Do y'all wanna listen to some music with me before reading? If so, here are the songs and the moments I think of:

Children of Time, by End of Silence. Trailer to the story, basically; inspired the whole story. TIK doesn't exist without this song. This inspired me to make it what it is.

Soldier, Poet, King, by The Oh Hellos. This song is like a folk tale that basically summarises TIK.

Champion, by Tommee Profitt. First legionary battle.

The Other Side, by Ruelle. Losing Bebe. Dancing in the rain.

Unstoppable, by Hidden Citizens. The Veilstone Legionary battle.

You're No Good, by Hidden Citizens. Hearthome Legionary battle.

Walk Through Fire, by Zayde Wolf. The whole mess of the distortion world.

Free, by Svrcina and Tommee Profitt. Finishing the final legionary battle.

Castle, by Halsey. Arriving in the castle.

Carry You, by Fleurie and Ruelle. Losing Barry.

It's Got My Name On It, by Tommee Profitt. This chapter.

I made a playlist for easy access: watch?v=euSG1KApv6M&list=PLmGtb9amgBUCLAzmTejO6oGrsSHodOitb&ab_channel=EpicHeavenMusic

Chapter LXX

November had rarely seen her reflection.

The only times, in her childhood, had been when she had gone to Lake Verity to fetch water. On some mornings, she'd steal a glance at her face – sunken and thin, hollow and bitter. Sand dusted over her lashes, her face dark from dirt.

Now, she stood before a mirror. In the centre of a castle.

And she knew it – she didn't try to hide it.

She looked fucking incredible.

The maids had cleaned her up well, scrubbing any dry dirt or blood from her nails. They had woven some sort of oil in her hair before washing it off, and now it fell in long waves to her waist. Her face was no longer hollow and bare – it had shape. It had faint scars, but running her fingers over them now, she couldn't help but smile.

It made her look ferocious.

The armour, too, they had donned her in was polished and oiled, and not too clunky. It fit her – like it had been made for her, curving around her muscle comfortably.

For the past few weeks of training, she would just be wandering around the halls when it would seize her – this strange wave of pain and sadness, of excitement and fear that even Darkrai couldn't drink up.

So much had happened. Things that, looking back, she would never have anticipated in her wildest dreams. Moments would dart into her mind, no cohesion at all. No warning. They would just swim there, before her eyes.

Shaking Cyrus's hands in Celestic, agreeing to 'join' the Galactic Healers.

Sitting beside Duke Rowan, realising their eyes were the same.

Stepping onto snow for the first time in her life.

Falling in Spear Pillar, and all of time stopping with her.

Her childhood, those knights that had tried to touch her.

The day her adventure had truly started, squeezing Barry's hand. The cake that had pink icing on it.

It looks like hope.

And feels like a kiss.

"This is it."

"…so it is…"

"You know, you're not so bad. Once you quit with the nightmares and stop begging for an island…"

Her shadow chuckled. "…perhaps i'd stop begging if i already had one…"

She didn't laugh with him, though.

"If I die, what happens to you?"

"…what happens to normal shadows once people die?..."

"You die, too." She froze, feeling the swell again in her heart. Nerves. Pain. Fear. Excitement. "Do you want to do this, then? Risk your life with mine?"

Darkrai rippled for a moment by her feet. Then, he rose from her shadow, his figure forming before her.

"…i am your shadow, nova. you cannot live for your shadow. live for yourself…"

The words warmed her. And still, she closed her eyes, let her hand fall onto where she figured his heart would be.

"Do you feel fear, Darkrai?"

"…aye. i do…"

Something about that made her smile. Like the fact that he knew fear, that he lived and breathed it, too, made it mean something. He didn't just absorb it because he could. He did it because he knew what it felt like, otherwise.

"…i've felt it many times. when i first met you and realised i had to look out for you, and you looked like… well…"

"I looked like garbage."

"…that's a polite way to describe it…"

She snorted.

"…i also felt it during maylene's battle. when i saw the staravia fall. And with wake. when i first saw all the gyarados…"

"What's it like for you?"

"…cold. it's cold…"

"You must be freezing now, then."

His blue eyes bore into hers. Unflinching. "…no. i have no fear right now…"

She waited for the snark. For the punchline.

But he only placed his head gently against her own.

"…for i have complete faith in you…"

She went to collect her Pokémon next. Embraced each of them individually, even Tatiana, whose skin scraped at her new armour.

Tric, who had stopped a whole flood from Twinleaf. And yet, preferred to tie boot knots together than punch a lad.

