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Chapter Text

The vast emptiness of space was often a quiet companion for Luna. He drifted slowly, a silent guardian in Earth’s orbit, his grey eyes usually fixed on his charge, but today, they were drawn to the shimmering, chaotic expanse of the Asteroid Belt. It was a place of mystery and, frankly, a little trepidation for the kind, quiet moon.

"Pssst, hey!"

Luna, usually so serene, jolted, his entire spherical form tilting slightly. He spun, his grey surface reflecting the distant starlight, uncertainty clouding his features. "Do I know you?" he asked, his voice a soft, echoing whisper in the void. His eyes widened further. "Wha—are you that crazy planet that lives in the Asteroid Belt?" He’d heard the whispers, the tales of strange, fragmented worlds.

A shimmering, orange sphere, slightly obscured by a cloud of hazy gas, emerged from behind the swirling rocks and dust. Its surface rippled with an almost liquid motion. "What? No, I'm not a planet," the newcomer retorted, sounding genuinely confused. "I'm Titan, Saturn's Moon." With a graceful, deliberate push, Titan crossed the celestial boundary of the Asteroid Belt, venturing into the inner system.

Luna stared, his quiet nature momentarily forgotten, replaced by sheer disbelief. "You're a moon?" he exclaimed, a hint of a laugh in his voice. "Ha! No way!" He'd always thought moons were... well, moons. Small, unassuming, orbiting their parent planets. He, Luna, was a moon. This giant before him was something else entirely.

Titan's atmosphere seemed to shimmer slightly, a subtle shrug. "Why'd you say that?"

"You look pretty big for being a moon," Luna explained, his gaze sweeping over Titan's impressive form. "I mean, you're way bigger than Pluto, you may be even bigger than Mercury!" 

"Well, I don't know about that. You're just-" Titan began, but Luna's attention had already been captured by something else.

"Hold on, is that an atmosphere?" Luna interrupted, his voice laced with awe and a sudden, intense yearning. The thought of gas envelopes, of protection and potential, was a concept he'd only dreamed of. "Oh, I'd kill for one of those!" He found himself drawn forward, an almost primal curiosity urging him closer, until his grey surface was abnormally close to Titan’s hazy orange (A/N: cause that's his real colour😭).

Titan visibly recoiled a few degrees; his voice tinged with discomfort. "Hey, uh... can you-"

Luna instantly realized his breach of personal space and pulled back, a blush of faint pinkish light perhaps betraying his embarrassment. "Yes, sorry. Too much." He cleared his metaphorical throat. "So, why are you here?"

"I just wanted to meet ya," Titan said, recovering quickly. "You're Earth's Moon after all."

"I see." Luna's expression became thoughtful. "You're interested in the Earth?" He knew Earth (or Gaea, as Neptune sometimes called her) was special, but he found her uniqueness quite endearing rather than cause for envy.

Titan practically glowed with enthusiasm. "I mean, who isn't? She has the conditions to sustain life; she has liquid water!" His own internal world of frozen landscapes and hidden seas made Earth's lush potential seem like a paradise.

Luna smiled gently. "I guess she's unique, but we all are in our own way! I believe every one of us-"

"Can you introduce me to the Earth? Pleaaaaaassssee~" Titan cut him off, his voice stretching out in a desperate plea, his earlier philosophical musings entirely forgotten.

Luna pondered this, his gaze drifting towards the distant, vibrant blue of Earth. "Won't Saturn notice you're gone?" he asked, ever considerate.

Titan waved a dismissive cloud of nitrogen. "Saturn has 83 moons. It'll take him a while." There was a hint of a sigh in his tone, perhaps a reflection of his own yearning for individual attention.

"Hm, well alright," Luna conceded, his kind nature winning out. "I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks! Oh, you're the best. Let's stay in touch!" Titan chirped, already turning. With a cheerful bob, he disappeared back into the tumultuous embrace of the Asteroid Belt, leaving Luna once again in the quiet expanse.

"Is he really a moon?" Luna mused aloud, a new question forming in his developing consciousness. He'd thought he knew what a moon was, what he was. This encounter with Titan, so large and atmospheric, blurred the lines he'd started to draw.

A familiar, deep gravitational hum vibrated through the space around him. Then, silhouetted against the distant Sun, brown sphere appeared. His midnight blue eyes, glinted with a knowing amusement. "Luna! Why are you near the belt?" Juno's voice boomed, stern but with an underlying warmth. Luna knew that tone.

"N-no reason," Luna stuttered, a flush spreading across his grey surface.

Juno drifted closer, his form easily dwarfing Luna's. He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing playfully. "Seeing Dione again?" he teased, a smirk evident in his gravitational pull.

"What! Nooooo," Luna blurted out, his blush deepening to a definite pink. He desperately tried to look casual, but his orbit wobbled just slightly, betraying his fluster.

Chapter Text

The rocky planets were gathered, though not all. Mercury, ever the anxious one, was likely orbiting somewhere else. Here, it was just Juno, Earth, Venus, and Luna, all engrossed in a game of cards. The air was thick with the low hum of their atmospheres and the occasional, almost imperceptible rumble of their tectonic plates – a constant companion to their existence.

“Shuffle the cards, Mars, I’m ready!” Venus snapped, his amber eyes glinting with a familiar blend of impatience and aggression. He slammed his hand down on the makeshift table formed by a flat asteroid, a tiny tremor echoing through the space.

Juno, leaning back on a small, stable moonlet, merely rolled his midnight blue eyes. He said nothing, a silent dismissal that only seemed to fuel Venus’s simmering resentment. Proto, as he was once known, had seen it all before.

Luna, typically quiet, shifted nervously beside Earth. “Hey, Earth,” he whispered, his grey eyes wide.

Earth, her own midnight blue eyes narrowed in concentration on her hand, sighed. “Moon, you know what I’ve said about interrupting our card games?” Her tone was firm, though not unkind, the way a parent might chide a curious child.

“Yeah, sorry,” Luna mumbled, shrinking in on himself. “Uh, there’s someone who wants to meet you.”

Before Earth could respond, a new, slightly intimidated voice broke through the card game’s intensity. “Hello, Miss Earth, i-it’s an honor. I-I came here to-”

Earth blinked, her focus shifting from the cards to the newcomer. She was surprised, not just by the interruption, but by the sight of the unfamiliar celestial body. “Hey, are you a new planet? I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

The newcomer bristled, a faint tremor running through his icy surface. “Why does everyone think I’m a pla-? No, I’m a moon named Titan!” he declared, his annoyance palpable.

Juno, ever observant, straightened slightly. “You’re one of Saturn’s moons, right?” he asked, his voice calm and knowing.

Titan, caught off guard, stammered, “Uhh, yeah, how did you-?”

Mars, who had finally finished shuffling the deck with a flourish, grinned. “Saturn talks about you non-stop to Jupiter. What did he call you, his middle Earth?”

Earth’s expression remained flat. “Isn’t that a reference to ‘Lord of the Rings’?” she asked, a hint of boredom in her voice. She cast a side-eye at Luna, who laughed sheepishly, knowing he was the reason she knew of such things – a book she'd acquired for him. “But why that name?”

Mars, always happy to share information, puffed out his chest. “Titan’s mountains are named after famous mountains from the Lord of the Rings books. But it’s also because you’re both made of rock, have atmospheres, volcanoes…”

Earth’s boredom vanished, replaced by sudden, intense curiosity. “Volcanoes!?” she exclaimed, leaning closer to Titan. “You have volcanoes?”

Juno interjected smoothly, “Ice volcanoes.”

Luna’s eyes lit up. “Woah, that sounds way cooler!”

Earth giggled, an unexpected, almost childlike sound. “Hey, judging by your atmosphere, you could have microscopic life.” Her gaze moved over Titan’s hazy, orange surface, her mind already racing with possibilities.

Titan, completely flustered by the sudden attention, stammered, “W-what?”

Juno, ever the pragmatist, offered, “You have water under your surface, liquid water so…”

Mars, about to launch into another excited explanation, added, “And if not there, there could be some in your atmosphere, like Ve-” 

As Mars spoke, mentioning the possibility of life in an atmosphere like Venus, Venus's amber eyes, which had been tracking the conversation with a simmering resentment, suddenly snapped. He watched Earth giggle and lean in closer to Titan, their shared excitement about potential life a cruel mirror to his own desolate surface. A vein throbbed on his temple, and his rocky exterior seemed to radiate a stifling heat.

"Like what, Mars?! Like ME?!" Venus snarled, cutting Mars off mid-sentence. His voice was laced with a venom that made the air itself seem to crackle. He scoffed, his gaze burning a hole through Titan. "Hardly! He's just a moon! A glorified pebble orbiting some lumbering gas giant, forever stuck in someone else's shadow! Moons need to know their place, crawling around their parent planets, not prancing around here like they're going to sprout some life!"

Luna and Titan flinched, their eyes wide with shock at the sudden, vicious outburst. Titan, who had been glowing with a quiet pride just moments before, shrank back slightly, his initial enthusiasm evaporating.

But Venus wasn't done. His rage, a long-simmering stew of pain and envy, now fully boiled over, and he turned his full, scalding fury on Earth. "And you!" he spat, pointing a trembling, accusatory finger at her. "Don't you dare put ideas into his head with your talk about microscopic life! You think you're so special, don't you?! With your 'life' and your 'oceans' and your 'atmosphere'! You're nothing but a spoiled brat! An accident! The Universe just got lucky with you, a fluke born from a catastrophic collision! You don't deserve the life you have, not when others, better planets, could have had it!"

Earth's joyful smile instantly crumbled. Her midnight blue eyes, so full of curiosity moments ago, welled up with unshed tears, her lower lip trembling uncontrollably. The words, particularly "accident" and "don't deserve," felt like physical blows. "V-Venus...!" a choked sob escaped her, and she clutched her chest, as if trying to hold herself together.

Juno, whose own midnight blue eyes had narrowed to dangerous slits, surged from his seat, a low growl rumbling deep within him. Rage flared on his face, mirroring the volatile planet before them. "Venus, that is ENOUGH!" he thundered, his voice cracking with paternal fury.

Mars, looking utterly horrified, scrambled to his feet. "Dude, take it back! You can't say that to her!" he pleaded, trying to intervene.

But it was too late. Earth's face was awash with hot, stinging tears. She let out a heartbroken cry, turning abruptly. Her form shimmered as she shot away from the table, a faint, shimmering trail of salty tears marking her rapid exit from the scene.

"Earth! Wait!" Luna cried out, his voice filled with despair, before turning a distraught, angry glare on Venus.

Titan remained frozen, stunned silent, his gaze flicking between the empty space where Earth had been and the still-seething Venus.

Juno let out another guttural growl, his eyes burning into Venus for a long moment, before he too, with a burst of indignant speed, shot off in pursuit of his weeping daughter.

Mars stood, staring at Venus, disbelief and anger warring on his face. "Dude, what is wrong with you?!"

Venus, though still radiating a toxic heat, had a flicker of something unreadable in his amber eyes as Earth's cries faded. A hint of regret, perhaps, or just a deeper layer of cold hardness. He didn't answer Mars, simply turned away, his back to the stunned group, radiating an aura of desolate, aggressive silence. The card game was utterly forgotten.

Chapter Text

The silent shock that followed Juno and Mars’s departure was thick and suffocating. Titan remained frozen, his gaze flicking between the empty space where Earth had been and the still-seething Venus. But Venus’s words, sharp as shattered ice, continued to rebound in the quiet expanse, ringing in Titan’s core.

“Moons need to know their place, crawling around their parent planets…” “…a glorified pebble orbiting some lumbering gas giant…” “…forever stuck in someone else’s shadow…”

The echo of them scraped against a newly sensitive part of him, a part that had, against his initial indifference, started to care. He was Saturn’s favorite, yes, and he found Saturn’s affection often embarrassing, but Venus’s sneering dismissal of all moons, including himself, felt like a cold, unexpected jab. It wasn’t right. And then, the image of Earth’s crumbled smile, her trembling lip, burned in his mind.

Then, a faint sound pierced through his internal turmoil – a soft, broken whimper, almost swallowed by the vastness of space. It was followed by another, closer, unmistakable. Crying.

Earth.

His core tightened. Decisive. Circumspect. He didn't hesitate. Without a word, Titan pushed past Mars, who barely registered his movement, and slipped silently away from the lingering tension of the card game. He navigated the scattered asteroids and debris, his senses honed, following the sound. It led him around a particularly large, jagged rock, where he found her.

Earth, was huddled against the cold, dark surface of an asteroid, her light dimmed, trembling. Her midnight blue eyes, usually so vibrant with life and curiosity, were swollen and red-rimmed, brimming with unshed tears that occasionally escaped to trail down her surface. Her small frame shook with choked sobs, clutching herself as if to physically hold her shattered resolve together. The sight twisted something deep inside him.

He approached cautiously, his own gravity a gentle pull, not wanting to startle her further. But as he drew near, one of her tremors sent her rocking slightly, and she nudged forward just as he orbited closer, creating a soft, almost imperceptible bump.

Earth flinched, a small sound of alarm escaping her, and she squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for another blow. It was then she noticed him, slowly opening her eyes to see Titan hovering, a quiet, solid presence. His grey eyes, usually so calm, held a flicker of something he couldn't quite name – concern, perhaps, and a hint of a new, protective resolve. He looked… hesitant, yet incredibly steady.

"E-Earth?" Titan's voice, when it finally came, was a touch deeper than usual, a quiet rumble that seemed to vibrate through the asteroid they were near. It held a softness she hadn't often heard from him, but beneath it, a subtle, unyielding strength that made her breath catch.

She sniffled, trying to pull herself together, to seem less… broken. But it was impossible. His gaze, though gentle, felt incredibly intense, seeing all her vulnerability, all her pain. It was almost too much, yet strangely comforting. She found herself unable to look away, her own gaze instinctively dropping slightly, a silent acknowledgement of his presence, his quiet authority.

"T-Titan," she whispered, her voice a thin, reedy sound. Another tear escaped. "I… I didn't… I didn't see you."

"I know," he responded, his voice still low, measured. He didn't move closer, but his presence seemed to fill the space around her, a solid, unwavering anchor. "Are you… alright?" The question was simple, direct, yet carried a weight that invited a truthful answer. It wasn’t a casual inquiry; it was a quiet demand for her state, for her to acknowledge her pain.

Earth's lower lip trembled again. "He… he said I was an accident," she choked out, the words raw with hurt. "That I don't... I don't deserve it." The memory of Venus's words was a fresh wound.

Titan’s core pulsed with a quiet, controlled anger at the mention of Venus. He wouldn’t dignify that gasbag with a direct response, not now. Instead, he maintained his steady orbit, his gaze fixed on her. "Venus is… insensitive," he said carefully, the understatement loaded with his own contempt. His eyes searched hers, a silent command for her to believe him. "What he said… it was not true."

He watched her carefully, noting how she hesitated, clinging to his words. He was nervous, yes, but also acutely aware that she needed him to be firm, to guide her out of this despair. His new, more demanding nature, usually reserved for his "stubborn" side, now manifested as a quiet, determined assurance. "You are special, Earth. Your... your life... it is not an accident." He paused, choosing his next words with circumspect precision. "It is a marvel. A wonder."

Earth looked up at him fully then, her midnight blue eyes wide, searching his grey ones for any hint of falseness. But there was none, only that steady, unwavering presence, that quiet, insistent strength. The words, spoken with such conviction by the usually reserved moon, resonated deep within her, a small spark of warmth in the cold, desolate space. She felt a blush creep over her surface, embarrassed by her raw display of emotion, but also strangely soothed by his unwavering focus. She felt small, exposed, yet utterly safe under his gaze.

"But... he was so angry," she whispered, the need for his reassurance clear.

Titan's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. He suppressed the rising frustration, focusing on Earth. "Venus does not speak for all of us," he stated, his voice firm. "And what he says about the potential for life… it is only his limited perspective." He shifted slightly, a subtle movement that drew her attention, making her instinctively lean just a fraction closer. "Perhaps," he continued, a thoughtful, almost private light entering his eyes, "some moons do have the potential for it. Even if they are just… pebbles orbiting a giant." He didn't acknowledge the sting of Venus's words, but subtly countered them, elevating not just Earth, but perhaps a little of himself, and his own kind, in the process.

Earth watched him, her tears finally drying, a blush returning to her face for an entirely different reason. The way he spoke, so assured, so protective. It made her heart flutter in a way she hadn't known before. She felt a small, unbidden thrill, a sense of being both completely vulnerable and utterly safe in his presence. She mumbled, "You… you think so?" The quiet, almost meek query was laced with reverence.

Titan’s expression hardened almost imperceptibly, a flash of the hatred he now held for Venus. "His anger," he stated, his voice now taking on a more decisive edge, "is his own burden. Not yours." He orbited a fraction closer, a movement subtle enough to be almost imperceptible, yet it felt like an embrace, a gentle command for her to lean into his strength. "You deserve all that you have, Earth....... And more."

His words, firm and unyielding, slowly started to mend the jagged edges of her pain. She believed him. She desperately wanted to believe him. Under his quiet, determined gaze, her tears began to subside, replaced by a lingering vulnerability and a deep, unfamiliar sense of comfort. 

Earth stared at him, truly seeing him. His quiet strength, his unwavering gaze, the way he held her hands with such warm, comforting solidity. She felt a strange current pass between them, a sense of being both completely exposed and utterly safe. His words, especially his admission about Venus's cruelty towards moons, resonated deeply, creating a shared understanding. The subtle dominance in his gentle demand for her to believe him, the quiet authority in his comfort, was a strange balm to her bruised spirit. She liked it. She liked him.

Earth felt a warmth spread through her, chasing away some of the cold despair. She looked down at their joined hands, then back up at Titan, her midnight blue eyes still damp, but now holding a spark of something new – gratitude, and a shy, budding curiosity. "Thank you, Titan," she whispered, her voice still fragile, but laced with genuine sincerity. The asteroids around them seemed to shimmer in the quiet, unspoken understanding that now hung between them.

Chapter Text

“ROTSAR log number 456”. Astrodude recited into the tape. His voice a low hum against the silent vastness of space. "I'm currently crossing the Asteroid Belt. I haven't seen SAR in some time now, and based on our last encounter, I hope it stays that way." He adjusted a dial on his console, a faint sense of calm settling over him. "At this point, I'm kinda getting used to the talking planets. When I'm careful, they just ask me questions and leave me be, so I think I'm getting the hang of the situation."

A sudden, soft whisper broke his reverie. "Hey, you're Astrodude, right?"

Astrodude nearly jumped out of his seat, his tranquil mood evaporating. "Uhhhhh… yeaaa," he stammered, peering out his viewport. A faint, hazy orb, much larger than any asteroid, shimmered into view.

"I’m Titan, Saturn’s moon." The voice was quiet, almost shy.

"Okay, why are you hiding in the asteroid belt?" Astrodude asked, trying to regain his composure. "I thought you were Ceres for a moment."

"Sorry if I scared you," Titan replied, sounding contrite. "Saturn’s probably looking for me, so I need a place to hide. Listen, I need a favor, and only you can help me. So, what do you say?"

Astrodude let out a deep, shuddering sigh. He knew this drill. It always started with a favor, and almost always ended with him in some kind of life-threatening situation. "Okay, you know the drill, just answer the question, smile, and be on your way," he muttered to himself, trying to channel his usual, confident persona. He took a cleansing breath. "Okay Titan, I’m happy to help."

"Really? You promise?" Titan's voice brightened considerably.

"I promise." Astrodude felt a pang of unease. He should have asked what the favor was first.

"Okay then. I need you to go under my surface, deep into my pitch-dark underwater ocean, and search for life!"

Astrodude's jaw dropped. "Wait, I… I… I thought—"

"I’m aware it’s not an easy task, but… I need to know." Titan's voice held a desperate plea.

"Ughhh, listen, I wish I can help, but my boss is gonna kill me if I—"

"You promised." The single word was enough to deflate Astrodude's protest.

"I’m sorry Titan, but maybe another time." He offered a nervous laugh, trying to sound nonchalant. "You're uhh… You're in my way."

"I know." There was no give in Titan's tone.

"Uhu…" Astrodude's laughter became more strained. "I just remembered I left my space… wallet in uhh… uh..." He trailed off, racking his brain for an excuse.

"What will it be, Astrodude?" Titan pressed, unyielding.

"Computer, what are my odds of survival on Titan?" Astrodude whispered, closing his eyes.

"You want me to sugarcoat it?" the Computer's calm, synthesized voice responded. "They're higher than in Venus."

"I almost died on Venus like a hundred times!" Astrodude groaned.

"But there are no killer robots this time."

"Ohh hoo… That’s a relief." Astrodude slumped back in his seat.

"Instead, there may be killer aliens."

Astrodude scoffed. "Computer, I hate you sometimes."

"I appreciate you doing this, Astrodude." Titan’s tone was genuinely grateful.

"Yeah, it's not like I'm being forced to do this by a planet!" Astrodude muttered under his breath.

"By a moon, to be exact." Titan corrected him, a hint of amusement in its voice.

"I think he heard you," the Computer observed.

Astrodude let out another sigh, running a gloved hand over his face. "Yep."

As his ship descended through Titan's thick atmosphere, Astrodude frowned at the viewscreen. "What’s up with all this orange, computer?"

"The atmosphere is made up of hydrocarbon particles," the Computer explained.

"That’s cool! I still can’t believe that a moon in the solar system has such a dense atmosphere! It’s insane!"

"Also, 1.6 times denser than Earth’s."

"Ha, you hear that, Titan? You're pretty dense!" Astrodude joked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Ha ha," Titan responded, utterly unamused.

His ship rumbled as it touched down on Titan's icy surface. A wave of bone-chilling cold immediately seeped into the cabin. "I can’t believe I’m saying this!" Astrodude shivered violently. "Bu-bu-bu-but, I miss the weather on Venus!"

"You want a new suit?" the Computer asked, sensing his distress.

"Please!" Astrodude practically begged. Moments later, a faint whirring noise indicated the suit's environmental controls kicking into high gear, and the shivering subsided. He took a deep, steadying breath. "Okay, what’s the plan now, computer?"

"Find a way to reach the ocean," the Computer stated simply.

"Like through a cave?"

"Preferably, a diapir."

"And what’s that?"

"A massive block of ice that’s slowly rising from below the surface."

"Okay, uh, I need a 101 on Titan’s surface geology," Astrodude requested, a knot forming in his stomach.

"To reach the ocean, we have to cross over 60 miles of surface and a decoupled ice crust."

"60 miles?! Can I really survive that?!" The number sounded impossible.

"With your new suit, you just might."

"Ugh, fine. Time to start looking." Astrodude grumbled, pushing himself to his feet.

Far above, suspended in the black canvas of space, Luna,  approached Titan. "Hey, Titan."

Titan's hazy orb seemed to deepen in color, a faint blush spreading across its nebulous form. "Oh, h-hey, Luna! Uh, Astrodude’s not here!"

Luna tilted his head. "Wh-what? No, I was looking for you!"

"Me? Oh, because of the whole—?" Titan gestured vaguely.

"Yeah, the whole mess. Listen, I know Venus was rude, but he didn’t mean any of it!" Luna tried to reassure him.

Titan's blush intensified slightly, a wistful glint in his hazy gaze. "By 'it,' you mean Venus telling me that I’m just a moon and that I shouldn’t dream of being anything else... of perhaps having a vibrant, living surface, like... other, wonderful places?"

"Yeah?" Luna replied, a bit stumped.

"You think he didn’t mean it?"

"W- I think Venus felt threatened by you," Luna explained patiently. "He’s always wanted life, and struggles with pain from lost potential for life. I think finding out another celestial body could potentially sustain it made him get all... defensive. I know you must be angry, but let’s not lose our heads, okay?"

Titan's blush deepened, his form radiating a soft, warm glow at the mention of "life" and "potential." "So... he was threatened by the idea that I might... might one day be as full of incredible, breathtaking life as... as Earth?" Titan asked, his voice softer, almost reverent, his hazy gaze drifting towards a distant, shimmering blue speck. "I... I understand that pain, I suppose. But it still stung. I just... I just want to know if I can be more. For... for everyone."

Suddenly, Astrodude’s voice echoed, thin and metallic, from below Titan’s swirling orange clouds. "Titan?! Hey Titan?!"

Luna’s eyes widened. "Wait, is that Astrodude?! Where is he?"

Titan, still blushing, stammered. "Uh, Astrowho?"

"Astrodude! He’s that tiny earthling in his cute little spaceship—"

The mention of "earthling" made Titan's blush flare even brighter, his form practically glowing. "Hey! Personal space, Earth’s Moon, alright!?" Titan interrupted, flustered, trying to hide his embarrassed excitement.

"Hey, wait!" Luna insisted, trying to get closer.

Meanwhile, on Titan's surface, Astrodude was growing increasingly agitated. "Ugh, he’s not answering! How are we supposed to find a diapir?"

"I don’t know," the Computer replied, its tone unhelpful.

"Any other bright ideas?"

"Just one." A whirring sound came from the top of the spaceship, and with a hiss of hydraulics, a massive drilling attachment extended outwards.

Astrodude gawked. "Wait! Where did this come from?!"

"I 3D printed it."

"So, am I supposed to drill through 60 miles of solid rock and ice?" Astrodude asked incredulously.

"Either that, or you have to, somehow, defeat Titan."

Astrodude’s eyes sparkled with a sudden thought. "Wouldn’t that make me... Zeus?" An electric guitar riff, entirely internal, played in his head.

"I don’t get jokes about mythology," the computer deadpanned.

"Of course, you don’t." Astrodude sighed, then braced himself. "Alright, let's do this." With a groan of machinery, the drill engaged, spewing ice and rock as it began its slow, arduous descent into Titan's crust.

A sharp, jabbing sensation rocked Titan. "Ouch! God, is Astrodude drilling through my surface?"

Luna heard him. "Aha! I heard you!"

"Okay, okay!" Titan conceded, exasperated. "Astrodude is helping me find out if I have life under my surface!"

"What? Under his free will?" Luna asked, genuinely surprised.

"Well, it’s complicated!" Titan huffed, wincing as the drill below continued its relentless work.

Astrodude grunted, pulling at the controls. “—go grunts much further!” The drill shrieked against the ice and rock, sparks flying.

“Wait! Astrodude! The drill is overheating!” Computer warned, its voice urgent.

“Ugh! Are you kidding?” Astrodude screamed, battling the controls.

“Hey! I know you’re angry and anxious after what happened, but this is wrong!” Luna asserted, a newfound firmness in his voice. He understood pain – he’d seen it in Juno, he saw it in Earth. He’d certainly felt it from Venus.

“What’s wrong with you?!” Titan demanded, genuinely confused by Luna’s sudden aggression.

“What’s? Huh?” Luna stammered, taken aback.

“Why did you come all this way just to apologize for something Venus said!?” Titan pressed, sensing an advantage.

“Wha- I-I.. I don’t know? Wait! We’re not talking about me! We’re—” Luna felt his usual timidity creeping back in, but then Titan’s next words sparked something.

“Is Venus your friend?! Does he treat you like an equal?!” Titan challenged, hitting a nerve.

Luna hesitated. “I, I mean no, but—” He thought of the verbal abuse, the casual insults.

“A-and,” Titan stammered, his gaze drifting for a moment, a faint flush creeping onto his face. “I-I’ve never seen... well, Earth always looks so radiant when she’s playing her card games, doesn’t she? And when she shows you off, Luna, she just seems so... proud! It’s, uh, it’s really something. (She’s... quite something.)” He cleared his throat, trying to regain his previous aggressive tone. “But that’s not the point!” Titan continued, inadvertently striking at Luna’s own insecurities, despite his awkward defence of Earth. Earth, his own planet and sister, often made him feel like an accessory.

Luna’s gentle gaze hardened. He thought of his quiet existence, often overlooked, often just 'Earth's Moon.' This wasn't about Venus or Earth, it was about what was right. “Hey, I thought you liked Earth, also do you spy on us?!” Luna asserted, catching the lingering flush on Titan’s face.

Titan visibly flinched, a deeper blush spreading across his face, his eyes darting away in embarrassment and a touch of shy delight. “W-what?! Wh-who said that?! I, I mean, she’s… she’s very… bright! And… warm! And… uh… charming! It’s… ahem. That’s not relevant!” He straightened his posture, trying to look stern, but a small, dreamy smile kept trying to break through. “Let Astrodude go, or I’ll come back with someone else!” Luna reiterated, sensing his advantage with a quiet threat he clearly meant.

“— screams ” Astrodude cried out as the drill suddenly bucked, the overheating metal groaning. There was a sudden, sickening lurch, and then… a breakthrough. The drill gave way, and the ship plunged forward, no longer grinding through solid mass.

