Chapter Text
Dear Bowser,
The Mushroom Kingdom and I formally invite you to an evening of truce. I will be throwing a gala at my palace tomorrow evening, and you and your family are invited to attend, if you so choose; on the condition that you and your company do not attempt any mischief or impromptu kidnappings. This is to be an evening of respite from the bustle of royal life. I do hope you decide to attend!
Yours truly,
Princess Peach
"Surely you don't plan to actually attend, your highness?"
Kamek wrings his scepter in his withered hands, studying the lines etched into his son's face. Bowser sighs, heavy and hesitant, avoiding the Magikoopa's concerned, but scrutinizing, gaze. One bulky hand massages his temple while the other pinches the delicate invitation between his claws, its embossed details and golden cursive glinting in the torchlight of the Koopa Castle.
"…Sire—?"
"I don't know!" A clenched fist slams onto the arm of Bowser's throne. It rattles the stone walls and reverberates through the throne room, leaving Kamek wobbling on his feet for balance. Bowser buzzes his lips in exasperation and slumps, exhausted, into his throne.
"I don't know," he says, grumpily composing himself, "It would be good for Junior to get outta the castle for a bit… But I doubt I can trust the others to behave themselves at a fancy-schmancy Mushroom Kingdom party." He sneers the last few words with contempt.
Bowser and Kamek both shudder at the image of the Koopalings being forced to get along in public.
From somewhere in the castle, breaking the brittle silence, Ludwig's delicate piano-playing drifts through the halls. Despite their admittedly strained relationship after Junior's arrival, Bowser could admit that the eldest Koopaling's music was one of the only things that could soothe his frayed nerves nowadays. But stars forbid he should ever say that out loud; Ludwig might just quit music out of spite. The flowing notes flub to a discordant halt before picking up from the beginning. Some kind of sonata or the like, Bowser imagines.
Kamek clears his throat, stirring the king from his drifting thoughts. Bowser grunts in acknowledgement, an irritated puff erupting from his nostrils as he turns to face the Magikoopa, who gulps.
"Sire, perhaps just you and Master Junior should attend?" he ventures carefully, as if dipping his toe into a pool of alligators, "Getting in the Mushroom Kingdom's good graces will put their guard down for when we decide our next attack, and like you said—it will be good for the young master to socialize."
A quiet hum of acquiescence rumbles Bowser's chest, and he gives a lilting nod.
"As much as he's gonna hate to hear it, kings do have to learn to be diplomatic sometimes," Bowser grumbles, "As boring as that is."
"Precisely right, your highness."
"Go fetch Junior, wherever he's run off to. Tell him I wanna see 'im."
"Right away, your highness."
Kamek nods and shuffles away from the open throne room down the crimson carpet leading to the rest of the castle, his robes fluttering behind him as he hobbles off. When the Magikoopa rounds the far corner out of sight, Bowser studies the invitation once again and lets his eyes glide along the shimmering letters.
This could be some ploy to make the King of the Koopas humiliate himself in front of a whole ballroom, Bowser thinks bitterly. He puffs smoke from his nostrils.
But Peach isn't the type to pull a stunt like that, he knows that deep down, and goodness knows she always sees the best in people—and Koopas—even when they don't deserve it. She described it as a truce, an evening of diplomacy and mingling, and probably free food.
Bowser grunts a small 'hmph', affirming his own decision to himself before attempting to fold the invitation with the bumbling elegance of an elephant trying to avoid stomping on an ant. With a frustrated huff, he tosses his arms up in defeat, simply leaving the invitation unfolded on the arm of his throne.
Lemmy swallows down an eager giggle from behind one of the stone pillars, skittering through the gap in the wall back to his room.
Curled into his shell atop his bed, Iggy vainly tries to sleep his thrumming headache away. His most recent scientific escapade had utterly massacred his already-lax sleep schedule. Even with the lights in his room extinguished and the shabby curtains drawn, the little bit of evening light that desperately reached its hands into his bedroom were enough to make Iggy's persistent migraine throw a fit. And he certainly couldn't work with amorphous puddles of black obstructing his vision.
