The voice—the voice that had been haunting her for years—screamed at her again, told her to run far and fast. A horrid feeling swelled within her; one of guilt, rage, panic, and terrible fear. The darkness all around her was accented with staccato beats of footsteps, a sonata of crashes, an orchestra of voices. And no matter which way she ran, she grew no closer to the person she really sought.

She gagged as smoke filled her lungs, suffocating her. Suddenly, flames erupted before her eyes, exploding in sparks that nearly blinded her. They lit the world around her, and she knew where she was. All at once, she was there, her bloody nightgown plastered to her ghostly skin. Her mind was clear, but her heart was drenched in fear. She wouldn't leave—couldn't leave—without the one person she had left.

"Go!" he bellowed from somewhere behind her. Whirling around, she spotted his broken form as he dragged his injured leg along behind him. At least he wasn't trapped. At least the rancid smell of burning flesh that filled the air was not coming from him. Maybe he could escape, if she helped him. Still he yelled, "Go where they can't find you—now!"

She refused to listen. She refused to leave the one person left that she loved. She plunged straight forth, towards him, the very air scorching now. Blazing lames licked at her bloodstained dress and grappled for her scalding skin. Stray sparks bit at her. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she let out a howl.

Finally—finally—she reached him. The smoke had ambushed him far faster than it had her, and he was quickly losing consciousness, coughing and spluttering. If she didn't get him out fast, he would die. She pulled his taller form against her, yanking and tugging, heaving him through the inferno.

The scene changed. Wood slipped out from under her, replaced by stone. The corridor she'd left behind was replaced with a new one that winded and split. A labyrinth. The twisting and turning of tunnels began to make her nauseous—or was that the smoke still? When she reached a break in the maze, what she thought was a way out, it led into magma. She looked up to find the pitch-black sky far, far above. When had she fallen into a volcano? When had it begun erupting?

The last remnant of her old life, the only person she had left, had slipped from her arms somehow. How had she been so foolish to let that happen? Without her to support him, he fell into the magma and was incinerated immediately. She couldn't stop herself from falling after him, only she hit the magma with a splash, as if it were just scalding water.

She sank, whatever breath she had left leaving her lungs searing. The volcano was going to erupt, and then what? Would she burn, would she drown, or would she be hurtled out into the air? The shaking and shuddering of the volcano was deafening, like thunder amplified, and everything exploded with one crash—

Poppy woke with a gasp, gulping down as much air as she could. Another nightmare. She gazed through the darkness to find Belle still asleep in the other bed. It wasn't real. It wasn't. She was in Kanto, in a kind little house. But something had woken her up, some sort of crashing…

It was then that she heard heavy footsteps coming from near the front entryway. Anxious, wondering who it could have been, she sat and set her bare feet down on the chill floor. Her tunic, trousers, gloves and cloak lay folded on the ground by the nightstand, right where she'd left them. She wore one of Belle's old nightgowns (this one thankfully not spattered and soaked with blood, like in her dream.)

Soundlessly, she slipped through the house, crouching around the corner until she saw the man at the door kicking his boots off. For a flicker of a moment, she wondered if Gold had escaped the soldiers that had taken him, but it was only Emerald, she realised as he stepped into the dim light filtering in through the windows. It couldn't have been too late if the streetlights had not yet gone out, but late enough for Poppy to step out of the shadows and watch him warily. Where had he been all day and half the night?

He seemed to know exactly the sort of position he was in—the sort that could get him into lots of trouble with his younger, frantic siblings—so he observed Poppy with equal caution, remarking, "Those are some interesting wrappings you've got there."

Poppy looked down at her arm, where the black cloth was most significant. She knew he could spy it on parts of her legs as well. She took in his own battered appearance. "The same goes for you, I'm afraid." It was his turn to glance at his bandaged hand. The white material seemed new; the injury was recent.

The two regarded each other tensely. Finally, he declared, "This didn't happen," and stalked off.

And it hadn't—not really. For the following day, as the three blonde siblings and their strange guest drifted to the kitchen, Emerald spared her not a glance. In fact, he seemed far too distracted by the fact that there was no breakfast there.

Emerald and Pearl both immediately turned to their sister, who scoffed. "You silly boys, thinking that only women can handle these sorts of tasks. Well, you're wrong. I'd make some breakfast for you lot, but it would only come up again minutes later." She grimaced. "How about you, Pearl? Have you any culinary knowledge in that thick head of yours?"