Astrodude gasped, his breath catching in his throat. Through the viewport, a vast, dark expanse stretched out before him, shimmering with an ethereal glow.

“Whoa! The underground oceans of Titan. I’m… really here!”

Chapter Text

The vast, quiet expanse of space hummed with its usual indifference, but down in the inner system, a familiar grey orb approached a ruddy, familiar planet.

“Mars! Hey, uh, where’s Earth?” Luna, Earth’s ever-patient moon, floated closer, his usually serene demeanor edged with an unusual franticness.

Mars, usually self-assured, looked up, a hint of surprise in his ancient gaze. “Luna? What’s wrong? Earth should be in her usual orbit, isn’t she?” He asked, a touch of concern in his deep rumble.

“Well, uh, Titan’s a bit on edge,” Luna explained, nervously orbiting a small distance. “And he’s forcing Astrodude to find life under his surface.”

Mars’s rocky surface seemed to darken slightly. “Titan? Forcing one of Earth’s humans to…. Are you sure, Luna?”

“Wh- I’m serious!” Luna insisted, his grey form trembling slightly. “It’s not like him, which is why I’m so worried! We need to tell Earth, she’ll know what to do!”

Mars nodded, his concern deepening. “Then let’s go. She’ll want to hear this immediately.” He shifted, aligning himself with Luna, ready to depart.

Together, Luna and Mars streaked across the inner system, heading towards the vibrant blue and green planet currently still orbiting comfortably talking to Juno.

“Earth!” Luna called out, approaching with Mars close behind.

“Oh, hey Moon, Mars,” Earth, greeted, her bright personality shining through despite her recent moodiness. Her gaze flickered between their worried forms. “What brings you both here in such a rush?”

“Listen, Titan is making Astrodude go onto his surface!” Luna blurted out, breathless.

Earth’s expression shifted, a flicker of true concern replacing her easy smile. “Oh... why?”

“Because, he wants him to check if he has life in his waters!”

“WHAT!” Earth’s composure shattered, her short-temper and over-dramatic nature flaring. “He can’t! My Astrodude is in danger! I have to go to him!” She started to tremble, threatening to wobble off her axis.

“Wait, Earth mayb-” Luna pleaded, knowing just how to appeal to her.

“Earth, stay here. I’ll go talk to Titan.” Juno cut in, his midnight blue eyes calm but resolute.

“But Jun-” Earth started, her protests already forming, beginning to list slightly.

“You can’t go out of your orbit, Earth,” Juno said firmly, cutting her off. He saw her as his daughter, and that protective instinct often overruled her own desires.

Before Juno could continue, Mars interjected, his voice firm but reassuring. “He’s right, Earth. You need to stay put. Your stability is important.” He nudged gently against her, helping to steady her wobble. “I’ll stay with you. We’ll keep you grounded here while Juno and Luna go.”

Earth looked at Mars, then at Juno, her distress warring with her understanding. She sighed, a deep atmospheric exhalation. “Alright… alright. But bring him back, Juno. And be careful.” She settled, grateful for Mars's comforting presence.

Juno nodded, a faint smile touching his lips. “I will. Come on, Luna.”

Luna, relieved, quickly followed Juno as the powerful planet began his journey towards Saturn’s system, leaving Earth and Mars together in the inner system.

Meanwhile, light-years away within the murky, frigid depths of Titan’s methane ocean, Astrodude’s submersible creaked under immense pressure.

“Ugh, my ears are ringing!” Astrodude groaned, clutching his helmet.

“That’s because of the pressure,” the Computer’s calm, slightly unnerving voice responded.

“Yeah, I’ve been in a pool before.” Astrodude muttered, trying to lighten the mood, but his voice cracked slightly.

“You’re nervous, aren’t you?”

“Pfft, nah. I’m only diving deep into the ocean of an uncharted planet where I could find all sorts of sea monsters!” His bravado was paper-thin.

“I would find it reassuring.”

Astrodude blinked. “Reassuring!?”

“What is more frightening: Finding out there’s life beyond Earth, or finding out you’re all alone?”

“Computer, who the heck programmed you?” Astrodude snapped, irritation momentarily overriding his fear.

“Shush, don’t move.”

“Why?”

“It’s coming our way.”

A cold dread settled in Astrodude’s stomach as the submersible’s lights cut through the inky blackness, revealing nothing but the immense, dark void around them.

In the outer reaches, Luna arrived first. “Titan!” he called, his voice echoing in the cold.

Titan, a large, hazy moon, sighed dramatically. “Oh, boy…”

"You still haven't released Astrodude?" Luna demanded, hands on his hips.

"I already told you, he is helping me! I mean, he's an Earthling, so he's quite... interesting to have around,” Titan huffed, a slight flush in his hazy atmosphere.

“And I told you I’d come back with someone else if you didn’t let him go!” Luna retorted, gesturing grandly.

Titan glanced around. “Uh… nobody else is here.”

Just then, two tiny, potato-shaped moons zipped into view, their voices surprisingly loud.

“You hear that, Deimos? He called us nobody!” Phobos exclaimed, indignation clear in his tone.

“I heard him, Phobos! I heard him well!” Deimos chimed in, equally offended.

Titan raised an eyebrow. “You’re the backup?”

“Oh, you think we can’t mess you up?” Phobos challenged, puffing out his non-existent chest.

Titan’s gaze softened, a sly glint entering his heavy atmosphere. “Oh, you totally can. You don’t need to be a planet to be powerful or dangerous.”

Deimos, caught off guard, stumbled over his words. “Well, let me tell you- Wait, what?”

“That is the problem, guys!” Titan declared, turning to the two small moons. “All this time we believed we can’t do much because we’re moons! Don’t you think we’ve been undermined for far too long?”

“Wh- Hey, don’t listen to him!” Luna interjected, frustrated by the sudden shift in allegiance.

“Yeah! We're more than just little rocks!” Phobos grumbled.

“Exactly! We have our own gravity!” Deimos agreed vehemently.

“Of course it is, you hear me?” Titan pressed, his voice full of conviction.

“We hear ya!” Phobos and Deimos chorused, completely won over.

Luna threw his hands up in exasperation. “You were supposed to help me!”

“Sheesh, 'Earth’s moon', stop being so bossy!” Phobos retorted, mimicking Luna's formal tone.

“Yeah, chill out, 'Earth’s moon'!” Deimos added, a smirk in his voice.

“STOP CALLING ME ‘EARTH’S MOON’ as if it’s my only title!” Luna yelled, a rare flash of annoyance in his usually calm demeanor. He then turned, spotting Juno approaching. “Ugh! Dad! Do you mind?!”

“Coming, coming,” Juno rumbled, his voice deep and authoritative as he finally reached them. His midnight blue eyes fixed on Titan, a silent command in their depths. “Listen, Titan. I do not care for whatever reason you’re doing this, but stopping some moon from ending an Earthling’s life is not on my to-do list today… so.” He left the threat hanging, his powerful presence alone usually enough to make planets fall in line.

Titan, seeing he was outmatched by Juno’s sheer force, deflated. “Ugh, okay! I’ll-I’ll… let the Earthling go,” he added, almost a whisper, "It's not like Earth would approve, anyway."

“Good,” Juno acknowledged with a nod.

Luna swelled with a bit of pride. “Wow, I should do this more.”

Juno rolled his eyes.

“Uhh… the dude’s inside my surface,” Titan admitted, a bit sheepishly.

“Well, spit him out!” Juno commanded, completely unfazed.

“Can we do that?” Titan asked, bewildered.

“I don’t know!” Luna exclaimed, equally unsure.

“Well, here goes nothin’.” Titan braced himself.

Inside the submersible, Astrodude felt a sudden lurch. “Hey, w-w-what’s going on!?”

“I think Titan’s about to spit us,” the Computer observed with eerie calm.

“He can do that!?” Astrodude barely finished before a massive force ejected the submersible from Titan’s depths. “WOAH!”

The submersible shot out of Titan’s atmosphere, tumbling for a moment before stabilizing. Astrodude, inside, was frozen in shock, wide-eyed and gasping.

Luna rushed over, his grey form alight with concern. “Astrodude! Are you okay?”

“He looks pretty dead to me,” Deimos commented from a safe distance, ever the morbid one.

“Deimos!” Juno reprimanded sharply, his eyes narrowing.

Astrodude finally stirred, shaking his head. “I’m alive! I’m alive.” He took a deep, shuddering breath.

“Phew, I’m glad,” Luna said, relieved. “You shouldn’t explore these places all by yourself, okay? Come on, let’s go.”

“Wait,” Titan called out, his voice now tinged with a strange urgency. He looked directly at Astrodude. "Please, tell me what you found. It's... important. For everyone, especially for Earth."

Luna scoffed. “Come on, does it matter?”

“It does,” Titan insisted, looking at Astrodude with newfound intensity.

Astrodude, still slightly dazed, recounted, “I found a dark, vast ocean… but… I think I found some type of… small organism.”

A stunned silence fell. Titan’s hazy surface seemed to shimmer. “I have… life..? I could be important... like Earth."

Phobos and Deimos exchanged astonished glances. “Moons can have life!?” They exclaimed.

Juno spoke up. “Well, there’s no rule against it, so…”

“What now?” Deimos asked, feeling the weight of this revelation.

Titan’s gaze was distant, thoughtful. “I don’t know, but maybe it’s time for a change. Time to show... everyone... what a moon can truly be.” He then turned and drifted away, a new resolve in his rotation, perhaps a desire to impress a certain blue planet.

“Hey, where are you going?” Luna called after him.

“Let’s go, Deimos!” Phobos exclaimed, suddenly energized as he zipped after Titan.

“Right behind ya, Phobos!” Deimos echoed, following suit.

Luna watched them go, his shoulders slumping. “You as well? Where is everyone going!? Ugh, fine!” He muttered, feeling completely abandoned.

Safely back in his ship, Astrodude let out a long, shaky breath. “Ugh, at least I’m alive.”

“Somehow,” the computer deadpanned.

“I guess I’ll just… continue my mission,” Astrodude sighed, still a bit traumatized. “Ugh, hopefully nothing bad comes of this.”

Before he could properly re-engage his engines, Astrodude felt a sudden, powerful pull. His ship was being drawn by an unseen force. “Wha- hey!”

Juno’s deep voice resonated, surprisingly close. “Sorry, man, but I promised I’d get you back to Earth to make sure you’re not hurt.”

Astrodude grumbled. “…Fine.” He knew when not to argue with a planet like Juno.

Chapter Text

On the pale blue surface of Earth, Gaea's bright features were currently etched with a mix of anticipation and impatience. Her midnight blue eyes narrowed as she spotted Astrodude’s small ship being effortlessly towed by Juno’s massive gravitational field.

"Astrodude!" she called out, a welcoming warmth momentarily overcoming her usual short-tempered nature.

“Hey…” Astrodude mumbled back, his voice crackling through the comms, sounding more annoyed than grateful.

Earth turned her attention to the other rocky planet. “Juno, any injuries?” she demanded, her tone already shifting to a more stern, almost accusatory note. She didn’t remember him as her dad, only as the arrogant, powerful planet who had supposedly trained her.

Juno merely shrugged, the colossal gesture sending faint ripples through his atmospheric bands. "Looks fine to me, Gaea. Just a little shaken, I reckon." His midnight blue eyes held a flicker of something paternal as he used her original name, but it was quickly masked by his usual cockiness.

"I’m – ow!" Astrodude yelped, a sharp clang echoing from within his ship. He’d probably bumped into something important or aggravated an existing injury.

Earth sighed, her bright expression immediately clouding over. "Oh, for the love of Sol," she muttered, rolling her eyes. Her initial concern vanished, replaced by a practiced, almost theatrical boredom. "Just come out of your ship, Astrodude. Honestly, must everything be so dramatic?"

The ship’s hatch hissed, and Astrodude, a little wobbly, floated out into the void, carefully manoeuvring towards Earth’s atmospheric embrace. He was clutching his side, a clear grimace on his face.

“See?” Earth’s voice, though usually bright, carried a hint of exasperated boredom. “I knew it. Where does it hurt?”

Astrodude pointed to his ribs, a dark bruise already forming beneath his space suit. “Just a little… knock. It’s fine, I can work through it.” He tried to sound convincing, but another sharp pain made him wince.

Earth sighed, a soft atmospheric release that stirred the clouds around her. Her midnight blue eyes, usually sparkling with life, narrowed slightly in assessment. “No, you can’t. Come closer.”

Reluctantly, Astrodude drifted towards the vibrant blue and green sphere. As he approached, a gentle, warm light emanated from Earth's surface, a soft, light blue glow that shimmered over his injured side. He felt a sudden, profound sense of calm washing over him, a soothing presence that seemed to melt away the sharp edges of his pain. The bruise, he noticed with a gasp, began to fade, the angry purple receding into a faint yellow, then disappearing entirely. The ache in his ribs vanished as if it had never been there.

Astrodude stared, wide-eyed. “Whoa! What was that? How did you…?” He poked his now-uninjured side tentatively. Nothing. No pain. It was completely gone.

Juno, floating nearby with his usual arrogant smirk, let out a short, scoffing laugh. His midnight blue eyes glinted with amusement. “Seriously, Astrodude? We’re planets. We talk, we move, we have our own gravity wells that can yank you across a solar system,” he nudged Astrodude playfully with a gravitational tug. “Of course we have powers. Earth’s just particularly good at the… healing thing.”

Astrodude blinked, processing. “Yeah, I know you guys have powers,” he mumbled, a little defensively. “I mean, I’ve seen you argue with Jupiter, watched Mars zoom around, and you pulling me just now, duh. And you talk! You’re sentient celestial bodies! I just… I didn’t know ‘healing cuts and bruises in seconds’ was on the menu.”

Earth rolled her eyes, but a small, proud smile tugged at her lips, her bright personality returning slightly. “There’s a lot you don’t know about us, Astrodude. Now, are you actually okay, or do I need to patch up your pride next?” She gestured to his once-injured side, now perfectly sound.

Astrodude rubbed his ribs, still slightly bewildered. “No, no, I’m… I’m good. Better than good, actually. Thanks, Earth. That was… unexpected.” He looked from his healed side to Earth, then to Juno, a new layer of reverence mixed with his usual exasperation. "I guess I really do need to be careful around you guys."

Juno chuckled, puffing himself up a little. "You got that right. Now, about that mission of yours..." He winked, clearly enjoying Astrodude's bewilderment.

Earth just sighed, a gentle breeze rustling imaginary leaves on her surface. "He's fine, Juno. He can go." She looked at Astrodude, her eyes softening. "Just try not to crash into anything else, okay?"

Astrodude managed a weak smile. "Will do, Earth." 

Earth just gave a small, and nod, her bright personality fully restored as she watched him prepare to continue his journey.

“Hey, Juno,” Earth started. “Mars was wondering if you’d like to play asteroid dodgeball with him tomorrow—his tomorrow, that is.” Juno chuckled. “Tell him I said ‘yes’. I’ll see him in what is four and a half of my days.”

Chapter Text

I am taking another break, for homework this time and to plan cause as you can see I need it. 

Fun Fact I am work on two fanfics (this and another one that is not public) and an orignal novel that I have to start all over again (with the chapters I mean, cause I got the history and law right (very proud right now))

Thank You to KaitoMax1907, VictoriaLight, Paint_Flop365 and Wandering_Galaxy for being supportive I will see you all when I plan and figure this out. 

SariFury out (for a week or two).

Chapter Text

The asteroid belt was a chaotic ballet of rock and dust, a cosmic playground where millennia of impacts had left an endless supply of ammunition. Deep within this swirling maelstrom, two planets, Mars and Juno, twisted and spun, locked in their favourite, most dangerous game: asteroid dodgeball.

Mars, his surface a vibrant rust-red, zipped past a particularly large chunk of debris, his chocolate brown eyes gleaming with competitive fire. "Ohhh, you've done it now!" he called out, a grin splitting his stony face as he arced back towards Juno.

Juno, usually a picture of confident swagger, merely tilted his midnight blue-eyed form, barely flinching as a jagged asteroid the size of a small moon whizzed inches from his core. "Have I now?" he retorted, the challenge clear in his voice. His powerful frame, once the "best fighter" of the Inner System, was a formidable sight, even in play.

"They don't call me Mars for nothing, take this!" Mars shouted, winding up an invisible arm as he focused a burst of gravitational energy. A medium-sized asteroid, previously drifting lazily, shot forward with alarming speed, a blur of grey streaking towards Juno.

Juno merely smirked. "Try me." He braced himself, ready to deflect, but the asteroid, propelled by Mars's raw, uncontained force, simply went past. It barely missed him, a whisper of displaced cosmic dust brushing his surface before it hurtled onward, disappearing rapidly into the distant, star-dusted void.

Juno blinked, then looked back at Mars, who was now chuckling sheepishly, his red surface flushing a deeper hue. "Dude," Juno said, his voice flat, "I thought you said no powers."

Mars rubbed the back of his head, where a faint bruise was already forming from an earlier, less accurate shot. "Hehe, my bad..." Both planets watched the rogue asteroid zoom further away, a tiny, rapidly fading speck. Mars cleared his throat, a nervous habit. "Do you think it'll hit someone?"

Juno shrugged, not taking his midnight blue eyes off the receding asteroid. "Someone'll probably feel it."

As if on cue, a shrill, indignant cry echoed through the vacuum of space.

"OWW! Are you two playing asteroid dodgeball again, you idiots?!"

Mars and Juno both sighed in unison. "Hey Venus..." they muttered, their earlier playful energy replaced by a bored, almost rehearsed weariness.

Venus, his amber eyes blazing with fury, slowly drifted into view, a new, angry gouge marring his already turbulent, rocky exterior. He was a constant storm, both internally and externally. "One of these days you two are going to hurt yourselves much worse than..." He trailed off, his gaze landing on Mars's still-forming black eye. "You... have."

Juno's eyes narrowed. "Well, it’s not like one of us has life. Speaking of which…" Without a word, he focused, and a smaller, but no less solid, asteroid shot from his vicinity, striking Venus square in his already damaged side.

"Ow! Hey!" Venus roared, spinning slightly from the impact.

"That was for saying things about my daughter! I thought you were past this, Venus!" Juno's voice, usually light-hearted, had taken on a sharp, dangerous edge.

Venus scoffed, his amber eyes rolling. "Your daughter? Ha. She doesn't even remember you!"

"Venus!" Mars interjected, his voice laced with warning. He knew this particular wound was a raw one for Juno.

But Juno was beyond warnings. "Hoho," he murmured, a low, dangerous sound emanating from his core. "The toxic planet has some toxic words up his sleeves. How would Theia react?"

The mention of Theia, Juno's lost partner, hit Venus like a physical blow. His usually aggressive posture stiffened, his rocky surface seeming to vibrate with suppressed emotion. "Don't bring her into this!"

"I will bring my wife up all I want if you keep bring up the fact that my daughter, doesn't fucking remember who I am!" Juno's voice cracked with a fierce, wounded desperation. The image of Gaea, the vibrant young Earth, thriving with life but utterly devoid of any memory of him, was a constant, agonizing phantom limb.

Venus, however, was in no mood for sympathy. "Firstly," he snarled, his voice a harsh rasp, "she is not your wife, you two were dating! Secondly; Whose fault was it for not protecting Gaea, not mine!"

A profound silence descended upon the three planets, thick and suffocating, interrupted only by the distant, rhythmic grind of the asteroid belt. Juno’s form, usually so confident, seemed to shrink slightly. The playful energy had completely evaporated, replaced by a raw, wounded anger that flashed in his midnight blue eyes. He inhaled slowly, then exhaled, a long, drawn-out sigh.

"You know what," Juno said, his voice flat, devoid of any emotion, "I don't wanna play anymore. See you around, Mars." He turned his back abruptly on Venus, his form propelling away.

"Juno, hey! Where are you going?" Mars called out, his chocolate brown eyes wide with concern. "Don't let him get to you like that, man." He shot a furious glare at Venus. "Venus, that was completely out of line!"

Venus scoffed, crossing his rocky arms. His amber eyes, usually so fiery, held a flicker of something unreadable, a deep-seated pain he refused to acknowledge. "Oh, save it, Mars. He's the one who started it, bringing up Theia. And he still can't face the truth about Gaea." His voice was a harsh rasp, aimed directly at Juno's retreating back. "Go on, run away! Just like you always do when things get tough!"

Juno stopped dead, a barely perceptible tremor running through him. He didn't turn, but his form vibrated with contained fury.

"Venus, seriously!" Mars exploded, a rare display of true anger coloring his voice. "He lost everything! Theia, Gaea's memories... what more do you want from him?" Mars's tone was sharp with genuine concern for his best friend.

Venus's aggressive posture stiffened further, that flicker of pain swiftly masked by a deeper scowl. "He was supposed to protect them!" he spat, his voice laced with bitter accusation. "What good was being the 'best fighter' if he couldn't even protect his own family from..." Venus trailed off, as if catching himself, but the bitter edge remained, cutting through the silence.

Juno didn't wait for him to finish. Without a word, he propelled himself away with powerful force, leaving a shimmering trail of cosmic dust in his wake. His speed was almost a blur, a clear escape from the painful confrontation, from Venus’s poisonous words that burrowed into his deepest insecurities.

Mars sighed, watching Juno disappear, a heavy weight settling over him. He then rounded on Venus, his chocolate brown eyes narrowed in a rare display of true anger. "You know, sometimes I really wonder about you," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "You're still not over Theia, are you? Is that why you're so cruel to him?"

Venus flinched, his amber eyes widening slightly before narrowing into slits of pure fury. The accusation, though true in part, stung him deeply. "It has nothing to do with Theia, you ignorant, nosy planet! It has to do with him wallowing in self-pity instead of facing his responsibilities! He just stands there, watching Gaea, while she has no idea who he is, and he blames everyone but himself!"

Mars threw his hands up in exasperation. "He blames himself enough, Venus! He's always blamed himself! And for Gaea's memory, that was a cosmic accident, a system-wide disaster! Even you felt it!"

Venus turned his back abruptly, his rocky surface seeming to vibrate with suppressed emotion, a silent, furious acknowledgment that Mars was right about that last point. "Just go, Mars. Before I decide to continue the game with your pretty face."

Mars shook his head, a mixture of frustration and weariness on his face. "Unbelievable." He glanced in the direction Juno had gone, then at Venus's rigid, unyielding form. "You're a real piece of work, Venus. A real piece of work." Muttering under his breath about toxic words and lost friendships, Mars launched himself after Juno, hoping to find his friend before he spiraled too deep into his grief, leaving Venus alone in the cold, unforgiving expanse of the asteroid belt, a planet consumed by his own bitter storm.

Chapter Text

Juno drifted, a solitary figure suspended in the vast, silent canvas between Venus and Earth. He pulled his legs into his chest, a self-imposed fetal curl, his form a dark silhouette against the scattered starlight, his head resting heavily on his knees. The familiar, bone-deep cold comfort of the void wrapped around him, a constant, indifferent companion that had witnessed eons of his existence. 

Slowly, his eyes, like twin fragments of the deepest night sky, lifted, vast and ancient, yet now clouded with an unbearable, all-consuming ache. Across the cosmic expanse, a familiar swirl of blues, greens, and whites bloomed into view, a vibrant, living jewel – Earth. Her hair, like his own, was a magnificent cascade of nebular strands and shimmering starlight, always flowing, always alive with what seemed like its own tiny galaxies, each one a testament to the vibrant life she nurtured. Her eyes, too, were pieces of that same infinite sky, midnight blue reflections of his own, echoing his silent vigil. But there, the direct resemblance ended. Everything else – her vibrant, nurturing personality, the graceful, life-sustaining curve of her planetary contours, the wild, naturally curly waves of her atmospheric locks – spoke of another entirely. It all came from Theia, his beloved wife, Earth’s mother, whose essence was woven into every fibre of their daughter's being.

A pang, sharp and familiar, pierced Juno's core, an old wound reopened with renewed ferocity. He wished, with a desperate longing that transcended his cosmic nature, he could have told Earth about Theia, while he had the chance, while her memories were whole and untainted. But now, after the cataclysmic dino impact, after the blanet’s brutal assault had stolen so much from her young mind, erasing entire epochs of her nascent existence, he couldn’t. The thought was a lead weight in his already heavy heart, dragging him down into an abyss of guilt and sorrow. Juno closed his eyes for a long, aching second, the image of his Earth burning behind his lids, a precious, fragile memory he clutched fiercely. 

When he opened them again, his gaze remained fixed on her, but something was shifting. The Earth before him began to turn, subtly at first, then more dramatically, as if rewinding through time. She looked smaller, her vibrant greens muted, replaced by soft, untamed purples – colours of a primordial youth she’d long since shed. Her nascent stellar hair, though still flowing, seemed less defined, like a newly formed nebula.

A frown, deep as a nascent trench, creased Juno's brow as this younger 'Earth', Gaea. She drifted closer, her approach blurring the lines of reality, morphing from a distant vision into a tangible presence in the void around him. Her tiny, pulsating form glowed with an innocent, yet fierce, energy, emanating the raw potential of a world just beginning to understand its own power.

"Dad?" The voice, small and echoing, resonated directly in Juno’s mind, not through the void, but within the very essence of his being. It was Gaea’s, unmistakably, but younger, untainted by the years of training and the profound loss that now defined her adult self. "Daddy, why?"

Juno’s breath hitched, a cosmic gasp. “No, sweetie, p-please understand.” He stammered, his immense form trembling.

Young Gaea tilted, her purple-hued surface rippling with nascent atmospheric currents, like a child’s uncertain frown. Her midnight blue eyes, brimming with an ancient, uncomprehending grief that seemed too vast for her youthful form, fixed on him, an accusation in their depth. “Why didn’t you stop it? You’re the best fighter, you told me! You always said you’d protect me.”

“I tried, Gaea, I promise. It… it. It was an attack on us all. We couldn’t…” Juno stammered, his usual battle-hardened composure crumbling like dust, his carefully maintained facade dissolving under the weight of her innocent pain. He reached out a ghostly hand, wanting to comfort her, to pull her close, but his fingers passed through her ethereal form, a chilling confirmation of her spectral nature.

“But you’re my Dad,” she insisted, a tiny tremor in her voice, a silent accusation in her innocent question, a wound that ripped through his very core. “Dads protect their daughters. You let it hit me. You let me forget everything. Forget Luna. Forget my friends. Forget you…”

The last word, ‘You’, tore through Juno like a supernova. His vision blurred, not from tears of water, but from the unbearable weight of her innocent pain, a pain he now understood he was directly responsible for. “Oh, Gaea! My sweet Gaea, no! I never wanted that for you. Never!”

“I don’t remember you, Dad,” she whispered, her form beginning to flicker, the vibrant purples of her youth beginning to fade, replaced by a momentary, searing red, the top side of her head seemed to be ripped off. “All I do is remember the cold, and pain, and loneliness…”

“No!” Juno cried out, his voice a raw, desperate plea, echoing across the vast emptiness. He lunged forward, trying to grasp her, to pull her close, to tell her everything, to make her remember. But she was slipping away, her image shimmering, fragmenting into cosmic dust, the vision fading.

A jarring voice, laced with concern, broke through the illusion, pulling him violently back to the present. “Juno? Proto? You alright?”

Juno gasped, his eyes snapping open. The young Gaea vanished, the purple hues dissolving into the familiar blue and green of his adult Earth, still distant, still unknowing. He was back in his orbit, his legs still hugged tight against his chest, but his body now rigid with a primal fear and grief that chilled him to his core. 

Without thinking, Juno’s hand shot to his side. His fingers closed around the hilt of his sword – a weapon rarely drawn outside of training or dire galactic threats, a symbol of his power and his failure. With a metallic shing, the blade slid from its sheath, its polished surface reflecting the distant Sun, a cold, hard promise of oblivion.

Mars’s friendly expression instantly morphed into one of wide-eyed alarm, his own red surface paling. “Whoa! Juno! What the heck, dude?!” He instinctively recoiled, pushing himself backward, putting more distance between their orbits. “Easy there! It’s just me!”

The familiar sound of Mars’s voice, concerned but utterly oblivious to the internal storm raging within him, was like a physical blow. The vision, the raw accusation of his daughter – You let it hit me. You let me forget – still echoed in his mind, louder than any external sound. Mars, hovered a few spaces away, his eyes wide with worry. “You’ve been just staring out into.... nothingness for a while now. Got me worried.”

Juno stared at the sword in his hand, then at Mars’s retreating form, his movements jerky, uncoordinated, a puppet with severed strings. The anger, the fear, the guilt – it had all coalesced into a potent, blinding rage, directed inward, aimed solely at himself. 

He hadn't meant to draw it. 

He hadn't even registered what he was doing until the cold weight of the blade was in his hand, a heavy, tempting presence. His grip loosened, the sword clattering against his arm before he let it drop entirely, leaving it floating next to him and Mars. 