Had he been able to sleep, Lemmy's sudden aerial arrival might have startled him even more.
There's barely a moment between when Lemmy realizes he's taken a wrong turn in the castle vents, and when his feet try to plant on empty air. He yelps as he wheels face-first and collides with Iggy's shell, knocking him off the bed and sending him careening into the floor with a dense thunk. Iggy exclaims at the impact. He emerges from his spiked armor, rubbing his temple and glaring in Lemmy's direction with a lopsided frown, only able to make out the blurry outline of his twin, innocent as a lamb.
"Sorry, Stretch," Lemmy chuckles, "Meant to land in my room."
"You're lucky I wasn't actually sleeping or I'd hang you from the rafters by your ankle," Iggy grumbles as he reaches for his glasses, "What're y'doing sneakin' around, anyway?"
Lemmy's mouth drops into an 'O' before stretching into a grin, hanging off the bedpost with one hand. It's pockmarked with indents where its owner had gnawed away at it.
"Oh, right! I got some inside scoooop!" he giggles and rubs his claws together.
Finally adjusting to his corrected vision and regaining his balance, Iggy cocks an eyebrow at his twin.
"Whaddaya mean?" Iggy grips the edges of his wooden nightstand, knocked askew from his tumble, and shimmies it back into place.
"Ohoho, I don't know if you're ready," Lemmy hops off the bed, drumming his fingertips together with a scintillating grin.
"Please, I'm on the edge of my seat."
"Wow, okay, Mister Grump." Lemmy lets out a 'hup' as he leaps up and grabs the chewed-up bedpost, balancing himself upside down. "Peach is throwing this big fancy party, and we're invited!"
Iggy's frown lightens ever-so-slightly, his brows raising. Then, that crooked grin that so often makes its home on his muzzle curls to life.
"There's no way she's that dumb," he snickers and shakes his head, folding his arms, "What's the catch?"
"Well" —Lemmy grunts again as he flips, landing one wobbly foot on the bedpost and holding his arms out for balance— "Technically Bowser said only him and Junior were going, but the invitation said we were invited too!"
Lemmy bends the balancing leg, launching himself into a flip and landing flawlessly on the scuffed wooden floor with his arms raised, beaming bright enough to remind Iggy of his migraine.
"Eight and a half out of ten," Iggy grins, "Woulda been a nine, but you fumbled a bit on the handstand."
Lemmy scoffs and waves a dismissive hand.
"You're such a critic."
"My room, my rules, Shortstack."
"Hey," Lemmy rapidly snaps his stubby fingers and puts a hand on his hip, "We still have to figure out how we're getting to this gala."
Instantly Iggy retches, sticking his tongue out from between his protrudent teeth and shivering in melodramatic disgust.
"Ugh, you didn't say it was a gala," he sneers, revulsion mangling his voice, "Those are barely even parties! They're, like, stuffy royal crap where people just talk to each other. We'd be bored out of our minds!"
"But—"
"Oh, Lord Fiddlesworth" —Iggy clutches his hands daintily by his chin and feigns a posh accent— "such exquisite weather this evening, isn't it? I declare it's perfect conditions for prancing about the courtyard and doing rich people things!"
Lemmy watches, stifling a giggle as his brother performs the botched facsimile of a pretentious royal.
"I dunno what you're complaining about, sounds like you'll fit right in!"
Iggy mimes a curtsy, and a laughing fit erupts between the twins.
After a few moments of reprieve, Lemmy does his best to compose himself, shifting his mind to start scheming their way into Peach's castle. Iggy's grin twitches at the edges.
"Seriously, it ain't worth it, Hip." His voice flattens despite his smile, and he busies his hands by attempting to put his quilt back in place. "Besides, that's a whole night to ourselves with the two biggest pains-in-the-ass out of the castle. Sounds way better than standing around and having a buncha Toads gawking at us."
"I guess that's true…" Lemmy hums and taps his foot, resting his chin in his hand in deep thought.
When the bed is neater than it's been in months, Iggy resorts to twisting the spiked cuffs around his wrists, closely observing his weakly smiling reflection in the metal. At long last, Lemmy sighs in defeat, and Iggy's muscles relax. He hadn't even realized he'd been tense.
