Chapter Text
The slow balloon-like squeaking of the Mewmans who had lost their souls being revived was the only noise as Eclipsa floated through the air in the distant night. Tom looked at Marco who had fallen over in shock. Star had barely moved since Glossaryck had floated off after Eclipsa. Tom approached the pair and Marco tilted his head back to look at him.
“You ok, man? Need some help?” He asked Marco. Star turned back to her boyfriend with concern.
Marco admitted, “I'm sore but I'm alright,” pushing himself to a seated position. “What about you two?”
“Yeah, Tom, she hit you pretty hard. How's your head feel?” Star asked. Tom walked to the front of Marco.
“Oh yeah, I could definitely use an ice pack,” Tom replied casually to Star before reaching a hand to Marco. He smiled teasingly at him, “but I'm not the one still on the floor.” He pulled the human teen to his feet. After he was sure Marco wasn't going to tip over, he turned his gaze to Star. “I only came to when that big bubble went over Meteora, so I didn't see you fighting her, but you're pretty banged up too. You want some help getting to the infirmary?”
“Oh if we go,” she maintained with an accusing tone, pointing at him, “you're definitely getting checked out too. Just cause you're not slurring your words doesn't mean you didn't get concussed.”
“Alright, alright,” he assured, putting his hands up defensively. “I won't put up a fight. Let's get moving.”
Marco looked back at the Mewni guards and staff who were coming back to life after having their souls restored. Most of them were either just waking up or conversing with the others, so it didn't seem like any had noticed the teens edging their way toward the stairwell off the side of the throne-room. Marco trailed the other two for a moment, catching up just in time to see Star stumble. He grabbed her shoulder to steady her. “You okay?” he asked and Tom stopped in front of them on the first step of the stairs.
“Yeah,” she said with a sigh, “I'm just starting to feel it a bit more. It's fine.” Marco let go of her.
“Sorry, not buying it,” Tom insisted, stepping up to Star's left side and sliding a hand across the back of her shoulder.
“Ah! Watch the wings,” she squawked.
“Sorry,” Tom muttered. He adjusted his arm so that one hand was under her armpit to keep her steady without brushing her wings.
“Okay, I see a problem with this,” Marco interjected, his hands on his hips, and the other two turned toward him. “If Tom loses his balance, who's gonna make sure you don't go down with him?” Star and Tom looked toward one another. “Me, that's who,” he answered his own question and put his own arm just below Tom's, standing on the opposite side of Star.
“And I'll just fall myself, is that it?” Tom deadpanned.
“Hold the banister and I'll take the far wall. We all go together and we should be fine,” Marco replied.
“Is this really necessary?” Star asked dryly.
“If you are just starting to feel the adrenaline wear off now, you can bet you'll be hurting by the time we get there,” Marco explained. Star gave a resigned groan. She put her arms over each of the boys' shoulders. Marco lead with his right foot and the other two followed his step, the trio shortly getting into the rhythm as they made their way down the two fights of stairs.
“So what exactly happened? I mean I saw Eclipsa leave with the baby but that's basically it,” Marco asked.
“She was waiting for me in the throne room,” Star began.
“Unfortunately I got there first, and she knocked me clean across the room,” Tom interjected, gesturing a punching motion with his free hand.
“She bragged about how punching you was so much easier than sucking your soul out,” she remarked flatly.
“Oh yeah, real nice of you to add that detail,” Tom snarked back.
“My guess is that's why she was so much bigger?” Star asked.
“Unfortunately that's what happened while you were in the Magic Realm,” Marco answered.
“They're all back, but I lost a bunch of 'em to her when you were gone,” Tom added.
“After that, I kept throwing everything I could think of at her and she was not holding back,” Star continued. “Once she blasted me mid-spell, she pinned me against the wall and I tried to reason with her. It didn't work. I kept a barrier up to keep her soul sucking beams away and I let all my power out in one big blast, which is what brought the roof down. Also scratched myself up with the debris, but she was pretty weakened by it. It still wasn't enough though, and I was out of magic. If Eclipsa hadn't escaped earlier and grabbed the wand, I would have been baloonified too. She protected me.” As Star was talking, she leaned slightly more on Marco as they made it to the bottom of the steps. “She tried to talk it out, but she had to use this spell with put Meteora in this giant purple bubble, and when it collapsed, it just looked like rags in the center of a crater.”
“So that wasn't supposed to turn her into a baby?” Marco asked with confusion. The trio continued into the hallway leading toward the infirmary.
“I think she wanted it to, but she thought it didn't work at first,” she replied. “That's why she was so upset. And why I thought it was only right to give her the wand.”
“I mean, I get it, sorta,” Tom remarked. “You said it had been the Commission who changed your family history, but this isn't gonna make your folks happy.”