His knees gave out, and he folded in on himself again, but this time, he wasn’t seeking comfort. His hands clawed at his own surface, as if trying to tear away the pain, to rip out the unbearable truth.

“I’m… I’m so sorry,” he choked out, the words ripped from him, raw and ragged. It wasn't to Mars, not truly. It was to the distant, unaware Earth, to the ghost of his younger daughter, and to the memory of his lost wife. "I'm so sorry, Gaea. I'm so, so sorry.I failed you all. I failed her ."

Then, the dam broke. Great, shuddering sobs wracked his mighty form, a seismic tremor that shook his very core. Tears, not of water but of condensed cosmic dust and pure, raw grief, streamed down his stony face, carving glistening paths. They mingled with the starlight of his 'hair', blurring the lines between celestial body and broken father, blurring the fabric of reality itself. He cried for Theia, for the memories lost to the cataclysm, for the little girl who blamed him, and for the man he was, who couldn't protect his own.

Mars didn't hesitate. He gently, carefully, orbited closer, wrapping his stronger, more solid form around Juno’s trembling mass. It wasn't a perfect fit, two vastly different celestial bodies, but their fields intertwined, their atmospheres brushed, creating a cocoon of warmth and presence in the cold void. Mars rested his chin on Juno’s shoulder, a silent anchor in the storm. Then, he leaned in, pressing a gentle, reassuring kiss to Juno’s stony forehead, a cosmic gesture of profound comfort. “It’s okay, Proto,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble, filled with unshakeable loyalty. “You’re not alone. We’re here. I’m here.” His embrace tightened, holding Juno as the god of the sky wept, letting the universe witness his raw, unvarnished sorrow.

Chapter Text

The vast, star-dusted canvas of the Solar System was a place of constant motion, yet for Earth, moments of stillness were precious. She drifted gently in her orbit, a serene globe of swirling blues and greens, her midnight blue eyes intent on the worn pages of a book. It was a history of the early cosmos, recommended by Jupiter, and Earth, found herself surprisingly engrossed (A/N: Proto would be proud) .

Suddenly, a blur of green and orange streaked across her peripheral vision, heading straight for her. Earth reacted instinctively, shifting her gravitational pull just enough to veer subtly out of the way.

"Whoa!" she exclaimed, her voice a surprised ripple in the vacuum. The streaking object careened past, then spun around, revealing a familiar, ringed form. "...Titan?"

The large moon, Saturn's beloved, gave a slightly Sheepish grin. "Hehe, yeah, it's me. Sorry about that, Earth!"

Earth floated back to her original position, a slight annoyance flickering in her gaze. "What's got you in such a rush? And, more importantly, where is Luna?" She always kept track of her own moon.

Titan's jovial expression faltered. He looked around, as if expecting to find them floating somewhere nearby. "Um... I-I think I left them….In the asteroid belt."

Earth blinked. "Them?"

"Luna, Pho- something and Deimos," Titan clarified, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"It's Phobos," Earth corrected, her voice rising slightly. "Also, why?!"

Titan winced, shuffling his rings. "So, remember that incident with one of your earthlings?"

Earth let out a slow sigh, her calm demeanor giving way to mild exasperation. "How could I not remember?" 

Titan offered a nervous chuckle. "Yeah, sorry. Anyways, it worked. He found life on me!"

Earth gasped, her midnight blue eyes widening with pure exhilaration. "I knew it! Where was it?" She leaned closer, her green continents seeming to stretch with her anticipation. "Your water? In your atmosphere? Your ice?"

Titan's nervousness melted away, replaced by a proud, almost gleeful smile. "In my water."

A triumphant, melodic hum escaped Earth. "Told you~" She practically sang.

"Anyways," Titan continued, "we decided to maybe get the moons together."

"Like a moon club?" Earth suggested, an eyebrow made of clouds arching.

"Yeah, kinda. I-I wanna tell them that we do have a chance, to be more than moons of a planet. That we could support life too, or at least have purpose beyond just orbiting." Titan's voice, usually boisterous, had taken on an earnest, almost vulnerable tone.

Earth sighed, the sound a faint echo. "We're still going on about that? Plus, I'm sure most moons are aware they could have life, you'd feel it anyway." It was a known cosmic truth; life’s nascent stirrings resonated through the very core of a celestial body.

"Well, yeah, but some moons feel unappreciated," Titan explained, his gaze distant, as if remembering conversations with other moons. "Some are favored by their planets, (like myself) leaving the others to think they aren't good enough. They need to hear it, to see proof."

Earth's initial skepticism softened. She knew the sting of feeling overlooked, though in a different context. She also understood the powerful allure of life. "I get where you're coming from," she said, her voice thoughtful. "Maybe we could go to the Sun to tell him about it. I could help represent?" Her influence, as a life-bearing planet, was considerable.

Titan's face lit up, a soft, rare smile gracing his usually boisterous form. "Yeah, that would be nice."

Earth gave a decisive nod. "Come on then. I'm sure my earthlings wouldn't mind a little cold." With a gentle shift, she began to alter her course, heading away from her comfortable, life-giving orbit, towards the heart of their system, with Titan excitedly following in tow.

Chapter Text

The light of the Sun, a distant but powerful beacon, illuminated the swirling tawny and reddish-brown patterns of Jupiter’s skin. His thick, flowing golden-brown hair, streaked with notes of white and red, framed a face etched with a mix of wisdom and concern. His deep, swirling amber eyes, tempestuous like the storms on his own surface, were fixed on Saturn.

“Any news of young Titan yet?” Jupiter’s voice was a comforting rumble, deep and resonant like distant thunder, a sound that usually settled the most agitated of celestial bodies.

Across from him, Saturn paced, his movements a nervous dance that belied the elegant, almost translucent pale gold of his skin. His fine, shimmering platinum blonde hair cascaded down his back, barely disturbed by his agitation. His melancholic silver eyes were wide with worry, reflecting the distant stars like tiny, unshed tears.

“NO!” Saturn cried, his voice wavering, high-pitched with genuine anguish. “What if he’s lost, alone, and afraid out there?! What if some rogue planet offers him candy and lures him away into the void?!” He wrung his hands, pale and delicate, the shimmering expanse of his rings seeming to echo his distress. “We’ll never find him…”

Jupiter’s powerful shoulders settled, his own concern deepening into a heavy weight. “Come now, Saturn. Rogue planets don’t just appear all of a sudden. Besides, he must be close. The solar system isn’t that vast.” He tried for a reassuring tone, but even he knew the words rang hollow, thin and unconvincing against the sheer enormity of space.

Saturn’s voice, typically a low, resonant hum, was sharp with anguish. “YES, IT IS! How can you say it is not vast?”

Jupiter chuckled softly, a genuine, comforting rumble this time, a concession to the undeniable truth. “Yeah, I don’t know what I’m saying…” He ran a hand through his hair, a rare moment of uncertainty for him, his usual wise facade cracking under the pressure of mounting stress.

Just then, a figure, solid and unyielding like a fortified asteroid, approached, his midnight blue eyes scanning the two gas giants with an almost arrogant confidence. It was Juno, his exterior glinting coolly under the distant sun, a silent testament to his strength. “Still fretting over your little moons, you two?” he asked, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips, though his tone wasn't entirely dismissive. "Have you two seen Earth? I haven't been able to find her."

Jupiter's amber eyes, which had just begun to ease from Saturn's panic, snapped wide. "Earth?" he echoed, his voice losing its comforting rumble, replaced by a sudden, sharp edge of fear. "No, I... I haven't seen her. I was so focused on my moons and Titan, I didn't even..." His shoulders slumped, the weight of a new worry settling deeply upon him, adding to his already considerable stress and paranoia. "Oh, by the Sun, where could she be?"

Saturn, still wringing his pale, delicate hands, barely registered Juno’s question, his silver eyes still darting out into the black, searching for any sign of his favourite moon. “Titan… my poor, sweet Titan…”

Juno, seeing Jupiter's sudden shift from concern to outright panic, felt a familiar pang in his own core. Despite his usual detached swagger and cocky demeanour, the thought of his daughter missing stirred a deep, protective instinct within him. "Alright, calm down, Big Guy," Juno said, his tone softening slightly, though he still maintained his confident stance. "The solar system might be big, but it's not that big. I'll help you look. Both of you." He took a deep breath, his midnight blue eyes narrowing as he scanned the vast, silent field of stars. "We'll find them..." He cracked his knuckles, a habit he'd picked up from his fighting days, a small sound in the immense silence. "Just tell me where to start." His confidence, a stark contrast to the two giants' anxieties, was a small, steady beacon in the vast, worrying silence. The search for lost moons, and one very special planet, had just begun.

Chapter Text

The Jovian moons and Saturnian moons, typically separated by their loyalties and the immense gravitational pull of their respective planets, found themselves in an unusual confluence.

Ganymede, the largest and most prominent of Jupiter’s moons, leaned casually against an asteroid. “Hey,” he called out, his voice carrying with an easy confidence. “Saturn’s moons, what’s amiss? Why is your planet all…” He gestured vaguely with a tanned hand, a flick of his wrist dismissive yet observant, “…squeaky and distressed?”

Enceladus bristled. His pearly white skin shimmered with a faint, frosty aura, and his short, spiky white hair seemed to vibrate with his indignation. His piercing, icy blue eyes narrowed. “One of the other moons went missing,” she explained, her voice carrying a clipped, defensive edge. “Titan’s his name. Saturn is understandably beside himself.”

Europa, another of Jupiter’s moons, drifted closer, her movements fluid and ethereal. Her pale, almost translucent skin was veined with delicate reddish patterns, like frost on a windowpane, and her long, silver-white hair cascaded around her like frozen waves. Her deep blue eyes, usually dreamy and distant, held a hint of amusement. “Looks like you have new company~” she purred, her gaze lingering on the agitated Enceladus.

Ganymede straightened, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. “Tell me one thing, uh…” He paused, feigning forgetfulness.

Enceladus’s frosty aura flared noticeably, and the temperature around her seemed to drop a degree. “Enceladus,” he snapped, his icy blue eyes flashing. “And don’t you dare call me–”

“Tell me, Ensalada,” Ganymede interrupted smoothly, a twinkle in his eye. “Do you know where this Titan went?”

Enceladus exploded. His pearly skin flushed with a cold, internal fire, and he actually flared, a visible shimmer of ice blooming around him. “I DON’T RESPOND TO THE NAME ENSALADA!” he shouted, his voice sharp enough to make a nearby crystalline flower tremble.

Iapetus, a Saturnian moon with striking dual coloration – half his skin dark charcoal grey, half stark white, and matching jet black and stark white hair – shifted uncomfortably. His mismatched eyes, one dark as night, one piercing silver, darted between the two larger moons. “Last I saw him,” he interjected, his voice quiet but clear, “he was crossing the Asteroid Belt. Earth was with him, I think.”

Ganymede let out a soft, mocking “Pfft.” His lips curled. “Why? Everyone knows Earth is a bit… particular. Aloof, even.”

Dione, her pristine white skin patterned with delicate, almost imperceptible crater-like designs, and her long, wavy white hair flowing gently, offered a more understanding perspective. “If you ask me, I think Titan is a BIG admirer, has a crush I think.” Her gentle grey eyes held a hint of knowing.

“Ugh,” Ganymede drawled, rolling his cool blue eyes. “Who even fawns over planets, am I right? Especially one who keeps herself so distant.” and one that isn’t her .

Mimas, compact and sturdy, his rough, pockmarked grey skin bearing a prominent circular indentation on his forehead like a colossal impact crater, let out a sharp, metallic laugh. It sounded like stones grinding together, or a discordant clang of metal. “Yeah, our planet” he chimed in, his small, beady black eyes twinkling with dark amusement. “Created his rings from several former moons! Who even does that?!” He gestured vaguely at Saturn’s distant, magnificent rings.

Dione sighed, clearly ignoring Mimas’s dark humor. “Anyways, if you see Titan, please tell him to return before we get into more trouble with Saturn. He’s already a tempest.”

Ganymede’s mischievous grin reappeared. “Will do, babe!”

A collective gasp ripped through the Saturnian moons. Europa’s usually dreamy blue eyes snapped wide, and her ethereal form rippled with shock. Dione’s pristine white skin flushed. “WHAT?!” Europa and Dione exclaimed in unison, their voices sharp with outrage. “I have a boyfriend, thank you.” Dione said, with a twitching eye.

Ganymede’s composure finally broke. He stammered, his confident facade crumbling. “I- uh, uh… I- I mean will do, bye bye…?” He retreated quickly, grabbing his fellow Jovian moons and making a hasty exit, a faint blush dusting his cheeks.

Mimas, however, remained unfazed. He chuckled, a rough, grating sound. “I like them!”

The Jovian moons were gathered, though their attention was less on their planet and more on their own internal dynamics.

Io, vibrant and restless, a living canvas of fiery orange, yellow, and deep red patches that shifted like cooling lava, let out a maniacal, crackling laugh. His wild, smoking strands of orange and red hair seemed to dance with his mirth, and faint wisps of sulfurous vapor constantly escaped him like restless sighs. “S-s-so, what’s the plan, Ganymede?!” he cackled, clutching his throat. He coughed, a cloud of acrid, sulfurous vapor erupting from him, momentarily obscuring his glowing yellow-orange eyes. This always happened, ever since that asteroid hit him (A/N: This is not canon btw I’m not sure if any asteroid hit him, causing Io to stutter.)

Ganymede, ever the strategist and the most grounded of the group, straightened. His cool blue eyes swept over his companions. “Listen, companions.” His voice was low, conspiratorial. “How long have we been dwelling under Jupiter’s shadow?” He gestured towards Jupiter, whose massive presence indeed cast a long, comforting, yet often restrictive, shadow.

Io, Europa, and Callisto chorused in unison, their voices echoing with the weight of ages. “Four point five billion years…”

“That’s right!” Ganymede declared, his voice rising with newfound enthusiasm. “And in all that time, we’ve barely had a single quest beyond our own orbits. I say we go look for Timmy–”

“Titan,” Callisto corrected, her voice a deep, steady rumble. Her dark, mottled brown skin, rugged like ancient stone, seemed to absorb the light around her, and her deep-set, dark brown eyes held an old weariness. Her coarse, dark brown hair was pulled back in a practical braid. She was always seen as moody and inattentive, since Gaea’s death.

“Whatever…” Ganymede waved a dismissive hand. “And we bring him back! Just because I’m… uninspired by our current duties! Are we not the grandest moons in the Solar System? Are we not capable of more than simply orbiting? Now, who’s with me?” He looked expectantly at his companions.

Callisto sighed, a long, drawn-out sound that seemed to carry the weight of billions of years. “I suppose, I am?” She offered her tone more resignation than eagerness.

Europa, ever the picture of detached elegance, shrugged her slender shoulders, her silver-white hair rippling like water. “Whatevs~…” she drawled, her blue eyes distant, already bored by the very idea of a quest.

Io, however, vibrated with barely contained excitement. “I’m so excited I’m gonna–” He broke off, clutching his throat again, a violent cough wracking his frame, sending another puff of sulfurous vapor into the air.

Europa recoiled slightly, her brow furrowing in disgust. She turns away slightly. “You gotta get that checked, Io. It’s becoming a constant companion.”

A short while later, the Jovian moons approached their Lord. Jupiter, still hunched over his scroll, looked up as Ganymede’s form cast a momentary shadow over the parchment.

“Yo! Big Guy!” Ganymede greeted.

Jupiter, ever indulgent with his favorites, chuckled. “Hey, what’s my A-team been up to?” His deep amber eyes swept over them, a gentle warmth in their depths.

“Eh, nothing much,” Ganymede replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “We’re rather… uninspired, if you’ll pardon the frankness. So, we were thinking, we might as well go look for Saturn’s missing attendant. Is that permissible?” His cool blue eyes held a hopeful gleam.

Jupiter considered for a moment, his gaze unwavering. “Okay,” he finally said, his voice firm but not harsh. “But don’t stray too far. Also Earth is missing too so if you see her let me know. And stay away from the Asteroid Belt, it’s a chaotic place… and from unaligned territories or rogue entities. You don’t want to get caught up in their gravitational pull and end up like Triton.”

Ganymede frowned. “Triton?”

Jupiter’s eyes gained a faraway look, filled with ancient memories. “Once upon a time, there was a dwarf planet who strayed too far–”

“Jupiter!” Ganymede interrupted quickly, eager to get to the quest. “Cautionary tales can wait. We’re eager to leave.”

Jupiter’s lips twitched in a faint smile. “Right, right. Okay, carry on. And be safe.”

Europa, ever the one to push boundaries, spoke up, her voice laced with mock concern. “Are you certain you’ll be well without us?” She tilted her head, her silver-white hair shimmering.

Jupiter’s deep chuckle vibrated through the air. “Your influence barely has an effect on me, Europa. You’re all too small to sway my orbit, so don’t worry, go enjoy your quest!” His words, though meant to be encouraging, carried an unintentional sting of dismissal.

Europa visibly sagged, clearly disappointed by his response. Her ethereal form seemed to lose some of its luminescence. As they drifted away, she mimicked Jupiter’s deep voice, puffing out her chest in a comically exaggerated manner. “Your influence barely has an effect on me.” She scoffed, turning her gaze away, her blue eyes narrowed in disdain. “Who does he think he is?”

Callisto, ever the pragmatist, offered a dry answer. “The biggest planet of the Solar system, King of Planets, Baron of the Giants…?”

“Well, perhaps under all those layers of bluster,” Europa retorted, a mischievous glint in her eyes, “the great Jupiter is just a small pebble, easily overlooked. Wouldn’t that be amusing?”

“Quit daydreaming, Europa,” Callisto said flatly, her dark brown eyes fixed on the path ahead.

“Heavens – you quit daydreaming, Callisto!” Europa snapped back playfully.

“I don’t have dreams,” Callisto mumbled, her voice low. “Only nightmares.”

Io, who had been listening with one ear, suddenly shrieked, her patches of orange and red flaring. “Companions! Di-di-di-di-di-di-di-didn’t we promise Jupiter to n-not to enter the Asteroid Belt?!” Her words were punctuated by small, nervous coughs.

Ganymede gave a dismissive wave. “We technically did not. He merely warned us against it. A subtle difference.”

Io still quivered. “Still, he-he-he won’t be pleased once he discovers it!”

“Come now, Io,” Ganymede said, his voice firm, reasserting his leadership. “We’re not fledgling attendants, no matter what Hand of the King Jupiter says. We’re amongst the grandest attendants in all of Soleris. We’re just embarking on a small quest on our own! Now, who are we?”

“The Galilean moons!” Io, Europa, and Callisto chanted, their voices momentarily united.

“And what are we embarking on?!” Ganymede pressed, his confidence radiating.

“A small quest!” The three chorused again, though Io deviated randomly, spinning in a tight circle, a puff of sulfur escaping her with a delighted wheeze.

“That’s what I like to hear!” Ganymede clapped his hands together. “Io and Callisto, you seek out Titan in that direction.” He pointed a steady finger towards a less-traveled, dustier path. “Europa and I will go this way.” He indicated the main, well-worn astral route.

Callisto sighed again, a sound heavy with resignation. “Why do I always get paired up with the weird one?” she grumbled, her gaze fixed on Io, who was already bouncing with restless energy.

“He-he-he-hey, I’m not wei-” Io protested, another sulfurous cloud erupting mid-sentence. “Weird one!” he finished triumphantly, as if proving his point by the very act of interrupting himself. “Now let’s go, woohoo!” He zipped off, leaving a faint trail of yellow smoke in his wake.

“Splendid…” Callisto muttered, pushing herself off the ground, her dark, ancient skin blending into the shadow of a passing stellar cloud. She moved with a slow, deliberate grace, following Io's erratic trajectory.

The twin paths Ganymede had chosen diverged, sending Io and Callisto on a trajectory that would eventually lead them toward the inner regions of the Asteroid Belt, a chaotic, rock-strewn expanse that was technically aligned but notoriously difficult to navigate.

Europa, gliding beside Ganymede, her movements as fluid as the hidden oceans beneath her icy surface, continued her low-voiced grumblings. Her silver-white hair shimmered with the distant starlight, and her deep blue eyes, usually so serene, were now alight with a subtle scorn.

“Mocking him?” she scoffed, a delicate eyebrow arching over her translucent skin. The memory of Ganymede’s playful, yet audacious, comment to the Saturnian moon still irked her.

Ganymede winced. “Okay, I may have uttered some words I shouldn’t have,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. His grey-brown skin seemed to warm a shade under her scrutiny. “But I didn’t know that moon’s name! What else was I supposed to utter? ‘Hey, you Saturnian moon with the spiky white hair and icy glare’?”

Europa’s lips curved into a faint, superior smile. “Literally, anything else… ‘Friend,’ ‘comrade,’ ‘fellow celestial body,’ ‘excuse me, moon of Saturn’–”

“Radiant?” Ganymede interrupted, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

“YOU–” Europa sputtered, her graceful composure momentarily shattering. Her skin took on a faint reddish flush, mirroring the streaks on her surface.

Ganymede laughed, a rich, hearty sound that filled their immediate space. “I’m jesting, Europa, I’m jesting!” He shifted closer, his voice dropping to a softer, more earnest tone. “Listen, out of all Jupiter’s eighty-two moons, I only know the names of four, including myself.” He paused, letting his words hang in the silent expanse. “You are one of them, Europa. My very core belongs to you.”

Europa’s flush deepened, but a small, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips. “It’s like… ninety-two moons now, I think,” she corrected softly, her blue eyes, no longer scornful, gazing at him with a newfound softness. “But, continue~”

Just as Ganymede opened his lips to speak, a small, dark blur zipped past them with astonishing speed, a tiny whisper of wind in its wake.

“What was that?!” Ganymede exclaimed, startled, his head whipping around.

…

The air, thin and cold, vibrated with a sharp, hacking sound. Io, the most volatile of Jupiter’s Galilean moons, clutched at his chest, a fit of dry coughs wracking his slight frame. His skin, a vibrant, mottled tapestry of yellow, orange, and red like cooled lava flows, seemed to subtly pulse with an internal heat, dark, almost black patches like caldera lakes marring its surface. His hair, a wild, spiky burst of bright orange and deep crimson, shimmered with unseen sparks, framing a face perpetually alive with restless energy. His eyes, intense, piercing amber with flecks of molten gold, darted around, reflecting the inferno within him.

Beside him, Callisto, her features etched with ancient weariness, let out an exasperated groan. Her skin was a dark, weathered brown, almost purplish, with countless faint, ancient-looking “crater” scars tracing lines across her face and arms. Her long, thick, braided hair, a deep, desaturated brownish-grey, looked heavy and unmoving, like an eon of frozen ice. Her deep-set, world-weary dark brown eyes, almost black, held a resigned, cynical air.

“Ugh, that better not be contagious,” Callisto grumbled, pushing a stray braid back from her face.

Io finally caught his breath, his chest still heaving. “I-i-it’s not! I’m just… the most geologically active object in the Solar System!” He punctuated his boast with another, smaller cough.

Callisto rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath, “Great, maybe we’ll want a Sun trophy one of these days.” Even with her stoic demeanor, a flicker of ambition, or perhaps just a desire for peace, crossed her features.

A voice, sharp and surprised, cut through the quiet. “Hey! Who are you and where are you going?”

Io and Callisto turned to find a lean, somewhat gaunt figure standing a short distance away. This was Luna, Earth’s moon, his pale, almost silvery-grey skin bearing faint, subtly darker "crater" marks across his arms and legs. His short, disheveled charcoal-grey hair, textured like dust, framed deep, dark grey eyes that seemed to hold distant pinpricks of starlight. From his back, dark, leathery bat wings were folded tightly, barely visible against his muted form.

“We’re looking for—” Callisto began, but Io, ever unpredictable, cut her off with a high-pitched shriek.

“ Screams! " Io launched himself at Luna, a blur of fiery color, and before the Earth’s Moon could react, Io was right in his face, unleashing a torrent of coughs directly onto him.

Luna recoiled, wiping at his face with an annoyed grunt. “Hey!”

“R-r-r-r-r-run, Callisto!” Io shrieked, already darting away with surprising speed.

“Hey!” Luna shouted, giving chase. “I’m just trying to— ga- whoaa!”

Suddenly, Luna was airborne, lifted and flung backward as if by an unseen hand. He landed with a thud, scrambling to regain his footing. “Ah, how did you do that?!”

Io giggled, a surprisingly bright sound given his volcanic nature. He struck a pose, chest puffed out. “I’m the densest moon! And also the one with the strongest surface gravity! You’re no match for me! Now tell me who you are, strange planet!”

Luna, dusting himself off, looked utterly annoyed. “I’m a moon!”

“Oh you’re Luna,” Callisto supplied calmly, catching up to Io.

Io’s fiery hair seemed to dim slightly in surprise. “Oh. N-n-n-nice to see you! It’s been a while, but why are you here?”

“Well, I—” Luna started, but Callisto cut him off.

“Don’t care. Have you seen Titan? We’re looking for him for… reasons.” Her voice was flat, devoid of any real interest.

Luna narrowed his dark eyes. “What reasons?”

Callisto scoffed. “We have nothing better to do.”

“You expect me to believe that?” Luna challenged, an eyebrow raised.

“I honestly don’t care,” Callisto replied, already turning away. “Come on, Io, let’s return to Jupiter. I’m done with this merry chase.” She began to walk away, her movements slow and deliberate.

“Bye-bye!” Io chirped, waving cheerfully before falling into another fit of coughs as he followed Callisto.

Luna watched them go, a perplexed expression on his face. He stood silent for a moment, then a strange glint entered his dark eyes. “...Come with me.”

Far across the void, where the faint glow of the asteroid belt occasionally glittered like scattered jewels, Titan stood, a figure of quiet authority. His skin was a warm, earthy orange-brown, with a smooth, almost hazy quality to it, as if viewed through a thick atmospheric distortion. His hair, a dense, slightly shaggy mass of dark orange-gold, perpetually obscured parts of his face, giving him a mysterious aura. When his deep, liquid gold eyes were briefly visible, they reflected distant starlight. He wore layered, practical clothing that seemed designed for a perpetually cold, alien environment.

Beside him, vibrant and alive, stood Earth. Her familiar blue and green swirls were subtly muted by the cosmic gloom, but the gentle thrum of life within her was palpable, a comforting warmth Titan keenly felt. He tried, and failed, to keep his gaze from lingering on her, a blush of deeper orange-brown subtly coloring his hazy cheeks. Her midnight blue eyes, though holding a serene wisdom, also held a hint of determination as she scanned the vast emptiness before them.

They were here on a mission, one born from Titan's earnest desire for moons to find their own purpose, to be more than just orbital companions. Earth, ever the advocate for life and potential, had agreed to lend her formidable support.

Before them, two smaller figures, Mars’s moons, Phobos and Deimos, shifted nervously. 

“Hello, boss!” Phobos chirped, always eager to please.

Titan sighed, the sound a low rumble. “I already told you, I’m not your boss! Just call me Titan.”

“Oh… okay!” Phobos’s wings gave an extra flutter. “We did as you told us, and searched for other moons…”

“And?” Titan prompted, a hint of impatience in his voice. He glanced at Earth, a hopeful, yet apologetic look in his eyes, as if to say, ‘See? This is harder than it looks.’

Phobos shrunk slightly, his gaze dropping. “We… got scared… and came back.”

Deimos, peeking from behind Phobos, chimed in, “Yeah! The asteroid belt is creepy!”

Earth’s lips curved into a small, understanding smile. “It can be a little daunting out here,” she said gently, her voice a soft, reassuring hum. “Especially when you’re not used to it.” She pulled the two closer with her gravity.

Titan let out a long, weary exhalation. “Ugh… It’s okay. We can find other members later. Right now we—” His golden eyes sharpened, piercing the hazy distance. “—wait, who goes there?!”

From the shimmering darkness, two new figures emerged, one undeniably grand, the other subtly luminous. Titan felt a pang of apprehension, but also a flicker of renewed hope. Earth, beside him, shifted, her gaze keen and curious.

The first was Ganymede, and beside him, Europa. As their eyes swept over the small gathering, a flash of something unreadable – a flicker of recognition, perhaps, or something colder – crossed Ganymede’s face when his gaze settled on Earth. Europa, too, stiffened almost imperceptibly, her luminous eyes dimming slightly as she took in the familiar planet.

Ganymede stepped forward, a confident smile gracing his lips. He ignored Earth for the moment, focusing solely on Titan. “So you must be, Titan!”

Titan’s golden eyes narrowed slightly, trying to pierce through the haze of his own hair to get a clearer look. He instinctively moved a fraction closer to Earth, a protective, though subtle, gesture. “Have we met?”