Bailey, who couldn't fly straight, and yet was the only reason she had survived Spear Pillar.

Rhys, who was a murderous bastard, and yet, hadn't laid a scratch on her.

Leila, the Annoyingly Happy Roserade, whose heart was big and yet her vines were ruthless.

Gastrodon, who was a literal freaking slug, and had been the quickest to stop a Roar of Time from piercing through her.

And Tatiana.

A gift from her father.

"No matter what happens," she told them all, her eyes already bright red and swollen, "I am proud of you. Whether we win or lose, I will always be proud of you. So look after each other. That is an order."

They nodded, and Tric moved forwards. He held something in his hand – a slab of stone.

The steel plate. Rowan had given it to her.

She slid it inside her boot.

It would be good luck.

Screaming. Chanting. The crowd's roar even more murderous than November's gaze as she walked onto the area.

It was nestled beneath the castles, just beside the caves leading up to the waterfall. Sand swarmed them – something that brought Nova comfort, and the heat was relentless. It was almost like home.

The two women walked onto the sands, their helmets in their hands, their six Pokémon lined behind them. There were even some similarities – both had Garchomps, Cynthia's pink Gastrodon was almost a perfect match beside Nova's blue one, and their Roserades exchanged short salutes.

That's where the similarities ended.

Cynthia nodded curtly at the crowd, at those who had sat on her side of the arena. Her grandmother, her parents, Flint, Aaron and Lucian – as well as countless others, the people who had adored their queen or the ones that were disgusted by the bastard child. The Twinleaf wretch.

Nova most certainly had not been able to wipe the shock from her eyes when she saw Volkner sitting on her side of the arena. Right beside Fantina and Candice and Wake.

While Cynthia stared at the centre of the arena, no doubt pulsing with focus, Nova waved. To each and every one of them.

The gladiators who she had sparred – hell, she had even spotted the young lad who she had first fought. The one who had nearly kicked her arse near Sandgem. That bastard.

She saw a few of the maids from Backlot's manor, with Lady Spiral there – her baby tucked in her arms.

Even bloody Mars was there. Her face looking completely, and utterly haunted. Nova nodded at her gently – saw the old Galactic Healer finally break a smile.

And, more than anything, November saw people. Real people. So many of them – in simple tunics and rags, no gold threading their clothes, no nobility in their blood.

And she saw those from Twinleaf. The woman Barry had slept with, and the husband that had punched him. A child she had occasionally helped find food. An old man who had once helped Nova carry her mother across the sands.

Lady Vernia. Looking as beautiful as ever, hands intertwined with Duke Rowan.

Then, at the very front, crying even though the battle hadn't even started, were Joy and Riley. Maybe they had seen that Nova had knotted her hair with Barry's scarf. Maybe they had just seen her in all her glory.

Nova raised her hands in the air. They all roared.

"November! November! November!"

Prove yourself to them.

That's what Cynthia had told her.

"November! November! November!"

But looking at the crowd that shrieked her name, that cried at the very sight of her, Nova knew that she was wrong.

"NOVEMBER! NOVEMBER! NOVEMBER."

"We have proved enough," she said.

To her Pokémon. To Cynthia.

To herself.

"The rules are simple," a knight was crying out. "A free for all. The last one standing – or the one to not surrender – will be crowned victorious. Do you understand?"

Nova slipped on her helmet. Saw Cynthia do the same.

"Then let the battle begin."

At first, it was simply chaos.

A tumult of ripping howls, roars and screeches. Cynthia's Pokémon didn't even wait – they just moved towards her team, a Garchomp's twisted skin ramming into Tatiana. A Roserade tangling its vines around, only to be caught by Leila's own.

It was so different, though. Especially for Owl the Gastrodon.

Before, in some of her fights, behind the wrinkled scales and slit-like pupils of Pokémon she had to battle, there had always been some confusion. Some fear.

Against Cynthia, there was none of that. Her Pokémon were warriors.

But so were her companions.

Owl had taken a moment to linger back, eyes searching for when and where to throw herself. From the corner of her eye, she saw Nova circling around Cynthia, a shower of sparks bursting from her sword as it pressed against Cynthia's. But it was only a distraction; already, there was fire slipping from behind the gladiator, coming straight from Tric's fingers. Warm, but slick as a serpent, slithering up the sword before striking at Cynthia's face.

