[FF] Worth a Thousand Words

[MessengerOfDreams]

I recently decided that I love King Dedede. I also decided that I wanted to write a story about Samus having a family picture and her thoughts about it. I decided to mash the two together, which was strange. Yet it didn't such, so... wee.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, regret nothing, and let them forget nothing

christ jesus I haven't written that line in ages
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Dedede looked across the cafeteria, wondering exactly what he'd gotten himself into. He nudged Natalia, who stood next to her in the comfort of her pink parka and the knowledge that she didn't have to do the mundane yet imposing task that he did. "Do I have to do this?" he asked.

She giggled, and Dedede knew how amused she was at getting him to man up and approach her. "Well, it depends. Do you want to disappoint Toonie and Lucas?"

Dedede groaned dramatically, loud enough to catch the attention of two nearby newcomers who weren't used to the King's vocal theatrics. "Damn it. The things I do for these kids."

"Oh, come on." This time it was Natalia who elbowed him. "It's not like you don't adore the kids or spoil them rotten. It's a news story, not a quest for some chaos emerald or whatever it is you do. It's an interview. It doesn't even have to be formal. Just ask her the question and talk a bit. She's a woman, not a war machine."

Dedede closed his eyes, checking his mental notes only to find he was lost one. "What was I supposed to ask her again?"

Natalie giggled again. "Doofus. You're supposed to ask what their most important possession is, and how it impacts their life."

"Jesus," Dedede replied. "They're not gonna start off with something light? Favorite food? Favorite music artist? Favorite food? God's sakes, I'm in a cafeteria and I'm starving, can't I just ask her if she likes bananas?"

"No, doof," she told him. "You know what Lucas has been through. This is the question he wanted, and we should stick with it."

Dedede knew, and the idea of a sad Lucas was depressing enough. "Okay, but I'm pretty sure we're gonna alienate a lot of the readers of this whole newsletter thing. I'm also fairly certain they have no clue how a newsletter works."

"Just roll with it," Natalia insisted, frustrated. "You can do it. It's easy."

"Ugh," he responded. "You're better with people, why don't you do it?"

"Hell no," Natalia replied, sparing a moment to look at the gun on their prospect's waist in a black holster. "I'm getting married in a few weeks, I'm not gonna jinx myself. Too much tragedy everywhere else to add my blood to it."

"Okay, okay," Dedede interrupted. "I'll do it. If I die, tell Kirby he can have my entire kingdom."

Natalia smirked, fiddling with her engagement ring. "I'll be sure to do that. Godspeed to you, King Dedede!"

"Yeah," he replied quietly as she walked away. "God, speed me the hell out of here." Not seeing any other option, he walked towards the coffee stand in the far right corner of the cafeteria, ran by Game and Watch. Even at seventy years of age, he still wore the same black suit and the same black cap, with a black apron over it. Dedede thought he was a peculiar relic during his first year, but Game became one of the few people who tolerated Dedede during his arrogant few days as a freshman and eventually got him acclimated to the rest of them. He was also a damn good chef, which earned him bonus points in the portly king's eyes.

"Two coffees, please," he ordered. "One black and one with as much hazel creamer as you can spare."

"Hm!" Gamey noticed that something was different. "I'm fairly certain that my memory isn't short enough gigs to fail me in saying that you usually only order the insanely saturated coffee, certainly not one as black as my cap."

"Yeah, uhm…" How to explain in as few words as possible... "I'm doing a favor."

"Nice to hear, for Samus Aran no less!" he noted as he started pouring the coffee. "She's the only one who orders the coffee this black around here, because she's the only soul pure enough to enjoy it, as far as I'm concerned."

"If you say so." Dedede had a remark questioning how coffee tastes defined a person on his tongue, but he never looked a gift chef in the knife.

"Well, I'm sure you've got an important reason for this rendezvous," he continued as he started mixing Dedede's.

"Not really," he admitted. "I just don't want to see children cry."

"It's as good a reason as any, as far as I'm concerned. Take it from four decades entertaining the little buggers, nothing in the world matters as much as keeping the children on the right path."

