Chapter One: Spilled Blood

They dragged her, spitting and cursing, fingers clawing at the folds of their robes, scraping against the surface of their Poke Balls, into the throne room of the castle. As the golden door slammed shut behind them, the walls shimmered around her, but the girl's eyes took in none of their light.

She gritted her teeth as they threw her to the floor and let herself crumple to her knees. One of the grunts grabbed her hands and twisted them behind her back, locking her wrists together. She ran her tongue over her mouth and tasted blood, bitter and acrid, against her lips. As she bent down and took in a gasp of air, a drop of it fell to the pristine floor, and she grimaced, a twisted pleasure rising inside her at the sight of the red stain on the glistening white. At least now she knew that she would leave a mark behind on their perfect legacy, a testament of the blood they were bound to shed throughout their reign.

"What do you have to say for yourself, fool?" growled one of the grunts behind her, digging his boot into her back. The girl jackknifed forward and coughed, more droplets of blood splattering against the marble.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw one of the sages—the seven of them all lined up neatly against the wall, their faces grave and solemn—wince at the sight of the spreading stain. Her mouth twitched, the beginning of a humorless smile. She wondered who would be cleaning the mess up later. Would it be one of the grunts, nameless and faceless under the rule of their new king, or one of the Pokemon they had stolen?

Not my Pokemon…

The thought of Serperior wiping her own trainer's blood from the floor, not knowing who had left the stain behind—or knowing, if the Plasmas were cruel enough to tell her—was almost too much to bear. Touko clenched her fists together in the grunt's grasp, the only move of protest she could make, and slowly, using her captive arms as a lever, she lifted her chin, her body aching with every movement, and faced the throne at the head of the room.

The heel of the throne glittered even more brightly than the rest of the castle, gold against the blinding white of the floor and walls, past the trail of a long blue carpet that unraveled up to the shimmering platform on which it rested. Touko had to crane her neck to see the figure who sat upon the throne, though with a crushing sense of dread, she had a feeling she knew who it would be.

N, she thought suddenly, the name occurring to her in a flash of alarm. The king of Team Plasma. Shouldn't he be here? Where was he, if he wasn't, and if this was the throne room of the castle?

Please, Arceus… she begged. Please, let it be N, don't let be…

But instead of the green-haired man Touko knew, a young boy sat on the throne, his arms clutching the armrests of the throne and quivering visibly under the fabric of his blue jacket. The boy's fingers clenched and unclenched against the cold marble again and again, though he didn't seem to notice it. Brown hair flared out slightly from his head, even more tousled, now, without the trainer's cap he always wore. Touko wondered where it had gone. Had the Plasmas taken it from him? Was it their code to remove everything reminiscent of trainers from the world? A halo of gold from the wall shimmered around his head like an illusion, and wide, vulnerable brown eyes, eyes that had always reminded her of a Deerling's, gazed out at the throne room, alighting everywhere except on Touko's face.

Unlike the king of Team Plasma, this boy, in all respects, looked completely normal—and up until this moment, as far as Touko knew, he had been.

Her heart plunged into her stomach as she stared at him, drinking in the sight of his face like a final confirmation of a horrible reality that she had refused to fully accept. Dread pooled into her stomach, filling every crevice with despair. So it was true. So the reason she had come here, the reason she had fought past all of the guards and grunts until they had finally beaten her to the ground and taken away her Pokemon, the reason she had suffered through this entire battle—it was all true.

Touya. The name lodged in her throat, too deep and visceral to be spoken aloud. Her teeth bit down on it, savoring the taste as if it were the last time she would ever feel it, sweet and material, a ribbon between her lips. Touya.

She felt a hand on the back of her head and froze.

"Bow down to Team Plasma's prince, girl," the grunt sneered, and pushed her head down to the ground.

Touko's hair spilled over her shoulders as her forehead kissed the blood-stained marble. She barely tasted the iron tang that pooled at the edge of her lips. Her mind was spinning with the word. Prince. Yes, she had heard the rumors, and yes, she had known that Touya was here at the castle for some reason, but was this what it had come to? It couldn't be Touya, not her Touya, not the boy who had been her best friend since they had been children frolicking around Nuvema Town, could it?

What felt like an hour later, the grunt finally slackened his grasp, and she lifted her head and looked up at the throne, hope searing in her eyes.

"Touya?" she whispered, barely expecting him to react. "Touya, is that you?"

She was almost shocked when the boy on the throne's head flicked up at the sound of his name and met her eyes with his own.

All the way across the blue carpet, Touya gripped the arm of his throne with his hand, so tightly that patches of white began to form on his knuckles. Touko watched as he pushed himself up to look at her with wide eyes and took in the sight of his familiar blue jacket, his ruffled brown hair, his confused, uncertain gaze. He seemed equally shocked at her presence. The corners of his mouth trembled, as if he was trying to keep them down, trying to keep his expression flat as he stared back at her, and Touko couldn't tell if he was trying not to smile or cry.