Pearl scowled. "I cannot make a single without burning it to a crisp, and Emerald's cooking always tastes raw because he's too impatient to see it through."

Thus, all gazes fell upon Poppy, who tilted her head to the side. "Why must you assume that because I'm a girl I know what to do?" she mumbled, her voice level but questioning. It didn't stop her from trudging past them and making them all milk toast.

Emerald flinched when he heard a knock at the door in the midst of devouring his toast, recalling the news that he'd woken up to: Gold and Crystal had been taken away to the castle. Pearl and Belle had spent the entire morning plotting ways to get them back—ways that would never work, mind you. But though the knock at the door seemed rather polite, as far as knocks went, it still set them on edge.

Emerald rose from the table and stomped to the door when nobody else took initiative. He slid open the panel he'd installed in the door—which Pearl had ultimately forgotten the day before—and was surprised to find that Tourmaline stood outside. She wore a dress once again, so she must have been pulled quickly from her home, and behind her stood—

Emerald reeled back and yanked open the door. Without even so much as a word to his siblings and that funny Poppy girl, he rushed outside, slammed the door shut behind him, and fell to both knees.

"Oh, for the love of all that is good, get up," ordered the woman behind Tourmaline. She wore a cloak, but Emerald would recognise her anywhere.

"What has happened?" he asked. "Is there another riot?"

"We fear that there will soon be worse," Tourmaline said. "Rebels have taken Hoenn. It is only a matter of time before they launch a greater attack. Emerald, we need everyone together. Our current system has worked thus far, but if we're to fight back, we need every single man we have."

Emerald nodded, but his heart hesitated just a bit—what would become of his siblings? He couldn't take them with him. That was certain. But would they be alright?

"I understand," he said anyways, like a good toy soldier marching in line. He turned to the hooded woman. "However, milady, something awful has happened. I know you are aware that Gold Schuyler was staying in this house with my family, but palace guards took him yesterday. I'm worried that they will harm him. I think that you'll want to see what is going on over there."

The woman nodded curtly, though he could tell this had shaken her. "Yes, yes, I will. Now, get your things, soldier. We've got work to do."

Copper was something of a joke amongst the palace guards. They all figured him daft for hiding out all the time, they didn't see the logic that if someone were sneaking in, they would take out the guards standing in plain sight first. He had the element of surprise. But, of course, they thought him mad and left him some of the lesser jobs of being a guard.

Like going through the letters. He had to wait in the receiving chambers, where messenger pigeons or couriers would leave packages and letters to courtiers in the castle. Unless told strictly not to, Copper and whatever unlucky pages they stuck with him would have to open the parcels to make sure they were not laced with poisons. He had to quickly scan the notes for threats. He had to search and make sure nothing was being smuggled.

At first, he had thought this task might be interesting. After all, the only thing standing between the king and death by a cleverly-laced poison could be him! He could save any courtier, really, from tricks. But, as it turned out, the job was entirely dull. Hardly anything went amiss during deliveries. Packages usually contained frivolous baubles, and letters were mostly about business or love. And what did he care about that? It hardly compared to his guard shifts crouching in the brush around the hidden side gate, though even that was boring him as of late. After all, it was so much less exciting now that Princess Crystal was gone for good. When he saw her safely through the gate, it felt like he was some sort of secret keeper of hers.

But she had gone to Kanto and would not return, and so Copper was left to his usual jobs. He figured that maybe with the war in full swing, he would have to intercept something in the receiving chambers. Maybe a bluebird would come in, and nobody but him would realise that the bird of Sinnoh was delivering something suspicious. Then, maybe, he would save the day.

He was just skimming a note—quickly; apparently this needed to go to the king with great haste—when his eyes caught on the name Crystal Oak. What sort of dismal business was he dealing with now?

But it was nothing gloomy at all. He nearly jumped when he read the words Crystal Oak is alive!

He flew from his chair instantly, sending some owls flapping their wings, surprised, and effectively frightening two pages. If he let this letter sit with all the others, it would just be lazily flopped upon the king's desk. No, he had to get this to the king straight away. He took off through the hallways, wondering how he could manage to give it to the king. After all, guards wouldn't let him through to seek Green Oak. He was a measly guard.

The answer nearly passed right by him. Thankfully, he had enough mind to turn round and run straight back to where he'd seen Blue. She stood before a window, gazing out into the courtyards in some near-empty corridor. She was neglecting her duties for certain, but from her faraway expression, he knew she was still mourning the princess. Absent-mindedly she stroked the velvet-soft head of the grey cat in her arms.