"Coming from the OG of game design," Dedede replied, gratefully taking the coffees from him, "that's saying a lot."

"Ah, you with your praise!" Gamey laughed. "Here, I'm just a humble coffee maker. Would you like a danish to go with that?"

Dedede glanced over to Samus, who leaned against the wall with an unamused glare at no one in particular that could pierce a metal cap faster than ROB's suit, and that intimidating gun that instinctively created a barrier. "Eh, not very hungry," he admitted. "But thanks. I gotta go."

Gamey laughed as the King ran in short, thudding bounds, his stomach bouncing with him. "You have fun!" he called.

"Ain't that some wishful thinking," he whispered. His run became slower as he got closer to her. The closer he got, the stupider this idea seemed, and the more terrified he became. Regardless, he thought of Lucas' disappointed frown and insistence that he understood when Lucas truly didn't understand why the world could go as awry as it tended to. The memory alone was enough to carry him to her even when his legs felt like failing him.

Christ, I'm awful at talking to people, he thought to himself.

"Hello," was what he said aloud, standing next to Samus awkwardly. Samus looked over, and awoke from whatever daze she was in with a jolt. She reached for her holster as though it was second nature, causing Dedede to let out a short, guttural yelp.

"Uhm, I come in peace, I come in peace!" he insisted, holding his coffee up over his head in defense. Samus swore and let go, crossing her arms once more as she leaned against the wall. She looked the same as ever; light blue faded shirt, blue jeans, freezing blue eyes, and disinterested, sharp features lightly scrutinizing him.

She slowly gave a cautious smile. "Hey, it's his royal highness himself. What are you doing here? With me?"

"Uhm… I'm doing some friends a favor," he clumsily explained.

She sighed. "Oh boy. Those are fun. Don't tell me, they dared you to try and say hello without getting shot or something ridiculous like that."

Dedede laughed, as if it was a joke and not a distinct possibility. "No, nothing like that. A couple of friends are doing a newsletter… thingy. I'm not sure what the specifics are, but they want to interview everyone, and they sent me out to ask… a question."

Samus closed her eyes, thinking it over. Dedede noticed that she seemed a bit troubled, and was trying to pass it off as annoyance. He didn't dare make a move or say anything, because all he knew of her is that she was a cold huntress, was extremely defensive and calculated, and had a similar tragic backstory to all too many people he knew less fortunate than himself. He wasn't sure what to make of her in person, but tried to reassure himself that meeting a new person would change how he thought of them. Maybe the same would happen here.

"It's been ages since I've had a decent conversation," she admitted with a disarming chuckle.

"Well, then let me be your first," Dedede offered, trying to sound smoother and strongers than the eggshells he was walking on.

Samus finally noticed the coffee. "Well, you have coffee. You've earned the right to a conversation. I'm a little rusty, so don't mind if I'm full of ♥♥♥♥."

Dedede let her take her black coffee. "Nah, you'll be fine," he reassured her. He remembered the question at hand and warned her, "this is a pretty heavy question, though, so… trigger warning, I guess."

"Nothing scares me anymore," she reassured him. Dedede bought it; with confidence like that, he bought into a bit of it."

"Okay, so… I'm not sure if I'm remembering it right, but I was told to ask you if there was one possession you had that meant the most to you, and if it impacted how you see life."

"That's a Lucas question if ever there was one," she pointed out.

"Pretty much," Dedede confirmed, although he wasn't sure how she knew, seeing as she barely talked to anyone.

"Poor kid," she replied. "He's been through a lot, I feel for him." Dedede wanted to say that Lucas had actually pushed through a lot of his personal tragedy in the last couple of years, and didn't let it define him, but teach him in a really remarkable way, but that wasn't the topic at hand, and let her have the floor. "You know what, I think I got something that'll work. Give me a moment."

Holding the coffee in one hand, she rooted through her holster in her other hand. Dedede yelped again, but Samus shook her head. "I'm not gonna ♥♥♥♥ shoot you," she insisted, exasperated.

"Sorry, sorry," Dedede apologized, waiting for Samus to finish digging around for whatever it was. She pulled a small photo out of it, and handed it to Dedede, who opened it.