Cynthia made a hiss, and the violent sound of crushing metal rented the air. The Lucario was suddenly by her side, a blue beam levelled to Nova's chest, shooting and sending both herself and the Infernape sprawled against the sand.

Not too far from there, Rhys the Luxray was fighting the long, snake-like Pokémon – the Milotic. They moved like a dancing flame, staggeringly quick, weaving back and forth in their own strange waltz of thunder and water.

The Garchomp was still fighting Tatiana, the Roserade tangled up with Leila, and the other Gastrodon was on the other side of the arena, watching.

Their eyes locked.

And both Gastrodon began the slow crawl to one another.

Nova hadn't expected to be sprawled on the sands this early in the battle.

Tric's flames shimmered close to her, but before she could even groan and stand up, she heard the crunch of steps by her face. When she looked up, the Lucario was already there, taking a swing with its claws, so close that she could feel the heat of its breath even as she yanked Tric back-

A clatter and a growl as its claws scratched her sword, her helm cold against her head. Tric's body leaning against her, the drumming rhythm telling her that his heart was still pounding.

It was Bailey the Staraptor who saved them. He tore through the air, snatching up the Lucario, moving as swiftly as a wraith. The Lucario writhed and howled in Bailey's grasp, and the bird sliced a final deep wound as it tightened its talons around it. Then, as blood oozed out, dark as ink, he dropped the Lucario into the sands.

It fell in the sands with a low thud, but instantly, it began to rise. Cynthia was still a few metres away, too, stomping the fire off her boots. Nova turned to her Infernape.

"Are you hurt?"

Tric gave her a crooked grin.

Then, her Infernape was gone, away from her, and straight for the Lucario.

Nova, herself, took a moment to glance around the sweat-tinged arena.

The two Garchomps were locked with one another. The Milotic and her Luxray were snarling and spitting attacks. Tric was going for the Lucario. The Roserade and her own Roserade circling one another, while the two Gastrodons were approaching one another.

A few thoughts hurtled into Nova's mind, then.

Had Cynthia only used five Pokémon? She had thought there had been something else – a ball of purple, hissing smoke. But she couldn't see anything across the arena.

It didn't matter, she realised.

For, as she staggered onto her feet, Cynthia was moving towards her again. Her armour dark from the burns from Tric's flames, and her eyes dark and cold.

Nova found her own sword.

Prepared for hell.

Owl should have known there would be more to a battle against the freaking Queen of Sinnoh than simply an honourable duel.

But, as always, she had been foolishly hopeful.

She had gotten so close to the other Gastrodon when she heard the warning. Saw Leila get thrown across the arena by the other Roserade. Heard the crack of the air and felt the pain strike her back as coldly and sharply as a whip.

And, before she could move, before she could even cry out, she felt something smooth and long coil around her neck.

And then Cynthia's Roserade was before her, its whip snaking around her throat.

Cynthia threw herself at Nova before their swords could even touch.

Nova felt her stomach sink into her feet as they fell into the sands, hot blood and flesh and bones all rattling within her armour.

Her sword barrelled into Cynthia's shoulder, clanging against the armour. Their arms and legs were tangled together, and she could feel the queen striking her over the head with her blade – but with the armour, it felt more like little slaps. Too light, too frantic.

Only then did Nova realise that Cynthia had one hand on her sword. The other hand was on a silver disk, and she was leaning so close, pressing the little device into Nova's breastplate.

But it didn't matter. Nova ripped her sword into place, raising it to Cynthia's neck.

All she had to do was plunge it in. It would be over. She had won—

Cynthia didn't seem at all bothered.

That should have been alarm enough.

Because, before Nova could press the blade into her neck, she felt a dull ache ring through her body.

Then, agony.

Pulling at her head, at her shoulders, at her lungs and her heart, as if someone was squeezing her flesh from the inside.

Purple smoke was spilling from her breastplate. Cynthia, with a single slash of her sword, sent Nova's blade sprawling.

"Good work, Spiritomb."

Nova was sure that was the end. The pain was so much. There was something inside her head, ringing and burning, and she couldn't even think-

She had lost.

It was over.

Slowly, she began to raise her hands in surrender. Cynthia's sword was already at her throat, pressing dangerously close.

"I—"

Owl couldn't breathe.

Even as her mouth gaped open, the air just wouldn't go in. She felt the cold and slimy edge of Cynthia's Roserade's vine crawl further towards her face and squeeze her neck.

She couldn't even see the Roserade. She could only see the arena walls from the corner of her eyes, could see them closing in. She could feel the air that was thick with moisture, could taste the sweat lingering over her tongue.