"Alright, alright," he relents, then jabs a finger at Iggy, "Just pinky promise me we'll do something actually fun."
Iggy chirps out a laugh, leaning down with his pinky outstretched.
"Pinky promise."
Lemmy leaps to interlock their fingers (despite his growth spurt hitting him years ago, Iggy's still shocked by how much bigger his hands are) and shakes them up and down. When he's satisfied, Lemmy skips towards the door.
"You can go back to napping now," he calls back as he reaches for the doorknob, "Sorry I clonked ya on the shell."
"Ohh, no hard feelings at all," Iggy waves a shooing hand as he sits back on his bed, grinning all the while, "Just watch your back next time you sleep. I strike when you least expect."
"That's no fair! You're, like, three times my height!"
"Better keep your guard up, then."
Lemmy sticks his tongue out and slams the door behind him. The moment the light from the hall disappears, Iggy exhales, letting his grin fall away and slumping face-down onto the bed, not even bothering to pull the quilt over him. Mercilessly, the sharp, throbbing migraine returns from the curtain it had been lurking behind. The Koopaling groans.
"Papa!"
When Kamek and the Koopa prince turn the corner to the throne room, Junior immediately lights up and rushes to his father. Bowser, engrossed in silent thought, brightens just as much at the sight of his son toddling expectantly up to him.
"What did ya wanna see me about, papa?" Junior asks with brimming excitement, rocking back and forth on his heels as Kamek finally catches up to him. Bowser claps his hands together.
"I'll cut right to the chase," Bowser booms, "How'd you like to go to a party tomorrow, son?"
Junior's mouth falls open, his lone fang poking out.
"A party? Really?!" He hops up and down before skittering up to the throne and hopping into his father's lap, beaming. "What's the party for?"
"Well, I got a little something in the mail"—Bowser waggles the invitation in his claws—"and the princess invited us to her palace for a get-together."
"Ohh, I get it!" A mischievous grin spreads across the youngest Koopa's face. "We go to this fancy party, and snatch up the princess when she least expects it!"
Bowser chuckles deep in his chest, ruffling the little tuft of hair atop Junior's head.
"I like your ambition, Junior, but no kidnapping this time."
The beaming smile shrinks into a befuddled frown, the dramatic pout betraying the prince's immaturity. He fiddles with his graffitied bandana, picking at the threads.
"Sooo, if we're not kidnappin' Peach, why're we goin'?" The genuineness of the question makes Bowser belly laugh.
"Well, when you grow up and become king," Bowser explains with a gentle patience he saves for no one except Junior, "sometimes you have to go to meetings and parties to keep the peace with other kingdoms."
"But you always say we're supposed to conquer the Mushroom Kingdom!" Junior tilts his head. "Why would we wanna be nice to them?"
Bowser puts on his best mischievous grin, wagging his finger to usher his son to lean in closer. Junior catches on and pivots his head forward, cupping a hand around his ear and listening.
"Because," the king whispers, "if we act nice now, they won't expect our next attack. We'll make such a good impression that the whole kingdom will think we've changed our ways, make sure they get comfy, then—" Bowser mimics an explosion with his hands, making a rumbling windy noise between his teeth. Junior immediately returns to his previous bubbliness, shaking his fists up and down and giggling maliciously.
"You're a genius, papa!" Junior replies in a whispery shout, "They'll never even see it coming! And we get free food!"
"Attaboy," Bowser answers, proud as can be, "Make sure you get to bed on time tonight so you're nice and rested, alright?"
"Yes, papa!"
Being given the implied permission to leave, Junior hops off the hulking throne and bounds away, presumably back to his room.
As the young prince hurries down the hall, Bowser's pleasant demeanor snuffs out in a second when he catches sight of Lemmy at the gaping entrance of the throne room, teetering on one leg with his tongue poking out.
"Oh, brilliant."
Lemmy ignores the grumbling and skips past Kamek's hunched, trepidatious figure.
"Sorry to bug ya Lord Bowser, but I couldn't help overhearing!"
"'Course ya couldn't."
