Darach
Darach is not a hopeless, screaming romantic. Really. He's simply very dedicated. Very dedicated.
That's why he's out here, sneaking into Unova in such a way that violates at least half a dozen laws, and that was even before Team Plasma's meteoric, despotic rise to power. Darach, just Darach and not the Castle Valet of Sinnoh's Frontier Brains, simply feels he owes it to Lady Caitlin to rescue her from those evil clutches.
It's like something out of a fairytale.
But, oh no no no. That would be inappropriate. It is the prince who woos the princess and rescues her from the dragon, and he is no prince. It would be presumptuous to think so.
Then again, it's not as if there is anyone else around to do the princely thing.
Team Plasma's revolution has left most of the Gym Leaders and Elite Four dead, captured or otherwise incapacitated. Come to think of it, Darach only saw two other people trussed up on stage when that fellow with the eyepiece made his worldwide declaration. There had been one man, and two women, one of whom he had recognized instantly.
Her beauty still shone like a gemstone in the sun. No, the very sun. No, something even brighter.
Darach did not presume to be a better Trainer than his Lady. On the contrary, it was her staggering power that prompted him to become a Frontier Brain. So as not to unleash her spectacular, psychic gifts on the unsuspecting, you see.
But if there's no one else to do the princely thing, he supposes himself a suitable stand-in. He may not have a vorpal sword to slay the wicked beast, but he has a few friends on his side that are just as useful.
They're strapped to the small balls on his belt, one of which is the trusty Empoleon that has been with him since those humble, Piplup beginnings and another of which is a living legend covered in fur and wreathed in flame. That has to go a long way in evening the odds, hasn't it?
In the end, Darach decides, he is no the perfect prince, and she is not the perfect princess. (It pains him to admit this, even if only privately.) But if he doesn't come in wearing full plate armor on a glimmering white steed and she doesn't do anything more than give him one of those half-lidded, barely-there stares, then that's fine. It will be just like the old days, and that is a wonderful thing indeed.