Hello! I've been planning this out for quite some time now and am SO EXCITED to start sharing it! It's my first chapter fic in literally years and years, so I'm not sure what to tell you about update speed and chapter lengths. Likely - sporadic. Haha. But anyway, I wanted to explore some of my headcanon surrounding the Gen V characters and this began to take shape. I hope you enjoy it!

xxx

Prologue

People are very evil creatures and will hurt you if they can.

N raised his eyes pensively to the ceiling, eyes fixing on his aeroplane mobile. He was unused to being alone now, after so long travelling the cities and towns of Unova, meeting with different trainers and their Pokémon. Eyes following the movements of the mobile, slumped on his knees by a brightly coloured train set, he cleared his throat and murmured to himself, "people are very evil creatures and will hurt you if they can."

Growing up, N had been subjected to proof over and over again. Countless injured and neglected Pokémon had been brought before him, each squeezing his heart with fearful eyes and trembling paws, flinching away when he stretched out a hand. He'd heard stories from the Sages of the never-ending cycle of oppression and suffering. Slavery. N knew the cruelty of humanity; he'd carried the weight of its incomprehensible, callous ostricisation, felt the ache of its ceaseless brutality.

The toy train hit the end of the track, paused jarringly, and then pushed off in the other direction with a rattle. N cast it a glance and sighed. Of course he realised that humanity was a stain, an ugly and selfish blemish on the face of a strained planet. Of course he realised trainers couldn't be trusted. Of course. Every kind and intelligent person he had met was just an anomaly. N knew this, intellectually. But there was a pronounced difference between intellectual knowledge and to understand something, to feel it as a truth, to believe in it wholeheartedly. And, N thought, drawing his knees to his chest and burying his face in his arms, his belief was waning. His belief had been waning ever since he first met the boy in the red cap, with the quiet passion in his eyes, the depth of belief so strong as to shake even N's. Black, he thought, did not mistreat his Pokémon. White, Cheren, Bianca, Alder. In fact, N thought helplessly, the only person he had ever known to inflict abuse on anything, person or Pokémon, was Ghetsis.

But N needed to believe. He needed his father to be right. He needed to defeat Black. He bit his lip, drew in a shuddering breath. What else did he have?

The door to his room opened with a mournful creak. N looked up in surprise, hurriedly brushing hair from his eyes.

There in the doorway, silhouetted in the light from the hallway and resplendent in robes of blue and gold, stood Ghetsis Harmonia himself. His lip curled as he surveyed the room. "N, the Black boy is fast advancing through the castle. You should be in the throne room."

N nodded, petulantly, and hugged himself bracingly before getting to his feet. "Ghetsis?"

Ghetsis raised his eyebrows.

N hesitated, fidgeting with his sleeve, and then raised his eyes to his father's. "I'm going to try and defeat Black," he said, "and I believe…I want to believe….that I will succeed, because the depth of my conviction outweighs anybody's. I love Pokémon, Ghetsis. All I want is to end their suffering. But G-...Father...what if I lose?" N took a deep breath, making an effort to slow his rapid, clipped speech to a restrained murmur. "What if I'm not strong enough? What if Black does believe more strongly? What if we're wrong? What if -"

"You are strong enough," said Ghetsis abruptly, scowling. He closed the door behind him and stepped closer. "You are strong enough. You believe more strongly. We are not wrong."

"I'm not sure, Father," N confessed, his voice cracking, "I just don't know anymore. Since I began my travels, I've met trainer after trainer who treats their Pokémon with love -"

"Enough!" Ghetsis roared, jolting N backwards. "How would you understand the mentality of a trainer, boy? How long have you spent in the company of humans? A year, at most. You cannot comprehend the things I have seen trainers do to their Pokémon. People," he growled, "are very evil creatures and will hurt you if they can. The eternity of slavery to which they have subjected your own friends! And you doubt it? N, you are the strongest Pokémon trainer in the world and if you cannot defeat some snot-nosed child –"

"Father!"

Ghetsis stopped, eyes blazing.

"I don't want to, Father," N croaked, overcome suddenly by panic; it crashed over him in wave after wave of paralyzing anxiety, and suddenly he couldn't feel his fingers anymore. In all of his twenty-one years N had never known fear like this. All of his formulas and grand speeches had lead to this battle; this was the culmination of plans in which N was not even sure he believed any longer, this was the deciding moment of his worth. And N remembered, suddenly, being presented over and over with irrevocable proof that he was worthless, that he understood nothing, that he could achieve nothing and touch nobody, and he was certain beyond doubt that he would fail. He would fail."I will fail," N said, and his eyes glazed with wonder as the truth sunk in.