Not bothering to ask why in all the seas she had a cat, Copper thrust the letter into her hand. "Blue!" he spluttered, panting. "Please, you must read this. Read it, and give it to the king!" Although the young maid looked puzzled, Copper was pleased. He knew of Blue's friendship with both the princess and the new king. She wasn't the type of woman to be fazed by the guards often flanking the new king. She would get it to Green.

Satisfied, Copper returned to his post, realising that even his small job might have some effect.

Green knew far better than to have his guards dismiss Blue when she insistedupon seeing him right away. He was in his grandfather's office—well, he supposed it was his now—trying to keep the writing on the papers before him from blurring. He was just getting a headache from the state of the five warring nations when she burst into the office. Safely tucked against her side with one arm was Red's absurd cat. In her other hand she waved an open envelope.

"Green," she started. Her eyes were wide and serious as he'd ever seen them, her face pale. "Green, she's alive."

There was only one person Blue could have been talking about. Green rose and snatched the letter from her hand. He read it as fast as he could, his eyes gliding over the words again and again, reading and rereading. It couldn't be true. He'd seen Crystal fall out of a second-story window, out of a flaming building. It was an image that had been haunting him for days.

But it said right on the page: the princess had fallen out of a window and was caught by a citizen below.

Someone had caught her, and she was alive, for certain. They would not send him this letter if they were not completely sure it was her.

An enormous weight was lifted off of his shoulders in but a few moments. Blue watched him with such hope and glee in her expression, and all he could say was, "She's alive." Blue burst into giggles, hysterical with her relief. She brushed tears from her eyes. "She's alive," he repeated. Just saying it made him believe more and more. He felt his lips spread into a smile.

Squeaking in shock, Blue found herself swept into an embrace. Muffin scrambled from her arms onto the ground. Blue tensed, but realised that Green had felt the same thing she did: that whatever invisible barrier that had existed between them had been broken down long ago. She allowed herself to bring her arms up around him and pull him tight against her.

Keeping her arms hooked around his neck, she pulled back to observe his bright emerald eyes. "You really don't look much like her."

"She never did, not even when we were children," he replied. "She always resembled my grandfather and father just a bit, but not much. She hardly looks like me or our parents. Then again, I never really saw much of her when we were little…" He shook his head. "No matter. She's alive, and that's all that counts."

Green still remembered the first time he'd laid eyes on Lottie. She was hardly a year old—and had spent that first year being shown off by their parents until they grew tired of her—when their grandfather fetched Green and brought him to where his mother, father, and father's sister were. Green's memories of that aunt were vague but warm—though nobody spoke of her anymore, because she either died or disappeared or shamed the family name. It was difficult to tell with nobles, and Green didn't like to ask questions.

But he did recall his aunt reaching for his tiny hand and leading him to the bassinet, saying, "Come say hello to your new sister, Green." It was she who introduced him to Crystal, not his parents, whom he hadn't seen for months, it seemed.

Green probably would not admit it to anyone, not even Blue or Crystal herself, but when he had thought his sister was dead, he was scared. Few things frightened his logical, well-learnt mind, and losing the only family he had left certainly did. His first instinct was to rush immediately to Kanto to see her, but he knew better than to be so rash. He had a duty to his kingdom, and that, unfortunately would have to be put first. At least Blue would be by his side, no matter what. He wasn't sure when that had become so important to him.

Green pulled Blue into him again, and this time it felt like more than celebration. Tucking her head into the crook of his neck, trying to calm her thundering heartbeat, she echoed softly, "That's all that counts."

"We did not think this through."

Tanzanite sighed slightly as she trouped along beside Cheren. The serious boy was clutching a map of the city and peering down at it critically through his spectacles. It was true; they hadn't thought of a way of contacting Belle once they reached Unova.

"We could see if anyone knows her," Tanzanite suggested.

"She was only here for two months, and this city is enormous!" Cheren shot back. "Our best chance would be finding her friends, but even they will be difficult to locate. And one of them is the bloody president's son! How are we supposed to find him?"

"The president's son?" Tanzanite asked, her eyes flicking to some market stands that they were passing.

"Yes. She stumbled upon him one day in a café." If Tanzanite had been paying any attention, she probably would have noticed the hint of jealousy in the boy's voice.

Instead, she'd wandered away for a moment, fishing coins out of her small bag. Within seconds, she was speeding back to Cheren, still engrossed in his map.

