Chapter LIV
With blood dribbling down her shoulder, with her head pounding with pain, Nova only lasted two more minutes before she collapsed onto Bailey.
Then, she slept.
Hours passed. Days.
And she tossed and turned on the small cot, her skin burning with every nightmare – seeing the sight of Jupiter's wooden lips, seeing shadows crawling up her ankles, seeing blood rush out of a Gastrodon's mouth, seeing legionaries bound in thick rope.
"Wake up, Nova…"
All of it, over.
She knew who had pushed her mother down the stairs. She knew who had killed Maylene and Bebe.
"Please…"
The journey she had started on felt complete. Was there a need to go on? Was there a need to wake up, to face the scars across her face, to confront all the blood she had spilt?
"…please…"
And, at the end of it all, why had she started it all?
It hadn't been for her mother, for Bebe or Maylene, for vengeance.
But for something else.
"Nova, I will bloody beat yer bloody arse if ye don't just wake up—"
That voice was the one that helped her claw out of her slumber, that made her open her eyes and blink away the pain that shot through her skull. She was in nothing but rags – threadbare, with red patches along her shoulder over the bandages.
The pain came as soon as she tried to move her arm. It was like an icy wind choking the breath from her, and for a moment, as the agony cut through her bones and grasped onto her shoulder with its claws, she gasped.
Where was she?
What had happened?
Spear Pillar. Cyrus. That orb in his hands – commanding Dialga to use that beam.
Owl. Jumping in front of her.
"Nova?"
Barry's voice made her glance around the room. With the door and curtains drawn shut, there was no bright light aside from the steel glint of the doorknob. No way to know if it was day or night, if it had been days or weeks.
But Barry was there, sitting at the edge of the bed, his face lit up as he felt her shuffle on the bed.
"Nova? Are ye awake, or are ye dreamin' again?"
She could hardly see the tears in his eyes through the dark, but she heard his slight choke.
Her voice couldn't quite find itself, and she had to swallow bile and sit there, feeling the cold crawl over her skin.
For a moment, she sat there.
No noise. No movement. Burying the screaming in her bones, in her head.
Then, she cleared her throat.
"It's bloody dark in here."
"Aye?"
"I said… It's bloody dark in here."
Barry's face scrunched up. "And how the hell am I supposed to know that? Ye think I can bloody see?"
"Barry, I—"
"Riley and Joy and Vernia and me have spent every bloody hour in here, waiting for ye to bloody stop snoring on yer arse—"
"Barry—"
"And if ye bloody thought the room was too bloody dark, then all ye have to do is bloody tell me so I can bloody—"
"Barry."
Finally, he stopped rambling. And Nova could see why his mouth was rushing ahead, why his hands were quivering so much as he shook them around.
He was hiding his tears.
"Barry?"
He wiped at his face. Then, to her heart's relief, he smiled.
"I bloody missed you, November."
And she let him throw his arms around her, let her sink into him.
"…rise and shine…"
"How many days has it been?"
"…five…"
"And you've just been watching me sleep? That's bloody rude."
"…sleep for another five and i promise not to stare…"
Barry snorted a bit, pulling back. Nova held his face there, pressing her forehead against his, letting him cry and shake and laugh and scold her.
Then, when he was done, she cleared her throat again.
"Where's Owl?"
"Nova, just hold on—"
"And Rhys? Bailey? Where are they?"
The pain ebbed in her shoulder as she gently pried him away and trembled onto her feet. After days of just lying there, her bones felt too weak – too fragile – as she pushed herself up and gripped onto the concrete walls.
"Tric? Leila? Tatiana?"
She wasn't facing him anymore. She was calling out their names, scrambling for the door, shoving it open and slipping into the hall. Behind her, she could hear Barry yelling out for her to slow down, but she pushed past the pain, past his echoes, and pressed her side against the wall and staggered onwards.
"Owl! Tric! Rhys!"
Sleek floors, steel walls, a clear and high arched ceiling – all of it as bright as glacier meltwater as she pushed herself forwards.
"Leila! Tatiana! Bailey!"
"…nova, stop yelling and listen…"
And she heard it then, the slight keening howl. The little chatter of excitement. Coming from the door to her—
She never had to yank it open. For, in that moment, there was a sharp crack, a low growl.
Then, she choked back a sob as Rhys the Luxray burst through the door, leaving a gaping hole in the wood.
Within seconds, she was laughing as Rhys' fur tickled her neck, as Tric latched onto her good shoulder, as Bailey found his place on her head while Leila and Tatiana wrapped themselves around her.
But there was someone missing.
"Owl?" she said softly. "Where is Owl?" Did she—"
She glanced up, through the hole in the door, where Joy was staring down at her feet and shaking her head.
"I'm sorry, Nova…" the healer muttered. "I tried…"
Nova felt her heart stop.
No, no, no.
Not Owl. Not her Gastrodon. Not—
She was about to fall onto her knees when Tric started shaking.
Not with tears, but with laughter.
Because, as Nova peered through the hole in the wood again, she saw her.
That blue-green Gastrodon, swathed in bandages, slithering towards the door.
Alive and breathing.