"This, right here."

He looked at the photo, recognizing it as a family picture. How quaint, he thought. To him, the family photos were often synonymous with idyllic unity, a bastion of comfort and a pillar of strength. In his own photo albums that he used his endless amount of spare time to carefully put together, he had an entire one dedicated to himself and his parents during their time alive. After all, it was they who encouraged Dedede to take as much as he possibly could out of life, so he took as many pictures as he had time to. Such memories left him at peace whenever he thought about family, but it was shattered when Samus began to talk again, reminding him of one dissonant fact that turned his idylls into her sorrow.

"They died," she began to explain, leaning against the wall and glancing over the King's shoulder at the photo. She closed her eyes, finding her words, and continued. "They died before I was even fully cognant of the world around me. I remember having parents, but I don't remember them at all. Hell, if it weren't for this photo, I wouldn't even know they were alive."

"Whoa," Dedede blurted, never one for arranging words elegantly. The idea of the people in them being dead caused him to look over the photo. Samus, looking exactly like you'd expect a version of her barely over three feet fall, held both of their hands, standing with the same aloof confidence that she was standing here today, at the edge of the cafeteria. Her father, fall and well-built with mussy blond hair was to her left, standing diligently yet still with a wide mother, also a platinum blonde and slim as a razor, wore a tight, almost secretive smile. "That's crazy."

"Isn't it?" Samus smirked, seemingly getting a kick out of Dedede's reaction. "Personally, though, I think not knowing's the advantage. I like to imagine, seeing as I don't have them anymore anyways."

"Imagine?" The more he talked to Samus, the dumber and more spoiled he felt.

"Yeah. That's the fun of it. My parents could be anyone. I mean, I've heard that apparently they hunted too, but I don't really know anything except that and their names. That means as characters, they could be anybody. Look at Pops, I mean. Strong, strapping, could take on the world. Maybe Pops was one of the most revered bounty hunters in the universe. Maybe he was a scrappy underdog trying to make his way in the Federation. Maybe he was a drunken ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ and any compliments he gets are out of respect for the dead. That's kind of why I don't idealize their memories. Maybe my dad was a complete piece of ♥♥♥♥."

She laughed briefly, but Dedede couldn't tell if she genuinely found it funny or just sad. In an attempt to comfort her, he said "I'm sure he was a good guy."

She furrowed her brow, causing Dedede to realize he'd only served to annoy her. "You don't know that," she claimed, tacking on "but I appreciate the sentiment."

Embarrassed, Dedede looked back at his notebook that he'd stopped writing in ages ago. Part of him wondered if he could remember this story off the top of his head, or if he was just too transfixed by the story. He worried about forgetting and letting the kids down, but even he wondered if this was just too real for a dinky little newsletter ran by the likes of Lucas and Toonie.

Ending his silence, Samus nudged him into attention. He nodded, briefly apologizing. "No, no," she insisted. "It's all good. Just pay attention, I'm only selling my soul here."

"Oh lord," Dedede blurted.

"Just kidding," she insisted weakly. Before Dedede could comment, she continued. "And my mother. She was pretty, and the look in her eyes. Even as faded as this photo is, I can see the fire in them. She could have the passion to get anything she wanted, damn the costs. Maybe the fire's from the memory of things past, or the fact that she's built a family in the middle of the most dangerous environment and she's never felt so alive. With my mom, I wonder more about how she was than who she was, because she looks so much like me."

Dedede glanced at the photo, then dramatically swiveled his view to Samus, noting the similarities. The only thing that was missing was the fire in her eyes. "Why do you imagine so much?" he asked. "Why don't you want to know?"

Samus frowned as she thought it over. Dedede nearly apologized again, but decided against it. It seemed to annoy her when he seemed anything less than entirely sure of his actions. After some thought, she answered, "imagining things is like writing history, y'know. I've wondered about how my parents met. I'd like to imagine that they were on a secret mission where they were forced to work with each other. They wouldn't get along at first, but as they went along and were risking their own lives to help each other, they begin to see eye-to-eye. After a dramatic fight where they save each other's lives, it's complete, and the adrenaline causes them to see how they honestly feel about each other. They fall in love from there, get married, and eventually I break loose to wreak havoc on the world."

