar to Taranza’s own, simply without the silver coloration, while the other had longer, darker hair that fell in waves just past its shoulders. The latter had somewhat softer facial features—which, combined with the longer hair and its chest area, led Taranza to idly suspect that the one whose hairstyle resembled his own was male while its counterpart was female.
The third and last creature was, admittedly, a bit more aesthetically pleasing than the other creatures this Lower World stronghold had to offer. It had the same general body type as the numerous Waddle Dees around the castle, but was pink, somewhat resembling a Bronto Burt, and it had red feet. Its eyes, however, twinkled like the night sky over the Moonlight Capital, and it bore admittedly pretty, butterfly-like wings—nothing compared to his Queen’s, though, of course—which were spread to their full span in the creature’s seeming agitation as it assumed a battle stance. The wings themselves glowed a bright pink, small motes of light actively drifting off of them, and thin, short pink horns that curved slightly backward at their tips emerged slightly above the being’s eyes, almost resembling antennae.
Ultimately, it looked like something his Queen would enjoy as a pet, but perhaps he could come back for it later, should Her Majesty express interest. Right now, delivering the Hero and the soon-to-be new Royal Chef to the Capital was the top priority.
Ignoring the cries of the four creatures, Taranza floated slightly upward and around so that he was behind the two defeated captives and, extending two hands, shot a silk-string-like strand of Magic from his fingertips which, upon contact with the targets, spawned a sparking net of pink Magic wrapped securely around the two.
“Steve!” The (presumably) male member of the chef creature’s kind shouted in concern as Taranza slowly lifted into the air, carrying his two unconscious prisoners with him. His gaze was directed at the net that held said chef.
So, the new chef’s name is Steve, then? A rather… conventional name, isn’t it?
“Hey!” The pink being shouted, drawing Taranza from his internal musings. “You let Dedede go, poyo!”
Taranza tracked the irksome thing’s gaze to the bird-like King. Process of elimination told him that the King’s name was Dedede. Rather unusual, but now, at least, his prisoners would have names and not the mere occupational titles he had assigned to them beforehand.
So, King Dedede and Chef Steve, then? What an interesting pair…
“I am afraid,” Taranza began with a grin, speaking aloud for the first time since he had descended to this castle, “That I cannot do that. Your King and Chef will be coming with me. Without your feeble King, you uncouth Lower-Worlders will fall in line in short order.”
As the ragtag team of four’s eyes widened, Taranza openly giggled, fangs gleaming in the sunlight.
“I must be going now~! Long live Queen Sectonia!”
And with that, he launched himself upward and through the castle’s glass skylight, following the vines of the Resistance’s creation and undoing to Fine Fields. He could not, unfortunately, feasibly fly straight to Royal Road from his current location, and would likely need to rest along the way. But by nightfall, he swore to himself, his Queen would have her prisoners.
And the Lower World would have its new ruler.
Jim Hopper was not a patient man. Now, he tried, let none think otherwise, but his rope was only so long. And as he stared at the weirdest damned interpretation of a “ship” he had ever seen sitting smack in the middle of his yard, several small trees felled around it, on the morning of one of his days off, he found himself nearing the end of it. Kirby and Magolor both had described the appearance of the “Lor Starcutter”, but it had still taken Hopper a great many seconds of stupefied gaping to connect the impossibility he had been seeing to those descriptions.
Once he did, however, he felt anger start to bubble up within him. He’d stomped toward the damned thing, hand on his holster (because no, he still did not trust that feline alien), briefly been given pause when a ramp automatically extended from the closed door to the ground, then resumed his determined march, banging on the sleek metal with his fist.
“HEY!” Hop shouted, pounding on the surprisingly reflective metal. “ HEY! WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!”
Just as Hop inhaled, filling his lungs in preparation for more yelling, the automatic door slid open. Hop’s eyes widened as he got a look at the interior of the alien spacecraft. There was clearly a large room within, but Hop could only see the white back wall of it from his current position. However, the quiet hum of machinery was ever-present within the ship.
“Hopper! My favorite police chief! And coincidentally the only one I know… To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”
Hopper looked down at the source of the chipper voice, spotting the familiar floating egg-shaped creature in green and white. The height difference between them was normally amusing to Hopper, but at the moment, he was all business. He saw right through the little schemer’s cheerful facade, taking note of the way he was rubbing his mittened hands together like some kind of sleazy salesman eager to scam naive customers out of everything they had. As a policeman, Hop noticed these things—and it was (unsurprisingly, considering his history) something of a habit of Magolor’s.