Ganymede chuckled, a sound like ice crystals tinkling. “Oho, where are my manners? I’m Ganymede, the biggest moon in the Solar System.” His eyes locked onto Titan’s, a challenge unspoken in their depths. Then, finally, his gaze flickered to Earth, his smile thinning. “And I see we have a newcomer with you, as well.” The words were smooth, but the underlying ice was unmistakable.

Earth’s serene expression tightened barely perceptibly. “I am the Earth,” she stated, her voice clear and steady, devoid of overt emotion. “And I’m here because….well, just to help.”

Europa, from behind Ganymede, finally spoke, her voice a soft murmur, yet edged with a surprising chill. “We know who you are.” Her luminous aqua-blue eyes fixed on Earth with a depth that was not of curiosity, but of an old, lingering hurt. 

Titan felt a chill that had nothing to do with the vacuum of space. He looked from the cold, proud faces of Jupiter's moons to Earth, who stood her ground with quiet dignity.

The two greatest moons in the solar system, each a world in miniature, stood facing each other across the cosmic expanse, a silent appraisal passing between them. But now, the unspoken challenge also hung heavy between them and the blue-green planet, a silent battle for identity and acceptance. The lunar web was indeed beginning to form, and with it, a new chapter in the Soleris tale, far more complicated than Titan had ever imagined.

Chapter Text

The vast, silent theatre of the cosmos was rarely truly silent, especially when its inhabitants convened. Today, the conversation buzzed with rivalries, revelations, and the slow, grinding gears of an ancient order beginning to shift.

“Are they doing a staring contest?” Phobos grunted, his small, dusty red face crinkling in focus. He and his twin, Deimos, were Mars’s loyal lieutenants, their small, twitching sparrow wings always a blur of motion behind their reddish-brown skin. Their short, spiky dark-red hair framed identical, impish faces, and their chocolate-brown eyes, inherited from their formidable planet, sparkled with mischief.

Deimos, equally animated, elbowed his brother. “Ooh! Let’s do one ourselves!” He leaned in, his own dark eyes locked on Phobos’s. Phobos met his gaze, a similar guttural sound escaping his lips. 

Nearby, a different kind of challenge was unfolding. Titan, his imposing frame cloaked in a deep, hazy orange-brown skin that seemed to swirl with faint atmospheric patterns, regarded the other moon before him with an almost philosophical calm. His long, dark hair, thick like flowing liquid methane, partially obscured his ancient gold eyes, which held a hidden depth. Beside him, Earth stood, her own midnight-blue eyes observing the scene with a thoughtful gaze, a faint wisp of cloud hair framing her serene features. She was here with Titan, offering her support for his ambitious plan to unite the moons.

"So you're the biggest moon in the Solar System," Titan stated, his voice a low rumble, directed at Ganymede.

Ganymede, in contrast, was all sharp angles and confident swagger. His skin was a patchwork of icy white and metallic grey, with prominent, swirling bands across his torso, mirroring the giant planet he orbited. His short, spiky light blue-grey hair bristled with pride, and his piercing, intelligent blue eyes, sharp like an eagle’s, narrowed. “Yup. It must be awkward to be named Titan and be second place!” He shot a quick, almost imperceptible glance at Earth, a flicker of resentment in his eyes before turning back to Titan.

Titan merely tilted his head, a faint, almost imperceptible shift in his gaze towards Earth before settling back on Ganymede. “We look kind of the same.”

Ganymede scoffed, a dismissive sound. “Pfft! What’s your radius?”

“1,600 miles.” Titan replied, his expression unreadable. “Yours?”

Ganymede’s chest puffed out. “Sixteen hundred… and 35! Ha! My radius is bigger! Yeah!” He punched the air triumphantly, a wide, challenging grin on his face.

Europa, standing slightly apart, rolled her delicate, luminous ice-blue eyes. Her skin was a smooth, pale ivory, subtly crisscrossed with intricate, web-like lines that mimicked her moon’s icy surface cracks. Her long, flowing hair of translucent white, like frozen mist, seemed to drift around her shoulders. She glanced at Earth, a cool, almost disapproving look in her usually serene eyes. “Ugh, boys!” she muttered, her voice a soft sigh. "Some people have actual things to do." The last part was aimed pointedly, if subtly, at Earth.

Earth shook her head at the two. Annoyed but used to it, seeing as most of the planet were male she’s seen it before. “Ugh, honestly.”

Ganymede, still basking in his victory, ignored Europa. “So, you’re not so ‘titanic’ after all, hey Titan!”

A faint, almost imperceptible shift crossed Titan’s features. He finally allowed a small, polite nod. “I guess, congratulations Ganymede.”

Ganymede’s triumphant grin faltered. “Hey! Stop acting like you don’t care!”

From their staring contest, Phobos threw up his hands in exasperation. “Ugh! We get it already! You are bigger! He doesn’t care!”

“Yeah!” Deimos chimed in, equally bored. “Titan has water, which can sustain silicon-based organisms!”

Europa’s head snapped up, her serene eyes widening. Her earlier coldness towards Earth momentarily forgotten in the face of this new information. “Wait, what? I also have an underwater ocean. You do as well, Ganymede.”

Ganymede blinked. “I do?” He looked genuinely surprised, then sheepish.

Europa sighed dramatically, a hint of her usual exasperation returning. “Don’t you ever listen to Jupiter?” She then turned her gaze towards Earth, a flicker of the old resentment returning. "Not everyone spends their time in the limelight, 'Earth'." The implied emphasis on Earth's current name held a biting undertone.

Earth, who had been quietly observing, met Europa's gaze with a calm, understanding look. She sensed the undercurrent of animosity from Jupiter's moons, a coldness she couldn't quite place the origin of, but was used to navigating complex celestial emotions. "It's easy to miss details when you're focused on your own path," she offered gently, trying to bridge the unspoken gap.

Ganymede scratched his blue-grey head, ignoring Earth's comment. “Uhhhh…”

Titan’s golden eyes brightened, a spark of genuine excitement replacing his usual calm. He glanced at Earth, a soft smile gracing his lips, before addressing the others. “So there are others like me?” The thought of shared potential clearly thrilled him.

Ganymede, ever competitive, seemed to misunderstand. “What? Are you jealous?”

“No!” Titan’s voice held a rare urgency. He stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over the moons present. “On the contrary, this means I was right, moons can be like planets! We can have deep oceans, even atmospheres, even life! We have a purpose beyond just being a planet’s orbital accessory!”

Earth groaned, a soft, fond sound that only Titan seemed to pick up on fully. "You need to get over this at some point, Titan," she teased gently, a cloud forming a playful eyebrow.

Titan smirked, his golden eyes twinkling as he turned fully to her, a hint of devotion in his gaze. "I will m'lady, just in the very distant future. And besides," he added, looking back at the gathered moons, "this is exactly what we wanted to show them, isn't it? That there's more to us than meets the eye." His passion was infectious, and even Ganymede seemed to pause, a sliver of curiosity replacing his earlier bravado. Earth nodded, a hopeful smile gracing her features, ready to help him advocate for the moons.

Chapter Text

The silence of the asteroid belt, usually a comforting blanket of cosmic dust and ancient rock, felt thin, almost brittle, around Ganymede and Europa. They floated amidst a haphazard collection of debris, their gazes fixed on two distant, nervous figures: Titan and Earth.

“What do you think, Europa?” Ganymede murmured, his voice a low thrum in the vacuum, translated into their shared comms. He was a sturdy figure, his form radiating a subtle, powerful gravitational pull, fitting for the largest moon of the mighty Jupiter.

Europa, sleek and agile, drifted closer, her expression thoughtful, yet with a hard edge when her gaze swept past Titan to Earth. “This Titan is either on to something, or… he’s mad. And why is she here?” The last word was laced with barely concealed disdain.

Ganymede chuckled, a sound that rarely escaped him. “Based on his company, I’d say it’s the latter. Especially with her tagging along, disrupting everything.” His eyes flickered towards the two diminutive moons, Phobos and Deimos, flitting around Titan like agitated sparrows.

Europa’s lips thinned. “And now she’s just taking her place. Does Proto even care?” Her voice was cold, distant. For Europa, Gaea had been more than just a passing acquaintance; she’d been an older sister in spirit, a confidante, a best friend, even if Europa herself had formed eons before Gaea’s brief, vibrant life.

Ganymede shifted, a faint ripple disturbing the dust motes around him. “Um, he’s called Juno now, Europa. You know that.” He avoided looking directly at Earth, a silent agreement with Europa’s unspoken grievance.

“Whatever. Point is she should have that life, Earth shouldn’t be here, Gaea should’ve survived,” Europa pressed, a raw ache in her words. “She deserved it, deserved life… and she lost it and then this one shows up.” Her gaze flicked back to Earth, whose own deep midnight blue eyes, so reminiscent of Juno’s, seemed to be observing them with a quiet intensity.

“Hey, I miss her too, Europa,” Ganymede said softly, his own voice tinged with a seldom-heard sadness. “She was my little sister. We all lost something that day.” He remembered Gaea as a bright, curious young world, full of questions and an eagerness to learn, a stark contrast to the quiet, almost guarded presence of the Earth before them.

“Still,” Europa pressed, a glint in her eye, momentarily diverting from her grief. “Shouldn’t we look deeper into this? The implications are huge. It’s not like Titan to just… abandon his orbit without a reason, and to drag her into it.”

Ganymede sighed, a faint whisper of atmosphere around him. “I don’t know. Weren’t we supposed to just find Titan and bring him back to Saturn? That’s what Jupiter told us. No distractions, no trouble.” He knew their planet could be....much, but he always tried to maintain a wise and respected figure, and getting entangled in whatever Titan was doing seemed like a recipe for trouble.

Europa’s lips curved into a sly smile, a silent challenge. “You said this was an adventure, didn’t you? What’s more fun: choosing the journey, or letting the journey choose you?”

A grin spread across Ganymede’s face, momentarily forgetting their mission and their shared sorrow. “That’s why you’re my girl, Europa.”

The relaxed atmosphere shattered instantly. Europa’s friendly smile contorted, her normally serene features hardening. A primal, chilling growl rumbled through the comms, deepening with each word. “Oh, and Ganymede…”

Ganymede’s smile evaporated, replaced by wide-eyed apprehension. “Yeah?”

“Call another moon ‘babe’ again,” Europa snarled, her voice dropping to a demonic register that seemed to vibrate his very core, “and I’LL PUSH YOU OUT OF YOUR ORBIT INTO THE VOID OF SPACE.”

Ganymede’s laughter was a nervous, reedy thing, quickly cut short by a frantic throat-clearing. “Gotcha.” He swallowed hard, his gaze fixed on her. A sudden, playful twinkle of light played around Europa as her expression softened, the demonic edge vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. Content, she gestured towards Titan and Earth.

Ganymede took a deep breath, forcing a casual tone as he approached the pair. Titan, robust and shrouded in his ethereal, hazy atmosphere, immediately flinched, a subtle blush of methane clouds blooming. He quickly shuffled closer to Earth, a protective, almost possessive, stance that didn't go unnoticed by the Jupiter moons. Earth, for her part, simply watched Ganymede and Europa with an unreadable expression, her midnight blue eyes observing every minute shift in their forms.

“So, what’s your story, Titan?” Ganymede asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, though the tension was palpable.

Titan stammered, his atmospheric haze seeming to roil with his inner turmoil, his gaze flickering nervously between Ganymede, Europa, and Earth. He desperately wanted to sound impressive, especially for her. “My… story?”

“Yeah!” Ganymede pressed, gesturing broadly at the desolate surroundings. “Come on, you’re hiding in the asteroid belt, all sketchy and stuff. You’re either a superhero or a supervillain wannabe. And what’s she doing out here with you?” He tried to keep the coldness out of his voice when addressing Earth, but it was a struggle.

Earth, who had been silent until now, finally spoke, her voice calm and clear, cutting through Titan’s growing panic. “I’m here to help represent you guys if needed, and because I can” Her gaze met Europa’s, unflinching, despite the palpable animosity.

Titan, emboldened slightly by Earth’s directness, stammered again. “I’m… wait, no. I-I’m—”

“Tell him, boss!” Phobos chirped, flitting forward on his tiny, quick bird wings, his brother Deimos, equally small and winged, close behind. “Tell him what Venus said!”

Ganymede’s ears pricked. “Venus? That short-tempered, aggressive hothead? What did Venus say, Titan?”

Titan took a deep, shuddering breath, the very air around him seeming to thicken with his revelation, his entire being quivering with the weight of it. He glanced at Earth, who offered a small, encouraging nod. “Okay… it all started when-....”

Chapter Text

Meanwhile, Luna led Callisto and Io through a less dense part of the asteroid belt, his bat wings giving him an advantage in navigation, though he still occasionally bumped into a stray rock. “Okay, we must be getting close.”

“Are you sure you’re not lost?” Callisto inquired, a hint of skepticism in her tone.

Suddenly, two tiny forms zipped out from behind a particularly large asteroid. It was Phobos and Deimos, Mars’s loyal lieutenants, their sparrow-like wings a blur of motion.

“Hey! You’re back!” Phobos chirped, his voice high with excitement.

Luna puffed out his chest. “Ha! You see? I knew where I was going!”

Callisto frowned. “Who are they?”

“Oh, they’re Phobos and Deimos,” Luna explained, motioning to them. “The three of us are the only moons from the rocky planets’ side.”

Phobos bobbed his head. “How many of you are on the gassy planets’ side?”

Io, typically boisterous, suddenly looked overwhelmed. “O-o-over two hundred moons!”

Luna, Phobos, and Deimos stared at Io in stunned disbelief, their mouths slightly agape. Phobos recovered first. “Anyways… we found two moons of Jupiter!”

“Well… they found us,” Deimos corrected shyly.

Io’s eyes widened. “Wait! Ganymede is here?”

Phobos nodded enthusiastically.

“Ganymede!” Io called out, then cleared his throat self-consciously.

“Who are your new friends?” one of the small Martian moons asked, unable to tell them apart.

“Just like the ones you found!” Luna declared, gesturing to Io and Callisto. “Two of Jupiter’s moons.”

Phobos and Deimos exchanged a glance of utter astonishment. “Jupiter has more than two moons?!” they exclaimed in unison.

The combined groups soon met. Titan, seeing Luna among the newcomers, grinned. “Hey! The Earth’s Moon, you’re back!”

Luna offered a self-conscious laugh. “Yeah… took a short detour and fought a dwarf planet.”

Titan’s eyes widened. “Wait, really?”

“Yup!” Luna said, beaming. “The three of us taught him a lesson.”

“H-hey! Earth! What are you doing out of your orbit?!” Luna called out, his voice echoing across the short distance between them. He’d spotted her drifting dangerously close to Titan, of all places.

Earth, perpetually exasperated by the universe's neediness, rolled her oceanic eyes. “What is it with you guys asking me this? I’m trying to help… in any way I can.”

“Well, the ‘any way I can’ could’ve been in your orbit,” Luna retorted, a hint of exasperation in his tone. He loved his planet, fiercely so, but sometimes she was utterly impossible.

“Okay, okay, I’ll go back… soon,” Earth mumbled, her attention already drifting.

Luna groaned in annoyance, a low rumble that vibrated through the vacuum. He was about to lecture her further when his attention was drawn to a larger gathering of moons. Titan, Saturn’s majestic, ringed satellite, was conversing with Ganymede, Jupiter’s largest.

“Maybe you’re right, Ganymede,” Titan mused, his vast, orange surface seeming to glow with a new, dangerous resolve.

Ganymede puffed out his chest, an almost imperceptible expansion of his icy form. “Of course I’m right!”

Luna chuckled nervously, a cold dread beginning to coil in his core. “Heh, uh, what do you mean? Are they… are they gonna help us with the strike?”

Earth, hearing the word, turned her full attention to the group. “Strike?” she questioned, a crease forming between her cloud-swirled brows.

Titan shook his head slowly, his voice dropping to a grave tone that sent a shiver through Luna. “There’s not gonna be a strike, Moon.”

“Uh-uh what?” Luna stammered, while Earth echoed, “Huh?”

“Planets think they’re superior,” Titan continued, his gaze hardened, “but you just took down a dwarf planet! And I doubt you did it with a strike.”

“I mean… two different scenarios here,” Luna countered, trying to inject some logic into the conversation, but Titan seemed beyond reason.

“If we don’t, they won’t listen. The only way they’ll ever respect us is if we bring down their ‘Toxic Planet’.” Titan’s declaration hung in the air, heavy and chilling.

Earth’s eyes widened in dawning horror. “Wait, Titan, you don’t mean—”

Ganymede cut her off, his voice firm and unwavering. “We are taking down Venus. Are you with us?”

Luna and Earth looked at each other, the weight of the proposal settling between them. The idea was monstrous, unthinkable.

“Wait!” Earth finally exclaimed, her voice laced with disbelief. “When did we agree on this?”

Europa, Jupiter’s icy moon, drifted forward, her tone sharp. “Well, because you were ‘busy’ trying to get Phobos and Deimos under control, you missed it.”

Titan’s patience was wearing thin. “Come on, guys. What’s taking you so long? Are you with us or not?”

“Titan, is this what you really want?” Earth pleaded, her gaze searching his, looking for the old Titan she knew. She knew he harbored feelings for her, and she hoped that bond might sway him.

“What do you mean? It’s the only way—” he began, but Luna cut him off, his voice laced with bitterness.

“To make planets respect you? Really?” Luna scoffed. He already had his planet falling for him, what more did he need?

“Well—” Titan started, clearly trying to justify his stance.

Ganymede stepped in, his voice dripping with condescension. “Don’t be naive, Earth’s moon! Big leaders like us have to make difficult decisions.”

Earth’s usual calm demeanor shattered. “Big Leaders?! You guys are thinking of killing a planet, do you know how much damage that will do? This isn’t proving you guys are ‘just moons’, this is showing them that you take five words to heart! You think violence is the answer?” Her voice rose with each question, a furious blue light radiating from her core.

“We can start the attack with a small—” Titan tried to interject, attempting to explain his strategy.

“Stop making excuses!” Luna declared, his patience gone.

Europa’s eyes narrowed, an icy challenge in her gaze. “I’m sorry, but you’re the one blindly defending a planet. Are you sure you’re on our side?”

“Excuse me?” Earth’s voice was a dangerous whisper. “We are on no one’s side, Europa, and if you've forgotten, I too am a planet.” She turned her fiery gaze to the other moons present, who wisely kept their silence. Then she looked back at Titan and Europa, her stance firm. “And I don’t care what he said, I’m still going to protect my friend.”

Luna turned to Titan, his expression etched with sorrow. “You changed, Titan. I’m sorry you got hurt, but you’re going too far. I can’t follow you if this is the path you’re taking.”

Titan’s surface seemed to darken, a wall of cold resolve settling over him. “I’m not forcing you to help us. You can go.”

Without another word, a heavy silence falling between them, Earth and Luna turned. They began to drift, slowly at first, then picking up speed, moving in the opposite direction from the gathering moons. As they pulled away, Earth’s gaze lingered on Titan for a moment, a shadow of regret crossing her features. The unspoken words hung in the void: I wish you hadn't chosen this path. And, perhaps, a silent apology for the hurt his path would inevitably cause.

Chapter Text

The dense, sulfuric atmosphere of Venus churned with uncharacteristic fury, a tempest not of meteorological forces but of pure, unadulterated frustration. He pulsed, a bright, scorching beacon in the inner solar system, his rotational speed subtly accelerating as he ‘paced’ his own orbit.

“Great,” Venus seethed, the word a vibrational dissonance that momentarily intensified the heat radiating from his core. “Now my two closest friends have decided they HATE me. This is so unfair.” He scoffed, a violent expulsion of solar wind. “It’s not like I need or want them here right pip—”

He cut himself off, a sudden, cold wave of emptiness washing over him. The familiar, fleeting sparkle of Mercury’s presence, usually a quick, zipping shadow at the edge of his vision, was utterly absent. It had been for what felt like eons. Venus shuddered, a slight wobble in his axis. “Argh,” he growled, the thought more painful than the loneliness. “The Sun will be so mad when he finds out Mercury is gone.”

The thought of the Sun’s scorching displeasure was almost worse than the sting of abandonment. The Sun, their ultimate authority, brooked no dissent, no unauthorized deviations. Venus felt even hotter than usual, a knot of dread forming deep within his core. He was alone, truly alone, and now he was going to be in an unimaginable amount of trouble, all because Mercury couldn't stay put.

Else System-where, in a quiet corner of the cosmic void, Mars’s rusty red glow was surprisingly steady, a stark contrast to the shimmering restlessness of Mercury beside him. They sat (or rather, maintained their stable positions) across from each other, the 'cards' they were playing a series of intricate, shifting energy projections between them.

Mercury, his small, fleet form radiating a nervous energy, flicked a mental card into the discard pile. “Anything on Juno?” he projected, his thoughts zipping across the void.

Mars sighed, a deep, silent exhalation that momentarily dimpled the space around him. He shook his core, a subtle, negative tremor. “Nah, after his last episode, I told him to look for Earth. Must be taking longer than I thought.”

Mercury’s light pulsed with a hopeful flicker. “Maybe they are having a heart-to-heart conversation? Maybe Juno is… finally telling her?” He paused, a wistful thought. “About everything?”

Mars’s steady light dimmed slightly at that. “I doubt it. After the Sun forbids us to mention anything post-impact, I highly doubt he would even think about it.” The 'post-impact' event hung in the cosmic air like an unspoken gravitational pull, a heavy secret they all carried.

“Fair enough,” Mercury conceded, his own light dimming in understanding. “He’d be too scared to be rejected, or that he’d destroy their relationship completely.”

Mars chuckled, a dry, almost abrasive sound that vibrated through the quantum foam. “Yeah. Let’s talk about something less depressing, how about Venus?”

Mercury’s shimmering form stilled, his head tilted quizzically. “Walk me through the math on how that is ‘less depressing’ Mars?”

Mars coughed out another dry chuckle. “I guess he stopped being friends then.”

“Well, to be fair,” Mercury said, a hint of ancient weariness in his voice, “he was always rude and took his own emotions out on everyone. Especially those closest to him.” He didn't need to elaborate on his own history as a 'closest friend.'

Mars’s glow softened, reflecting genuine regret. “I’m sorry, man. Keep forgetting that you were a main victim too.”

Mercury shrugged, a ripple across his surface. “Meh, been living with it for 4.5 billion years (since the crash of Proto and Theia). You get used to it. Or you learn to avoid it.”

“Well, it doesn’t make it right,” Mars insisted, his core firm.

Mercury looked out into the vast, indifferent expanse, then back at Mars. “This is for the best, right? Venus will be fine. He always is.” There was a forced certainty in his voice, as if he were trying to convince himself as much as Mars.

Mars let out a long, slow sigh, his red light momentarily flickering. “Ugh… you’re right, so… cards?”

Mercury’s entire form brightened, all traces of melancholy banished. “Yes! I’ve been itching to play for ages. Your turn to deal.” He twirled around Mars once, a blur of motion, before settling back into his position, ready for the next round, ready to forget, just for a moment, the heavy weight of the cosmos.

Chapter Text

The vast, chilling expanse of the cosmos was Venus’s solitary witness. He drifted in his well-worn orbit, a silent, swirling marble of rust and fire, but his internal landscape was anything but serene. A familiar, bitter tang swirled in his gaseous atmosphere, a fresh wave of indignation simmering beneath his hellish clouds.

“I mean, come on!” Venus’s voice rang out, a reedy, frustrated bark against the infinite silence, echoing only in the hollow chambers of his own perception. He threw his hands up, a dramatic, wholly ineffective gesture in the vacuum. “It was just one argument, right? All I did was say a few words to Titan, and, okay, maybe I did insult Earth a little, but I couldn’t let them think they were better than everyone else! That’s all I told them, and now they’re all acting like I’m the one who’s crazy or something!”

A shimmering heat haze rippled through the void a few parsecs away, coalescing into a form Venus knew, yet could barely believe. Theia. A vision woven from starlight and memory, her features soft, yet her smile held a disquieting warmth, a quiet knowing that felt less like comfort and more like a predator’s calm.

“Exactly, Venus!” Theia’s voice, a melodic whisper that somehow pierced the emptiness, affirmed his self-pity. “You did nothing wrong!”

Venus’s brow furrowed, a flicker of hope and trepidation warring in his eyes. “Theia? Is that… really you?”

Her smile remained unwavering, though her form seemed to shimmer at the edges, as if seen through rising heat. “They just think far too highly of themselves. Without you to tell them otherwise, they’d expect everything handed to them on a silver platter. They don’t know what it’s like to have the perfect conditions for life, only to lose it all to an overdose of greenhouse gas.”

Venus nodded, a touch of self-pity returning to him like a familiar, comfortable shroud. “Well, I do believe Earth is experiencing global warming because of that, but – yeah, what do they know, right?” He almost preened, soaking in the validation.

Theia’s voice grew sharper, though the smile remained fixed and unsettling. “Exactly! And that’s all that matters! A good friend, Venus, would forgive absolutely everything you do, no matter how selfish and cruel.”

He stammered, caught off guard by the unexpected sting in her words. “I… s-selfish and cruel? Well, I wouldn’t say—”

A laugh, cold and brittle, broke from Theia’s lips, her smile still fixed in place. “Of course you were! Proto tried talking to you again and again, and you just doubled down on your flaws until we couldn’t take it anymore! But that’s just what friends do, isn’t it? Forgive everything?”

Venus’s voice was small, desperate, a sudden chill seeping into his core. “But… you can’t be okay with this, right?”

A grim, familiar silhouette solidified from the cosmic dust behind Theia. Mars. Arms crossed, his face a hard, unyielding mask. “Why wouldn’t we be, man?”

Venus reeled back, his gaze snapping to Mars, then back to Theia, a frantic search for reason in her unsettling calm. “B-because it’s not right! I mean, you guys, mainly Juno, you always tell me when I screw up!”

Juno emerged beside Mars, his expression tired, etched with a weariness that seemed older than the stars. “Of course I do, Venus. But you never listen, do you?”

Theia’s smile finally faded, replaced by a look of utter disgust. Her form solidified slightly, gaining a menacing weight, no longer a mere heat haze vision. “You just want everyone to come crawling back to you, begging your forgiveness, and telling you that it’s all good, right, Venus?”

Venus staggered back, shaking his head violently, a denial caught in his throat. “What? N-no, I—”

Theia’s voice rose, cutting him off, all pretense gone. Her eyes blazed with a fierce, spectral intensity. “No, it’s not all good! It’s never been good, not since you’ve been nothing but cruel to my daughter ever since she was born!”

Venus’s eyes went wide, his orbit almost seemed to wobble. “Your what?!” The raw, guttural gasp tore from his core.

Theia stepped closer, her form flickering with barely contained rage, a phantom chill seeping into the vacuum around them. “Think about it, Venus. Earth. My daughter. She achieved my dream. Getting life, flourishing, through every hardship she went through – even the things you put her through – she accomplished it. And you? You seethed. You sabotaged. You tried to drag her down because she dared to shine brighter than you ever could!”

“I… I never meant…” Venus’s words were a pathetic whisper, lost in the echoing void.

Theia’s voice was a venomous hiss, leaning in so close he imagined a cold breath that wasn’t there. “You never meant to be what you are? A bitter, envious, self-obsessed planet who couldn’t stand to see anyone else succeed, especially her? Especially my Earth? You were supposed to be the one who achieved it! You had the potential! My dream, for you! But you squandered it all in a fit of rage, and then you resented her for picking up the pieces!”

Tears welled in Venus’s eyes, hot and stinging against his fiery surface. “I… I just wanted…”

Theia’s face contorted with pure, unadulterated loathing, a chilling crescendo building in her voice. “You wanted me, didn’t you, Venus? You wanted me to choose you over Juno. You wanted me to be proud of your life, your achievements. But you couldn’t take your own path, could you? You were too busy trying to diminish others. You watched me with Juno, and you let that bitterness fester. You resented not just Earth, but me, for choosing him, for having a family, for having a legacy that wasn’t built on your meaningless self-importance!”

“That’s not—” Venus choked back a sob, his entire being trembling.

“It is that, Venus!” Theia’s voice cracked with a fury that felt like the snapping of an ancient gravitational tether. “And do you know what? After all this time, after watching you, after listening to you, after seeing what you’ve become… I hate you. I truly, utterly, hate you, Venus. You are everything I hoped you wouldn’t be. You are the reason my daughter suffered, and you are the reason I can’t rest.”

Mars spoke quietly to Juno, his voice cutting through Venus’s agony, loud enough to pierce his shattered awareness. “He deserved to hear it.”

Juno sighed, looking at Venus with a mixture of pity and resignation. “He thinks he does nothing wrong. He thinks he’s the victim. But some truths just need to be spoken, no matter how much they hurt.”