"Like a movie?" Dedede pointed out, amused that this was coming from the cold, intimidating bounty huntress.

"Yes!" she agreed, laughing in a short bark. "Like essentially every action movie you could think of with a romantic entanglement. It's a nice idea. But really, the truth is that they just went and got coffee and then hit it off from there, like normal people do." She noticed the coffee in her hand and took a sip. "That's kind of where the revisionist history comes in, because I don't want to imagine my parents being anything less than extraordinary."

Dedede whistled, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck with his heavily gloved hand, as he took in her words. He wasn't sure exactly what to follow that up with, his thoughts interrupted by Samus pointing out "you haven't taken a single note for, like, the last five minutes."

"Oh, uhm," he looked at the blank page he'd turned and shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "It's a formality. I'll be able to remember all of this, trust me. Wicked memory here."

Samus nodded, but said nothing more, allowing Dedede to think for a few more seconds as he took in the rest of the cafeteria and its patrons. They were an eclectic, remarkable group of people; obviously the tournament organizers wouldn't have brought in anything less. Samus had the privilege of being in the first twelve person tournament, he was in the third wave of thirty-seven, which may as well have been five trillion. Even now, more newcomers were trickling in before the fourth tournament started, at their own table, as shy as Samus was to interact with everyone else. Dedede remembered how he felt coming into tournament three; even his own large ego failed him in the presence of people far more talented and experienced than him. He was unsure of how someone like Samus, an original fighter, still felt the same way that every newcomer did, but decided that was how he was going to approach the conversation.

"So," he began. "Is that all why you never talk with anyone else?"

Surprised, Samus clenched her coffee so hard that the plastic lid popped off. Dedede jolted, but secretly was glad Samus was finally caught off guard. "I actually…" she looked around the cafeteria, which nearly had sixty people now, "they actually all seem to be afraid of me. You don't get many people around here who want to talk to me. In fact, I'm surprised you decided to step into my world for a bit, children's newspaper or no." She shrugged, as if deflecting her own words, and readjusted the lid that lazily lay on her cup.

"Honestly?" Dedede replied. "I know I'm breaking the journalistic integrity I totally don't actually have, but I think you're making people scared of you."

"Hm," was Samus' reply. "Is that so?"

Dedede nodded slowly, as if waiting for Samus to slap him. Samus sighed, downing the rest of her coffee and tossing the cup across the room and over the head of several surprised fighters into the can right next to Pit, who looked like he was about to fly through the roof.

"Maybe you're onto something," she reluctantly agreed.

"I guess," he said. "Like, when I see you in the back of the room, knowing what little of you I do, seeing you with that icy glare and the guarded body language, I know you mean business." He glanced at her hip, adding "the gun doesn't help matters."

"Hey, you never know when one will come in handy," she responded.

"True, true," he agreed. "I just prefer to keep my hammer in my room."

"Because if you carried it around, you'd probably end up clubbing people in the face every step you took."

Dedede snorted laughter into his coffee. "Freshman year at the Tournaments was not my most self-aware time. I'll tell you what, though. Learned a lot about myself and how others saw me. Beginning of my first year everyone thought I was a complete buffoon. A total blowhard."

"We totally did," she confirmed, causing Dedede to laugh again.

"Yep. And now I'm indulging preteens in their world-conquering hobbies like they're my own Waddle Dees. It's kind of funny, because who people are changes when they meet more people. Like, it's not just imagining people like they're characters. It's a total scientific thing. Person A collides with Person B and it changes their path. It's really freakin' cool."

"Are you saying human beings are like billiards?" Samus asked.

"I was thinking along the lines of extreme sumo cage ball match, but whatever floats your spaceship."

Samus nodded. Dedede watched her look around the room, wondering if she was re-evaluating the way she saw the others. He found Mario and Peach at one table, chatting like old friends and sitting close enough that any ideas of a close friendship could easily be dashed. "So," Samus said, "Mario's not a legend without the princess he rescued, just a guy who runs and jumps obnoxiously high with the world's most ear-piercing accent."