But she couldn't breathe.

Already, the darkness was blurring at the corner of her eyes.

She had come here for her gladiator. For glory. For vengeance.

And now, she was going to die here—

Somewhere, somehow, she caught sight of Riley and Joy. By the front row. Waving furiously, hands over their mouths, screaming and crying.

She remembered fighting Riley's own Lucario. The advice he had given her.

"You need to stop relying on your mouth for attacks."

She remembered Nova's response. "Where else is it supposed to come from? Her arse?"

That's what she'd miss most about Nova, she supposed. The one thing so many people forgot about her – her laugh. Her quick wit. That cheeky glimmer in her eyes.

Where else is it supposed to come from?

Her arse?

The words were in her head as the Roserade squeezed tighter.

And Gastrodon closed her eyes.

"Owl, no!"

It was Nova's voice. Despite the gladiator laying on the sands, Cynthia's blade against her throat, she was shrieking for her Gastrodon. Her voice all raw and pained and scared.

Owl felt it, then.

No, she couldn't pull water out of her arse.

But… by the castle, there was that waterfall—

It seemed ridiculous. Impossible.

Still, Owl focused. Found a hum in her head. Sang along to it.

And, as the final breaths escaped her lungs, the ocean called back to her.

It was a sight no other would forget.

For one moment, it seemed like the end of November. Cynthia's blade was pressing down, waiting for the gladiator to admit defeat. The Gastrodon across the arena was seconds away from suffocation. The Garchomp, Infernape and Luxray were helpless, trapped in their own spars, and the Roserade was still wobbling back onto her feet.

Then came a flood.

They knew the arena was by the cavern beside the waterfall. They could all hear the gushing water rampaging down.

But, for a split second, there was utter silence. Even the waterfall seemed to stop moving.

And, instead, a dark shadow loomed over the arena.

Water. A large wave of it, toppling over the arena, black and dark and frothing.

When it crashed into the arena, Lucian had to command his own Alakazam to create a barrier around the audience. It was perhaps the wisest thing the man had done, for the water sloshed over the barrier, over their heads, and gushed into the arena.

From there, no one could see.

For all the Pokémon and people fighting on the sands were beneath water.

It had been incredibly smart, but incredibly stupid.

Cynthia had been thrown back by the wave. The water itself grazed over Nova's face, falling into her mouth, stopping her from finishing her surrender. Across the arena, the Roserade had been swept away, unlatching her vines from Owl – leaving the Gastrodon free to breathe and rise to the surface.

But Nova couldn't swim.

It was an odd sight for Rhys. He had to admit, while his companions annoyed the absolute shit out of him, they had quick wits at times. Bailey had swooped in and grabbed onto Leila, who, in turn, was using her vines to lift Tric and Tatiana in the air. Owl was riding the water, the glossy black of it lapping against her skin, Cynthia's own Pokémon dotting the surface.

Meanwhile, Rhys' head spun as he tried to scan the dark water, searching for a hint of silver. Did humans float? Or would Nova be stuck at the bottom of the flooded arena, waiting helplessly like a lost relic at the bottom of the ocean floor?

He took a tentative dive into the dark.

It was so cold that it stung. It swirled turbid and brown, like a stew of mud and debris, and Rhys forced back a grimace.

The thought of swimming made his skin crawl. The icy teeth of the water were already biting into his fur when he stuck his head in once again, trying desperately to see past the browning water.

He didn't need to turn to know the Milotic's scales were running across his legs.

For a beautiful Pokémon, Owl's water hadn't done it any favours. The eel-like creature was splattered with thick, dark fluid, and wet sand stuck to her face. But Rhys didn't care – for, close to the twisting brown ripples, he had most certainly seen a glimmer of steel.

He was about to throw his body into the water when Milotic lunged towards him. The surface of the water pitted as he tumbled back in, hardly breathing, seeing splashes of brown and silver, litters of arrows and wooden splinters.

A movement caught his eye as a flash of white shot towards him.

Milotic's tail—

It yanked at his ankle. Hot, searing pain lanced through his fur as his back smashed against the wall and water swept across his face.

The water bit his skin as Milotic dragged him down, his throat gurgling, his lungs screaming. The Milotic's tail began to glow purple then, ready to slam into him.

Rhys growled.

He couldn't release thunder at it. Not with Nova in the water. It would kill the gladiator.

So, the second the tail moved for him, he opened his jaws and clamped his fangs down hard. The Milotic shrieked, blood dribbling from its tail, and Rhys instantly hurled it against the wall.