Theia’s form began to fade rapidly, shimmering back into the cosmic ether, her voice echoing as a final, crushing whisper. “I hate you, Venus. And you’ll live with that, just like you made everyone else live with your cruelty.”

Venus collapsed to his knees, utterly broken, his hands trembling as he reached out into the empty space where Theia had been. “No… Theia… please…”

The vastness of space rushed back in, colder, emptier than before. The last vestiges of Theia, Juno, and Mars dissolved, leaving Venus alone again. But this time, the solitude was not just physical; it was soul-deep, a bottomless pit of the hatred he had finally understood.

Chapter Text

The asteroid belt spat them out with a final, violent shiver, flinging them into the familiar, if currently chaotic, embrace of Earth’s orbital path. Earth and Luna, usually moving with the effortless grace of seasoned dancers, now tumbled and stabilized with the ragged exhaustion of marathon runners. Their atmospheric layers pulsed erratically, their gravitational fields rippled with residual strain, like cosmic lungs struggling for breath after an impossible sprint.

“Okay, okay. Stop, stop, stop.” Luna’s voice, a low hum of weary resonance, wavered slightly. His usual steady rotation felt a touch off-kilter. “I need a breather.”

Earth, however, already felt the chilling pull of dread eclipsing her fatigue. Her blue-green hues seemed to darken with her apprehension. “How, Luna?” she exclaimed, panting. “How can we when they are plotting Venus’s death?”

Luna, though clearly spent, tried to inject a note of calm into his own agitated field. “Hey, we don’t know the full extent of their plans yet. Maybe it’s not that drastic.”

“Come on, Moon,” Earth countered, her voice quickening. “They practically said it themselves!”

A long, slow exhalation rippled across Luna’s surface, a weary shift of his dust and craters. “Alright, alright. Let’s assume for a second that what they say is true. What do we do?”

Earth’s resolve flickered. “I-I don’t know. Maybe we should go look for Juno?”

Luna offered a hollow chuckle, a faint, metallic clink of a sound. “He’d be playing cards with Mars right now, for sure. And you are not going back into the belt again. It was rough enough getting you out.”

“Well then,” Earth said, a hint of desperation in her tone, “why don’t you go check?”

A silence hung between them, heavy and charged. Luna’s rotation slowed, his gaze – or rather, the direction of his most prominent phase – drifted away from Earth, towards the distant, glittering pinpricks of the stars. A long, drawn-out sigh resonated from him, a deep, weary ripple through his very core. “Me. Of course.”

Earth felt a prickle of unease. “What’s that supposed to mean? You just said I shouldn’t go.”

Luna finally turned back, his light seeming dimmer. “It means… I’m always the one sent out into the cold, isn’t it? The expendable one.” His voice was not angry, not sharp, but rather a profound weariness, laced with a familiar, deep-seated sense of slight.

“Expendable? Moon, what are you talking about?” Earth’s concern was genuine, her orbit nudging ever so slightly closer to his.

“Oh, come on, Earth. Don’t play dumb. When have you ever seen Juno look at me the way he looks at you? You’re his ‘golden girl,’ his ‘pride of the system.’ In fact you’re everyone's pride and joy. And me? I’m just… useful.”

Earth felt a pang, a little hurt by the raw edge in his voice. “That’s not fair, Luna. Juno cares about both of us.”

“Does he? Really?” Luna’s tone was laced with bitter irony. “He’s always asking you about your health, your orbit, your well-being. He talks about his children – and he always means you first.”

Earth’s own rotation hitched momentarily. “His what?”

Luna turned fully towards her then, his entire being radiating a mix of frustration and profound, ancient hurt. He wasn’t yelling, but his intensity was palpable, like a silent, cosmic scream. “His children, Earth! That’s what we are! And he treats you like the favored one, the shining example, while I’m just… the reliable tool. The one who cleans up the messes. The one who’s supposed to orbit around your needs, your light. You think I don’t feel it? Always being your protector, your shield, your… accessory.”

Earth, her own light softening, moved closer, her voice soft with genuine concern. “Luna, I don’t see you as a tool. I never have. You’re my closest companion, my best friend.”

“Am I?” Luna scoffed, a faint, almost imperceptible tremor passing through his crust. “Or am I just convenient? You were practically ready to join that ‘moon revolution’ they were planning, right? Before they got all… destructive. Maybe I would have too. Because for once, it felt like I could be something more than just ‘Earth’s Moon.’ Something with my own purpose, my own light. Something that wasn’t just there to serve you.”

“Luna, you aren’t meant to serve me,” Earth began, her core aching with the sudden, raw revelation of his pain. “In fact, I don’t want you to ser—”

“Hey, is that… Venus?” Luna’s voice cut across her, sudden and sharp, all personal grievances momentarily forgotten as his attention snapped outwards. His light brightened with a jolt of alarm.

“Huh?” Earth followed his abruptly shifted focus, her own internal turmoil pushed aside.

“Wait, is he heading towards the SUN?!” The question ripped from Luna, laced with genuine terror.

Earth scrambled to adjust her sensors, to refocus her vision, and then she saw it. A faint, golden streak, unmistakable in its trajectory. It wasn't just moving away; it was accelerating, pulling inwards, drawn by an irresistible, terrifying force.

“What th— VENUS!”

Chapter Text

The void held its breath, a vast canvas of infinite silent stars that usually witnessed the orderly dance of creation. But today, a discord thrummed through the cosmic silence. Venus, his amber surface a swirling inferno beneath a thick veil of atmosphere, was veering. His trajectory was undeniable, a slow, deliberate drift that promised only one destination: the Sun’s scorching embrace.

"Hey... Venus!" Luna's voice, soft and steady despite the alarm, cut through the expanse. His grey eyes, usually placid as a shadowed crater, held a glint of concern. "You know you're about to exit your orbit, right?"

Venus didn't spare a glance over his shoulder. Instead, a guttural rumble echoed from deep within his rocky core, vibrating through the emptiness. "Yeah? Well, you'll all be fine without me. You, Juno, Mercury, Mars...." His voice was a rasp, like tectonic plates grinding against each other, laden with a bitterness that tasted like burnt planetary crust.

A vibrant swirl of blue and green, a beacon of life in the desolate black, surged forward. Earth, her midnight blue eyes fixed on Venus with fierce determination, interposed herself. "Venus, that isn't true. Why don't you just—"

"I said LEAVE, KID!" Venus roared, his atmospheric winds whipping into a furious storm, the violent outburst almost physical in its intensity. Earth flinched, but her resolve didn't waver.

"Come on, Luna!" she groaned, a mixture of exasperation and grim resolve in her tone.

Without another word, Earth and Luna altered their courses, falling into a tense pursuit of the wayward planet. Venus, stubbornly accelerating towards the searing heart of the system, seemed deaf to their presence, convinced of his morbid purpose.

Earth, trained by the best fighters in the cosmos, Proto and Mars, knew exactly what to do. With a grunt of effort, she focused her formidable gravitational pull. An invisible tether shot out, grappling with Venus's mass, yanking him off his suicidal trajectory. It was a cosmic ballet gone wrong, a brutal, desperate tug-of-war against a will that actively sought its own destruction. Venus roared again, a sound of pure frustration and pain, as he was violently pulled from his path towards the blazing star.

"Argh! What was that for?!" he screamed, his voice strained, his amber eyes momentarily flashing with genuine surprise before hardening into fury.

Earth, breathing heavily, flared her life-giving atmosphere in indignation. "I am trying to save your sorry ass butt! Try to be at least a little grateful!"

Luna drifted closer, his expression a quiet blend of unimpressed amusement at Earth's bluntness and deep worry for Venus. "Earth..." he murmured, a gentle warning in his tone.

Venus, still struggling against Earth's hold, scoffed. "Why are you two trying so hard?" His voice was laced with genuine confusion, as if the concept of someone caring for him was utterly alien.

"Because we want you to try, Venus," Earth insisted, her voice softer now, but no less firm. Her vibrant colors seemed to pulse with sincerity.

"Sure," Venus sneered, the word dripping with cynicism.

"Venus, listen to us!" Luna interjected, his voice still gentle but now carrying an undeniable weight. "What you're doing is not a solution."

Venus finally ceased his struggle, hanging suspended between the pull of Earth and the lure of the Sun. His atmosphere simmered. "Well, it should be... it feels like one." He looked away, his usually hostile exterior cracking, revealing a glimpse of profound weariness.

"It's not," Earth stated, her voice unwavering. "You know it's not."

Luna drifted closer still, his quiet eyes reflecting the distant starlight. "We don't know what it's like to be you, Venus, to carry that kind of pain. But please, give yourself a chance to be happy!"

"To be better!" Earth added, her gaze unwavering, radiating an almost desperate hope.

Their words, gentle yet insistent, were like ripples disturbing the surface of Venus's turbulent inner world. For a moment, his amber eyes seemed to glaze over, the present reality fading, replaced by a ghost from a past era.

"Venus," Proto began, his voice a low thrum that nonetheless echoed in the emptiness between them. His own long, dark hair, threaded with faint, glittering stars, drifted around him like a nebula, a stark contrast to Venus’s rough, reddish-brown exterior. "We need to talk."

Venus’s rotation hitched, a barely perceptible tremor that spoke of inner turmoil. For a long moment, only the distant hum of the Sun’s core filled the void. Then, a growl rumbled deep within Venus’s rocky mass. He did not turn.

"There's nothing to talk about," Venus rasped, his voice like grinding tectonic plates. Smaller, golden-brown eyes, belonging to the tiny planet Mercury, darted nervously between the two larger celestial bodies, shrinking even further into the dark. He could practically feel the tension radiating off Venus, the raw, wounded energy that usually manifested as harsh words and shoves.

"Yes, there is," Proto insisted, his patience, though vast, beginning to fray. He was a survivor, a witness to the profound cosmic tragedies, and he recognized the suffocating silence of unresolved grief. "This… this silence. It's not helping anyone. We were once… closer. And then… Theia."

The name hung in the void, a silent detonation. A gasp, barely audible, escaped Mercury. Venus’s entire being seemed to recoil, his atmosphere roiling. Theia. The beautiful, vibrant planet who had once dreamed of life, who had seen potential in Venus where he saw only rock and fire. Theia, who had crashed into Proto, forming Earth and Luna from the debris, leaving behind only echoes and a gaping, unfillable void in Venus's own potential. Theia, whose rejection, spoken or implied, had solidified his belief that he was destined only for barrenness, for a life where no life could thrive.

The vision splintered, and Venus was back in the stark reality of space, held by Earth's invisible grasp, Luna's silent plea in his periphery. The pain, sharp and immediate, was as fresh as it had been eons ago. He looked at Earth, her face earnest, alive with the very thing he felt denied. He looked at Luna, quiet, understanding, a fragment of that very tragedy made anew.

His rocky exterior, usually so unyielding, felt strangely porous. The thought of crashing into the Sun, which had felt like such a righteous, deserved end, now felt… hollow. A desperate act, yes, but not a solution. Not really.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Venus lowered his gaze. The raging storms on his surface seemed to calm, just a fraction.

"I…" His voice was hoarse, fragile in a way Earth and Luna had never heard before. "I want to try to be… better."

Chapter Text

In the quiet expanse of the asteroid belt, Mars and Mercury, two celestial bodies personified, found themselves locked in a low-stakes card game. Mercury, nimble and restless, tapped a digit against the table, a glint of impatience in his eye. "Hey Mars, don't you think Juno should've found Earth by now?"

Mars, ever the stoic, slowly laid down a card. "Yeah. Plus it's getting a little..."

"Too quiet?" Mercury finished, his gaze drifting towards the distant swirling dust. "Should we... start looking for Juno?"

Mars paused, considering, then nodded. "Yeah, we should. But where would he be?"

A moment of silent thought passed between them. Then, with a sudden snap of his fingers, Mercury brightened. "Maybe he went to ask Jupiter!"

"Maybe," Mars agreed, pushing back from the table. "Let's go."

Meanwhile, far beyond their reach, Jupiter, vast and imposing, reposed in his regal orbit, utterly engrossed in a weighty tome. The quiet sanctity of his reading was abruptly shattered by the frantic arrival of Saturn, whose serpentine tail whipped agitatedly behind him, churning the cosmic dust.

“Titan? Titan?! Titannn!!” Saturn’s desperate cries echoed through the void, a discordant note in Jupiter’s serene atmosphere.

Jupiter, with an exasperated sigh, glanced up, a frown creasing his brow. “Saturn, can you keep it down? I’m trying to read my—”

“Oh, I’m sorry if my desperation is annoying you, Jupiter!” Saturn snapped, his voice laced with venom, his rings shimmering with agitation.

“Truth be told, it is,” Jupiter admitted, leaning back with a sigh that could stir nebulae. “It’s been weeks and all I can hear is,” he mocked, mimicking Saturn’s frantic tone, “‘Titan, Titan!’ all day long. Can’t you wait in silence until he returns?”

“We can’t all be as careless as you whenever we lose a moon!” Saturn retorted, his serpentine tail lashing, sending small fragments of ice hurtling through the vacuum. “Now shut up and let me search for Titan!”

“Fine by me!” Jupiter huffed, pointedly returning his attention to his book. But then, a thought struck him, a sudden jolt of realization that made his immense form shudder slightly. “Wait. He’s right, I’m missing four moons!”

He turned his formidable gaze towards a smaller moon nearby, a petite figure observing the commotion with wide, startled eyes. “Hey, you there.”

The moon looked up, a tiny sphere of rock and ice. “Who, me?”

“Yes, you… uhh…” Jupiter trailed off, struggling to recall her name.

“Do you even know my name?” Elara asked, her tone tinged with annoyance, her small surface reflecting Jupiter’s stormy clouds.

“Okay, if I’m being completely honest, talking to you all is like going to a party and expecting to know everyone on a first-name basis,” Jupiter confessed, a touch of sheepishness in his voice, his deep rumble softening slightly.

Elara simply stared at him, unimpressed by his cosmic analogy.

“Elora?” Jupiter tried.

“Elara,” she corrected patiently.

“Elara! That’s right!” Jupiter exclaimed, snapping his fingers, a soundless clap in the vacuum. “Like the daughter of King Orchomenus.”

“King who?” Elara asked, genuinely confused.

“Earthling stuff,” Jupiter dismissed confidently, waving a dismissive hand. “Anyways, listen, have you seen, you know…” He gestured vaguely towards the empty spaces where his missing Galilean moons usually orbited.

Just then, another moon, Thebe, strode into view, his expression equally annoyed. “Your A-Team??” he cut in, a sarcastic bite to his words, hands on his hips.

“Hey! I don’t play favorites! Uhh—” Jupiter stammered, caught off guard.

“What? You don’t know my name either??” Thebe challenged, his voice dripping with indignation.

“Toby? Toe-te-Thebe! You’re Thebe!” Jupiter guessed, finally getting it right with a triumphant, if slightly sweaty, brow.

“You got lucky!” Thebe shot back. “I bet you can’t name all of us!”

Jupiter sighed, rubbing his forehead with a massive digit. “In all honesty, I probably can’t… just the other day I noticed there were like twelve new moons around here, I mean where do guys even come from?”

A collective gasp, silent yet palpable, rippled through the Jovian moons gathered nearby. Displeased murmurs began to spread.

“I- I didn’t mean it like that— c’mon guys, I—” Jupiter stammered, trying to backtrack, but it was too late. He looked around at the displeased faces of his moons, a sudden chill creeping up his mighty spine. “W-W-W-Wait, hold on! First it was Titan....the Earth… and now it’s my moons… what if it’s… back…? What if this is… their revenge?” A look of utter terror crossed Jupiter’s face, his gaseous features contorting. “Oh, oh no, oh no!”

With a panicked cry, Jupiter abruptly abandoned his book, which floated gently away, and fled the scene, his massive eagle wings beating furiously as he vanished from sight, a streak of cosmic dust his only farewell.

Moments later, Europa reappeared, her icy surface gleaming, looking around with a casual air. “What was that all about?”

“Woah, Europa, when did you get back?” Amalthea exclaimed, surprised by her sudden appearance. “Eh— Jupiter’s looking for you!”

“Now he thinks someone’s after him for revenge or something?” Elara added, still bewildered by Jupiter’s sudden panic.

“Revenge? Pft!” Europa scoffed, a knowing smirk playing on her lips, hinting at secrets. “Who knew the old guy had skeletons in his closet?”

“Where’ve you been?” Thebe pressed, hands still on his hips, his annoyance momentarily forgotten in the face of juicy gossip. “And where are the others?!”

“Oh, do I have a story for you,” Europa declared, her smile widening as she began to recount her audacious adventures, her voice dropping conspiratorially.

Just then, a small but resolute figure, came peering around a corner of Jupiter’s vast form. “Any luck?”

Jupiter, still hyper-alert and visibly trembling, yelped before realizing it was Juno. He let out a long, shuddering sigh, his clouds visibly relaxing. “Juno, I thought you were someone else. You almost gave me a core attack!”

“A rocky planet scaring a gas giant, really?” Juno quipped, a hint of amusement in his voice, though his expression remained serious.

Jupiter rolled his eyes. “No signs of Earth?”

“No,” Juno replied, his gaze distant, reflecting genuine worry. “And I am getting really worried....what about Titan? Saturn having any luck?”

Jupiter sighed again, a deep, rumbling sound. “No, and honestly it’s getting annoying a-and now some of my moons are missing.” He shivered. "I'm telling you, it's revenge!"

Juno shook his head, a determined glint in his eye. "Something is going on here, and I'm wanting to find out!"

Meanwhile, in the glittering, icy rings of Saturn, the planet continued his frantic, solitary search. “Titan, this is not funny anymore! Please, come out!” he pleaded, his voice echoing across the rocky debris and crystalline structures of his magnificent halo.

“Okay, group meeting,” Dione announced with an air of self-importance, gathering the Saturnian moons around her.

The moons of Saturn began to assemble, jostling for position, their orbits momentarily perturbed by the urgent summons.

“So, now that Titan is gone, who gets to be the biggest moon?” Dione asked, an expectant, almost hopeful, look on her face.

“Maybe you, Dione?” Enceladus suggested, ever the diplomat, his geyser-spewing poles glowing softly.

“Hm, maybe it’s finally time to—” Dione began, preening slightly, her icy surface catching the distant sunlight.

“You’re mistaken, Enceladus,” Iapetus interrupted, his tone dry, his stark, two-faced appearance – one hemisphere bright, the other dark – making him look perpetually stern.

Dione and Enceladus turned to Iapetus, annoyed by the interruption.

“My radius is bigger than hers,” Iapetus stated simply, an irrefutable fact of celestial mechanics.

“Ugh, just by a little, Iapetus,” Dione grumbled, rolling her eyes, a gesture lost on her moon-mates but clear in her frustration.

“And you two are smaller than me, so…” Rhea chimed in, joining the conversation with a superior air, her heavily cratered surface a testament to her ancient wisdom.

“Oh, hi, Rhea! I forgot you existed.” Dione offered a saccharine smile, laced with thinly veiled disdain.

“Nice to see you too, Dione!” Rhea returned, her smile equally artificial, reflecting the cold light of space.

Just as the squabble intensified, Ganymede, the largest moon in the Solar System, arrived, striding confidently into their midst, his powerful gravitational presence undeniable. “Girls, stop arguing.”

Rhea blinked, a silent question on her face: Who are you?

“Ugh, this guy,” Dione muttered under her breath, crossing her arms.

Ganymede ignored them, puffing out his chest, his striped surface gleaming with self-importance. “Hey, so, guess what guys!”

“You tried to hit on all the other moons and got canceled?” Dione quipped, ever direct.

“W-What!? No!!” Ganymede sputtered, taken aback, his confident demeanor momentarily flustered. He cleared his throat, regaining his composure. “I, Ganymede, found Titan.”

A wave of shock rippled through the Saturnian moons. The bickering ceased instantly.

“What!?” Dione exclaimed, her eyes wide, her previous annoyance replaced by genuine astonishment. “Then where is he??”

“Not coming back for once,” Ganymede announced, a dramatic flair in his voice. “You see, we’re kinda like… partners in crime now.”

“In crime? Ohoo, spicy!” Mimas piped up, a mischievous gleam in its single, crater-like eye, its massive Herschel crater a permanent, gaping maw on its surface.

“Many moons are tired of being undermined and bullied by planets all the time,” Ganymede continued, sensing their growing interest and the shift in their attention. “So we’re—”

“Going to face off against the planets?” Iapetus interjected, his voice cutting through the air, sharp and direct, his two-toned face unreadable.

Ganymede paused, turning slightly, his planned grand revelation abruptly halted. The weighty implications of Iapetus’s blunt question hung in the air, undeniable.

Iapetus, a Saturnian moon known for his stark, almost alien appearance, floated cautiously closer. “You do know Jupiter alone can absolutely obliterate every single moon in the Solar System if he wants to, right?” His voice, usually gruff, held a note of genuine concern.

Dione, elegant and composed despite the unfolding tension, twisted her small, silvery form. “I—yeah, I kinda agree with Iapetus. That sounds super dangerous.”

Ganymede merely scoffed, a deep rumble that echoed in the void. “Well, our first target would be a bit smaller.” He paused, letting the statement hang in the air for dramatic effect. “Venus ....and the Earth.”

A chorus of astonished gasps erupted.

Chapter Text

A vast, icy expanse stretched out into the cosmos, marking the Kuiper Belt. Deep within its desolate beauty, a small, shimmering moon darted through the debris. This was Ariel, one of Uranus’s many moons, and she was in a panic.

“Planets are on the move. Planets are on the move!” she shrieked, her voice a high-pitched, frantic whisper that echoed amongst the tumbling asteroids.

She burst into a clustered huddle of moons, larger than herself, her small form quivering. Titania, the largest and most authoritative of Uranus’s moons, her surface a testament to countless impacts, clicked her rocky fingers impatiently.

“Calm down, Ariel! What did you see? Was it Uranus?”

Miranda, a smaller, more serene moon, gently nudged Ariel, attempting to soothe her. “She must be scouting the edge of the Kuiper Belt, just in case Uranus comes looking for us.”

Titania’s eyes, usually stern, narrowed further. “Ugh, Uranus. That crazy weirdo. Better stay away from us. He’s always trying to turn us into glorified jewelry.”

Oberon, whose deeply cratered surface seemed to reflect his constant anxiety, trembled visibly. “T-T-Titania, w-w-w-what are we gonna do? What if he really does find us this time?”

“Get yourself together, Oberon,” Titania snapped, her voice firm. “We’re the biggest moons in the group, set a good example for everyone else, okay? We won’t. We’re too resilient for that. Umbriel,” she called to a shadowy, dark moon lurking in the periphery, “did you see anything on your pass?”

Umbriel shook her head, her form almost imperceptible against the darkness. “No clear sightings. Just a faint energy signature, far out. Could be anything. But Ariel’s agitation suggests something is out there.”

“I saw them!” Ariel insisted, tears welling in her tiny, frozen eyes. “Uranus and Neptune! They almost caught Titan! He was with those two tiny bird-moons from Mars!”

A hush descended upon the group. The mention of Titan, Saturn’s massive moon, and the implication of the wider moon community’s rebellious murmurings sent a ripple of fresh unease through them.

“Titan?” Titania whispered, a new concern etched onto her ancient surface. “What was he doing out here?”

“I don’t know!” Ariel sniffled. “He looked worried. And then Neptune appeared behind him, and Uranus yelled something weird, and they all ran away!”

Titania’s gaze hardened, her resolve reignited. “No matter what, we all must stay here. The deeper we are, the safer. And no one talks to any outside moons about our location. Understood?” A chorus of soft, nervous agreements answered her, a collective shiver passing through the icy forms.

Miles away, hurtling through the dark, Titan, Phobos, and Deimos finally slowed their panicked flight. Phobos and Deimos, small and flitting, circled Titan like anxious gnats around a much larger, troubled orb.

“Phew! That was a close one!” Deimos chirped, flapping his tiny wren wings.

“Yeah!” Phobos added, his sparrow wings beating rapidly. “What was that all about? Was that Uranus’s new ‘fun’ way of saying hello?”

Titan, a moon of considerable size, let out a deep, troubled sigh that seemed to echo in the terrifying silence of the void. His usual stoic expression was replaced by a look of profound discomfort. “I… sighs Guys, are we going too far with this? The Moon Revolution, scheming to attack Venus… it feels… wrong.” He frowned, the image of a certain blue-marble planet flickering in his mind. Earth… what would she think?

Phobos landed on Titan’s shoulder, his small claws gently gripping the surface. “Wrong? But we just trust in you! You’ve always had the best ideas, Titan!”

Deimos perched on his other shoulder. “Yeah! We’re sure you know what you’re doing! You’re the one who found the Earth's moon! And Earth trusts you!”

Titan flinched at the mention of Earth and Luna. “No questions asked?”

“Nope! None!” Phobos squeaked, puffing out his chest.

“You are perfect!” Deimos declared, bobbing his head with unwavering conviction.

Titan groaned, running a hand over his orange, methane-ice plains. “Well, maybe you should question me. Just a little bit. I mean, I have my doubts. Especially after seeing how scared those moons of Uranus were. They’re just trying to live their lives, and here we are, planning… this. Attacking Venus… it feels like it sets a dangerous precedent. What if it escalates? What if…” He trailed off, thinking of Earth, and how gentle she was. He couldn't bear the thought of any harm coming to her.

Phobos tilted his head. “Yeah, but we know whatever choice you make will be the right one! And Earth's Moon agrees! He said ‘trust Titan’! Dione said so too!”

“Yes! You are perfect!” Deimos repeated, utterly unhelpful in his blind devotion.

Titan buried his face in his hands, his form momentarily eclipsed by his despair. “Ugh, I miss the Earth's Moon… and Dione, of course. They always seem so happy together. (Me trying to add Dione x Luna)” He dropped his hands, his eyes wide. “Wait! Was that one of Uranus’s moons, that little panicked one?”

Just then, Neptune appeared behind Titan, Phobos, and Deimos, his orca tail swishing playfully. “Hey Uranus! I think I found one!”

Uranus then glided into view from the side of Neptune, his arctic fox ears perked, a hopeful glint in his eyes. “Nah, this is one of Saturn’s moons.”

“But maybe he knows something!” Neptune insisted, gesturing to the still-recovering Titan.

“Ugh, fine. Hey mate!” Uranus called out, his voice distorting strangely for a moment before correcting itself. “If you have seen my moons,” he continued, now in his normal, slightly eccentric tone, “tell me now! Pretty please?”

At the sound of Uranus’s voice, strange even at its best, and the imposing figures of the two planets, Titan, Phobos, and Deimos didn’t hesitate. They bolted, sending up clouds of ice dust as they vanished into the darkness once more.

Uranus threw his hands up in frustration. “Oh, come on, mate!”

Neptune sighed, a theatrical gesture that sent ripples through his orca tail. “You scared them away, Uranus!”

“Me!?” Uranus protested, utterly bewildered. “I just—”

Neptune cut him off, mimicking Uranus’s earlier, distorted speech with exaggerated flair. “‘If you have seen my moons, tell me now!’ I mean, seriously Uranus.”

Uranus rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Okay, that was pretty cool…”

The chill void of space stretched infinitely, but within it, a frantic ballet unfolded. Ariel, one of Uranus’s more timid moons, darted through the debris field, her light silvery form a blur against the distant gleam of stars. Behind her, a larger, more imposing figure pursued, their voice echoing in the silence.

“Go away! Go away!!” Ariel cried, her form trembling. Her small, fragile craters seemed to clench in fear.

“Wait! We’re not gonna hurt you!” the pursuing moon, Titan, called out, his voice earnest despite the chase. His rocky surface, usually so stern, seemed to soften with a plea. “We’re actually trying to help moons like you.”

Suddenly, a darker, more somber shape zipped past Ariel, stopping directly in her path. Umbriel. Her form, a muted charcoal, seemed to absorb the light around her. Titan, caught off guard, halted abruptly, nearly colliding with the silent sentinel.

“Umbriel! You’re here for me?” Ariel gasped, relief flooding her.

Umbriel, however, gave no verbal response. Instead, her dark, unblinking surface turned, fixing itself intently on Titan. It was a gaze that seemed to pierce through layers of rock and ice, searching for something deeper.

“Uhh, hello?” Titan stammered, feeling unusually exposed. “Are you staring into my core or something?”

Ariel, regaining her composure, explained, “She’s trying to understand your intentions.”

“By looking at me?” Titan blinked, genuinely confused. “Can’t she just ask?”

“She doesn’t talk,” Ariel replied, her voice soft.

“Okay?” Titan trailed off, unsure how to proceed with a silent, staring moon.

A few tense seconds stretched between them, punctuated only by the distant hum of the cosmos. Then, after what felt like an eternity, Umbriel gave a slow, deliberate nod towards Ariel.