For a moment, Touko slumped down to the ground again, certain that it had all been a mistake. Touya couldn't be the prince of Team Plasma or whatever the grunts had called him, couldn't be any part of this. She could see the sorrow, the indecision in his eyes, the way they wavered when they landed on her face, as if it hurt too much to look at her for too long.

His gaze darted to the side as he looked toward the sages for assistance. Touko watched, puzzled, as one of the sages met his eyes and gave a small nod of approval. Seemingly reassured, Touya turned back to her. His mouth quivered, and as he cleared his throat, she could see the bob of his Adam's apple from where she knelt.

When he spoke, each word was weighed and measured carefully, as if he were reciting words he had been struggling to memorize.

"My name isn't Touya." His voice sounded high, cold, mechanical; not right, not like the Touya she had known for years. Touko wanted to fling her hands over her ears, but they were still trapped in the grunt's grip. "It's Black."

The sages' mouths curved simultaneously in seven quiet smiles of triumph, and Touko felt her last shred of hope slip away.

"Touya, no!" she cried. She lunged forward, ignoring the sharp pain in her shoulders as the grunt yanked on her arms, trying to keep her back. "No! Don't fall for this!" The words spilled from her mouth in desperation. "This is pure Trubbish, you should know that! Remember all the good times you had with your Pokemon—how excited you were when you got your Oshawott—how much you loved being a trainer! This isn't you, Touya!"

A sharp smack rang out through the room, and for a moment, Touko couldn't feel the right side of her face. She fell silent in the wake of the grunt's boot, her cheek throbbing, her head reeling with pain. Through her daze of agony, she thought she saw Touya wince at the kick, a spasm of agony that twisted his face into something unrecognizable for an instant, but she knew with a hollow pang of bitterness that it must have been her imagination.

"Your Highness," said one of the grunts behind her, falling to her knee beside Touko and slowly, menacingly, pulling a Poke Ball from her belt. "Shall we?"

Touya's eyes widened before Touko had even understood the question, and he jumped forward, stretching his hand out. "W-wait!" he cried. "No! I—I think—just—just send her to the castle dungeons."

"Yes, Your Highness," the Plasma grunt answered, bowing her head.

A dark laugh twisted Touko's face at the sound of his words. "Really, Touya, the dungeons?" she sneered. "The dungeons? What, so you can put off deciding about my death, now that you seem set on it?"

Pain flared in his eyes, but Touko told herself she relished it, enjoyed it; she really did.

"Silence!" one of the sages thundered, and in response, the Plasma grunts grabbed her arms and twisted them roughly behind her back, dragging her back toward the same gold-wrought door through which they had brought her in. Touko didn't know if it was the pain in her shoulders that brought tears to her eyes, but she glared at Touya all the same, only a blur of blue now through her eyes.

"Are you happy now, Touya?" she shrieked, her blue eyes blazing with tears. "Is this what you wanted?"

Touya only stared at her, open-mouthed, his hand still half-stretched forward as if beckoning toward her. But she knew that he couldn't help her anymore; he couldn't reach her even if he tried.

N, she thought again as she let her body go limp, as she stopped struggling, her mind spitting the name with fury. If N was here…if the king of this Team Plasma, the one who caused all of this, was here…I would finish him…make him hurt the same way…

She closed her eyes before she could see the look on Touya's face for one last time as the doors slammed behind her.

Left in silence, Touya—no, Black, he reminded himself—stared after the empty space on the ground where his childhood friend had knelt moments before, the room empty save for the sages and himself.

"No," he whispered, horrified, the sound too quiet to be heard by anyone but himself, spiraling into the hollows of his own mind. "No, it's not."

The rippling waters that flowed around the castle floor only laughed mockingly at his answer.

Author's Note:

Whew. This idea suddenly occurred to me one day when I was thinking of possible ideas for a Black and White chapter fic, and this scene just kind of…came out when I started to write. I know I already have several chapter fics going on, but I couldn't resist getting it down! :)

So in other background info, this is sort of my rebellion against all the fics that make Touko/White become N's queen so that they can then FerriswheelShip to their heart's content. :) Not that I have anything against the ship; I think it's cute if you keep Touko and N in character throughout. Originally I was going to have Touko be the queen and Touya be the leader of the rebels, but I think it'd be more interesting to see Touko as the fighter! Plus, IsshuShipping, or pseudo-possible-IsshuShipping or whatever it is that'll be in this fic, needs some more lurve. ;)

Speaking of shippings, I'm thinking that this fic will mostly contain ChessShipping and IsshuShipping. There may be one or two others in there, but I can't say until I write some more.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please review and let me know if you'd like me to continue!