"I was simply curious if you would consider letting my very-well-behaved siblings and I accompany you on this little excursion tomorrow evening!" The tiny Koopaling beams, clasping his hands behind his back.
"That's gonna be the fastest 'no' I've ever given," Bowser deadpans in reply.
"Well" —the Koopaling smirks like a cat seeing a mouse with a broken leg— "If you're going to be mingling with the nobility throughout the night, surely you don't intend to leave Lord Junior to run amok on his own?"
Bowser hopes he's suppressing the instinct to widen his eyes. Never be fooled by appearance—betraying any weakness in front of the crafty little clown never ends well.
"…I didn't consider that," he replies, praying to the seven stars that his voice is still level and authoritative.
"Exactly, that's why I'm here!" Lemmy's eyes scrunch up with joy. "Even if you don't bring all of us—that would be a heap of chaos!—surely having a few of us to watch over the prince and represent the rest of the Koopas would be smart?"
Despite the infuriating satisfaction with which the Koopaling makes his point, it's a good one, nonetheless. Bowser's eyes drift thoughtfully to the floor for a moment.
"Sire, I'm not sure if this is wise," Kamek comments from the corner of his mouth, his voice wavering.
"Maybe not," Bowser hums, "But Peach'll have her whole royal court with her, and I can't be everywhere at once. It might be smart to bring a few with us…"
The king glares pointedly at Lemmy, whose jovial demeanor doesn't flinch.
"…if they can behave themselves."
"Perhaps Ludwig being one of the representatives would be best?" Lemmy proposes, "He is the oldest, after all. Very mature, has the kingdom's best interest—"
"Alright! Alright, you've made your point!" Bowser cuts the Koopaling off thunderously, who snaps his mouth shut, but never stops smiling.
"You decide amongst yourselves," the king relents with a wave of his massive hand, "I'm takin' three of you: no more than that."
"Of course, Lord Bowser."
The hulking Koopa puffs smoke out his nose.
"You're dismissed."
Lemmy dips into a full bow, theatrical as always, before retreating back to the Koopalings' wing of the castle.
Kamek glances back and forth from Bowser to the now-empty hall, unsure and grimacing. When he studies the king's features, Kamek imagines it's the same expression someone would make after being utterly trounced in a game of chess.
"Your highness—?"
"You're comin' too," Bowser mumbles and jabs a finger at the Magikoopa, "If this goes south I'm gonna need you ready to get those numskulls outta there ASAP."
"Of course, sire," Kamek bows his head for a moment, somewhat relieved, "I'd be honored to accompany you."
Bowser simply grunts in acknowledgement, then shakes his head, slow and aching.
"Seven stars, don't let this be a complete disaster."
The high notes are the sounds of water, twinkling, trickling ever-faster down a stream, a chromatic cascade across the keys. The low notes are the rumblings of encroaching thunder and blackening skies, growing in strength, rhythmic and steady as a march. They meet in the middle, then separate just as quickly; low and high, the very fabric of nature captured in keys, the wrath of the earth below and the reprieve of the rain above intertwining on the canvas of black and white—the minor key, the seventh chord, it pulls at the heart, shows the mind's eye the vision of the hurricane weaving through the strings and hammers pounding and singing—
Ludwig slams down on a sour note and winces.
Idiot. It's a D flat, not a D natural. There goes his soulful inspiration.
The eldest Koopaling mumbles to himself, scribbling out notes in his book, scrawling out the musical symbols in his barely legible handwriting. Anyone else would think it was the Sarasaland hieroglyphs.
"This really would be a more well-rounded piece if someone in this castle knew cello." Ludwig grumbles under his breath, before snorting and adding, "And if I could learn the difference between a flat and a natural."
The gargantuan wooden door to the music room creaks open, slow and deliberate, casting a growing beam of torchlight onto the scattered dusty instruments on display; only the piano is perfectly shined and well-kept, flawlessly tuned and fit for any fine music hall, while the array of string-less violas and dull french horns sit neglected in their stands. Ludwig doesn't stop his note-taking, experimentally tapping the keys, piecing together the proper chords like a meticulous jigsaw. He barely spares Lemmy a glance as he plops himself onto the piano bench next to his older brother.