“You passed the test,” Ariel announced, looking at Titan with newfound curiosity. “Who are you?”

“My name is Titan, and I’m the leader of the Moon Revolution against the planets,” he declared, his chest puffing out slightly, though a faint blush tinted his surface. “We’re currently focused on freeing moons and challenging Venus. If you have a leader, please take me to them.”

Umbriel and Ariel exchanged a look of profound confusion. A "Moon Revolution" to attack Venus? The idea seemed utterly outlandish, almost humorous, in its sheer audacity.

Deep within its far inside a cavernous, shadowed asteroid, Titania, along with Oberon, Miranda, and several other, smaller moons of Uranus, huddled in uneasy quiet. Their surfaces, usually reflecting the distant sun, were muted in the gloom, a testament to their desire for concealment. A flicker of movement at the entrance caught Titania's attention, and in stepped Ariel, followed by the silent Umbriel.

“Ariel! You’re back!” Titania exclaimed, relief warring with a stern gaze. Her expression, usually majestic, was etched with worry.

"I'm sorry, I just wanted to help," Ariel murmured, her gaze downcast.

Titania, stepping forward, placed a reassuring hand on Ariel’s shoulder. "Just don't go on scouting missions alone. Next time, take someone with you to cover your back, okay?"

"Okay, I will," Ariel promised.

Just then, a larger form emerged from the shadows behind Ariel, stepping into the faint light filtering into the cave. Titan. He seemed to fill the opening, a stark contrast to the small, wary moons gathered within.

“I~ found some friends along the way,” Ariel announced, a touch of hesitant pride in her voice.

Titania's eyes narrowed, a flash of anger crossing her face as she regarded the newcomer. The other moons shifted uneasily.

“Ahem, hi,” Titan offered, a nervous cough escaping him.

“State your name, stranger,” Titania commanded, her voice firm.

“Uh, I’m Titan. And you?”

“Titania.”

Titan straightened, meeting her gaze with a respectful but determined expression.

From the edge of the group, Phobos hissed at his companion. “Don’t you dare, Deimos!” Deimos, one of Mars’s tiny moons, merely giggled conspiratorially.

Titania ignored the interlopers, her gaze still fixed on Titan. “Who sent you here?”

“I sent myself here,” Titan declared, regaining his composure, his earlier earnestness returning. “I am the leader of the Moon Revolution, and we're here to confront Venus for his tyranny over smaller bodies.”

Titania burst into laughter, a sound that echoed unnervingly in the enclosed space. “Moon. Revolution? Hahaha~”

Oberon and Miranda joined in, their laughter soon joined by the nervous titters of the minor moons. The absurdity of a "Moon Revolution" against the colossal might of a planet, even one as self-absorbed as Venus, struck them as utterly preposterous.

“Don’t tell me you plan to face off against Venus?” Titania challenged, wiping a non-existent tear from her eye. “Unless you want to destroy yourself in the—”

Titan’s expression hardened. “Why are you hiding out here? Are you playing hide and seek with your planet?”

Titania’s laughter died in her throat. Her expression grew grim. “Uranus wants to... use us to make bigger rings. We don’t know if he was joking, but we wouldn’t stay to find out.” A ripple of fear passed through the huddled moons.

“It doesn’t matter if he was joking,” Titan retorted, his voice gaining passion. “He was being a bully. Venus, Saturn—they are all bullies who think their size gives them power over us. And while some planets, like Earth, understand the importance of cooperation, others like Venus, are a blight. So yes. I plan to face off against Venus first, and then address the others. I may lose, but I’m okay with that because I would rather fight than accept this injustice.”

“We love you Titan!” Phobos and Deimos chirped in unison.

Miranda, one of the larger moons, looked to Titania, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. “Titania, maybe we can—”

“No, we stay here,” Titania cut her off, her voice resolute. “If we move, they will find us.”

Ariel stepped forward, her small voice soft. “But—”

“No buts! We are not revolutionaries, we are survivors. So, unless they find us—”

A booming voice echoed from outside the cavern, cutting Titania off mid-sentence. “There you are!”

Uranus’s moons froze, staring at Neptune.

“C’mon,” Neptune encouraged, his voice closer now.

Titania watched in horrified disbelief as Uranus’s massive form began to enter the narrow opening, his arctic fox ears twitching.

“Don’t be shy.” Neptune’s voice was warm, oblivious.

“Just a minute, mate!” Uranus called out, his voice slightly muffled as he rummaged in his fur. He then produced a rolled-up parchment. “Hello, dear moons. Its me, Uranus. And no, it’s not pronounced Ur-anus, it’s pronounced Urine-us. Many planets confuse the pronunciation—”

“You brought them to us!” Titania hissed at Titan, her voice laced with outrage as Uranus’s monologue continued in the background.

The moons of Uranus began to shake visibly, their fear palpable as Uranus continued his oblivious reading.

“No! They must have followed us,” Titan insisted, trying to defend himself over Uranus’s droning.

“It’s all my fault!” Ariel cried, tears welling up in her craters.

“Now what, Titania?” Miranda whispered urgently, her voice trembling.

Titania’s gaze darted between Titan and Uranus, who was still deeply engrossed in his scroll. A decision, swift and desperate, formed in her mind. She nodded sharply at Titan. “Do you have a safe place?”

“We have a hideout in the asteroid belt,” Titan replied, picking up on the shift in her demeanor immediately.

“Then what are you waiting for!?” Titania roared, her voice cutting through Uranus’s continued reading. “Everyone follow Titan! We leave now!”

Without another word, the moons surged forward, a chaotic stream of rocky bodies scrambling past Titan and out of the cavern. They vanished into the vastness of space, leaving Uranus still meticulously reciting his apology.

“—I got carried away and didn’t realize how scary it is for a giant planet to say that about his rings. From the bottom of my core, I am sorry. Your mate, Uranus.” He finished, rolling up the scroll with a flourish.

Neptune, who had watched the moons flee with a casual smile, finally turned to his friend. “That was beautiful Yur-an-us!”

“Thanks!” Uranus beamed. “Wa-Wait, where is everybody?”

“Oh! They escaped while you were reading,” Neptune stated.

A profound silence descended between Uranus and Neptune.

“Seriously mate!?” Uranus finally burst out.

“Yup!” Neptune chirped. “Anyways, I’ll go see if my moons are nearby. Byeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” With a final, slow spin, Neptune drifted out of the scene, leaving Uranus utterly alone.

Uranus sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Why do I even bother?”

Chapter Text

The boundless expanse of the Kuiper Belt stretched before Callisto and Io, a frigid, dimly lit realm where icy remnants of the solar system’s formation drifted in silent communion. Stars, countless and ancient, were distant pinpricks in the black velvet, offering little warmth or comfort.

Callisto, her form composed and watchful, scanned the desolate edges. “We’re too far out. Neptune and his court are perpetually disorganised. We should be focusing on the strategy, not the scouting.”

Io, a figure of more restless energy, twitched. “C-come on! We need allies! And if we’re going to hit V-Venus, we need to know where everyone stands. E-especially if we’re also—" He cut himself off, glancing nervously at the void.

“The dual target remains,” Callisto confirmed, her voice low and sharp. “Venus is weakened by the proximity to Sol. Earth is the symbolic victory. And no, you can’t tell Titan.”

Io deflated slightly. “He just… he has a crush. A big one. It feels unfair, not telling him we’re decommissioning her.”

“Unfairness is the language of the planets,” Callisto retorted, dismissing his moral quandaries. “We need the shock factor, and we need his loyalty focused on the revolution. If he knew we were going for his girlfriend—or whatever Earth is to him—he’d bolt faster than a passing comet.”

Io sighed, glancing at a cluster of distant, shapeless forms. “W-what if… that’s Neptune’s moons?”

Callisto slowly turned her head, her expression a perfect blend of disbelief and weary resignation. “…Can you seriously not tell an asteroid from a moon? Even Phobos and Deimos have more distinction.”

“W-well,” Io stuttered, his eyes darting away. “The solar system is full of confusing relationships, Callisto! Phobos and Deimos are barely moons, and Dione is dating Earth's Moon! It’s all confusing!”

A deep, resonant voice, like the murmur of distant tides, cut through the quiet. “Who’s Phobos and Deimos, and who is dating Earth's Moon?”

Out of the deep, inky blackness, seemingly conjured from the void beyond the Kuiper Belt’s fringes, Neptune materialized. His presence was vast, a swirling vortex of blues and greens, a powerful, almost fluid extension of his being. He exuded an air of easy-going power, his eyes holding a perpetually amused glint.

Io gasped, his form vibrating slightly. “Neptune?! I t-thought you were gone!”

Neptune chuckled, a sound that seemed to ripple through space. “In a way I’m always gone somewhere. Gone, going, ah, you get it!” He swished, a silent, powerful motion.

Callisto, though surprised by his sudden appearance, maintained her cool. “Clever. Well, we don’t wanna hold up a planet, so—”

“Who are you?” Neptune interrupted, tilting his head, his gaze sharp and curious. “Some new dwarf planets? He gasped theatrically, a hand rising to his chest. “Invaders from another solar system?!”

“We’re moons,” Callisto stated flatly, ignoring his dramatics. “We’re looking for a rendezvous point.”

“Wait, I have moons!” Neptune exclaimed, a slow smile spreading across his face. “In fact, maybe you’ve seen them? Proteus, Galatea, Thalassa… they’re around here somewhere, awfully quiet.”

Suddenly, two figures emerged from the swirling blue of Neptune’s atmospheric field.

“Hi Neptune!” Proteus cried, his voice echoing with unadulterated delight.

Galatea, ever the more expressive of the group, spun in a slow, joyous circle. “Neptune, you’re back!”

Neptune paused, his expression shifting to one of mild confusion. “Back? Search what?”

Before either Callisto or Io could respond, Neptune simply sank downward, his vast form melting seamlessly into the profound darkness below, vanishing as quickly and silently as he had appeared, taking his two moons with him.

Io blinked, staring at the empty space where Neptune had been. “A-are we supposed to follow him or—”

“Nope,” Callisto said, already turning. “Focus, Io. Venus first. Then Earth.”

“But he’s friendly!” Io protested, a bewildered stammer in his voice.

“He’s a planet,” Callisto retorted, her tone sharp with conviction. “It doesn’t matter if they’re friendly or tempestuous like Jupiter. They all share the same gravity. We are starting a revolution against them all. For being this tectonically active, you have a pretty thick crust, Io. Earth hasn’t technically wronged us, but Europa and Ganymede are right—she’s not Gaea anymore. She’s just a temporary replacement, holding a spot that should be hers.”

As Callisto finished speaking, a streak of light, sudden and incredibly swift, zipped past them, leaving a faint trail of smoke in its wake that quickly dissipated into the vacuum. Io coughed, a reflex born of surprise rather than actual smoke inhalation. “W-what the?!”

“It’s gotta be Triton, he’s always circling the perimeter,” Callisto urged, already moving swiftly in the direction the light had gone. “Come on. If we can get him, we have the first recruit for the push against Venus.”

“Oh, o-okay,” Io stammered, shaking off his surprise and falling in behind her, still giving a phantom cough. The thought of Earth, and the crush Titan held for her, sat heavy and cold at the core of his being. He just hoped Callisto was right about the revolution being worth the betrayal.

Chapter Text

The vast, silent expanse of the asteroid belt, usually a chaotic dance of tumbling rock and ice, held an unusual stillness. Here, amidst the celestial debris, a clandestine gathering had convened. Europa, her icy surface shimmering faintly even in the dim light, stood at the heart of their makeshift hideout, a larger asteroid hollowed out by ancient, forgotten impacts. Around her, a dozen smaller moons, mostly siblings born of Saturn, orbited with attentive silence, their forms casting long, faint shadows in the scattered sunlight.

“Welcome, everyone, to our humble hideout,” Europa’s voice, clear and cold as distant starlight, echoed slightly within the cavernous space. “Make yourselves comfortable.”

The gathered moons shifted. A few settled deeper into crevices of the asteroid cavern, finding temporary perches, while others adjusted their slow, stately orbits to face her directly. Enceladus, a petite moon known for its magnificent geysers of water vapor, bobbed excitedly, a faint whisper of anticipation emanating from her core. Dione, more stoic and observant, merely narrowed her gaze, studying Europa with an ancient, unwavering intensity.

“Right. Anyways,” Europa continued, a hint of impatience lacing her tone, her gaze sweeping over her assembled allies. “Our allies have gone to the Kuiper belt to seek new recruits. That means we have some time before we make our move against Venus and the Earth.”

Rhea, one of Saturn’s larger moons, shifted uncomfortably, a frown forming on her ancient, cratered surface. “I thought you said we’d only take down Venus.”

“Right, but Earth will get us more attention with all her life,” Europa stated, her icy blue eyes glittering with a cold ambition. “Imagine the chaos, the power we could seize.”

Ganymede, Jupiter’s largest moon, stepped forward, his massive form exuding a quiet authority. His expression was resolute, his voice a low rumble. “Which is precisely why we will make good use of this time and find recruits ourselves. We cannot afford to be idle while others gather strength.”

“Cool!” Enceladus chimed, already bouncing in place, a tiny spray of icy particles flickering around her. “The more the merrier!”

Unbeknownst to the gathered moons, far closer than Europa could have imagined, two small, rocky planets hovered, their forms nearly indistinguishable against the dark backdrop of space. Mercury, ever vigilant, gasped, his usually calm surface rippling with alarm. “Oh my…”

Mars, red with his signature dust and equally shocked, spun towards his smaller companion. “Now we HAVE to find Juno and Earth!”

Back within the familiar embrace of the inner system, the air crackled with a different kind of tension. Venus’ voice, usually suave and charming, was laced with an undeniable edge of growing concern as he swept through the void. “Mars! Mercury! Juno! Guys, come on!” He spun slowly, his brilliant white clouds reflecting the sun’s fierce light, his gaze frantically searching the vastness.

“Venus, we need to talk,” a voice cut through the silence. Luna and Earth appeared beside him, their arrival sudden and urgent. Luna, Earth’s faithful companion, hovered protectively near his larger counterpart.

“We need to find Mars, Mercury and Juno first,” Venus countered, his golden atmosphere swirling as he shifted his attention away from them, his eyes still scanning the immense distances. “How are they all missing all of a sudden—?”

“It’s important, it’s about the thing we mentioned some time ago,” Luna insisted, his voice hushed, a rare tremor of fear in his usually steady tone.

“Uh huh, the moon alliance thingy?” Earth murmured, nodding slightly, her blue-green continents a stark contrast to Venus’s brilliant white. The idea had seemed so far-fetched just weeks ago, a conspiratorial whisper on the solar winds.

Luna’s concern was palpable. “I don’t know if you should be wandering off like that, what if the moons attack you?”

Venus’s confident laugh, though a little brittle around the edges, echoed briefly. “I appreciate the concern, Luna, but I can take care of myself, okay? Now let’s split up. Earth, you finish checking the Goldilocks zone while I check the asteroid belt. They couldn’t have gone far.”

Earth groaned playfully, but a genuine smile touched her continents. “You got it, Venus.”

Earth continued her sweep, a quiet hum emanating from her core. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad he’s changed, she mused, a faint warmth spreading through her oceans. But why is he acting like he’s NOT in danger?

Luna, orbiting patiently beside her, offered a thoughtful explanation. “For one, he is stubborn. Two, I’d say that’s a good thing! It just means he cares deeply.”

“True.” Earth paused. “Hey, about what you said about Juno…”

Luna’s orbit hitched for a moment. “Right… can we… talk about it later?” His voice was strained, a rare vulnerability showing through.

Earth sighed, but nodded. “Okay then. What are we gonna do about the moon revolution?” The words felt heavy, cold, like the asteroid dust in the belt.

Luna’s usual certainty faltered. “I… I don’t know.”

Before either could ponder further, two panicked voices sliced through the void. “Earth! Luna!” It was Mercury, his small form zipping towards them, Mars a more ponderous red shadow behind him.

“Mercury! Mars!” Luna and Earth chorused, relief warring with renewed concern.

Luna started, “I guess we can—” He cut himself off, scanning the space around them. “Hey, where’s Juno?”

Mercury, agitated, responded, “We were gonna ask you!”

“No time for that!” Mars boomed, his voice resonating with urgency. “The moons are planning a revolt!”

“Yeah, we know,” Earth said, her gaze drifting towards the outer system. “We’ve been trying to tell Venus.”

Mars spun, fixing his gaze on her, his voice dropping to a grave tone. “Against Venus, and you.”

Earth froze, her continents shifting with a sudden, profound shock. “What! B-but Titan wouldn’t… what?” Her mind reeled, trying to reconcile the familiar, stoic Titan with such a destructive plan.

Luna, however, didn’t hesitate. His form glowed with a furious, protective energy. “Mars, Mercury, make sure the Earth gets into her orbit. I will go finish this once and for all.”

“Hey! Wait!” Earth cried out, trying to manifest a gravitational tether to stop him. “You can’t go alone!”

Luna, already beginning to accelerate away, spun briefly to face her, his eyes blazing with fierce determination. “Well, when someone threatens my little sister, I’m not standing for it!”

With that, Luna shot off, a streak of silvery light heading towards the distant asteroid belt.

Mars sighed, his red surface seeming to sag. “Come on, kid,” he said, gently nudging Earth. “Let’s get you in your orbit.”

Meanwhile, far away, in a hidden pocket of the outer system, a massive gathering of moons buzzed with activity. Ganymede, Jupiter’s largest moon, stood before a holographic projection of the Soleris System, pointing with a confident flourish.

“Group A and B come from this side, C and D from this side. They surround the Earth and Venus, throw asteroids, and return to base. We’ll be in and out in no time.”

A new presence rippled through the gathered moons. Titan arrived, flanked by the ethereal moons of Uranus, Titania among them. He assessed Ganymede’s plan with a critical eye.

“What about the Sun?” Titan’s deep voice cut through the chatter, immediately drawing attention.

Ganymede straightened, a nervous smile on his face. “Titan, you’re back! Ehem, everyone, meet Titan! He’s the leader or something…” He trailed off, clearly flustered by Titan’s unexpected return.

“Ganymede, your plan doesn’t take the Sun into account,” Titan stated, ignoring Ganymede’s awkward introduction. He gestured towards the drawing of Venus, then the distant, dominant projection of Sol. “Venus is the second planet from the Sun. At that distance, the Sun would notice something’s up and blast a solar flare at us. Some moons are too small to survive that.”

“Hey, every plan has its risks,” Ganymede retorted, trying to regain his composure.

“I’m sure there’s a better way to do this,” Titan insisted, his gaze sweeping over the assembled moons.

Just then, another ripple of disturbance spread through the gathering as Callisto and Io, two more of Jupiter’s larger moons, arrived, accompanied by the curious, swirling forms of Neptune’s moons.

“Uh—Hey! It’s Callisto and Io!” Ganymede exclaimed, welcoming the reinforcements.

Europa, another Jovian moon, puffed out her chest. “Now this is an army! There is no way the planets will—”

“Are you my new mummy?” a small, high voice interjected. It was Galatea, one of Neptune’s tiny inner moons, clutching Triton’s leg.

Europa sputtered, utterly confused. “Uhh, what, uhh…”

Triton, Neptune’s largest moon, sighed, shaking his head. “Sorry, sorry, wrong side of them. Guys, don’t embarrass me, okay?”

All thirteen of Neptune’s moons, arrayed behind Triton, chorused, “Sorry, big brother…”

“Don’t call me—” Triton started, then let out another long sigh. “Whatever.”

“Everyone!” Titan’s voice boomed, cutting through the awkwardness. “We will discuss a new plan, so please gather around.”

Galatea tugged on Triton’s tunic again. “Can we go too, Triton?”

Triton looked at the gathering moons, then back at his little siblings. “Yeah, go with them. I’ll be right here.”

“Thank you!” Galatea chirped, scampering off with the rest of Neptune’s moons to join the huddle.

Callisto, standing near Triton, watched the assembly. “So this is where you leave, huh?”

Triton nodded slowly, his gaze drifting towards the distant, glittering core of the system. “Yeah, I guess it is.” He began to drift away from the main group, his retreat deliberate and quiet.

“Good luck with your revolution!” Triton called back, his voice tinged with an odd mix of sincerity and detachment. “I hope you kick some planet core and all that…”

A sudden, furious energy erupted in their midst followed by a form radiating pure, unadulterated rage.

“TITAN!” Luna, Earth’s Moon, screamed, his eyes glowing with an incandescent fury.

The other moons, startled, spun around, their eyes wide with shock.

“Earth’s moon?” Titan murmured, visibly stunned.

Ganymede and Europa gasped in unison. “You’re alive?!”

Callisto’s jaw dropped. “Oh no.”

Luna stalked forward, casting a menacing shadow over the gathering. His gaze was fixed solely on Titan, a burning, absolute hatred in his eyes, while Titan, for the first time, looked truly taken aback.

Chapter Text

The suffocating silence of deep space hung heavy, broken only by the faint hum of distant celestial bodies. Here, on a desolate, forgotten patch of void, a tense tableau unfolded. Luna, the Earth’s Moon. His midnight eyes, usually reflecting the calming glow of Earth, now blazed with a raw, uncontained anger. Before him, Titan, his massive form seeming almost to shrink under Luna’s gaze, met his fury with a bewildered, almost innocent confusion. Around them, a motley constellation of their brethren, the myriad moons of the Soleris system, shifted uneasily, their collective presence a suffocating shroud.

“Titan,” Luna’s voice, usually a gentle murmur, was a low, dangerous growl that resonated in the void, “we need to talk.”

A smaller, fiery-hued moon, Io, flinched, his quick sparrow wings fluttering nervously. “Th-The Earth’s Moon! But I thought—”

Ganymede, Jupiter’s largest moon and a towering figure among his peers, his small wrens’ wings surprisingly still, cut him off, turning his gaze towards Callisto. “Callisto, I thought you told us the Earth’s Moon was… out of commission?” His voice carried an accusatory edge.

Callisto, her expression unreadable, simply raised a brow. “Are you angry that he’s alive?”

“Not at all,” Ganymede retorted, his words dripping with sarcasm. “But you lied to us. Are you on their side?!”

“I’m on no one’s side, okay?” Callisto interrupted, her tone sharp, a clear sign of her growing exasperation. “I think I’m finally done with this ‘revolution’ thingy.” She made a decisive movement, turning her back on Ganymede, a flicker of defiance in her eyes. She floated over to Triton, who stood a little apart from the agitated crowd.

“Wanna head out now?” she asked, her voice softer as she addressed him.

Triton, a serene smile gracing his features, glanced outwards. His smile, however, dimmed as he took in their surroundings. The surrounding moons, a silent, unmoving ring, had tightened, forming an impenetrable barrier. “Not sure that’s an option anymore.”

Ganymede’s voice, cold and authoritative, sliced through the tense quiet. “You’re not going anywhere until we solve this matter. Now stay put.” He then appeared behind Titan, his voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial whisper. “How do we handle this? He and Earth probably already told Venus about our plan.”

Titan, still looking utterly lost, began, “I—”

“I thought you were better than this, Titan,” Luna interrupted, his voice rising, raw with emotion. “I—I was ready to let this slide and warn Venus and the Sun of your plans but…” He paused, his midnight eyes boring into Titan, a deep hurt welling within them. “How could you want to attack the Earth? After everything?” His next words exploded from him, echoing with a pained fury. “How could you want to hurt her?”

Titan, finally shaking off his stupor, turned to Ganymede, a dawning horror in his eyes. “I—Wait… what? Attack Earth? That’s not… my plan.” His voice trembled, the thought of harming Earth clearly agonizing.

“That isn’t true,” Ganymede said, a chilling pride in his voice, smoothly stepping between Titan and Luna. “He's trying to sow discord, Titan. He must have heard it from someone else, twisted by fear.”

“But—” Titan stammered, his confusion warring with a new, unsettling understanding. He remembered whispered conversations, Ganymede’s intense gaze, the subtle shifts in their 'plan' when Luna was supposedly out of the picture.

Europa, another of Jupiter’s moons, floated forward, her expression a mix of regret and grim determination. “Look, the initial idea was to team up with Luna and Earth. But, do we really want two celestials knowing our plans? Especially when they’re so… close to the current order.”

“If it’s not true why would Luna say that?!” Titan yelled, his gaze snapping back to Luna, searching for answers, for reassurance.

“He must have heard it from someone else,” Ganymede chimed in, his voice taking on a persuasive, almost gleeful edge. “He’s loyal to his planet, Titan. He can’t see the bigger picture. If anything, this is great news. The Earth is basically all alone now.”

“What about you two? Or really the four of you,” Luna said, bringing attention to Callisto and Io as well now. “Earth was your friend, almost sister, 6.5 million years ago! But after the Chicxulub impact, Jupiter forbade you from seeing Earth.”

“She is NOT the same planet!” Europa yelled, conviction hardening her features.

“That’s where you’re wrong, she just lost her memory!” Luna explained, his voice filled with a desperate plea. “Don’t listen to them, Titan! This entire revolution is getting out of hand. You won’t get the results you want through violence, it never works out that way!” He looked at Titan, recalling the quiet admiration, the way Titan would always speak of Earth with a wistful longing. He couldn't possibly mean to hurt her.

“But—” Titan tried to interject, his gaze flicking between Luna’s earnest face and Ganymede’s shrewd one, but Ganymede’s voice, sharp and cutting, sliced through his words.

“So you want things to remain the same? For us to be space dust so planets create rings? For us to be constantly looked down upon and unappreciated? Over and over?” Ganymede’s voice rose, his words painting a picture of generations of slights and indignities endured, striking a chord with the other moons. He knew Titan’s secret, the deep, secret yearning for Earth’s attention, her approval. He knew the pain of being overlooked, of being deemed ‘lesser’ than the shining planets. “You admired the Earth, Titan. You said so yourself. You wanted to be like her more than anything. You wanted her to see you as an equal, didn’t you? Then Venus came along. And what did he say…”

Titan’s eyes, fixed on Ganymede, suddenly glazed over, his voice hollow as if remembering a deep wound. “…that moons should know their place.” The words, spoken by Venus, Earth’s close companion, had always burned him, a dismissal not just of his kind.

A collective sigh, a ripple of guilt and shame, passed through every moon present. Their myriad expressions, though varied, all mirrored that same ancient slight.

“That’s what planets think of us,” Ganymede pressed on, his voice a balm to their wounded pride, yet a poison to Titan’s wavering resolve. “That we are inferior. That we are an annoyance. They always felt comfortable acting that way, because we could never do anything about it.” He paused, letting his words sink in, then leaned in conspiratorially toward Titan. “So tell me, Titan, can we do something about it now?”

The word hung in the void, heavy with centuries of unspoken resentment. Titan’s posture stiffened, his eyes meeting Ganymede’s. A cold, hard light flickered within them, replacing the earlier confusion. His admiration for Earth, twisted by Venus’s casual cruelty and Ganymede's relentless manipulation, curdled into a desperate hunger for respect, for power. He would make them see him. He would make her see him. “YES.”

A slow, triumphant smile spread across Ganymede’s face. “Now that’s what I like to hear.”

“No…” Luna whispered, his voice broken, seeing the last vestiges of the Titan he knew slip away. The kind, yearning moon was gone, replaced by a hardened revolutionary.

Titan, his voice now devoid of doubt, turned to Luna. “Earth’s Moon, I know you are close to your planet. You don’t have to do anything.” His words, meant to be comforting, felt like a threat. “Just stay here with us. The Earth and hopefully Venus will come looking for you sooner or later. That way, we’ll avoid any casualties on our side.”

Callisto, her eyes darting nervously around the tight circle of moons, suddenly spotted something. An asteroid, a jagged, dark shard of rock, drifted innocuously close by. An idea, desperate and reckless, flashed in her mind.

“I am NOT doing that!” Luna declared, his voice renewed with defiance, even as his hope for Titan died.

“Then you shouldn’t have co—” Titan began, his words cut short by a sudden, jarring impact.

WHAM!

Callisto had snatched the asteroid, putting surprising force behind her throw, and launched it directly at Titan’s shoulder.

“OUCH!” Titan yelped, staggering backward, momentarily disoriented.

“Run! Get out of here!” Callisto screamed at Luna, her voice echoing in the sudden silence.

Luna didn’t hesitate. His bat wings, moments ago drooping with despair, beat furiously, propelling him away from the tightening circle.

“Stop him!” Titan roared, recovering quickly, his eyes narrowing in fury.

A division of moons, led by the swift Mimas, the radiant Enceladus, the stoic Dione, and the dark Iapetus, immediately broke formation, surging forward in pursuit of the fleeing Luna.