Dedede laughed again. "Yeah, that's pretty much it."

"Hey, that's actually kind of interesting," she admitted.

"It is. It's like, other people bring them out of just being characters. He's not just an athlete, he's a total hero with a heart of gold, and even that's an oversimplification."

Samus smiled, watching Mario lean in for a soft kiss on the princess' cheek, causing her to laugh. "I never thought I'd be talking about the human condition to the big guy in the orange robes with the hammer that threw monkeys at us."

Dedede grinned, beaming with pride. "See, what did I tell you? It's working. Just like extreme sumo cage ball match."

Samus snorted. "You almost have me on board with it until that ridiculous metaphor."

"Okay, okay. Like billiards."

Samus leaned over to take the picture back, folding it and putting it back in her pocket. "So, uhm…" she kept her gaze on the room, away from Dedede. "I'll let you get back to that whole story thing. Try not to make me look too dumb and soapy, okay?"

"Aw, don't worry." He clapped her shoulder affectionately, as if he'd known her for ages. "You'll look amazing. This was a great conversation, thank you."

"Take care," she told him quietly. He nodded with that big, casual grin as he took slow, deliberate steps out of the room, taking his notebook and coffee with him and whistling a familiar tune. Samus was left there alone, with nothing but her gun and the mysterious picture in her pocket. She closed her eyes, eyeing the cafeteria as though it were another monster. Despite being only half-full, there were still thirty people that she had no clue how to approach, even those like Mario who were from the first wave. She tried to imagine a plan of attack, before realizing that this wasn't the battlefield and there was no reason for her to be on attack at all. Yet, normal life seemed to be a more terrifying beast than any she'd ever faced.

I know how to take the actual monsters down, she thought, yet I have no idea how to ♥♥♥♥ live.

She sighed, knowing something had to change, so she began her first fight for herself in the only way she knew how- she went back to her dorm to put her gun away. As she stored it in a small metal lockbox under her bed in a sparsely decorated room, she took the picture out. She thought about what she said about imagining their legend, if only to face the fact that they might have just gotten coffee, but she felt a peculiar warmth in her gut that made her think that coffee wasn't a half-bad way to begin things.

She placed the photo in the lockbox, under the gun for safekeeping, then left her room to face a mundane world she'd only dreamt about, wondering if reality really was stranger than fiction.

-MoD-

Dedede walked around with a small stack of copies of the newsletter that was now his solo project. As expected, Lucas, Toonie, and whoever else was involved with the fiasco that was now his personal favorite thing to do faded away and caught onto new ideas as kids usually did, exploring the universe in ways he'd long forgotten to do. Dedede remembered the conversation fondly, and thought back to the one with Samus in particular as he talked to everyone else with the same question. He noticed that the more he went around to it, the more open people were, the more they expected him, and the more respect he got. People were open to him as a person in ways he never expected before, and had never experienced as a clumsy, laughable figure of royalty. He liked it, and he liked writing this whatever-the-hell-it-was-because-it-certainly-wasn't-a-newsletter. It was his place in the mansion.

He spotted the bulletin board and the table below it, and prepared to walk over and set up his display. He was excited, even despite being nervous enough to stand his hairs on edge. Even before he got there, people walked over to him, taking them from beneath his arm and quickly thanking him before scurrying off with the paper capsule of fifty-something lives. He laughed, feeling as though his job was being done for him.

Before he could make it over, he heard someone whistle sharply. He traced the noise down to none other than Samus, who was sitting with someone else he vaguely recognized as Rosalina. She waved him over, and without thinking about the bulletin board, he followed. He took a seat across from them, setting the papers on the table. Before him, he noticed a coffee, smelling of the hazel creamer, and a nice cream cheese danish.

"Awwwwwww!" His vocal theatrics shone through again. "I oughta hug you."

Samus smirked. "I might actually shoot you if you do that."

"Okay, okay," he responded, putting his hands up. "Thanks for this. It looks delish."