He saw it slam against the stone. Then, swimming up for a gulp of air, he dove back into the bronze waters.

Nova was running out of air.

She and the Spiritomb were there, and she could see its purple spreading across her skin again. She knew what the pain would feel like this time – she would never forget how it had burned, how it felt like someone had been battering her with a burning torch.

But, as the Spiritomb sparked with light, she felt nothing.

There was no hum of pain. There was no fire lacing across her skin. All that was there was the pounding of her heart and the straining of her lungs.

Even Spiritomb was staring at her expectantly, as if it was waiting for something to happen.

Its magic had failed.

Because—

Nova ran her hands down to where the Spiritomb had touched her. And, had she not been buried underwater, she may have screamed.

The skin that the Spiritomb had touched was crusting. The flesh that should have been swollen purple was hardening into something cold, something with sharp ends.

Nova ran her hand over her neck.

Her body was turning into steel.

Was it the plate in her boot? The steel plate? Had it saved her?

Either way, she didn't waste a second as she saw her Luxray swim towards her. She was too heavy with all the armour, and still, she kicked for her life, felt him drag her with all his might, saw the Spiritomb slip into her boot.

Even though the air was hot and stale, she breathed it in as if nothing had ever tasted so sweet when she reached the surface.

Instantly, she heaved herself onto her Gastrodon. Gave Rhys a nod.

Above her, Bailey and Leila were holding up Tatiana and Tric. Cynthia was on her own Gastrodon, her Garchomp floating beside them, the Roserade sitting on top of it. The Lucario was hanging onto a railing, only inches away from the first row of the audience, children squealing at it. The Milotic was completely missing, and the Spiritomb—

Nova tore off her boot. Looked into it.

"You little shit."

She grabbed the silver disk and tossed it into the air. Saw Bailey catch it with its beak. Heard a crack.

Then, the cracked disc fell into the water.

Nova hoped that meant she wouldn't be dealing with that Spiritomb anymore. Rhys even let a bolt of electricity sizzle in the water – it didn't hurt any of the Gastrodons riding the water, nor did it seem to harm Cynthia's Garchomp. But if the Spiritomb and Milotic were still down there…

The water, somehow, was beginning to lower. Perhaps it was the sand absorbing it. Perhaps there were cracks in the arena or the ground, but neither Cynthia nor Nova moved as they felt the water finally sink down.

When most of the water had gone, leaving puddles along the sands, it took Nova everything she had to not collapse. Then, she glanced around.

The Milotic was bleeding against the wall, slightly burnt – possibly from Rhys's lightning strike against the water. The Spiritomb was alive, but it was leaning against the Milotic, completely collapsed and unmoving.

And Nova realised she had taken out two of Cynthia's Pokémon.

She was in the lead.

With the new hope beading her skin, things seemed to only get better from there.

Nova, herself, wasn't sure how much longer she could last. After the water, and the hell from the Spiritomb, exhaustion was tugging at her muscles.

But she couldn't stop.

Not while her Pokémon were behind her, their magic bursting from them as they frantically slipped around Cynthia's Pokémon. Not while she could feel Tric at her back, leaning on her back limply, as if every muscle of his was starting to give in. He was weaker from the water – just like she felt heavier from it.

Still, though, as she glanced over her shoulder, she saw him hurl a band of fire at Cynthia's Roserade, throwing it against the wall. Its head hit the stones, small streaks of blood scraping the wall as it fell to the ground.

Three down.

They were so close—

Tric hissed. Nova turned back to the front, her blade raised.

Cynthia was upon her before she had the chance to cry out. Her hands clung to her wrist, dragging her forwards, slamming their helms together.

Nova twisted and kicked at the queen, but Cynthia was too quick. The queen's boot connected with the thin bones by her ankles, and Nova gasped as she stumbled forwards. Quick and menacing as a snake, Cynthia lashed out at her on the chin.

The gladiator's ears rang as she caught herself. She steadied, breathed in, found her grip, and glanced up.

But Cynthia was no longer there.

Instead, Tric was staggering and grunting behind her. And, as she whirled around, it was almost too late – Cynthia was already darting behind her again, slipping in time with her shadow. She kicked the back of Nova's legs, and the gladiator's knees buckled from the sharpness of it.

Before Nova could scramble to her feet, Cynthia was slipping around her, leaping and slashing at her ankles, her knees, her stomach, her back, making her turn around and round—

Infernape moaned in Nova's arms, and she felt her eyes sharpen. Her head clear.