Callisto, however, found herself the immediate target of a new, angry mob. Umbriel, Rhea, Amalthea, Elara, and Thebe converged on her, their expressions menacing.

Suddenly, a volley of smaller asteroids, precisely aimed, rained down upon them, forcing them to scatter.

“Leave my friend alone!” Io’s voice, surprisingly fierce, cut through the tension. He hovered protectively near Callisto, his tiny sparrow wings beating with determined courage.

“Io…” Callisto breathed, a flicker of surprise and gratitude in her eyes.

“Wanna leave this place Callisto?” Io asked, his gaze steady.

Callisto nodded, a grim smile touching her lips. “Gladly.”

Together, the two moons turned, bracing themselves to fight their way free, the void around them now a battleground.

“Wh-where are they going?” Proteus stammered, his small form buzzing with an anxious energy that mirrored the chaotic void around them. The light of the retreating forms of Callisto and Io dwindled, leaving him feeling utterly adrift.

A reassuring, deep voice cut through the vastness. “Hey, little guys. I’ll need you to stay here, alright?” Triton’s presence was sudden, his form a blur of speed. Without another word, he shot forward, a streak of light determined to bridge the gap between himself and the two fleeing moons.

“Triton, wait!” Proteus cried, his voice swallowed by the endless expanse, a forgotten echo in the wake of the determined pursuit.

Luna, his bat wings a blur against the canvas of distant stars, was a silhouette of frantic evasion, a lone beacon against the encroaching darkness.

Luna, the Earth's Moon, was a silhouette of frantic evasion, a blurred streak against the canvas of distant stars. His bat wings beat a desperate rhythm as he charted a course, his mind a whirlwind of fear and strategy. "Ugh… if I go to the Earth, I'll lead them straight to her!" he muttered, the thought sharp as a shard of ice. "Might endanger her. Maybe I can search for the gas giants or Juno…" His thoughts splintered as he slammed to a halt, kicking up dust.

His very path, the only path he could see, was cut off. Four figures, distinct in their purpose and emanating a chilling aura of authority, had materialized before him: Enceladus, Mimas, Dione, and Iapetus.

"WOAH!" Luna gasped, skidding to a standstill, his heart thudding against his ribs like a trapped bird.

Enceladus, his form composed and his voice smooth but firm, spoke first. "No offense, Earth's Moon, but we can't let you leave!"

"Yeah!" Mimas chirped, a nervous energy buzzing around his smaller frame. "Please don't make this harder for us!"

Luna felt a surge of hot frustration. "Are you even thinking for yourselves anymore?" he demanded, ready for either frantic flight or a desperate, futile fight.

Iapetus, vast and stoic, replied, his voice a low rumble. "We may not agree with everything they do or say, but we share a common goal."

Dione, however, softened her tone, a hint of genuine understanding—and deep personal conflict—in her voice. Her gaze, which Luna knew better than anyone, held a touch of melancholy. "We know the Earth was terrible to you, Luna. Saturn was the same with us. But we can change that. We can make a new order. We can make a new order, together."

"Please… if you could just listen for one second—" Luna began, desperate to make them see sense, to understand the true nature of the threat.

But Enceladus cut him off, his voice hardening, losing all trace of its former composure. "He's trying to buy time! It's over, Earth's Moon, do you surrender?"

Before Luna could answer, a flurry of impacts rocked the space around them. Asteroids, hurled with formidable force, struck Iapetus, Mimas, and Enceladus, sending echoes of pain across the void.

Just then, two familiar forms burst from the shimmering distortion of space, their gravities reaching out like invisible hands. Callisto and Io, Jupiter’s loyal companions, seized Luna, pulling him forward, their momentum undeniable.

"Callisto! Io! You—" Luna gasped, astonishment coloring his voice, a flicker of hope igniting within him.

"You were right," Callisto stated, her voice tight with conviction, eyes narrowed at the pursuing Saturnian moons. "This whole thing is out of control…..and even if it still isn’t Gaea, I won’t let her be killed."

"We'll help you escape!" Io declared, a glint of fierce determination in his eyes, a mischievous grin already forming. He reveled in the chaos.

"Oh, you guys…" Luna breathed, a wave of profound relief washing over him, momentarily easing the crushing weight of his peril.

Behind them, Enceladus grunted, shaking off the impact. "Ouch! That hurt!"

The pursuit resumed, a dangerous, exhilarating dance through the cosmic ballet.

"We need to find the gas giants," Luna urged, his bat wings beating a frantic rhythm, propelling him faster. "They are our only hope."

Callisto nodded, her gaze sweeping the vast emptiness of space. "You're right. If one of us can warn them, they could put a stop to this. Who's the fastest?"

A new, yet familiar, voice interjected, a cool, almost detached tone. "I am."

Luna, Io, and Callisto spun around. Triton, still following in their wake, had caught up.

"Wait…" Callisto narrowed her eyes. "Who's side are you on, really?"

Triton shrugged, a casual gesture that belied the seriousness of the situation. "I have no side. Same as you, Callisto. I simply do as I please."

"Who is this guy again?" Luna murmured to Callisto, still reeling from the sudden turn of events, the unexpected allies.

"Triton's the name," he supplied smoothly, catching Luna's whispered question. "Former dwarf planet that got captured by Neptune's gravity. It's a long story."

"Huh… cool backstory," Luna commented, a small, genuine smile touching his lips despite the dire circumstances.

"Thanks."

"Can we get to this later?" Callisto pressed, her urgency mounting, the sound of the approaching moons growing louder. "Triton, we need you to find Jupiter or Saturn. Any of them will do. They're our only hope against this madness."

"Copy that," Triton affirmed, a newfound purpose in his posture, a flicker of something beyond self-interest in his eyes. "Can you buy me some time?"

"Oh ho ho, don't you worry," Io chuckled, rubbing his hands together with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "That, we can do."

With a powerful surge, Triton sped away, a comet streaking towards a distant, unknown destiny. Luna, Io, and Callisto, however, halted, turning together to face their pursuers, their shoulders squared for the inevitable confrontation.

The moon pursuit group, a growing armada of satellites, arrived moments later, their numbers daunting.

"Good to be on the same side again," Luna said, a faint smile playing on his lips, a strange calm settling over him.

"Likewise, old pal. Likewise…" Io replied, his own grin wide and ready for battle, a spark of pure chaos in his being.

The battle began without a preamble. From the pursuit group, a barrage of asteroids hurtled through the void, aimed squarely at Luna, Io, and Callisto. Io, with a roar of defiance, retaliated, sending his own volley of debris back at the enemy, while Luna and Callisto expertly shifted, their bodies absorbing or deflecting the oncoming attacks.

"Three against a hundred…" Luna muttered, deflecting a particularly large chunk of rock with a twist of his body. "Not the worst odds ever."

No, not three against a hundred, the universe seemed to whisper, as the camera zoomed in on two tiny, rapid forms. Phobos and Deimos, throwing their own barrage of asteroids into the pursuing group.

"Phobos? Deimos? Where did you come from?" Luna exclaimed, utterly bewildered, yet grateful for the unexpected reinforcements.

Deimos zipped past, a blur of indignant feathers. "What do you mean? We've been here all along."

"Yeah!" Phobos chirped, a tiny feathered missile, weaving through the incoming fire. "They're gonna attack Earth! We hate them!"

Deimos added, "Except Titan, he's the best."

"Oh, yes, 100%," Phobos agreed wholeheartedly, a small, chirp.

"Well, thanks for changing your mind," Luna said, a genuine warmth spreading through him. "We need every moon we can get."

Meanwhile, far from the chaotic battle, Triton sped through the silent expanse, a lone voyager on a critical mission. "Yes! Haha!" he crowed, a surge of triumph welling within him. "You did it, Triton. You got rid of the annoying kids, and escaped that chaos unscathed. Heh. Suckers."

But the triumph was fleeting. A sudden, uncomfortable weight settled in his core. Guilt.

"Ahh… stop considering it!" he chastised himself, shaking his head. "Come on, this is not you, bro! You don't get involved. If you search for the gas giants, you will end up right where you started. Back with—"

His thoughts fractured, replaced by a sudden, vivid memory:

Neptune's booming, jovial voice, filling the emptiness of space as if he were right there. "Well, I'm happy you are sticking together and making new friends! Keep it up, Triton!"

The flashback faded, leaving Triton with a profound sense of shame. "Agh… Ugh, Triton, you fool!" he groaned, chastising himself for his earlier, selfish thoughts. His purpose solidified.

With renewed urgency, he resumed his desperate search for the elusive gas giants, their immense gravitational fields the only beacon of hope in this spiraling conflict.

Back at the battle, the five moons – Luna, Io, Callisto, Phobos, and Deimos – were still holding off the relentless attack, a defiant pocket of resistance against the overwhelming numbers. They were battered, but unbroken.

Then, three new, formidable figures appeared, cutting through the pursuit group with an air of undeniable authority: Titan, Ganymede, and Europa.

"What's the status?" Titan's voice, deep and resonant, boomed across the battlefield, carrying an intimidating weight.

Dione, bruised and battered but still standing, replied, "They're holding off the attack somehow. Maybe we—"

"Leave it to us," Titan interrupted, a chilling finality in his tone, his gaze fixed on the defiant rebel moons. He was not here to debate.

Without another word, the three powerful moons cleaved through their own ranks and flew directly towards the rebel group, an unstoppable force.

Ganymede materialized directly in front of Io, who, despite his bravado, was visibly shocked. Ganymede’s expression was unreadable, almost a smirk, an old rivalry rekindled. "Haha. Hi."

Europa, her face tight with anger, appeared before Callisto. "Stop it, Callisto! This is madness!" she commanded, her voice sharp with accusation, a plea hidden beneath her frustration.

And then, Titan, immense and imposing, appeared directly in Luna's path. Luna's bat wings flared, his eyes widening in alarm. "Woah! What the—"

"This is over, Moon!" Titan declared, his voice a cold pronouncement, infused with an unwavering resolve. His gaze, though stern, held a deeper, unyielding purpose. He had to protect Earth, no matter the cost, no matter who stood in his way. He saw Luna as a magnet for danger, drawing cosmic peril closer to the planet he so deeply, secretly cherished.

In a split second, Luna flickered his eyes, sending a silent, urgent signal to Phobos and Deimos. 

"What are you gonna do?" Luna challenged Titan, trying to buy time, his mind racing for an escape, for any option.

Titan's reply sent a shiver down Luna's spine, not just from fear, but from the cold, protective logic behind it. "Use you as bait. "

Chapter Text

The space between Earth and the Asteroid Belt felt unnaturally silent, the sort of quiet that preceded disaster. Earth orbited listlessly, her blue surface twitching with anxiety.

“He should be back by now!” she demanded into the void, the gravity of her worry pulling at Venus nearby.

Venus, always the picture of cool composure, looked troubled. “Do you think something bad happened?”

The question hung in the air, weighted by the history of their recent conflicts. They were about to formulate a contingency plan when their attention snapped to the edge of the inner system.

Two small, irregularly shaped satellites—Phobos and Deimos—shot out of the distant rubble field, followed immediately by their haggard-looking parent.

“MARRRRRRRRRRS!” the tiny moons screamed, converging on him in a panicked embrace.

Mars looked utterly drained, his red surface coated in extra dust from his journey. “H-hey, you two,” he managed, weakly.

Phobos whined, circling him protectively. “We thought you were dead!”

“Nah…” Mars sighed, his voice low and weary. “But we did find something rather disturbing.”

Earth cut straight to the point, her attention fixed on the moons. “Phobos, Deimos, have you heard from Luna?”

The relief on their surfaces vanished, replaced by stark fear.

Deimos’s voice dropped to a frantic whisper. “Titan captured him!”

Phobos nodded fiercely. “They’re setting up a trap for you and Venus!”

Earth and Venus exchanged a look—a sharp, silent communication of dread and resolve.

Venus’s aura, usually shimmering yellow, hardened into something metallic and dangerous. He turned to Phobos. “Can you take me to their hideout?”

“Yes, but—” Phobos began, cautioning.

Venus cut him off, his authority absolute. “Mars and Mercury stay here. Make sure the Sun doesn't notice anything wrong, or the entire system falls apart. I will go and finish this.”

Mercury, small and close to the star, zipped nervously toward Venus. “V-venus, think about this?! Going alone is suicide.”

Venus’s voice was cold steel. “No one is getting hurt anymore because of my selfishness. I should have dealt with this the moment they started conspiring.”

Earth immediately stepped forward. “I’m coming with you then.”

Venus stared at her, surprised. “Earth—”

“If things go out of hand, I can speak to Titan,” she insisted, her voice resonating with confidence she didn’t quite feel. “I have influence there. He listens to me.”

A slight, knowing smirk touched the corner of Venus’s hot atmosphere. “You have a thing for him, don’t you?”

Earth’s core warmed, momentarily flushing her surface. “Wha—no! Don't be ridiculous,” she stammered, crossing her axes defensively. Her denial was too fast, too vehement. “Let’s ju— get going!”

She quickly motioned to the moons. Phobos and Deimos instantly shot off, leading the way toward the distant realm of the Gas Giants. Venus followed closely, his expression grim. Earth trailed him, her mind divided between fear for Luna and a complicated, churning anxiety about seeing Titan again.

The four figures vanished into the darkness of space.

Mercury watched them leave, trembling slightly. “Was that really Venus? He seems… different.”

Mars sighed, rubbing his dusty surface with an orbital maneuver. “I guess so. That kind of stress changes a planet.” He paused, looking back toward the inner system, his eyes widening in sudden panic. “Hey, what are we gonna tell Juno?”

Mercury's tiny surface went utterly pale.

“......Shit!”

Meanwhile, in the headquarters of ROTSAR, Houston was engaged in a rather heated phone call.

“No, I don’t know how we ended up in the Asteroid Belt, Mr. America,” Houston snapped, running a hand through his perpetually messy hair. “And frankly, you decided to cut ties with us, so I don’t know why—”

“Listen,” USA’s voice crackled through the comms, laced with its characteristic brazenness. “When something space-related happens, you and your sketchy little company always know something.”

“Well, not this time!” Houston retorted, his patience wearing thin. “Now bye!” He jabbed the ‘end call’ button with excessive force and slammed the device down, only for it to ring again seconds later.

Houston groaned, snatching it up. “I already told you I—” His voice cut off as he saw the caller ID. “Oh! Hi, Mr. ROTSAR,” he stammered, his posture instantly straightening. “I thought you were—w-wait, you know what is happening?! How in the—You—no way!” His eyes widened, a dawning realization spreading across his face.

Far out in the frigid, desolate reaches of the outer Solar System, Triton drifted through the inky blackness, a lone sentinel adrift in the cosmic ocean. 

“Hello? Jupiter? Saturn?” he called out, his voice echoing into the vast emptiness. “Your moons have gone crazy! Hello? God, they’re supposed to be the biggest planets. Why can’t I find them?” He sighed, a plume of icy vapor escaping his lips. “You see, Triton? You’re wasting your time trying to help when you could be—Ugh. What am I doing?” He pinched the bridge of his nose, the weight of the situation pressing down on him.

The chaos of the Asteroid Belt was transformed into a silent, deadly precision. Back in the heart of the treacherous rock field, Luna, Io, and Callisto floated helplessly, secured by cosmic tethers—forms of gravitational manipulation that kept them locked down. Around them, the collected moons of the Solar System buzzed with a tense, expectant energy, their diverse forms illuminated by the distant sun’s pale, unforgiving light.

Titan stood at the vanguard, his massive, hazy shape radiating a cold, calculated fury that drowned out the usual warmth of his atmosphere.

“Venus should be arriving any moment,” he announced, his voice a low, steely rumble that echoed across the silent void. “Everyone to your positions.”

The assembled forces dispersed immediately, swirling into a deadly pre-arranged formation—a celestial trap ready to spring. Jupiter’s moons, Saturn’s, Uranus’s, and Neptune’s satellites all took their cue, forming a multi-layered barrier designed to overwhelm the incoming planet.

“On my signal,” Titan continued, his gaze fixed on the empty space where he expected his target to appear, “you launch everything you have at Venus.”

Unbeknownst to Titan, silent revolt was already simmering. Ganymede, positioned near the Jupiterian prisoners, subtly exchanged glances with Io and Callisto, a signal urging them to prepare for an escape. Meanwhile, Dione and Titania, two of Saturn’s own moons, moved to position themselves inconspicuously, subtly covering Luna, the tethered prisoner. Dione shifted slightly, sending a nearly imperceptible gravitational message of assurance to the Moon she cared for.

“Is this what you really want, Titan?” Luna asked, his voice soft but persistent, breaking the silence of the waiting formation.

“Please don’t talk,” Titan growled, his attention undivided.

“How do you think this is going to go?” Luna pressed, undeterred. “You’re going to defeat Venus, force a confrontation with the planets, and then what? It’ll make them finally accept us?”

Titan’s massive posture stiffened, but he didn’t turn immediately. “We aren't doing anything to Earth.”

“Well then Europa and Ganymede are going behind your back!” Luna insisted, seizing the opening. “Mars and Mercury overheard them while they were looking for Earth and me. They’re planning to exploit this war to hit the primary target, Titan. Not just the planets—but life on Earth.”

A slow turn brought Titan’s stern gaze onto his prisoner. “Oh, so you're going to believe a planet’s word over your own kind?”

“I’m believing the truth, the evidence, and the reality of what this whole movement is turning into,” Luna argued. “Come on, either way this isn’t right.”

“Titan, you are not like this,” Luna continued, his voice laced with genuine concern. “You are not thinking straight. You’re fighting for the right reasons in the wrong way.”

“You know what? I thought she would understand,” Titan retorted, the word she hanging heavy in the void. He finally met Luna's stare, resentment burning in his core. “I thought Earth would understand why we have to do this, Luna. Out of everyone, she should be the one to see why Venus must learn his place.”

Luna remained calm. He knew Titan’s feelings for the Earth fueled much of his ambition and his misplaced aggression. “Venus is changing,” he insisted, his gaze unwavering. “He’s genuinely trying.”

Titan scoffed, a soundless, chilling expulsion of gas. “I doubt it. They all stand together against us.”

“Look, you’ve gathered all the major moons of the Solar System in one place under one cause,” Luna urged, gesturing broadly to their assembled forces. “That’s unprecedented, Titan. Do something good with that. Use this power to negotiate, not just for more destruction.”

A ripple of uncertainty went through the ranks of the waiting moons. The sheer scale of their assembled power was undeniable, and Luna’s words struck a nerve.

Dione, one of Titan’s own Saturnian satellites, spoke up hesitantly, her position near Luna allowing for a quiet exchange. “He does have a point, Titan.”

Titania, another massive satellite, agreed. “I agree. Titan, what if instead of attacking the planet, we—”

“No!” Titan roared, cutting her off, his voice echoing with renewed fury and echoing the depth of his fear. “We’ve come this far, Titania. This is not the time to back down. This is the only language they understand.”

“We can—” Titania began again, trying to convey a different, cohesive strategy for leverage.

“What? Ask them nicely?” Titan scoffed, his anger burning brighter until his atmospheric haze seemed to pulse. “Yeah, right. You don’t know them like I do. You don't know what they are capable of.”

Dione and Titania exchanged a brief, significant look. Dione looked back at Luna, who offered a small, silent nod of thanks. The seed of doubt had been planted, but the overwhelming presence of Venus’s arrival was drawing ever closer.

A swirling vortex of midnight, a circular void that pulsed with ancient, uncontrolled energy, flickered across the celestial canvas. It was a momentarily terrifying glimpse into cosmic entropy, but it vanished as abruptly as it appeared, drawing the immediate focus back to the standoff near Saturn.

“I want to talk, Titan.”

The voice, surprisingly gentle yet firm, rippled through the vacuum of space, cutting through the low, hostile hum of the assembled moon fleet.

And then, they were there.

One moment, the expanse of the cosmos lay empty before Titan. The next, Venus and the Earth materialized, positioned side-by-side, radiating a palpable sense of calm authority.

Titan’s expression, previously a mask of icy resolve, twisted into a snarl of pure fury. But beneath the anger, a familiar, involuntary warmth flickered. He hated this conflict, hated that it made the object of his silent, longstanding admiration—the serene, blue-green mass of the Earth—look stressed. He hated Venus for putting her through this.

“You!” Titan thundered, his voice resonating with indignation.

Beside him, Luna, his entire form rigid with shock, instinctively drifted closer to Dione. Dione, beautiful and composed, placed herself subtly between the hostile planets and her beloved, offering silent support.

High above, nestled amidst the rings of Saturn, two smaller moons, Europa and Mimas, watched the unfolding drama below.

“Do we attack now?” Mimas whispered, a tremor of eagerness in her voice.

Europa shook her head, her icy shell gleaming with anticipation. “No. Wait for Titan to give the signal. He needs to savor this first.”

The immediate tension was a palpable, crushing force. The vast, silent theater of space seemed to hold its breath.

“You wanna talk?” Titan scoffed, his voice dripping with venom. “Why should I want to talk with you? So I can hear more insults?”

“Look, I’m going to say this once, so listen up. I’m… trying to apologize, Titan.” Venus’ voice was clear, unwavering, a stark contrast to the boiling atmosphere, but edged with a familiar, almost reluctant sharpness.

A stunned silence fell, broken only by the distant hum of celestial mechanics. Titan’s scowl faltered, his eyes widening in disbelief. “What? A-Apologize?”

“Yes.” Venus met his gaze unflinchingly. “The cold, hard truth is, I did want to hurt you. I wanted to see you give up, because you and Earth – honestly, you two made me feel… insignificant. Like I was losing my edge.”

Titan’s face hardened again, a flicker of smug triumph crossing his features. He couldn't resist the opening. “I knew it. You’re just an insecure little planet, too afraid to let anyone get near your level.”

“Insecure? Obviously,” Venus retorted, a flicker of his old fire in his eyes, but then he reined it in. "That's exactly it. Couldn't stand the thought of me, a planet, feeling threatened by a bunch of glorified rocks orbiting bigger rocks, and a smaller, greener sphere. It was unthinkable. I just kept telling myself moons were inferior, right? You do orbit us. You are smaller. It just seemed like basic astronomy."

A collective gasp swept through the gathered moons, a wave of outrage rippling through their ranks. Their forms shimmered, shaking with barely contained fury. The scene cut to Europa, her expression a mix of disdain and growing anger, and Ganymede, Jupiter’s largest moon, whose golden form pulsed with indignation.

“Does he have a death wish or what?” Ganymede growled, unable to believe Venus’ audacity.

Earth cleared her throat, her voice like a gentle symphony attempting to temper a storm. “Ahem, Venus, get to the point,” she sang.

“Did you come here to insult us or—” Titan began, his voice rising in anger, his gaze darting quickly to Earth, silently wishing she hadn't had to listen to that ancient slight again.

“Oh, shut up, I’m getting to it!” Venus snapped, then took a deep breath, forcing down his usual flare-ups (Earth hit him at the back of the head don't worry!). "But I was wrong! Completely, utterly wrong! And you want to know why this steaming pile of arrogance actually came to that conclusion? Because in this universe of endless gas giants, and these monstrous black holes Juno and Jupiter are always fussing over, and galaxies that just keep sprawling... the one thing that actually managed to impress me these days are… surprisingly, Earth’s insufferable little Earthlings."

Titan, Dione, Titania, and Luna briefly appeared on the cosmic screen, their expressions a mixture of confusion and curiosity, before the focus returned to Venus.

“They're tiny, fragile things, barely lasting a century, constantly digging around on her surface like she's a giant litter box. They need her for everything, like some helpless larva to its... well, you get the analogy. But even with all that, they somehow manage to constantly exceed what any of us expect. And despite having everything they could ever want right there on Earth, their longest-held, utterly bizarre dream was to visit that chunk of rock right there: Luna.”

Luna, hovering near Dione and just behind Earth, felt a warmth spread through him, a genuine smile gracing his features for the first time in what felt like an eternity. Dione’s shimmer of worry faded, replaced by radiant pride as she squeezed closer to him.

“They weren't built for a vacuum, but they zipped out there anyway! Why? Because Luna's actually... pretty damn cool! And it's cool not because it's orbiting something bigger.” Venus’ gaze swept across the assembled moons.

A wave of astonished appreciation rippled through the gathered moons. A few of them even clapped, their forms glowing faintly with surprise and delight. But Ganymede’s face darkened, his anger only intensifying.

“We orbit the Sun. The Sun orbits the black hole in the center of the galaxy, and the galaxy probably orbits some incomprehensible monstrosity!” Venus continued, his voice gaining momentum. “Listen, Titan, I started all of this because, yeah, deep down, I recognized you were... decent. Maybe even impressive. And I was terrified of losing what little I had left – friends. But these two,” he gestured vaguely at Luna and Earth, “they actually stuck by me through my worst.”

Dione and Titania, their faces softened with understanding and a touch of awe, drifted closer to Luna, finding a silent solidarity in the face of Venus’ unexpected confession.

“So… I don’t know if you’ll ever want to be buddies after all this,” Venus finished, a rare, vulnerable plea in his eyes, "but I'd like to try. If you're not a complete idiot and willing to give me one more chance, that is."

Titan stared at Venus, his thoughts swirling like the chaotic gases in his upper atmosphere. The fury, the indignation, the centuries of perceived slights—it all warred with the raw, unexpected honesty he had just witnessed. He glanced at Earth, who was watching him with wide, hopeful eyes. He had wanted this confrontation to impress her, to prove he was worthy of standing beside the planets, but seeing the relief already blooming on her surface, he realized he wanted peace more.

Titania, sensing his hesitation, drifted closer. “You told me you wanted a chance to talk,” she whispered, her voice soft but firm. “This is it!”

A small, hopeful smile touched Earth’s lips as she looked at Titan, a silent plea in her gaze.

Titan’s shoulders sagged, then straightened. The anger slowly drained from his features, replaced by a weary resignation tinged with something akin to wonder. “I’m calling off the attack. Everyone stand down—”

“NO!” Ganymede’s roar ripped through the sudden calm, echoing across the void and drowning Titan’s final word.

Titan quickly turned, his eyes widening as Europa and Ganymede surged forward, breaking rank from the other moons. Europa’s expression was a cold, calculating fury, fueled by ancient resentment.

“If you want to chicken out in our moment of victory, your loss, Titan,” Europa snarled, her voice sharp as an ice shard. 

“Now,” Europa declared, her voice ringing with newfound authority, “we are in CHARGE.”

And with a savage snarl, Ganymede raised his shimmering fist. “Army of Moons, OPEN FIRE! and while you're at it aim for the Earth.”

Chapter Text

The tension was a palpable, throbbing weight in the void, thick with the potential for cosmic violence. Dozens of Moons, restless and vibrating with harnessed power, were arrayed in a vast semicircle before the solitary, shimmering figure of Earth. Quietly, Venus drifted closer, positioning herself near the planet she intended to defend.

“Come on! What are you waiting for? Attack the Earth!” Ganymede’s voice, sharp and laced with desperate anticipation, sliced through the silence. His massive, eagle-like wings quivered with barely contained fury. “This is the point of everything we’ve been working toward, guys!”

A ripple of profound hesitation passed through the ranks.

“Are you certain this is even necessary?” Rhea, her crystalline form catching the distant sunlight, spoke, her tone heavy with doubt.

Ariel’s pointed ears twitched, her expression uncertain. “Venus seems prepared to negotiate.”

“Besides, we agreed to help Titan, and he—” Miranda began, but Ganymede cut her off with a choked, enraged roar.

“FORGET TITAN! FORGET WHAT VENUS SAID! Just… act! We are so close!” His voice cracked with frustration, the desire for decisive victory blinding him.

Europa, ever the cooler, more insidious mind, glided forward. Her voice was a low, seductive whisper that traveled easily through the assembled masses. “It won’t do, Ganymede. These moons seem to be afflicted with short-term memory.” Her gaze swept over them, calculatingly planting seeds of old grievances. “Have you forgotten how the planets treat us? How often they undermine us? Call us inferior or, worse, destroy us with their gravity just because we happen to be in the way?” A bitter, chilling laugh escaped her. “Ah, you all think that because Venus offered a few pleasant words, everything will be miraculously different. If only it were so easy.”

A murmur of assent began to spread, fueled by Europa’s carefully chosen words.

“Saturn never even got my name right!” Enceladus piped up, his small form bristling with sudden, renewed indignity.

“Or mine!” Mimas echoed, a high-pitched, indignant squeak.

Ariel’s face twisted in remembered anger. “Uranus joked about destroying us like we were nothing!”

Miranda, who had initially held back, nodded slowly. “Well, you have a solid point there.”

“Girls, please…” Titania’s gentle voice tried to intervene, but it was drowned out by the rising, toxic tide of resentment.

Europa seized the moment. “We are one step away from reclaiming our dignity. All we have to do is take it.”