“I know. I just couldn't live a lie anymore,” she spoke softly before pausing, looking down. “This doesn't change anything between us, does it?”
“Are you kidding?” Tom blurted out. “If you think us dating was for political reasons then I think you're the one who hit your head.” A beat of silence passed. “You did hit your head too, didn't you?” He asked, deadpan.
Star began limping as they continued. “I got slammed against a wall but it mostly got me in the wings and back,” Star replied.
"Yeah? Then what's that scratch by your ear?" Marco asked, pointing at a cut on the edge of her jawline.
“I made the roof fall on me? Ya didn't think that'd to this?” She snarked. She leaned back slightly to look Tom over, causing the other two to slow their pace. “That is one big bump you've got on you, boo.”
Marco looked back as Star leaned more forward again. “I think that's more than a goose egg of a lump there,” he remarked.
“Shut up,” Tom grumbled.
Star took another step with her bad right leg and pursed her lip. “You sure this is enough help?” Tom proposed, looking to her with concern. “I can carry you the rest of the way. It's not much further.” She huffed.
“Neither of you are in good enough shape to carry me right now,” she pointed out. “I'm not getting carried with one of you holding my shoulders and another holding my feet like a drunk person.”
“I'm not that bad,” Marco replied.
“It's undignified,” she continued, ignoring Marco's comment.
“Dude, you feel like twenty feet onto your face. I think you need to get looked over too,” Tom interjected.
“What?” Star barked, staring at Marco.
“The dress absorbed most of my fall,” Marco argued. “My hands are a little scratched up but I haven't had any double vision or nausea, I think I'll be okay.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Tom remarked with a doubtful tone.
“How am I the one who can't keep walking without help and you two were—”
“Let's not play this game, Star,” Tom cut her off. “We're here.” He stepped away from the other two, over to the infirmary door and pushed it open.
Star's limp had gotten steadily worse but Marco had no trouble getting Star through the door. Curtains hanging on rods between cots lined the long walls of the room, each cot having a modest wooden end-table near the head of the bed. The room smelled of lemony cleaning product and the checkerboard blue and lighter blue floors looked spotless. By the outer wall, painted a pale purple, the window had been shattered and a large piece of stone had crumpled one of the beds into a jagged pile of metal and fabric, but a rope stanchion blocked the bed off from the others. Near the right side of the door, in front of a tall cabinet sat a desk and desk chair. A short, middle aged woman with purple hair in a tidy bun walked around the desk as Star and Marco entered.
“Acting Queen Star?” The Mewman woman asked. She wore a white button up and light grey skirt with an apron tied in front, emblazoned with Moon's diamond insignia. Her tan skin on her hands showed her age more than her face did. “Oh my, what happened here?” She reached out for Star's left hand and examined her still-bleeding elbow.
“Got a little banged up fending off Meteora,” Star said tonelessly. “These two, too.” She jerked her head back to Tom who walked into the room behind the pair.
“Prince Thomas? Oh corn, let me get the others,” the woman stepped away from Star for a moment, dinging a bell set on her desk. Out of a side room, marching through with in-sync steps were two more Mewmans, one man and one woman, in similar dress as the first. The man was lean and tall, had dark skin and short-shaved black hair, and wearing pants instead of a skirt. The woman was about Star's height, fair skinned and older than the others with dark gray braided hair and oval glasses.
“Mister Jeffery, please see to Prince Thomas,” the purple haired Mewman directed, stepping around the first cot and pulling the curtains around it. “Come over here, you two. Are you hurt as well?” she asked Marco. “What's your name, young lady?”
“I'm Marco Diaz, Star's squire,” he replied quietly.
“Apologies for misreading you, young man,” she said.
“'S fine,” Marco answered. “I dressed this way on purpose to lure Meteora.”
“And yeah, he needs to get checked out too,” Star interjected, hobbling toward the first cot. Star sat down as Marco stepped away.
“Miss Lorna? Please see to Marco,” the middle aged Mewman remarked. Marco turned toward the other woman as the first pulled the curtains fully around Star's cot. “I'm Miss Abigail. You seem to be quite cut up. Are you in a lot of pain? Is there anywhere that hurts worse than anywhere else?”
“There's the one on my leg and another on my back that hurts more than the other spots.”
“You're going to need to get out of that dress then, Your Grace,” Abigail informed her.
“Right,” Star replied reluctantly.
Marco followed Lorna to one cot as Jeffery instructed, “Please come this way, Your Highness.” The two teens sat in cots next to one another as Jeffery drew the curtain between them.
“So,” Lorna began, “how did you get these injuries? And are there ones less obvious underneath your... clothes?”