His epiphany was interrupted by an explosion of pain in the side of his head that sent him reeling; propelled headfirst into the wall with an ugly crack, N cried out and brought his hands instinctively to his face. Ghetsis's hand was raised, stiff and foreboding, ready to strike again should N contest him once more. His eyes were cold, his mouth set in a hard line.

Ghetsis advanced further and N retreated, shoulders squared, back hunched, hands drawn protectively to his throat. Pressed up against the wall, a rubber toy squeaking beneath his foot. Ghetsis jabbed a finger into N's chest. "Your entire purpose is the liberation of Pokémon, N. That is what I raised you for, and that is what you will bring about. What else is there for you?" His voice was ominous, laced with disdain. "What if you were to fail? Just imagine it. Deserted by everybody, purposeless and without any idea how to function in human company. You don't belong in either world – the purity of Pokémon is beyond you and the corruption of humanity disgusts you, and is disgusted by you in turn. You loathe humanity, N. You've certainly been given enough reason," and N paled, thinking of bruises and asphyxiation and the horrible pain in his behind and of blood, his blood, filthy metallic imperfect human blood, and Ghetsis was continuing, "remember the pain of those Pokémon that surrounded you, N. Remember your own pain. How can any species capable of inflicting such pain be allowed to perpetuate itself? We cannot prevent the injustices of humanity in and of itself, but we can free the oppressed, N. We must. You cannot afford to lose. You simply cannot."

N was staring at the ground, eyes round as coins, hands clasped beneath his chin, and when Ghetsis touched his shoulder he recoiled violently, out of reflex, tripping on the rubber toy and hitting his elbow painfully against the wall.

"Our new world…your new world, my Lord, is ripe for creation. The time is now. You will succeed. You must."

N closed his eyes and controlled his breathing, with difficulty. He thought of Concordia and Anthea, gentle and reserved, who believed in him; thought of the adoring multitudes, all their hopes and dreams invested in this very battle, who believed in him; thought of a young Zorua, battered and limping, and the thousands of Pokémon whose struggles he embodied. He thought of Ghetsis, tormenter and protector, who'd held him close as he wept for the plight of his friends, who'd so painstakingly demonstrated to him ("Do you think I do this because I want to, boy?" – a shuddering gasp, a whimper of pain – "You must learn. You must understand. You must become perfect.") the cruelty and the senselessness of humanity. His idol. His father.

N did not (would not, could not) think of Black.

"I…" He swallowed. Something in him steadied, hardened. He hadn't come so far just to lose his nerve. "I understand."

Ghetsis's face softened, the callousness settling in his crimson eyes. "N," he said quietly, "you are the prophesised hero. Zekrom has chosen you, and nobody else."

N looked up to see his father smiling benevolently, and his heart skipped a beat. Ghetsis bent to leave a kiss on the tip of N's tousled head. "Understand," he murmured, "that I believe in you."

"Yes."

"You are not wrong, N."

"Yes."

"You are the most powerful man in the world."

"Yes."

Ghetsis inclined his head, apparently satisfied. "You should put on something more dignified. It would be unseemly to meet your destiny in…sneakers and a jacket."

"I'm fine."

"As you wish." Ghetsis stepped back and looked his son up and down. "Don't let me down, N."

N nodded. The door swung closed behind Ghetsis with a groan.

The toy train hit the end of its circuit and reversed again. The side of his head ached.

N crossed the room slowly to the small mirror that hung on the wall. It had been installed when he was much younger, and he had to bend down to see himself in it. An austere, neurotic face glared back at him, seafoam grey eyes wide and alert, an unsightly bruise forming by its temple. He said, decisively, "you are the most powerful man in the world. N Harmonia, you will rule the new era." That's right; he was the hero of ideals, saviour of the weak and forgotten, bringer of peace and equality. How could he doubt it? With Zekrom at his side, he was unstoppable.

N smiled and the man behind the glass smiled back at him, coldly. He straightened up, feeling that he'd quelled his unease for long enough, hopefully, to defeat Black. Tenacious, fatigued little Black. He could have been great, if he had only accepted N's ideals and agreed to support him. It was a shame, but it'd be all right; so N told himself, and so, for a moment, he almost believed.

xxx

It wasn't ten minutes later when the door swung open and N, sitting serenely upon his throne, watched a stocky, diminutive figure emerge, closing the door quietly behind him. The throne room was huge and imposing, tiled in gold and adorned in deep blue hangings. He smiled, heart hammering in his chest, as Black approached tentatively. This is it. N cleared his throat and called out. "What I desire," – and his voice was steady and authoritative, and he could win, he would win– "is a world for Pokémon, and Pokémon alone. I will separate Pokémon from people once and for all, so Pokémon can regain their original power." He rose slowly and began walking down the carpeted steps.