"Whatcha doooin'?"
"Splitting the atom," Ludwig deadpans, never averting his eyes from his notes.
"Wow, really?" Lemmy sways his dangling legs back and forth, "Impressive stuff, Luddy!"
The eldest massages the bridge of his snout and sighs: long, exasperated, with the weight of over a decade of dealing with the little imp's heckling. Finally, he shifts his flat gaze to the younger Koopaling.
"What do you want, Lemmy."
"I just wanted to inform you that we are going on a little excursion tomorrow evening!"
Ludwig's thick brows knit together, squinting down at his brother, whose mohawk bobs slightly as he rocks back and forth.
"What on earth are you blabbering about?"
"Our dear friend Princess Toadstool has invited the whole Koopa family"—Ludwig scoffs and rolls his eyes at the word—"to a gala tomorrow! It was just gonna be Bowser and Junior, but I sweet-talked his lordship into letting a few of us go!"
"And why, in the name of the stars," Ludwig hisses through his teeth with a mirthless, sneering smile, "would you do a thing like that?"
"Because you and Iggy need to get out more before you both turn into creepy hermits."
An incredulous squawk of laughter erupts from Ludwig's throat. Lemmy pouts.
"You think Iggy will agree to this nonsense? You've got another thing coming."
"Aww, Luddy, you insult me! You think I can sweet-talk the king of the Koopas and not my own brother? Ye of little faith."
"You may be able to bat your eyes and get him to fix your clown car," Ludwig scoffs, turning to gather his papers together, "but you'll sooner see Peach sign her kingdom away to Lord Bowser before you see Iggy at a party. In the Mushroom Kingdom, no less." He guffaws at the absurdity of the idea.
Lemmy gives a drawn out hum in reply, inviting Ludwig to look back down at him as he taps his chin.
"Well, we certainly won't be walking to the Mushroom Kingdom, will we?" The younger Koopa blinks and frames his cheeks with his hands. "We'll be taking the airship that dear brother Iggy works so hard to maintain. If anything were to go wrong with the engines, it would be very fortunate to have him aboard!"
Ludwig balks. Lemmy bats his eyes victoriously.
"We'd be perfect for the job! I could watch after Lord Junior, you can be all smart and diplomatic, and both you and Iggy can remember what it's like to talk to real people instead of inanimate objects!"
That triumphant smile widens when Ludwig groans and rests his forehead on the edge of the piano with a hollow thud.
"Get your rest tonight, Luddy!" Lemmy pats his brother's hair with a spritely hand before hopping off the bench. "We've got a big day tomorrow!"
"You are utterly insufferable."
"Aww, I love you, too."
Beyond the windows of the shadowy palace, the blistering red sun of the Darklands sinks behind the mountains, leaving the land in its titular oppressive darkness, and spurring the attendants to light the torches that line the winding halls. Meal time has passed, and the castle guards are beginning to trade their shifts.
In one of the castle's many common rooms, the Koopalings sit in scattered spots, dotted amongst the fraying cushions and armchairs that are beginning to show their age. At the far end of the room, a fire crackles in the cobblestone hearth, bathing the living area in a warm, orange glow. In front of it, his imposing silhouette haloed with flames, Ludwig stands with his arms crossed and his chest puffed. He addresses his younger siblings with the authoritative air that irritates the rest of them to no end—he certainly had a more kingly demeanor than Bowser's rightful heir.
"I'm sure Lemmy has spread the gossip to everyone else by now," the eldest sighs and gestures a hand towards the culprit, perched on the arm of the chair that Larry is sitting cross-legged in, "But for those unaware, Peach has invited the Koopas to a gathering tomorrow evening as an offering of truce between several kingdoms. Our resident eavesdropping clown wormed his way in and convinced Lord Bowser to take a few of us to accompany him—"
Murmuring sparks to life between the siblings.
"—and Lord Junior."
The murmuring turns to a unanimous groan.