She had to protect him.

Cynthia could go to hell.

With whatever strength she could pull, Nova jumped back, away from Cynthia, and whistled for Bailey. Instantly, the Staraptor was there, leaving Leila and Owl's side to snatch up Infernape. Tric was bleeding – not too heavily, only where Cynthia had slashed him in the leg, but he would be limping. He would be in danger.

"Take him to safety," Nova hastily said. "Stay in the sky. Don't let him—"

Cynthia was springing forward. Nova caught her sword with her own. Bailey rose in the sky, Tric on his back.

"You're out of practice, Queen Cynthia," Nova managed to mumble.

Cynthia said nothing. She just pressed her sword further.

And Nova knew that no matter what lead she was in, Cynthia's sword hand was simply better. Stronger. Quicker. Especially after Nova had drenched herself heavy with water—

"I wouldn't be too sure about that," Cynthia whispered.

And there was something in that whisper that sent a shiver running up Nova's body.

Then, the roar. Bloodcurdling. Agonising. A bloody, thick gurgle.

And, when she glanced up, she cried out.

Rhys.

The two Garchomps had been sparring. Even when their companions had been switching opponents, using their wit to trick the other Pokémon, the two of them had relentlessly remained together. Claws locked. Slashing and jerking back and biting.

Then, Rhys had tried to interfere. Had tried to snatch the Garchomp from behind, crunch its teeth into it.

And the Garchomp had growled.

Stones had erupted from the ground. Slicing up, like daggers of jagged rock.

Right into his heart.

The stones impaling the Luxray. Rhys, unmoving, eyes staring at the Garchomp. Still glaring, even as those eyes swam with water. Tears.

It was the first time, Nova realised, that she had seen Rhys cry so openly.

She knew she was crying, too. Hysterically. Ignoring Cynthia, darting through the sands like a tempest, her sword dropped behind her. Reaching for her Luxray's head. Cradling it. Screaming into his fur.

No.

Not like this.

No, no, no…

Tric hadn't seen it. He had passed out on Bailey's back, breaths gentle, the bird cawing sadly beneath him. Leila, though, was darting for the Luxray, her flowers already glowing purple and golden spores pouring out.

Cynthia's Lucario tried to stop her, lunging, but Gastrodon slid across the few puddles left along the sands. Mud shot out from her, twisting around the Lucario, and the earth seemed to shift with her. The ground ripped up, and there was a blur of blood and torn sands, of rusty paws and wide eyes—

Then, Owl launched herself onto the Lucario, and they plummeted to the ground. Their howls in the air. The Gastrodon filling the Lucario's mouth with water, until he was choking, flailing, and tangled in the coiling sand the slug had ripped out of the ground.

Nova wanted to tell them to stop. She knew Owl wasn't like this.

But she knew that it was Rhys. It was because of what they had seen.

Leila was curling her vines around the Luxray, trembling.

Even then, with the blood dribbling from Rhys' chest, he was glaring. At that damned Garchomp who had hurt on him. As if, even in his dying moments, he would intimidate it enough to help Tatiana.

"Surrender," Cynthia was saying. "If you surrender, we can heal him. I promise. We can—"

Nova was shaking. She was holding Rhys. "Rhys…"

Finally, the Luxray looked at her. Shook his head.

Don't surrender…

"Rhys, your life is more—"

He snarled at her. Genuine anger in his eyes.

And she knew that, if she dared surrender, she would be hurting him more.

So, she just held him. Prayed Leila's magic would work.

Tatiana was the one who had been most in shock.

One second, she was gripping onto the other Garchomp's wrists.

The next, it had left her, and stones were drilling up her best friend's fur.

This Garchomp had been her opponent.

And she had failed.

She had let Rhys get killed.

Pain struck her heart like a rod of lightning.

She had failed.

The Garchomp was turning back to her. It seemed slightly pale – whether it was feeling some wrenching stab of guilt over impaling a Luxray, or whether it was bloody terrified of Rhys' constant glare, she would never know.

Tatiana just felt herself sinking.

Somewhere, somehow, her heart was falling somewhere. Deep inside her. Burning.

And she became that statue beneath the waterfall.

This time, though, the pain wasn't coming from the lashing of water. It was coming right from her heart. Hot fire slathering in her insides, then ripping it all off, leaving her cold and raw and sore.

Eyes glazed. Not a quiver in her hands, not even a little shudder.

Focused on the Garchomp in front of her. Pain clinging to her.