From a distance, N could see Black's mouth tighten. He stopped in his tracks, on the threshold of the bridge. "You're deluded. I won't let you do this."

N smirked and beckoned extravagantly. "It's time to settle this once and for all. My determination is absolute! I will prove the value of my beliefs even if it means my Pokémon friends get hurt! Since you've come this far, I believe you are equally determined." But you are wrong, Black, and I am right. "If that's so – prove it to me. Show me the depth of your conviction."

Black took a deep breath and stepped onto the bridge, pressing forward with a quiet, reluctant assurance. As he watched the boy come closer, N was seized by a wildly confident exhilaration, observing the small hands, the tightened, trembling lips, the too-big clothes that hung from Black's body; he was a little boy playing in his father's work boots, an untrained child soldier praying to Arceus in the trenches. "You're a fanatic and a manipulative liar," Black told him, fists clenched at his sides as he came to stand opposite N. "Even though you don't know any better, I won't hold back. You're only going to hurt people and Pokémon."

N lifted an eyebrow, in vague amusement.

"I just –" Black paused, and then sighed, shaking his head. "It's a shame, N. You could have been great." And with that the young Champion reached into his pack, drew out a smooth white sphere and held it over his head.

The rivals stood opposite each other, bracing themselves, and – nothing happened.

N stared. Gradually his lip curled into a wry smile as his excitement waned. So Black wasn't special. So N's new world would be created without resistance...

"You came all this way to battle me. But Reshiram isn't responding…you haven't yet been recognised as the hero, have you?" He chuckled a little, cholerically, shaking his head. "How disappointing. I actually kind of liked you a little."

Across the hall, he heard Black's breath catch in his throat. "N –"

"I got the feeling that you might be trainer who truly cares for Pokémon! But I was kidding myself," N spat. "The idea of trainers getting to know one another through battles is ridiculous. You have two options, Black." His voice was cool and self-assured. Now, without question, Pokémon could be separated from trainers forever. Now, without question, N could achieve equality. He could tear from Black his beloved Emboar and Seismitoad and Leavanny – oh Arceus, no. He shut his eyes tight and Ghetsis's voice echoed in his head: you are not wrong. You are the most powerful man in the world. "Challenge me to a fight you can't win, or leave this place and watch the birth of a new world. Where Pokémon are free of people…" N opened his eyes to see Black shaking his head in desperation. Bracing himself, he lifted a hand. "Zekrom! Come to me!"

"N, please –!"

But it was too late, the castle was trembling ominously and N trembled with it and he was not wrong, he was not wrong, he was not wrong, and the wall collapsed behind him as a monstrous coal-black creature burst through with a deafening roar and landed heavily before Black and N whispered, "I am not wrong," and Zekrom began to pulse with electric blue, and N's new world was so close he could almost taste it – bitter and dry.

But Black was distracted. "It's vibrating," he squeaked, and held up the Light stone weakly, staring past Zekrom and into N's face.

N stared back at him. "Your Light stone is…I mean, Reshiram is…" The stone drifted skywards and hung suspended above them both, and for a moment the two heroes held each other's gaze. Black mouthed something, his eyes wide, imploring, but N couldn't make it out, and there was no time –

Then the stone cracked and exploded in a blinding white light, and Black flinched away, and N watched it with a sense of foreboding. I am not wrong. Ideals will always prevail…

When the light faded, in the place of the stone was a huge, elegant white Pokémon, curled into a ball. As it drifted to the ground, the Pokémon roared and lunged towards Black, and N watched in deep concentration. "Reshiram and Zekrom," he began quietly. "They were once one life. One Pokémon. Complete opposites, yet the same." Two halves of a whole…and yet Reshiram chose Black. Why? "Zekrom and Reshiram are Pokémon that appear before the hero they recognise. You really are a hero, too."

Well, of course, in order to achieve one's ideal, one must be prepared to fight for them. And N was prepared. Black's eyes, fearful as he grappled for a Pokéball to challenge the guardian of truth for its friendship, didn't beg his insecurity. More important than Black were the hundreds of grunts who'd so passionately guarded N's ideals; the six Sages lined up in the entrance hall, buying him time; his father, who'd spent twenty-one years pouring his efforts into N's perfection, who trusted him so completely with the realisation of the ultimate ideal, waiting by the door for his son to emerge victorious, the uncontested King of their new world. No, Black was nothing. Humanity was nothing. N would not lose. N was not wrong. N was not wrong. N was not wrong. And N was going to win.