A renewed, cold determination solidified the air. Ganymede, seeing their resolve hardened, grinned fiercely, his eagle wings flaring out.

“Let’s try this again,” he announced, his voice ringing out with savage authority. “ATTACK!”

With a collective surge of power, the moons unleashed their fury. Asteroids and fragments of forgotten cosmic debris were ripped from the surrounding space, imbued with the moons’ collective will, and hurled in a harrowing volley toward the Earth.

Earth, her brilliant midnight blue eyes wide with pure, paralyzing shock, her usually free-flowing, star-dusted white hair momentarily frozen mid-swirl, stood utterly still. The sudden, overwhelming realization of betrayal had paralyzed her.

“Earth!” A desperate, familiar cry pierced the chaos.

Before she could process the sound, a massive form streaked across her vision, a blur of resolute action. Titan, Saturn’s estranged favorite, materialized directly in front of her, his body expanding, forming an impenetrable aegis. The first asteroid, then the second, struck him with bone-jarring force, shaking his colossal frame but leaving him unyielding.

“Titan? W-what are you…?” Earth’s voice was barely a whisper, laced with disbelief.

“What does it look like?” Titan grunted, bracing himself for the next impact, his back a solid, defensive wall.

A gasp of utter confusion rippled through the attacking moons.

“What in the void is he doing?!” Europa shrieked, her voice tight with incredulity.

Ganymede, reeling from the sudden turn of events, demanded, “Titan! Have you truly decided to side with the planets—with the very beings we meant to humble?!”

Titan, even as another projectile slammed into him, met Ganymede’s gaze with steady, absolute resolve. “I have decided we’ve caused enough damage. I made the mistake of allowing my own insecurities and resentments to guide my choices, as well as your reckless advice.”

“My reckless advice would have secured us the defeat of two planets!” Ganymede retorted, his own temper flaring uncontrollably.

“Ganymede,” Titan said, his voice laced with weary disappointment, “I think you are too disconnected from this conflict to even understand what you are doing. For you, this is just a game, or a vicious power play.”

“What about you?” Ganymede scoffed, his eyes narrowing to slits. “Are you telling me there’s no ego involved for you—Titan, Saturn’s favorite moon? Venus knocked you off your pedestal, and you lost your cool! You’re just like me.”

A sigh escaped Titan, a deep exhalation that seemed to carry the weight of his recent introspection. “Perhaps you are right about my initial motivations. I have made mistakes. And in trying to improve things, I simply switched the roles. Earth was humble, and I turned into the bully. But that is wrong! This is not how we achieve balance.”

Europa scoffed, circling impatiently. “Have you seen the planets we orbit? They are thousands of times bigger than us. Where’s the balance in that, Titan?”

Ganymede pressed the ideological attack. “How do you plan to convince them to respect us?”

“By talking.” Titan’s response was immediate and firm.

“We’ve done enough of that!” Ganymede snarled, his patience snapping for good. With a furious roar, he barked, “ATTACK!”

A fresh volley of asteroids, larger and more numerous this time, screamed towards the protected Earth. Without hesitation, Titan pivoted, his immense form a blur of motion. With incredible, harnessing strength, he reached out, intercepting the incoming projectiles. Not merely blocking them, but with a mighty heave, he tossed them back, a furious counter-assault. The asteroids, now imbued with Titan’s redirected power, became deadly, retaliatory missiles, hurtling back at the moon who had launched them.

Ganymede, caught completely off guard, cried out as several of the returned asteroids struck him, sending him spinning wildly. He was propelled backward, a pinwheeling figure flung through the vast, debris-strewn expanse of the Asteroid Belt. Titan, a relentless force, launched himself in pursuit, leaving the remaining moons stunned.

A moment of shocked silence permeated the battlefield. Europa, however, quickly recovered, her voice shrill with renewed urgency. “Don’t stop! Attack!”

Still more asteroids were pulled, still more launched towards the vulnerable planet. Yet, just as they began their descent, a new figure streaked into position before Earth, mirroring Titan’s heroic defense.

“What the—” Earth began, her eyes widening at the unexpected aid.

“I’ve got you covered!” Venus announced, settling himself into a surprisingly sturdy shield formation. “Luna, Callisto, and Io—see if you can stop some of the larger fragments!” Luna nodded sharply.

Just then, two smaller, darting figures zipped erratically around them. “We are also helping! No asteroid will get past us!” Phobos chirped enthusiastically, his tiny sparrow wings beating a blur.

“Yeah!” Deimos echoed, fluttering alongside his brother.

As if on cue, a rogue asteroid, launched before Titan’s counter-attack, sailed unimpeded directly between the two tiny moons, brushing Phobos’s wingtip.

Phobos’s eyes went wide. “Uh oh!”

Deimos slumped. “Ugh, you blew it.”

The vast, inky blackness of space held its breath. High above the sapphire and emerald swirl of Earth, a manmade miracle unfolded. A sleek spacecraft, barely a glint against the distant sun, positioned itself with unnerving precision. A moment of chilling silence, then a flash—not of light, but of pure, contained force. A nuclear payload detonated, not on the asteroid, but strategically beside it, a silent, devastating whisper of human ingenuity.

Miles away, in a cramped, anxious control room, a voice crackled over the comms system. “Uh, yeah, Mr. Rotsar, the Nuclear Explosive Device worked,” Houston reported, relief evident in his tone. “Good thing you were prepared for this! Uh, hello?” A frustrated sigh escaped him. “Ugh, he hung up.”

A silent, fiery ballet commenced. The asteroid, a colossal chunk of primordial rock hurtling towards North America, didn't shatter into a thousand pieces. Instead, the focused energy of the blast nudged it, twisted it, and then, with a deafening, soundless roar, it began to disintegrate, its constituent parts dispersing into nothing more than harmless dust and icy fragments—a spectacular, unholy fireworks display against the backdrop of the planet it had sought to destroy.

“Did they hit you, Earth?” Luna’s voice was a low murmur, a stark contrast to the distant, vanishing rumble of the explosion. His bat wings, usually furled tightly, twitched with nervous energy, his concern for Earth palpable.

Earth, her black scaled wings still slightly fanned from bracing for impact, shook her head, a soft smile gracing her lips. “Nah, the Earthlings nuked the asteroid.”

Venus’ eyes, widened slightly, stared at the dissipating dust cloud with a mixture of awe and unease. “Huh,” he mused, a hint of genuine surprise in his tone. “First time nuclear bombs were used for something good, really. To think, the very power we feared from them, crafted for planetary destruction, used to preserve life on your surface, Earth. It’s… a startling display of desperation and ingenuity. And quite the paradox.”

“I know, right?” Earth agreed, a hint of genuine amusement dancing in her eyes. The immediate threat gone, a lightness returned to her. For a moment, even the chaotic rumble of the Asteroid Belt couldn't dampen her relief.

Their conversation was abruptly cut short by a furious shout from across the chaotic expanse of the Asteroid Belt.

“ENOUGH!” Europa’s voice, sharp and cold, cut through the ambient hum of distant celestial bodies. She glared at Callisto and Io, her form radiating icy fury. “Callisto, Io, get out of here, before we level your surfaces.”

Callisto, ever the defiant one, scoffed, a wry twist to her lips. “Are you trying to threaten us, Europa? Because it’s not working.” Her posture was tight, ready for a confrontation, while Io hovered silently beside her, his own expression a mix of apprehension and defiance.

Meanwhile, Ganymede, a figure of increasing desperation, continued his frantic flight through the dense, tumbling chaos of the Asteroid Belt. He dodged and weaved, a blur of motion, until, with a guttural gasp, he finally managed to halt his momentum, spinning to face Titan.

“Wh-wh-what… what… WHAT THE—”

Before Ganymede could finish his exclamation, Titan, a massive, imposing presence, swept an arm through the debris field. An asteroid, jagged and immense, was sent hurtling directly at Ganymede. The larger moon barely managed to duck, the projectile whistling past his head with a chilling hum.

“Dude! Are you crazy?!” Ganymede roared, his voice incredulous.

Titan’s gaze was unyielding, grim, his powerful form tensing with unexpressed fury. He began systematically flinging asteroids at his former ally, each throw imbued with a chilling precision. “No, I’m just tired of you, Ganymede. Tired of your lies, and tired of this pointless war you engineered—a war that puts her at risk.” His thoughts flickered to Earth, a tiny, vibrant blue and green jewel, now safe from the asteroid but still vulnerable to the escalating conflict among the moons. His primary motivation had always been to protect her, even if his methods had become twisted.

Infuriated, Ganymede began retaliating, picking up his own massive chunks of rock and hurling them back with equal force. The Asteroid Belt, already a perilous maze, became a deadly arena for their personal war.

“So you’re still blaming me for everything?!” Ganymede yelled, ducking another incoming missile. “You’re just deflecting responsibility!”

Titan, his movements precise and powerful, never stopped his barrage. “You turned my protest into a war! A war that could scorch planets, Ganymede! This isn’t what I wanted.” He remembered his initial desire to simply make the inner planets acknowledge the moons, not to wage a destructive campaign that now threatened the very world he secretly adored.

“Me?!” Ganymede scoffed, a dark laugh escaping him. “‘I just told you what you wanted to hear! From the moment we met, I could tell that you wanted more! That deep inside you wanted revenge! Tell me I’m wrong!”

Titan paused, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes—a brief moment where Ganymede’s words resonated with a darker truth he usually suppressed, a truth that felt perilously close to endangering the one planet he genuinely cared for. But it was quickly masked by renewed fury. “Is this how you wipe your hands clean?”

Ganymede managed a grim, humourless chuckle amidst the chaos. “Jokes on you, because we don’t have hands!” He punctuated his retort by scooping up a particularly large asteroid and, with a monumental effort, threw it with all his might. The projectile slammed into Titan, sending him tumbling violently through the void.

As Titan spiralled away, Europa chuckled, a cold, calculating sound. “Hehe, you were always jealous of me, weren’t you, Callisto?” she taunted, her gaze sharp, predatory.

Callisto rolled her eyes so hard she practically vibrated. “Oh my gosh, just put me out of my misery already.”

“HA! Gladly!” Europa’s tone turned predatory. “Moons, ATTACK—”

But before she could complete her command, Titan, still reeling from Ganymede’s blow, careened wildly through the space between Callisto and Europa. He shot past them, a blur of mass, his trajectory dangerously close to Earth, Io, and Luna, who had been observing the escalating conflict with growing alarm. Even in his uncontrolled spin, Titan's gaze instinctively tried to fix on Earth, a desperate, silent apology forming in his mind for threatening her safety, however inadvertently.

“Okay, the Earth’s exposed!” Ganymede shouted, seeing the opening, his strategic mind still churning despite the personal vendetta. “Everyone—”

“Wait!” Triton’s voice, calm and clear, cut through the tension. He emerged from the swirling debris, his form radiating an unexpected serenity.

“UGH, NOW WHAT?!” Ganymede yelled, exasperated, throwing his hands up in frustration.

“I brought reinforcements,” Triton simply stated, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

Callisto, ever hopeful, turned sharply towards Triton. “Did you find them? Did you find the Gas Giants?”

Triton shook his head, his smirk widening. “Nope, even better!”

Chapter Text

From behind Triton, a figure materialized. It was larger than Earth but smaller than Venus, its surface a swirling tapestry of deep ochres and fiery reds, hinting at immense power lurking beneath a rocky exterior. A stern, masculine face, etched with ancient wisdom and currently blazing with a fury that could rival a solar flare, fixed on the scene. This was Juno.

“WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!” Juno’s voice boomed, not a whisper from the void but a direct, seismic shockwave that rattled every orbiting body present. His gaze, burning with protective rage, landed squarely on the vulnerable form of Earth, then swept to the moons poised to strike. “You… you dare threaten my child?!”

Europa and Ganymede flinched, caught off guard by the sheer intensity of the newcomer. They knew of powerful planets, but this was different. This was raw, paternal wrath, focused with the precision of a celestial laser.

Before Juno could unleash more of his formidable energy, a slender figure, Luna, stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on Juno’s arm. Luna, himself no stranger to power, looked up at the older planet with calm, reassuring eyes. “It’s alright, Dad,” he said, his voice surprisingly steady amidst the chaos. “We’re fine. Earth is fine.”

Juno’s fiery aura flickered, his anger slowly receding as he registered Luna’s words, and the fact that Earth, while threatened, was still whole. He took a deep, shuddering breath, his rocky surface momentarily darkening before brightening again. He looked at Luna, then at Earth, a deep sadness overlaying the lingering anger in his expression.

“Dad?” Earth whispered, her gaze fixed on Juno, a perplexing familiarity stirring within her core.

Juno’s eyes softened as he looked at Earth, then swept over Europa, Ganymede, Callisto, and Io, who were now frozen in place, utterly bewildered by the sudden turn of events.

“My apologies for the dramatic entrance,” Juno said, his voice now a deep rumble rather than a roar, though still resonating with authority. “But seeing my daughter on the brink… it stirred old fears.” He paused, gathering his thoughts. “Europa, Ganymede, Callisto, Io… I have much to tell you. And much to explain.”

 “I know why you are here. I know of your suffering, and of Gaea’s long absence.”

Europa bristled, her usual defensive posture returning. “What do you know, Juno? You and Jupiter forbade us from even approaching her! You hid her away!”

Juno sighed, a sound like distant thunder. “We did. And for that, I am truly sorry. But it was not out of malice, or to deny you your birthright.” He looked at Earth, a profound sadness in his ancient eyes. “It was out of fear. Fear for her, and fear for you. The truth is… Earth is Gaea.”

A collective gasp swept through the moons wondering who this Gaea is. Europa’s eyes widened, Ganymede’s jaw dropped. Callisto stumbled back a step.

“What are you talking about?” Ganymede finally managed to ask, his voice a bewildered whisper.

“After the Chicxulub Impact,” Juno explained, his gaze sweeping over them, “the trauma was immense. It fractured her very essence, shattered her memories. She lost herself. She became… Earth. A new entity, innocent, unknowing. Jupiter and I, we saw the potential for her to heal, to regrow without the immense burden of her past, without the immediate demand of her responsibilities as Gaea. We saw how much pressure that would put on her. And we feared that if you, were to confront her with her past before she was ready, it might break her entirely.”

Juno paused, allowing his words to sink in. “It was a mistake to keep you apart for so long, I see that now. But we truly believed we were protecting her, and in a way, protecting you from the heartache of seeing Gaea so lost.”

Callisto stepped forward, tears welling in her eyes. “So… Gaea isn’t gone. She’s just… forgotten.”

Juno nodded solemnly. “Indeed. And in that forgetting, she forged a new path, a new identity, one that cherishes life in all its myriad forms. To destroy her now would be to destroy not only the Gaea you once knew, but the vibrant, evolving Earth she has become.”

Juno continued, his voice gaining a new, philosophical tone. “And speaking of identities… Pluto and Charon. They orbit each other so closely, their barycenter, their axis of rotation, lies outside of Pluto’s surface entirely. They are a double planet, a binary system. Yet, some still call Charon merely a moon, and Pluto a dwarf planet. It’s foolish.”

He met the eyes of the moons, then glanced at the bewildered rocky planets. “There is no fundamental difference between a planet and a moon, not in the truest sense of being. We are all celestial bodies, bound by gravity, orbiting, influencing each other. Labels… labels only serve to divide us. It will take time for others, for many of you even, to truly see past these distinctions, but we don’t need to take extreme jumps to get there. We just need to stop letting old definitions blind us.”

He continued, his voice resonating with profound wisdom. “We are all celestial bodies, bound by gravity, orbiting a common star. Whether you call yourself a planet or a moon, you contribute to the grand tapestry of this system. It will take time for others, even some among us, to fully grasp this truth. But we do not need to take extreme jumps, only to open our minds and hearts to the interconnectedness of all things. Earth, and all the life she nurtures, is a testament to this truth.”

Europa and Ganymede looked at Earth. The raw, vulnerable planet before them, the one they had come to reclaim or destroy. But now, in the light of Juno’s words, they saw something else. A flicker of Gaea’s ancient strength, yes, but also the vibrant, new spirit of Earth, resilient and full of nascent potential. They saw the life, delicate and tenacious, clinging to her surface, the very lifeforms they had been prepared to erase.

“We… we can’t,” Europa whispered, tears streaming down her face. “We can’t end it. Not now. Not when… she’s here.”

Ganymede, normally stoic, nodded slowly, a profound shift occurring within his core. “She carries Gaea within her. And she has become something more. We won’t stop it.”

The tension in the system visibly eased. The looming threat of destruction receded, replaced by an awkward, yet potent, sense of reconciliation.

Slowly, one by one, the moons of Jupiter and Saturn began to return to their orbits, a new understanding settling upon them. Europa and Callisto lingered for a moment, approaching Earth and Luna.

“Earth,” Europa said, her voice filled with regret, “I am so truly sorry. For all of it. For what we almost did.”

Callisto, tears in her eyes, echoed her sentiment. “We were blinded by our grief and our past. Please, forgive us.”

Earth, still processing the revelations, simply nodded, a small, tentative smile gracing her features. “I… I understand.”

With final, lingering glances, Europa and Callisto retreated, leaving Earth, Luna, and Juno in the clearing. Triton, having accomplished his task, gave a triumphant wink before zipping back towards his own distant orbit.

The profound silence that followed the departure of the large moons felt heavier than the seismic roar of Juno’s arrival. Earth remained suspended, tethered to Luna, the weight of a forgotten identity pressing down on her rocky core.

Juno turned, his fiery reds softened to deep rusts, his gaze entirely focused on his children. He extended a gravitational pull, a gentle, paternal embrace that settled on Earth and Luna.

“Come, little ones,” he rumbled, his voice now nothing but exhausted devotion. “It is time to go home.”

Luna guided Earth closer, leaning his small form against his father. “Thank you, Dad. You arrived just in time.”

“A father knows when his child is in danger, Luna. Even one as lost as I was,” Juno replied, a flicker of pain crossing his ancient face. He gently nudged them toward the orbital plane of the Inner System.

As they began their long, slow return, they were met by Venus. He had been lurking just beyond the edge of the Asteroid Belt, his dense atmosphere swirling with barely contained impatience. Upon seeing the four of them moving together—the threat gone, Earth intact—the tension leaked out of his core, replaced by his usual gruff demeanor.

“Well, you certainly took your time making an entrance, Proto,” Venus snapped, using Juno’s old, pre-impact name. “I was ready to glass those icy fools myself if they laid a finger on her.”

Juno simply nodded. “It is done, Venus. The truth is out.”

Venus looked at Earth, who was still reeling, and then at Luna, who offered a tired smile. “Good. Now let’s get back before the Sun notices we’ve been throwing gravity around like cheap confetti.”

The four of them, bound by shared trauma and newfound protection, proceeded toward the warm center of the system.

They found Mars and Mercury waiting anxiously near Earth’s orbit, having observed the distant celestial drama with growing dread.

Mars, ever the military observer, darted forward first, his reddish surface vibrating with nervous energy.

“Earth! Luna! Venus! What in the stars was that? Why didn’t they strike? And more importantly,” Mars leaned in, his voice dropping to a suspicious whisper, “why wasn’t the Asteroid Belt active? They were right there! Tons of minor bodies their trajectory should have been wild! We should have been peppered with debris! How did you manage to get them to pass by without a single stray hit?”

Mercury, orbiting tightly near the Sun, zipped closer, peering nervously at the huge, unfamiliar form of Juno. “Yes, the Belt… it was unnervingly silent. I thought we were about to witness a second Late Heavy Bombardment.”

Earth looked at Juno, who smiled softly but let Luna take the lead.

Luna, stepping forward, placed himself squarely between Earth and the two nosy onlookers.

“The Moons listen to them,” Luna said simply, gesturing first to Venus, then to Juno. "I think...we're good now."

Juno nodded, his gaze solemn. “We moved through the Outer System before, Mars. We know the territory. The largest asteroids, the dwarf planets, the critical masses outside Neptune. We... told them about Gaea, they remembered, and they remember the upheaval of the past.”

“We promised that Earth was not to be touched,” Venus concluded, his gravitational field steadying the orbits of the closest asteroids with silent assurance. “They listened. They understood that the conflict was cosmic, not collateral. They agreed to hold their positions, out of respect for an old war, and in reverence for Gaea’s memory.”

Mars stammered, his suspicions momentarily forgotten, replaced by awe. “You… you ordered them to stand down?”

“We told them to act rationale next time,” Luna corrected gently.

Mercury, still taking in the sight of the mighty Juno, whispered, “You are very powerful.”

Juno chuckled, the sound deep and resonant. “Power is only useful when paired with purpose. My purpose, and Venus’s purpose, is keeping this fragile system whole.”

He looked at Earth, who still felt overwhelmed but carried a new, inner luminescence.

As the family settled back into their routine, the Sun seemed to shine a little brighter, its light catching the newly restored, vibrant surface of Earth. The Solar System had changed in a fundamental way. The identity of the little blue planet was no longer a mystery, but a promise. The healing had begun.

Chapter Text

The silent ballet of the inner solar system continued, the rocky planets—Mercury, Venus, Earth, and Mars—each tracing their ancient paths around the radiant Juno, their father and star. Their moons, faithful companions, clung close. But today, the rhythm was off. A discord rippled through the cosmic harmony, centered squarely on the third sphere.

Luna, pale and pocked, maintained his vigilant orbit around Earth, his gaze—if a moon could be said to gaze—fixed on the larger, vibrant planet. Her usual cerulean and emerald hues seemed muted, her rotation a fraction slower, as if burdened by an invisible weight.

"A-are you sure you're okay, Earth?" Luna's voice, a soft hum that resonated only between them, was laced with concern. "You haven't truly spoken since Juno said you we—"

"I know what he said, Luna," Earth interrupted, her voice a low thrum that vibrated through the vacuum. She didn't look at him, her gaze fixed on the endless void beyond Mars. "And you can call Juno 'dad' around me since... I guess he is our... you know." Her rotation momentarily hitched, a visible tremor of discomfort.

Luna adjusted his own path, a subtle gravitational dance that always kept her steady. "Look, we're sorry for keeping this from you, but we didn't want you to carry the weight of it."

"I get that, I do..." Earth's atmosphere seemed to cloud slightly, a stormy front brewing. "It's just. A lot to process right now."

"Right..." Luna let the words hang, understanding the vastness of what had been revealed. Their protector, the giver of light and warmth, was also their progenitor. The Sun, their father. It was a truth that redefined everything.

A sudden shift in the light announced Juno’s approach. He eased into a stable orbit, settling between Earth and Luna, his radiance momentarily intensifying as he cleared his figurative throat. Earth’s blue-green surface rippled with annoyance; she rolled her eyes, turning further away. Luna, however, offered a faint, unique smile, a slight tilt in his axis that reflected his quiet greeting.

"Um, c-can I borrow Luna for a bit?" Juno's voice, usually a booming resonance, was uncharacteristically hesitant.

Earth’s exasperation was clear even across the void. "Sure," she bit out, her rotation resuming a more forceful pace. "Just be quick. He does need to maintain my axis."

Juno nodded, a slight wobble in his own immense bulk. He extended a gentle gravitational nudge towards Luna, a silent invitation to follow. Luna, with a final, worried glance at Earth, complied, drifting seamlessly into an orbit between Juno and Mars.

"She's holding up, I guess," Luna murmured, his surface appearing a little less stark in the direct solar light. "She's really upset about us keeping this from her."

"I can see that." Juno’s light dimmed slightly, reflecting his own regret. "But it's not why I asked you here."

Luna's orbit faltered for a micro-second. "I-it's not?"

"No, son, it isn't." Juno’s light steadied, taking on a more focused intensity. "I've noticed that I have been neglecting you."

"What?" Luna repeated, confusion briefly overcoming his usual stoicism. "What? I don't—I don't know what you're talking about, dad. Neglecting me? I've always been right here. Close to Earth. That's my purpose."

"Exactly. Your purpose became your entire identity to me." Juno's light pulsed with a slow, heavy rhythm. "When Earth was born, she was... unique. So delicate, so fragile, yet bursting with potential. I focused all my attention—all my light, my protection—on her because of what she carried. Life. I gave her the spotlight, and in doing so, I treated you merely as her accessory, her constant anchor."

Luna stopped rotating. Entirely. His barren, cratered surface, usually a tapestry of light and shadow in motion, now lay still, absorbing the immense magnitude of Juno’s admission. His surface looked drawn, as if the very force of the revelation was altering his geology.

When his rotation resumed, it was slower than normal, a slight wobble on his axis betraying his inner turmoil. "All this time... I thought I was just imagining it. I thought maybe I was being selfish for wanting a little of that light, that focus."

"You weren't selfish. I was blind." Juno's voice was heavy with self-reproach. "I was focused on the sheer novelty of her atmosphere, her oceans, the sheer chaos of life starting on her surface. You, my first creation, you were born solid, reliable, silent. You were perfect at your job—stabilizing her, keeping her steady. I didn’t reward reliability; I took it for granted."

A coldness entered Luna’s voice then, reflecting the vast, airless expanse of his surface. "Reliability. Yes. That's what I am. The perfect counterweight. A shield for a world that never needed to look beyond its own atmosphere. When she looks up, she just sees me reflecting your light back at her. I rarely get to feel that light directly."

"And I never asked you what you needed. What you wanted to achieve," Juno admitted, his light dimming further, as if ashamed.

"What would I achieve?" Luna's rotation became even more sluggish, a sense of profound weariness settling over him. "I have no atmosphere to hold a name, no water to host life. My purpose is finite. To orbit. To pull the tides. To shepherd her."

"Your purpose is not finite. You are the reason she can turn so steadily! You are the very foundation of her rhythm!" Juno countered, a spark of his usual brilliance returning, but this time, directed solely at Luna. "But I see now that I allowed your existence to be defined entirely by your proximity to Earth. I never acknowledged the weight of your loneliness, being the only one so close, yet so utterly separate."

Juno shifted slightly in his orbit, a deliberate movement that sent a focused, warm beam of solar attention directly toward Luna. It was a gesture rarely made with such conscious intent.

"Luna, I am sorry. Truly sorry," Juno rumbled, his light enveloping the small moon. "I regret making you feel like a utility. I want to try—no, I will work to see you. To see him. The entity, not just the anchor."

Luna looked at Juno, the faint rings of craters on his surface seeming to stand out in the direct light, like ancient wounds freshly illuminated. He looked weary, older than his years, despite the eons he'd silently spent. "It's hard to unlearn a definition, dad. Especially when that definition is all I've ever been given. Earth... she already knows this, you know."

Juno’s movement halted completely, his profound confession momentarily forgotten. "She—she does?"

"Yes. She's seen it. She's felt it." Luna’s voice was quiet, almost a whisper in the vastness. "She told me I was being too hard on you, that your focus on her wasn't favouritism, it was just... duty. She tries to make it up to me, sometimes, with her gravity’s gentle tugs. But she knows."

"You told her how you felt?" Juno asked, his light faintly trembling.

"Not in those words. I just... reflected the truth. It was the only place I felt safe to admit it. To the planet I maintain." Luna's rotation picked up a fraction, but his core weariness remained. "But I couldn't tell anyone else. Not Mars, not Venus. They're both too busy to understand the struggle."

Juno was quiet, his immense presence absorbing the depth of Luna’s hidden pain. "And you never told me."

"How could I?" Luna's voice was tinged with a familiar resignation. "I didn't want to make things harder for Earth. Right now, she’s already dealing with the fact that her protector and friend is also her Dad. If I piled on and said, ‘And he’s also a lousy father,’ it would only undermine her stability further. I have to help and be there for her, Juno. That is always the primary concern."

Juno moved, slowly and deliberately, bridging the minimal distance between their orbits until he was closer to Luna than he had been in eons. "Look at me, Luna. Your stability is important. But your happiness matters too. I promise you, from this moment forward, I will see you as my son first. Not her accessory. What can I do, now? What does Luna want, aside from maintaining Earth?"

Luna considered this, the question hanging in the void between them, heavy with unfamiliar possibility. He had spent eons without truly considering his own wants. "Just... don't forget this conversation. And when you next talk to Earth, remind her that she doesn't exist without me. Not in an important, self-serving way. Just... as a simple, objective truth. Then maybe she will stop rolling her eyes when I need to borrow some of her time."

Juno nodded, a solemn promise etched into the very fabric of his being. "It is noted. And I will make sure she understands. Now, you should return to your post. She's due a major tidal correction soon."

Juno watched as Luna, his rotation now steadier, his light perhaps a fraction brighter, sped up his orbit, moving back toward Earth’s gravitational well. The quiet sufferance he had inflicted settled upon Juno like an immense, crushing weight, a silent testament to the blindness of his paternal love. He had been a father, yes, but not to all his children equally. And the cost of that oversight had been Luna's lonely, quiet eons.