“I fell when fighting Meteora. Mostly it's my hands, face and a bit on this shoulder,” he answered, moving his injured shoulder slightly toward the Mewman.
“Can you get just the shoulder out so I can take a look? Or do you need help out of the dress?”
“Uh yeah, the zipper's right there,” he replied, pointing to the back with his right hand. “I could probably do it but my hands aren't in the best shape.” The medic stepped up beside him, sliding the zipper halfway down to reveal his red hoodie scrunched into the dress. Marco slipped his hands through his sleeves and pulled the jacket off over his head, setting it down next to him. He tugged his t-shirt sleeve to the side so Lorna could get a look at the bruise.
“It doesn't look too serious,” she mused, prodding it gently. Marco twitched his right arm and but otherwise didn't react. “Let me see your hands.” He turned his palms upward, revealing the scratched heel of his hands and fingertips. She scrutinized the scrapes. “They're not still bleeding, but lets clean them up and get them wrapped.” The medic walked over to a nearby sink and pulled out a cloth from the cabinet, running it under the tap. She stepped back to Marco and began wiping down the cuts with the warm cloth.
“Prince Thomas,” Jeffery remarked. “Please let me take a look at that shoulder. Do you need help getting the pauldron and chest-plate off?”
“Nah, I got this,” Tom replied, reaching between the pieces of armor and unlatching it. He caught the pauldron before it hit the floor and set it next to him. He reached down to his back and worked at doffing the chest piece. The tall man spared a glance to the lump on the back of the princes' head, frowning as he leaned closer. Tom felt himself tense under the Mewman's gaze.
“Could you tell me how you got this bump, Your Highness?” The medic asked.
Star spoke bluntly over the rustling of her clothes, “He got punched across the room and hit his head against the wall.” Tom let out an agitated groan.
“This is true?” Jeffery asked.
“Yes,” Tom relented. The armor finally came apart, the chest-plate falling onto his lap. He set it aside.
“Were you knocked unconscious by this strike?”
“Yes,” he admitted.
“Any balance issues or double vision?”
“No.”
Across the room, Abigail instructed, “Those leggings will have to come off or be rolled down, Your Highness.”
“Socks are okay?” Star asked.
“If you didn't injure your foot or ankle, then that should be fine,” she replied. Star slipped off her shoes, each making a quiet tap on the floor as they came off. As she rolled her leggings down, Abigail added, “Slide the slip out of the way too. I'll get the cleaning supplies and see what needs to be stitched up.” She left the curtained off area as Star finished getting undressed.
“I'm going to ask you answer a few cognitive aptitude questions, if you would, sir.” Jeffery informed Tom.
He sighed, “it doesn't sound like I have much of a choice.”
“Your full name?”
“Thomas Draconius Lucitor,” he answered, and Marco held in a laugh, trying not to move as Lorna wrapped his fingers.
“Please recite the months of the year in reverse order, starting with this month,” Jeffery instructed.
“Spleenax, Gravnogk, Sagnog, Norvath, Torax... oh, Mondarn, Skweg, Ooag, Squartuk... then Dartuk, Grevanz, Thurq, Qork and Zameranor. Did I miss any?”
“No, that's correct. The first name of the Butterfly King is...?”
“River.”
“When is Stump Day?”
“The first of Torax.”
“Continue this pattern: 3, 9, 15, 21 and?”
“27, 33, 39, 45.”
“Good. You passed,” Jefferey replied, nodding. Tom gave a unenthused sigh. The medic lifted Tom's shirt to look over his shoulder and the bruise was faint there. “Any pain there?” he asked, pressing down lightly.
“Nah, that's fine,” Tom answered. Jeffery shifted his hand to Tom's midsection, where Meteora's fist had connected and left a large bruise.
“Hurk,” Tom uttered, a quiet pained noise. His hands balled into fists at his sides.
“Are you going to be sick?”
“No, that's just real sore,” he replied, voice strained. Jeffery lifted his hand and Tom's posture relaxed. The medic reached out to the scratched horn but Tom put a hand out to stop him. “I don't like those touched,” he growled.
“Yes, sir. Let me get you an ice pack from the other room,” Jeffery remarked, heading back toward the back room.
“Just the last plaster for your forehead and you'll be done,” Lorna coaxed Marco. “Do you want anything for the pain?” She unpeeled the bandage from its packaging and stuck it to his head.
“I'm good,” he replied.
“Then have a seat over there,” she said, pointing to a row of four seats near the front door. He picked up his hoodie and tied to to his waist. He crossed the space and sat, looking back to the curtained off area. He slid back into the dress sleeves but didn't try to zip it up. Lorna pulled the sheet off the cot he had been sitting on and put it into a laundry basket, pulling a fresh one from the tall cabinet from behind Abigail's desk.