Finding her inner power. Leashing it.

Then letting it all go.

The sky was alive with a flurry of black and grey leather as the ground shuddered. Boulders – meteors – were tumbling from the air, blazing purple fire around them, hurtling down into the arena.

The first of the meteors – the smallest, perhaps – smashed near the audience. The shield Lucian's Alakazam had raised was already shuddering, thin cracks running across the pink barrier.

Then, the rest fell into the arena.

Nova took one glance at her Pokémon. All of them, but Tatiana, were glancing at her. So desperate. So confused. So lost.

The warmth that spread along her skin felt like it was snarling and biting its way into her blood.

"Everyone, come here!"

Bailey and Infernape were beside her in an instant, and Leila kept her vines around Rhys. Owl slithered over, too.

But Tatiana wasn't moving.

Nova cursed.

Tatiana was going to get herself killed.

The gladiator ran. The air ripped at her armour, even as she tore off her helm. Sand bit her face and stung her eyes as she moved, desperately hoping she would beat the curtain of meteors. She ducked past Cynthia's Garchomp, who was paralysed in fear at the screech of the meteors.

Then, grabbing onto Tatiana, Nova darted back to her Pokémon.

"Protect yourselves," she hissed to all of them. "Leila and Rhys can't do anything, and Tric can't either. Bailey, Owl and Tatiana – by Arceus, all three of you use protect. And don't put me in it."

The last part had them all reeling, but Nova pushed herself away.

Just in time.

The first of the meteors smashed right towards them.

Their barriers instantly formed – Owl's was a light blue, shimmering around all six of the Pokémon. Then came Bailey's, a dusky purple. And, finally, with a confused gaze in her eyes, Tatiana's barrier game, a royal purple.

Nova threw herself on top of the barriers.

And felt the plate by her boot explode over her skin.

Steel rolled out of her boot and over her skin like a plume of smoke. It rained down onto her hair and eyes, licking at her arms and creeping down her legs, reaching feverishly for every bare crevasse of skin like a hungry and desperate beast.

For a second, all she saw was silver.

The silver of her sword. Of Rhys' tears. Of her boots.

Meteor after meteor sunk into her arms, her legs, her back, her head. They struck her fingers, the backs of her knees, her shoulders, her neck. No part left untouched. No skin left bare.

But no blood came. No pain lanced through her.

For her entire body had turned to steel.

The barriers that Tatiana had raised were beginning to crack in the spots Nova had not covered, but their gladiator had shielded them from most of it.

Cynthia's Pokémon had not been as lucky.

Her Milotic, Roserade and Spiritomb were already unable to battle further, and her Lucario had been tied to the sands too.

Her Gastrodon had rushed to her, instantly raising a barrier over them. But her Garchomp—

A meteor struck him.

When he collapsed, she had no idea if he was dead or alive.

It took minutes for the meteors to stop raining down, for the purple flames to dim into the sands. The ground was stained dark, the audience had stopped screaming as the stones had rattled the barrier over their heads, and Nova—

A statue of silver.

That's all she was.

There were mumbles across the audience.

Could she hear them? See them?

Would she return back to normal?

By then, Infernape had woken up – the rumble of the meteors had been enough to snap him onto his feet. He and the Staraptor, her first two Pokémon, had hovered close once the barriers had been lowered.

Tric traced his hands over the gladiator's face.

And, before anyone could stutter, the steel over Nova's face spiralled with cracks. Skin flourished in the broad fissures, metal crumbled to the floor, and splashes of blood and sweat slipped down after it.

And the kingdom of Sinnoh cheered as November of Twinleaf thawed herself back to life.

The arena was a wasteland.

All of Cynthia's Pokémon, except for her Gastrodon, had collapsed. But even that Gastrodon that had survived the bloodbath was no match for Leila, who, with one flick of her flowers, sent petals spiralling around it.

Either the Gastrodon was too scared to fight back, or the petals had been too lethal, for, within seconds, the leaves tore through its skin, and it fell onto the sands.

Leaving Cynthia.

Nova still didn't know what to do.

She just stared at Rhys. At the blood drooling from his mouth.

Surrender. Her body screamed at her to do it. Just let Rhys get proper healing. Save her Luxray.

But she was so close to winning. So damned close. All she had to do was—

A chill stole over her.

She didn't know what to do. She didn't—

Her breath hung in bloody clouds before her lips, and despite the heat, she found herself shivering as she stepped towards Cynthia.

She was going to surrender.