"Thanks a lot!" Roy tosses his hands out and leans forward to crane his neck at Lemmy. "You got us stuck on babysitting duty, ya little shrimp!" Lemmy just makes a little heart with his hands, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. On the floor beside the sofa, Iggy lets out a snicker that hisses against his teeth like a spitting cobra.
"If you listened to what I said, Roy," Ludwig snips, "I said 'a few of us'. I'm not holding a wand to your head to join me."
"Well thank the stars for that." The bulky pink Koopa grumbles and folds his arms petulantly. Wendy, who sits beside beside him with her ankles crossed in the picture of elegance, scoffs.
"Yeah, well, count me out," she frowns, "A Mushroom Kingdom party's gotta be the biggest drag of all time. If it was just Peach, I'd consider it—the girl has class, I'll give her that—but surrounded by a bunch of uppity twerps who are gonna look at us like a freak show act? Nuh uh, not for me."
"Oh, oh!" Larry waggles his stubby arm in the air for Ludwig's attention.
"Yes, Larry?"
"Is there gonna be food?"
"You think they're gonna have, like, five different kingdoms show up and not have any food?" Lemmy chuckles, his shoulders shaking.
"Hey, never hurts to ask."
"Morton stay home," Morton raises his hand as he speaks, his halting voice booming over the others, "Don't mind watching Lord Junior, but too many tiny mushroom people, Morton squash them on accident."
"Alright." Ludwig gives a curt nod. "So, that leaves me, Iggy, Lemmy, and Larry."
"Ehhh, I dunno," Larry simpers, fidgeting with his spiked cuffs, "Doesn't sound like this is gonna be a super fun rager or anything, just rich old people standing around and talking 'business'." He puts disgusted air-quotes around the vile word, then blows a raspberry.
"Yeah, you'd be ricocheting off the walls within five minutes," Wendy snickers. Roy stifles his own chuckle with his fist, but Iggy doesn't bother, giggling like a stuttering record.
"Then I guess it's decided. You two"—The eldest jabs a finger in Iggy's direction, and then Lemmy's—"will be coming with me."
Iggy laughter sputters to a halt as he hollers in disbelief, "What?! You've gotta be kiddin' me!"
"Not so funny now, is it, Chuckles?" Roy smirks and peers over the arm of the sofa down at his brother. Iggy reaches up and flicks him in the nose.
"C'mon, Iggs, it'll be fun!" Lemmy balances himself upside-down on the arm of the chair as Wendy holds Roy back from clonking Iggy on the head. From this angle, his twin is hanging off the ceiling.
"I told you to just let it go, you little twit," Iggy spits back, "We coulda had the place to ourselves! But nooo, let's get shackled to the boss and his kid all night! Sounds utterly thrilling."
Lemmy leaps off the arm of the chair and somersaults to his twin, pushing himself back into a handstand when he emerges.
"Well, if you ask me, you gotta interact with other beings," he teases, "Living ones, not just the engine on the airship."
"Well, good thing I didn't ask you."
"Ehh, he's kinda got a point." Wendy's face squinches up in reluctant agreement, and Iggy whips his head around to narrow his eyes at her, seething with indignance. "You're kinda turning into a recluse."
"Ha! My social life isn't anyone's business but mine, thank you very much," Iggy sneers a grin. When his twin doesn't cease his acrobatics, Iggy pokes the other's shell so he falls flat on his stomach with an winded 'oof'.
"We barely see you anymore!" Larry whines, tossing his head to the ceiling. "You're always off tinkerin' until like, three in the morning, and then you disappear during the day!"
The moment the words leave his lips, Larry's mouth shrinks into a suspicious pucker, poking his head from behind the arm of the chair and narrowing his eyes.
"Iggy, are you a vampire?" He utters the words with deathly seriousness.
Ludwig hides his amused snort behind his palm. Iggy glowers.
"Look, I don't care how much you people harass me, I'm not goin' to some lousy, stupid, boring—!"
"Regardless"— Ludwig interrupts the tirade—"of your reluctance, we would need you in attendance anyway. We'll be traveling via airship and you're the only one with the mechanical know-how in case something goes awry. I, for one, don't plan on dealing with Lord Bowser's meltdown if we get stranded because a few incompetent Goombas busted the engine."