As he partook in his treats, Rosalina reached over for a newsletter while Samus watched the both of them. She still seemed to be the awkward observer of the conversation, but it was a start. Rosalina skimmed the front page and the first few stories. "Would you look at that," she pointed out in her melodic, motherly voice. "Guess who made the front page."

Samus leaned over her shoulder, looking just below the title and headline. She blushed, but tried to brush it off with a smirk. "Front page? Really? I'm that big a deal."

"Yeah, well, you know…" Dedede didn't know what to say. "It was a fun conversation."

Samus nodded, and allowed herself to smile sincerely. She softly kicked his leg in a playful gesture. Dedede noticed, but merely smiled. Samus noticed that Rosalina was still skimming the newsletter, and tapped her on the shoulder. She looked up, and Samus pointed her at Dedede.

"Uhm, Dedede, this is Rosalina," Samus introduced her new friend, as if Dedede had never seen her before. "We bonded over our love of… stars."

Rosalina chuckled, in that same caring, interested, motherly way. "Charmed, your majesty."

"Your majesty?" Dedede responded as Rosalina quietly turned back to the newsletter. "Well!"

Samus took a drink of coffee. "So, what's your next newsletter gonna be about?"

"I actually had a good idea for my first solo act," he told her. "I'm excited to see what people say. It's about how people felt adjusting to the tournament and living here. I think it'll help people understand each other."

"Hmm," Samus mused. "Well, for me, it was terrifying to get to know new people, but now it's kind of a fun challenge. And that's all I'm saying, so you don't get to put me on the first page again. Seriously, I bet they're all talking about me."

"Fondly," Rosalina interjected absentmindedly while reading.

"Just for that," Dedede smirked, "I'm gonna put you in the exact same place with your one line."

"Oh, then I'll definitely shoot you," Samus responded. Dedede laughed, shaking his head dismissively, no longer afraid. "But seriously. This is kind of fun. Thanks for talking to me, it's actually changed a lot."

Dedede smiled as warmly as he ever had. "Ma'am, it was my pleasure."

Samus kicked him in the shin again. It became quiet, with the two silently regarding each other as they drank their coffee, only interrupted by the interested hmms and silky laughs coming from Samus' new interstellar companion.

"So, uhm…" Samus began. "You gonna put those up?"

Dedede remembered with a jolt. "Oh! Yeah! Course. If everyone else doesn't get to me first. I swear, a bunch of pirahnas, they are."

"Consider it rewards to a job well done," Samus assured him.

"Yes," Rosalina concurred. "It's very well-written. I'm surprised, as you'd professed yourself far from it. You should be more confident in your work."

"She's like this a lot," Samus told him, smiling. Rosalina hummed fondly.

"Aw, well…" Embarrassed by the compliments, he made for a hasty exit. "Be right back," he assured them as he walked away.

"I know," she said, taking a drink of the coffee, watching Dedede waddle away, whistling again.

Rosalina watched him, letting Samus swipe the newsletter and start reading her entry. "What a nice gentleman," Rosalina confirmed. "I feel as though I've misjudged him."

As Samus read the first bits of her entry, she found herself blushing, genuinely touched and impressed at his generous language. "Me too."

-MoD-

My first conversation, with Samus Aran, was a daunting task. Standing tall as her own sentinel in the back of any room she could be found in, cautiously bearing a pistol in her holster, she and the house had reached a silent agreement- you don't talk to me, I don't talk to you. To my surprise, she was as open and honest as any other person I'd ever met, despite her guarded formation as far away from human life here as she was in space. If you're wondering why she landed the front page, it's because every meaningful experience has a catalyst, and we were each other's catalysts.

[-BY]

Awesome work, as always. I didn't expect it to become this great, as the concept didn't reach me at first.
I love how you're capable of creating places with words. I ended up easily imagining the places the conversations took place in.
It's like the story tells itself. : 3


(I'm barely ever giving critic for stories. Don't hurt me for being useless. ^^)

[MessengerOfDreams]

Nah, you're nowhere near useless. You reviewed, after all.

[Megar]

found this browsing the smash section on fanfiction.net
is pretty good