No, she was going to fight.

No, she had to surrender—

A chirp. A gasp of relief.

And, as Nova turned slightly, she saw the green light pouring from Luxray. Saw Leila's bright smile. Saw her Pokémon holding one another and cheering.

She knew it, then. She saw it in her Luxray's gaze.

He would live.

He was going to survive.

So, Nova didn't say a word.

She struck Cynthia, her blade splitting the queen's breastplate asunder. Instantly, Cynthia cried out in alarm, her own blade flashing. Her blade struck home, swiping at Nova's chest and belly. But it didn't slow down the gladiator at all.

She just spun around, cutting at Cynthia's fingers, at her face, ready to rain the sands red.

Cynthia charged, and despite the fatigue, Nova moved swift. Brought up her blade to block the onslaught. And, hard as the queen tried, swift as she was, nothing could stop a will of complete, utter, ruthless steel.

The girl who had loved and lost.

The girl who had come from nothing.

The girl who had risen from the fucking sands to topple a whole empire.

The girl who had her whole life stolen from her because of a single staircase.

Nova's sword sailed past the queen's guard and sliced into her shoulder.

Cynthia spun aside, dropping her blade as she hissed. Then, Nova's foot was in her chest, and she was stumbling. Cursing. Trying to rip away from Nova's grip.

"…would now be a good time to say fuck queen cynthia?…"

And Nova's sword landed on Cynthia's throat.

She wondered what Barry would have said if he could see her. She wondered whether Bebe would have covered her eyes. She wondered if her father would have been proud.

Part of her felt sorrow as she thought it. Pain. An endless, lonely chill.

Then, she saw Cynthia raise her hands. A smile on the woman's lips.

"Just a few moments ago," the queen said, her voice a rasp, "you were the most powerful challenger. And, just now, you became the most powerful in Sinnoh, Queen…"

Silence across the arena as Cynthia dug through her armour. Uncurled a piece of paper.

Nova recognised it immediately. It was the one Cynthia had given her, all those months ago, when she had wanted to change her name.

Cynthia gave her a knowing look.

"If you want to change your name, you can sign it yourself, as the new queen."

And November could only laugh.

Sword dropped. Her gaze turned away from Cynthia. Her shadow rippling darker than ever as she raced towards her Pokémon.

Her champions.

All of Sinnoh rose that day.

Those who had seen the legionary battle. Those who had only heard of it from the whispers of the Starlys across the skies. Those who hadn't heard at all, but felt a strange crackle of electricity in the air.

For that, dearest readers and writers, was the day Queen November took the throne.

DON'T STOP READING! IT'S NOT OVER! There are a few more chapters to come!

And yes. I'm angry. That. Even in the Pokémon League. NOT A SINGLE POKEMON DIED. DO YOU KNOW HOW ANGRY I WAS ABOUT THIS?

Like, yay, it's great and all, but it makes for such a weird 'nuzlocke story' because what's the point if literally none of the Pokémon die?

Nonetheless, the fact that not a single Pokémon died is the whole reason this story became the medieval thing it is. I knew I had to make it more impactful in some way, so I made the world itself a tragedy outside of the Pokémon. I made Nova someone who had to rise from absolutely nothing to conquer things against all odds.

So, hopefully, you still found yourself cheering for her and found that she still faced adversity, even without losing Pokémon.

Also, yes! Nova turned to silver. Those plates are important. Not necessarily for the rest of this story, but in the long haul of those I am writing with. (:

Anyways! Stay tuned! New chapter soon!

Fun fact: with the Garchomp, I quickly realised that my Garchomp vs Cynthia's Garchomp was going to be bad in the game. So, I had quickly switched Tatiana out and sent out Rhys, hoping that Cynthia would have used Dragon Rush [because I had Garchomp out initially] and hoping that Rhys' intimidate would weaken it. BUT NO. SHE USED EARTHQUAKE. AND RHYS WAS LITERALLY ON LIKE 6HP IT WAS TERRIFYING I WANTED TO CRY. And then I switched to Staraptor to lower its attack even more, sent out Tatiana, and she got the job done. (:

My other fun fact was that I used every single Pokémon to take out one of Cynthia's:

Bailey (Staraptor) beat the Spiritomb.

Rhys (Luxray) beat the Milotic.

Owl (Gastrodon) beat the Lucario.

Leila (Roserade) beat the Gastrodon.

Tatiana (Garchomp) beat the Garchomp.

And finally, Tric (Infernape) beat the Roserade.