Chapter Text
Once upon a time, there was a young boy named N.
N was a special boy, for he had the ability to speak to Pokémon. He was kind to all, and his innocent and pure heart was recognized by all Pokémon he met. He lived with his parents in a beautiful home at the edge of the kingdom, and every week, N and his parents would dress up and go to the theater to watch a Pokémon musical.
N’s father taught him to read, and they spent long hours in the library together, reading story after story. N would climb into his father’s lap, enveloped by the soft velvet of his father’s reading chair and the glow of the fireplace, and let himself be carried into faraway lands full of magic and wonder and light.
N’s mother taught him how to cook and bake. Together they made countless dishes, both savory and sweet, and N found a love for the precision and delicacy of measuring and mixing ingredients. Every year on their birthdays, N would bake a new kind of dessert, and they’d sit together, making wishes and blowing out candles.
Their house sat next to a forest, and N grew up surrounded by Pokémon, both his family’s and wild ones. He developed a deep bond with them, and many of the wild Pokémon took up residence in his house. His parents treated Pokémon with respect, and encouraged N to do the same.
One day, N walked into his father’s office to find him lying on the floor, unconscious. They sent for the town doctor, who informed them that N’s father was very sick, and there was very little he could do. N and his mother could only watch, helpless, as N’s father got sicker and sicker, until he was too weak to even sit up in bed.
On his deathbed, he called N to his side.
“N, my son,” he said. “My advice to you is this: be kind and respectful, always. Remember that I love you very much. Take care of your mother for me.”
Shortly after his father’s untimely death, his mother married a man named Ghetsis, who had two adopted daughters. N remembered sitting at the top of the stairs, seeing Ghetsis standing in the foyer, pointed cane in one hand, the girls on either side of him. They did not speak much, casting fearful glances at their father, and N suddenly got a feeling that things were only going to get worse.
And worsen they did.
Not even a year later, Ghetsis and N’s mother went into the market, where N’s mother was killed in an accident, leaving him under the guardianship of Ghetsis.
Ghetsis, who had been cordial in the beginning, finally revealed his inner self: a harsh, cruel man only concerned with himself. He made N into a personal servant, forced to attend to his and his daughters’ every whim. Any trace of N’s childhood was locked away and stored in the attic, collecting dust as time dragged on.
His older ‘sisters’, Anthea and Concordia, rarely showed any sympathy toward him, though they seemed to act a certain way out of fear of their father. They occasionally did small gestures of kindness for N, such as making his work load lighter, or leaving him bits of their meals when he came to collect their dishes, claiming they were too full to finish.
Over the years, the home that had radiated warmth and light transformed into a house of cold darkness. N labored under the watchful eyes of both Ghetsis and his Hydreigon, Lucifer. Despite the abuse he suffered, mostly at the hands of his step-father, he remained a gentle, intelligent soul.
He dreamed that one day, in a miraculous turn of events, someone, somehow, would rescue him from this living nightmare.
N groaned as the curtains were yanked back, the morning sun shining directly on his face.
“Time to get up!” Zorua barked, letting go of the curtains. “You don’t want to be late.”
When there was no response, Zorua jumped up onto the bed, tackling N. “Get up N! You have to start your chores!”
“I know,” N replied, his voice muffled by his pillow. He rolled over, staring up at the bare wooden ceiling. “I was having a lovely dream, though I only remember little snippets. A hand, leading me in a dance. A palace, alive with music and people. A giant, white clock tower.” A faint smile fluttered across his face.
Zorua headbutted him in the stomach.
“Ow! Hey! That kinda hurt!”
“Sorry N, but you gotta get going or Ghetsis will have a fit.” The little black Pokémon shuddered at the thought.
N knew exactly what Zorua was talking about. If he made any mistake, no matter how minor or insignificant, he would receive an earful about the importance of perfection and precision. Best case scenario was verbal assault, though it all depended on Ghetsis’ mood.