Nova didn't even bother pushing the door open. She climbed through the hole, ignoring the wooden shards that scraped at her legs, her voice thin as she called Owl's name and held the Gastrodon in her arms.
Oh, Arceus, if anything had happened to any of them—
She wouldn't have been able to forgive herself.
Nova glanced over Owl's shoulder, where the healer was grinning.
"You are a bitch," Nova said, frowning.
Joy shook her head, but even that couldn't wipe the smile from her face. "No more than you, dearest Nova."
"Are you well? Is everyone well? Mother?"
"Vernia is fine."
"Candice? Wake?"
Joy opened her mouth, closed it again. Then, with a dimness in her eyes, she sighed. "Wake is fine, but Lord Backlot…"
"What happened? Where is he?"
The healer didn't need to answer.
One look at the tears in her eyes was enough to answer Nova's question.
His funeral was at sunset, where the orange light cascaded across both the sky and Lake Valor alike. And even with the birdsong from the surrounding bushes, even with the Magikarp flopping along flowering lily-pads and little Psyduck hiding amongst the reed-beds, it felt damp and bleak – almost like a light grey mist hung over the lake like an invisible veil.
The only sound to break the eerie silence was the priest, the slow methodical hum of his words, speaking of the spirit that had drifted above. Something about moving like a spirit – lazily, unseen, and overhead.
Nova stood towards the back, Barry hovering beside her. So many people had come – all the legionaries, bowing down by the front, arms linked with Wake. Duke Rowan, too, was close to the front, with Vernia leaning against him, a ring of pirates in front of them, Gardenia just behind.
Even Mars and Saturn, hiding by the shadows, but nodding at Nova as she passed by them.
Only Riley hadn't come. And after hours of searching desperately for him, her heart aching every time she saw anyone with familiar armour across their back, she gave up and started for Lady Spiral.
Her belly was even bigger than Nova remembered, and for a moment, the gladiator wasn't sure how the lady was standing on her two thin legs. She was crying freely, her eyes blistering red as she reached out and held Nova.
"I told him not to go," she was whispering between sobs. "I told him he was too old…"
Nova patted her back gently, ignoring the sharp jab in her shoulder.
She didn't know what to say – didn't know how to comfort her. She hadn't even seen what had happened to Lord Backlot, not with her focus locked onto Cyrus and Dialga.
But Barry moved forwards, reaching out to hold the two lasses.
"Lady Spiral, with all respect, it wasn't his age that did it," he said. "If anything, he killed more men than the rest of the pirates."
Lady Spiral swivelled to face him. "He did?"
"Aye, he was killed by no man. It was a pillar that—"
Nova reached out squeezed his hand. "Barry, I don't think Lady Spiral wants to know that much."
"Oh, aye, sorry—"
"No," Lady Spiral cut in. "I want to know. I want to know what to tell her about her grandfather."
She glanced down at her belly, and Nova couldn't possibly explain why – she felt tears brim in her own eyes.
"It's a girl?" she asked.
Lady Spiral smiled. "I think so. She kicks like one."
"If she kicks anything like Nova, I pity ye," Barry said with a snort.
That finally brought a little chuckle from the noblewoman's lips. Nova reached out and planted a brief kiss to her cheek.
"Your father was a brave man," she told her.
Lady Spiral closed her eyes. "I know."
Then, Nova moved away from Spiral, and towards the line of legionaries at the front. Her presence alone seemed to be enough to make the others move away; upon her footsteps, Volkner, Fantina and Candice had all shifted towards the front, to send their final blessings to the wooden coffin before it was buried into the ground.
But Wake remained, his smile as grey as his eyes as she stood before him.
"How're you doing, lass?"
"Alright. And yerself?"
He looked at Lady Spiral. At the lake. At the wooden coffin. "I dunno. I don't…"
Nova stretched out her arms. "Come here."
His weight, his grief, was almost enough to knock her off her feet as he held her. But she stood straight, let him shake it all into her, let herself really feel it – let herself see the colours Barry would describe it as; a grey emptiness, a heavy blue, a soft tinkle of painful white.
"If only I'd been quicker…" the legionary muttered. "I could have saved…"
"No," Nova quickly said. "No more of that. Otherwise I'll start worrying that you'll also do whatever bloody stunt that Cyrus tried."
She felt him smile a little at that.
Then, when he tensed in her arms, she drew back. But he wasn't frowning – not even crying, anymore. He was grinning weakly, pointing over her shoulder, gesturing for her to turn around.
And when she did, she nearly forget all about her injured shoulder, about the crying people around her.
Because there, walking towards the lake, shaking his head softly as people tried to bow down to him—
Sir Riley.
Nova heard herself choke back a sob.
He looked the same – only a few raw scratches along his left cheek, a slight limp to his leg. But otherwise, as he shook hands with noblemen, as he gave his greetings and blessings to those around him, he looked healthy.
And when his eyes found hers—
They stared at each other, forgetting the people between them, the grief and greyness surrounding them.
"Well?" she called out to him. "Are you gonna say somethin', or just bloody stare at me all day?"
He grinned. "Well, now you've ruined it."