Hop’s eyes narrowed, his grip tightening on his holstered gun. “I could ask you the same thing,” he said evenly, the boiling anger now gone from his voice, leaving something cold and analytical behind, ready to turn dangerous at a moment’s notice. For the briefest of moments, Magolor’s eyes narrowed in turn.
And then the moment was over, and the facade was back up.
“Ah, don’t just stand there, my friend! Come in, come in! How do you like your coffee? You seem like a full-on black kinda guy. Care for a mug?” Magolor rattled on, avoiding Hopper’s question as he floated backward into the ship, eagerly waving Hopper in. Keeping his hand at his hip at all times, Hop cautiously advanced into the craft, looking around with wonder he was attempting to conceal.
“I’ll pass, thanks…” Hop breathed as he fully entered the room and saw what it had to offer beyond its back wall. A large, sleek and slightly concave screen adorned the opposite wall, above and to the right of the door Hopper had just come through. A variety of foreign symbols flashed across the screen as it displayed Earth in all its blue-marbled glory. More of those same symbols—presumably the alien language of Magolor’s extinct people—framed the screen from above and below, telling a story Hop couldn’t read.
Sitting below the screen and adorned on both sides with star symbols was a… a console, of some sort. It resembled some sort of advanced keyboard, as it had more of that alien script all over it, but it was flowing with rainbow-colored light.
To Hop’s right and left were long hallways, electronic panels mounted on the walls at the mouths of the corridors displaying glowing arrows pointing down said halls. The rest of the room was made of the same sleek, white metallic material as the door leading into it, Hop’s reflection staring back at him crystal-clear from every surface.
It was all so… sci-fi. And even after all he’d seen and been through, he still couldn’t quite believe what his eyes were currently showing him. That all this was real. That aliens were real and he was in one’s ship.
“Ahaha… I see this is your first time in my not-so-humble abode. It tends to have this effect on everyone, don’t worry. Marvelous, though, isn’t it? Truly the pinnacle of my people’s innovation…”
Hopper looked back toward Magolor, watching his expressive eyes shift from smug amusement to something distant and perhaps a bit sad. He quickly snapped out of it, though, pasting the bubbly look back on as he turned to Hopper. “Anyway, before you ask, yes, I asked Landia this time, like a good person would do. After I finished setting up portals for you all, I went back to Halcandra, explained everything that had happened since my and Kirby’s battle, and we made up! She’s actually pretty forgiving, turns out. Plus, the Lor herself said she was okay with this little arrangement! So! I am now her Captain, sailing the endless sea of stars, bringing wonder and innovative new ways to have fun to the whole universe!”
Magolor made a slow, grand sweeping gesture across the room with one of his hands as he said this. Hopper meanwhile, had furrowed his brow, sorting through the rest of Magolor’s rapidly-told story, churning through what he could maybe trust and setting aside what he probably couldn’t for later consideration… before pausing at the part about the Lor accepting Magolor as “her” Captain.
“…Sorry, the ship gave you permission to be its Captain?” Hop asked, giving Magolor a look similar to the ones he (to his shame) had often given Joyce the week his life had begun spiraling out of control—coincidentally also the week he’d thought Joyce was losing her mind.
Sensing his skepticism, Magolor gave him a pouting sort of look.
“She’s sapient, remember? Kirby, I, and the other three have told you this.”
Oh. …So they had. It was all coming back.
“Sorry, I forgot. I’m not so used to alien spaceships that can think,” Hop deadpanned. Magolor smiled and clapped, cheerfully ignoring Hopper’s unamusement. “Ah, that’s alright! Perfectly understandable considering the primitive little world you were brought up in!”
Hop’s eyelid twitched. “Okay, enough with the stalling. Why the hell did you decide to park your spaceship in my yard?” (Translation: “What the hell are you up to?” ) Hopper demanded.
Magolor’s joyful demeanor didn’t diminish in the slightest.
“Ah, well, I just felt the need to inform you that your adoptive daughter is currently on an adventure with Kirby, Bandee, and your crush’s son up a magical beanstalk to rescue Steve and King Dedede from a magical spider-thing.”
“…”
“You might wanna take a few days off and call the others over here. Just a friendly little suggestion.”
Hopper stared blankly down at Magolor, the worst migraine he’d had in years mixed with the worst panic he’d felt since El had snuck out in ‘84 already starting to form in his head alongside an unspoken barrage of questions and confusion.
…Calvin and Phil could handle things for a while. Yeah.