N slid out of bed, flinching at the chilly floor underneath his feet. He dressed, clipping his cubic puzzle to the chain on his pants, one of the few things he had to remind him of his blissful past.
He made his way down the endless flights of stairs into the kitchen. Ghetsis had moved N into a small room at the top of a tower connected to the house. He tossed a couple of logs into the dying embers of the fire from the previous night, then set about making tea for the sleeping residents.
The sun peeked over the forest, meaning N had to work fast. He retrieved a bag of Pokémon food from the cabinet, and slipped out the back door. As he walked around the backyard, he sprinkled the food in the dewy grass, so the wandering wild Pokémon would have something to snack on. He returned to the kitchen and started breakfast, when the first bell rang. The second and third followed close behind.
Within a few minutes, N had three trays of tea and breakfast stacked on top of each other, something he’d mastered after years of carrying them, and carefully made his way up the grand staircase.
Anthea’s room was first. She opened the door as N reached the top of the stairs, and he entered her room. He placed the tray down on her bedside table.
“I need my laundry washed. And ironed after it’s dry.” Her commands came in short bursts. “I expect it back before lunch.”
“Yes, Anthea,” N said, pushing her laundry basket out of the room with his foot.
Next up was Concordia. He knocked on her door, listening for her “Come in”, before entering. He set down her tray on her bedside table, turning around to wait for her orders.
“I have some clothes that need mending,” Concordia said, gesturing to the basket sitting next to her closet doors. “I need them before the end of today.”
“Yes, Concordia.”
With two baskets of clothes in the hallway, and a tray in one hand, N braced himself for the next room. He knocked twice, the sound empty and dull.
“Enter.”
The door creaked as N opened it. Darkness blanketed the room, as the curtains still hung closed, and Ghetsis sat up in his bed, propped up by a mass of pillows. Lucifer laid on his plush bed, tucked in one of the far corners of the room. Ghetsis eyed the boy as he approached the bed, sliding the tray onto the bedside table.
Ghetsis stared at N while he stirred cream into his tea. “You’re late.”
N glanced at the clock on Ghetsis’ table. “By one minute—”
“Silence,” Ghetsis hissed. “I could’ve thrown you out of this house, left you begging on the streets with that little mutt of yours.”
“Zorua’s not a—”
“Don’t talk back to me!” N flinched. “Now, I was kind and gracious enough to let you stay here with that beast. All I ask is that you assist this family in the maintenance of this house, and to do so without any problems. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes.”
“Excuse me?”
“Yes sir.”
“Good. Now, what’s on your list today?” Ghetsis sipped his tea. “I would like you to dust the bookshelves in the library, wash all the windows, sweep the stairs, mop the floor, polish the grandfather clock. Oh, and do the laundry, water the flowers, and trim the bushes.”
“Yes sir.”
N turned to leave, but stopped when he heard Ghetsis’ final remark.
“One more thing. I would like for you to give Lucifer a bath.”
N’s heart sank. The rest of his chores, while unpleasant, were at least manageable, by the loosest definition. This particular task straddled a line of being unpleasant and dangerous, as Lucifer's ill-tempered nature mimicked his owner. He especially did not like baths, and N knew he was in for a rough day.
“N? Did you hear me?”
He swallowed hard, not turning around to face his step-father. “Yes sir. I understand.”
“There you are!” Bianca’s shrill voice rang out.
Touya looked over his shoulder to see his personal maid marching towards him, a stern expression on her red face.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Your mother wants to speak to you.”
Touya didn’t move.
“Now, your Highness.”
He frowned. He didn’t like it when she called him that. It made him feel like she was a stranger, not someone who had practically raised him. “Bianca, I told you not to call me that.”
“Well sometimes it’s the only way to get your attention,” Bianca huffed. She swiveled her head around, taking in their surroundings. “What are you doing out here?”