And, in a few long strides, he was there – holding her, his voice soaking into her, his eyes finding hers and not turning away. For a moment, the world just halted – no time, no wind, no people. Even though she knew that whatever between her and Riley was everything but unselfish, undemanding, and free, that's all she felt there. Unselfish. Undemanding.
Free.
"Sir Riley?"
It was Lady Spiral's voice that forced them to part.
"Lady Spiral," Riley said, lowering his head. "I am sorry for your loss."
"As am I."
Sir Riley then stuck his hand in his coat, a small smile on his lips as he fished out a thin roll of paper, tied with a red ribbon. Then, with gentle hands, he pressed the note into Spiral's hand.
"What's this?" she asked him.
"The estate. It's yours."
Lady Spiral snorted. "It can't belong to me. It should belong to Wake. I am a wo—"
"A woman?" Riley cut in. "I wasn't expecting a clever lady like you to say such, pardon my language, bullshit."
Both Nova and Lady Spiral's eyes went wide.
"The estate is yours, Lady Spiral," Sir Riley repeated, pressing the note even more firmly into her hands. "As your father would have wanted it."
When Lady Spiral fell into Riley's arms, thanking him, holding his hands, wiping her tears, Nova stepped back. Stared at Sir Riley for a long time.
"He changed the law without Queen Cynthia…"
"…brave…"
"Aye. I'm not sure a shithole like me should be wasting his time."
"…you think he would have changed that law before he had met you?..."
Nova went silent at that.
Because, though her heart said that, aye, he would have made that same decision months before he had met her, her head was telling her otherwise.
Back at Lady Spiral's manor, Nova rested in her cot, stretching her arm back and forth. It was starting to hurt less with each movement, but it still felt heavier than usual. Not enough to use a sword just yet.
If she ever chose to use a sword again.
She turned to Barry, who was lying back in his cot, breathing softly.
"So, what now?"
"What now?" she repeated.
"Seven legionary crystals—"
"Seven? I thought you only had six?"
Barry grinned. "I made Candice laugh."
"Bloody hell, I had to fight a whole arse Regigigas."
"Probably for the better. I can't imagine you making anyone laugh."
"Piss off."
He chuckled as she threw her pillow at him.
"So," she added, "we either go for our eighth, or we…"
"Head back to Twinleaf?"
"It needs rebuilding."
"Aye, but…"
"But?"
Barry frowned, sitting up. "Nova, I like being a gladiator. I don't wanna stop now. Vernie may not have working legs, but she has a bloody brain – you know she can help with Twinleaf."
"I know, but…"
"What do you want to do, Nova? Have you ever asked yerself that? What do you want?"
Nova froze at his words.
What did she want?
"I… don't know," she finally answered, sighing. "I don't know."
Barry smiled softly. "Well, I'll tell ye what I want. I want to get me last legionary crystal before the gladiator games end in two weeks, and go to that bloody castle. I want to be the first lad from Twinleaf to ever step inside it."
Nova stared at him – at the hope in his eyes, the brightness in his cheeks. She thought of the way he had commanded gladiators in the Veilstone arenas, the way he had seen through her plan without having to hear it, the way he fought at Mount Coronet so swiftly…
"Barry, would you want to be king?"
"King?" He snorted at that. "Don't be an idiot."
"How is that being an idiot?"
"Naw, look at me, Nova. I'm not fit to be a king."
Nova sat up herself, the cot creaking beneath her. "I'm looking at you. And I don't understand what you mean."
He glanced down at that, wringing his hands through his scarf.
"What do you want, Barry?"
"I want to bloody sleep. You're exhausting to speak to."
"And you're insufferable."
They both fell back onto their cots, with Nova murmuring for him to toss her pillow back. Then, with the clock ticking in the room, with the darkness flailing around them, Barry sighed.
"You know, this funny old crone—"
"I thought you wanted to sleep!"
Barry tossed his own pillow at her this time, continuing without a beat. "This funny old crone asked me about me scarf."
"Why?"
"Arceus knows. She was a quick thing – gone before I could even tell her that me real parents left it with me at Twinleaf." He paused for a second, making a small sound. "Did you know her? She seemed to know yer name when I said it."
"Oh, aye, she's Queen Cynthia's grandmother. We're good pals."
"Oh. That's—what?"
He choked as Nova tossed his pillow back, muffling his words.
"Goodnight, Barry."
"Goodnight, November."
In all truth, though, she couldn't sleep.
And, during the night, as she heard the tinkle of rain drizzle against the glass windows, Nova stood onto her feet and moved towards the wall. It wasn't too dark out – not with the moon shining silver amongst the grass.
What did she want?
What did she want?
She paused as she realised that there was a figure there, standing in the rain, laughing. And as she peered closer, she realised that there was Owl – her very own Gastrodon – burning with blue light as rain clouds formed overhead.
As if she was forcing the rain to come…
Nova recognised the figure then, the man standing behind Owl.
"Care for a dance?"
And when Sir Riley held his hand out to her, a small smile on his face, she nearly threw herself out the window.
And this officially marks the end of the tango phase. With the waltz and tango done, we are up to our final arc: Ballroom Dancing.
Should be fun, aye?