Seeing Iggy's snout contorted into a frown is a rare and unpleasant sight, but he certainly makes no attempt to hide it now.
"I assume you don't want your pride and joy in the bumbling hands of Lord Bowser's underlings?" Ludwig continues with an assuredness that boils Iggy's blood.
Having recovered from his topple, Lemmy props his head up on his twin's shoulder, grinning insufferably. Iggy's eyes, enlarged by his glasses, drift from Lemmy, to the floor, and then to Ludwig. And then he begins weakly slamming his forehead into the arm of the couch.
"I. Hate. You. So. Much." Each word punctuates the impacts.
"So it's settled!" Lemmy perks up and claps his hands together. That obnoxious smile doesn't falter when Iggy pokes a finger at him, and then drags his thumb across his neck, his pupils shrunken into pinpricks of fury.
"The three of us should turn in early tonight," Ludwig orders, "I'll let Lord Bowser know in the morning. Meeting is dismissed."
The remaining siblings rush to escape the conference. Larry vaults himself over the back of the chair and skitters past Wendy and Roy, who nearly trip over the youngest Koopaling. Morton marches out the door a few feet behind, his steps thundering steadily into the hallway. Lemmy, melodrama pulsing through his veins, back handsprings across the sofa before shifting into a cartwheel and landing in the doorway.
"See you guys tomorrow!" he sing-songs before sliding out of view and following his siblings.
Iggy grips the sofa beside him, pushing himself to his feet with an exhausted exhale. Ludwig approaches, hands resting on his hips. Even with his constant slouched posture, Iggy's height is enough for Ludwig to get a crick in his neck every time they have a standing conversation.
"I'm gonna pummel him," Iggy deadpans. The fire's shrinking light accentuates the darkness beneath his spectacled eyes. Ludwig hums.
"I don't feel like going either," he admits, averting his gaze to the fireplace, "But this isn't a half-bad strategy for getting in the princess' good graces, getting her guard down and all."
"Ohh, yeah," Iggy snarls a sarcastic grin, "I'm a real model citizen. Who better to represent the Koopas than the recluse mad scientist and the clown, right?" He chirps out a mirthless chuckle.
"Look, if you'd like, I can probably convince Bowser to let you stay on the airship while the rest of us go inside, considering he didn't even want us to come in the first place," Ludwig offers, craning his neck back up to look at his younger brother, "But I do think Wendy and the others have a point. We've been seeing less and less of you lately."
"What about you, huh?"
"Oh, spare me. I already got the lecture from Lemmy," Ludwig huffs and waves his hand, "'You're turning into a decrepit hermit!' or whatever he said." Iggy giggles in earnest this time.
"He's right." He tousles his brother's spiked hair. "You're gettin' a bit of a rat's nest up there."
Iggy yelps when Ludwig's fist collides with his shoulder, but it devolves into another fit of restrained laughter.
"Do try and get to bed at a normal hour tonight, Iggy." The taller Koopaling rolls his eyes at the request. "We can't have this whole ordeal falling apart because you fall asleep at the wheel of the airship."
"Yeah, yeah, I get it." Iggy makes a shooing motion with his hand as he slumps towards the door and into the hall. "'Early to bed and early to rise, makes a Koopa healthy, wealthy and wise' or whatever the hell Kamek used to tell us."
"He was right about something, at least," Ludwig snorts. Iggy squawks a laugh as he backs into the hallway, arms folded across his chest.
"See ya tomorrow, Wigs." There's a hint of genuineness that Ludwig hasn't heard from his brother in quite some time. "Good luck managing… all of this."
Ludwig nods at Iggy, leaving him to slink around the corner and retreat to his room. The fireplace crackles, spewing thin smoke into the chimney and leaving white ashes behind as it burns the wood away. With a weighty exhale, Ludwig takes the pitcher of water resting on the mantle and pours it over what remains of the fire, the satisfying sizzle tickling his ears. With the cozy light extinguished, only the glow of the hallway through the cracked door can reach inside the den, leaving a strip of light on the eldest Koopaling's face.
"I'm certainly going to need it."