The young prince shrugged. “I like to walk in the gardens, surrounded by flowers, no clear end in sight.” He changed the subject, not wanting Bianca to chastise him for daydreaming again. “I had a wonderful dream last night.”
Bianca’s green eyes lit up. “Ooh! Do share!” She grabbed his arm, guiding him back towards the castle.
“I don’t remember all of it. But I know I was dancing with someone. And there were glittering lights, and we walked around the garden. I felt… happy.”
“Aww!” Bianca cooed, eyes gooey with joy. “You know, they say that dreams are wishes your heart makes. I wonder what wish your heart was making.”
They reached the entrance to the castle.
“In you go, Prince. Your mother’s waiting for you in the throne room.”
The castle was famous for its immaculate beauty, though Touya found the black and white swirled marble to be a little bland. He stared at the vibrant red carpet stretching before him, one of the only splashes of color in the entire castle. Composed entirely of stained glass, the back wall of the room depicted the guardians of Unova, Reshiram and Zekrom. His mother, Queen Luciana, sat in her throne, smiling as her son neared.
Though Touya would not describe his mother as openly affectionate, she was far from a bad mother. As he grew older, he came to understand the nature of how his mother showed her love for her children. She was a good ruler, fair and merciful, and had to maintain the respect of those she ruled over. Bound by strict expectations, she did not have total freedom to act as she pleased. As a result, Bianca was entrusted with being the loving, motherly figure in her children’s lives.
“Hello Touya,” she greeted, rising from her throne. Her movements were smooth and graceful; she seemed to glide around. “How are you?”
“I’m well Mother. I was just taking a nice stroll in the garden. It’s beautiful this time of year.” The words felt stiff, and Touya wished he didn’t have to speak to his own mother the same way he spoke to the special guests that sometimes visited.
“It is.” She met Touya at the bottom of the steps leading up to the thrones. “Will you walk with me?”
They walked along the corridors in a comfortable silence. It was times like this that Touya wondered what his mother would’ve been like, had they grown up in a normal house.
“Touya?” His mother said, pulling him out of his wandering thoughts.
“Y-yes?”
“I asked if Bianca told you that I had something to discuss with you.”
“O-oh. Yes, she did.”
A serious expression replaced her smile. “You are almost nineteen. Traditionally, when you turned seventeen, we would have begun looking for a potential spouse, so you would be married by your eighteenth birthday. However, I knew that wasn’t what you wanted, so I decided against it.” They stopped in front of a giant statue of Reshiram. “I do not want to trouble you, but I cannot delay this any longer.” She took his hands in hers, squeezing them softly. “Everything you do reflects upon the kingdom, and I fear that pushing off an engagement would only create nasty rumors.”
Touya’s heart skipped a beat. Of course he wanted the kingdom to succeed, but he also didn’t want to rush into a marriage without being sure he was in love.
He cleared his throat. “Mother.”
“Yes, my son?”
“The thing is… Well it’s just that… you see…” Touya took a deep breath, his resolve shaking. No, he thought. I have to tell her. “I want to marry for love, not because the Royal Courts say I have to.”
He held his breath as he searched her face for any emotion, any reaction, anything at all. His anxiety melted away as he saw warmth and tenderness in her face.
“And I want you to fall in love too.” Her luminous blue eyes sparkled with wistful happiness. “That is why I think we should hold a ball, and invite all the young men and women in the kingdom to come. You’ll have a chance to meet and interact with them, and hopefully, the Dark Stone will react to someone. Someone that you like.”
Tradition in Unova stated that each guardian Pokémon, Reshiram and Zekrom, chose someone they deemed worthy to be a ruler. They worked together to ensure the rulers would bring the kingdom prosperity and life.
Queen Luciana leveled her gaze with his. “You were chosen by Reshiram to be the Ruler of Truth, just as I was. Now, it is time for Zekrom to choose the Ruler of Ideals.”