Anyone who's watched Hour Of The Wolfwrath (or Sword And Blade, Loyal And True if you prefer that ep title) knows that there's more to MK and Wolfwrath than we were told. A fierce rivalry like that has to have a good reason behind it. And so I took a little walk through the garden of the potential past....I had originally intended this to have a strong yaoi element, but the story just didn't turn out that way (deja vu from Wing Shadows, much). I'm content with just friendshippiness, though. This is a entry for Ivyna's MKxWolfwrath contest, which is sorely lacking in entries.

The Fine Line

"I...like it here."

The furred head turned toward him, amber eyes reflecting firelight and mild curiosity. Meta Knight watched the canine tap his long claws in the campfire's embers; what was it about fire that drew Wolfwrath like moths?

"This place, your home, is peaceful. I hope that it will remain so."

Giving a last prod to the fire, and watching a few sparks flutter skyward, the Wolfwrath rose and went to his smaller companion, curling comfortably beside the warrior and resting his head on broad paws. He could not speak, but had always liked to listen.

"Great evil threatens, a wicked being by the name of Nightmare. I and my colleagues, the Star Warriors, seek to protect what is good in the universe. That is why we have come here, to your world." He paused, looking to the cloud-blanketed night sky. "However, Nightmare's forces are powerful. Some are monsters created solely to fight, others are creatures possessed.... Our last confrontation ended poorly, many Star Warriors were killed and the inhabitants of that planet captured. I fear that this war will be long and many will suffer."

He glanced to the Wolfwrath, whose eyes were wide. Not with fright, though....

"You do not know war, do you?"

A slight shake of the fuschia-furred head. Of course this creature knew nothing of war...Meta Knight had seen the Wolfwrath go about their tranquil, social lives, seen pups play fearlessly in lush, sweeping meadows. He had never seen the massive claws used in combat, nor the razored teeth bared in anything but the open-mouthed smile of dogs. And the race spat fire and reveled in it; the planet could easily be a charred wasteland, but was not. Amazing that the powerful Wolfwrath were so gentle....

He turned his gaze from the wolf, pulling his navy cape closer about him.

"No one should know war."

And he was shaken then by the thought of losing his newest companion. This Wolfwrath had known no fighting and sworn no duty, he was not prepared to die.... Meta Knight fought to protect the innocent, and if he failed, this innocent would be at Nightmare's mercy. He couldn't allow this creature to suffer death or, worse, the life of a mindless drone.... He simply could not allow it.

Moist warmth flicked at the warrior's cheek, at the edge of his mask. He looked, surprised, back to the Wolfwrath, whose tonguetip lingered between sharp teeth, whose lustrous eyes were full of concern. He didn't know war or hardship or dread of the future...but he knew that his friend was sad. It almost pained Meta Knight to see such child-like naiveté; there was no way for it to last. He lightly placed a gloved hand on the wolf's paw.

"Do not worry. What is good will triumph. It must...."

It was finally over.

It seemed like a strange thing to think. The wind tugged at Meta Knight's cape as he stood there, gazing out at the riverbank. Remnants of paralysis still lingered in his blood, the recent swarm of worried faces quickly fading from thought, an odd heavy feeling growing in his chest as reality sank in. How long had it been? No matter. It was finally over.

It had been so long since that night by the campfire. Since Nightmare's forces had overrun that planet and enslaved its people. Since his friend, the Wolfwrath, had been captured and turned to the side of darkness. He remembered with painful clarity that first time they had reunited, not as friends but as enemies, part of opposing forces on the battlefield. Compassion was gone from those amber eyes, replaced with raw, blazing fury. But what hurt the knight most was that the Wolfwrath's eyes still held that glimmer of intelligence. He was not a mindless drone, brainwashed into doing the dark entity's bidding. He could have overcome that maddening influence if he truly wanted to. But he had given in. He was a soldier now.

Meta Knight could remember every confrontation after that, how his confused hurt had soon turned to hatred. How could the Wolfwrath have just yielded like that, why didn't he at least itry/i? Did he care nothing for what was right or was he just weak? Weak seemed like a poor choice of term; the canine only grew stronger as time passed, traces of youth vanishing in favour of berserk rage. All that wild power and only a spark of sentience....

He wished that he could have seen the outcome of that last battle, the one he started and Kirby finished. Had the Wolfwrath known fear then? Did he regret his actions, regret dying by a righteous blade? Meta Knight's own blade.... His hand strayed to Galaxia's hilt. However it had been, it was over now. He could finally begin to forget.

Casting a look to a familiar cloudy sky, the warrior turned and treaded back inside the castle.