She waved a new clump of papers in his face—a newspaper. "I know where the president's son is!"

The Castelia City hospital was busy and bustling, like any hospital. A fair sum of patients were still recovering from Kanto's attack of the city. Tanzanite knew how hospitals worked—nobody would tell you where anyone was unless you were a family member. She tried to straighten and look confident as she strode over to one of the nurses. Cheren was in tow, mumbling, "This is not a good idea…"

"Excuse me," Tanzanite started, ignoring him. "My name is—" she struggled for a fraction of a moment with a name, "—Quartz Harmonia, and this is my brother, Agate." She winced. She and Cheren had roughly the same deep blue hair, but that was where the similarities ended. "And we'd like to see our cousin, who's been admitted. We're not sure where he is though." Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Cheren cringe. It was never going to work, even though the president's son did have many adopted cousins.

But the nurse only watched them with a wide-eyed, frightened look about her. "You're Ghetsis Harmonia's niece and nephew?" Tanzanite nodded warily. The nurse only seemed to get more scared. What did she think they were going to do? "Right this way," she said.

There was a burly man nearby the hospital room who appeared to be a guard from the president's estate, and the nurse only nodded at him as she led Tanzanite and Cheren to the room where Black Harmonia was staying, announcing, "Mister Harmonia, your cousins are here to see you."

All they could hear was a voice say, "Really?" before they stepped through the doorway into the room and the nurse all but bolted away. Tanzanite wondered who the president's actual nieces and nephews could be, and why the nurse was so afraid of them.

Two young men were in the room, one sitting up straight in the hospital bed, and the other rising from his chair as soon as the two strangers entered. Though lanky and fragile-looking, the uninjured boy was fairly tall, older than the bedridden boy, and protective of him as well.

The president's son looked to his friend. "Wally, these are not my cousins," he said simply, a sort of wry, confused humour in his voice.

"I can see that," the other boy replied. He wasn't very good at looking threatening with those kind green eyes of his.

"Wait, please," Cheren said, bravely stepping forward. "We're friends of Belle." Both boys visibly paled and exchanged glances. "We came to look for her," Cheren went on.

Black Harmonia shook his head, averting his brown eyes to the sheets of his bed. "I'm sorry, but we don't know where she is. We were trying to help my real cousins, but a few of them betrayed us. Now we've got no clue where any of them are, or where Belle and our friend White are."

Tanzanite's shoulders slumped. They'd come so far to find that Belle had disappeared. Still, something bothered her. "Have I seen you two before? You both seem quite familiar. And what sort of name might Wally be?"

The green-eyed boy said, "It is short for Wallace, after my father, Wallace Haeres."

Tanzanite's eyebrows knit together. She took a few seconds to connect the name in her mind like one might connect stars in constellations, before she gasped and dropped to both of her knees. "My Prince!"

"What?" Cheren spluttered.

"Oh, here we go," Black muttered. "Yes, yes, this is Wally Haeres. But, the question is, who are you two? And how did you find us?"

Tanzanite looked over at him. "My name is Tanzanite, and this is Cheren. He's a good friend of Belle's, and I'm a good friend of her family. I'm from Unova originally, but my family moved to Johto. Belle wrote us plenty of letters, so we knew you were her friends. And the city's newspapers told us that you had been shot…"

Black cursed the media. Wally looked uncomfortable.

"Hang on, who is this 'Wally Haeres'?" Cheren asked.

"He's the former prince of Unova," Black replied nonchalantly, "which is why Tanza—Tanzanite? Blimey, that's hard to say. Can we call you Tansy?"

Wally whirled on him. "Black, you cannot just give people names like that!"

"You and Prez never seem to mind."

"Tansy is fine," Tanzanite replied shyly.

"Well, if you're all done with the greetings, Tanzanite and I are going to look for Belle," Cheren interrupted matter-of-factly. The truth was, he had no clue where to even start searching for Belle. He did know, though, that Tanzanite would come with him. She was too considerate to leave his side.

"We'll help you," Wally offered. "She's our friend, too." He looked to Black. "What say you?"

Black's brown eyes suddenly seemed darker. "I agree. We should find her. But I want to look for White as well." He had to build a resistance and save his cousins and protect the nation from its rulers, but White came first. He couldn't do anything without her by his side. He simply couldn't.

Cheren, surprisingly, seemed to be the only one who understood what that expression on his face meant. It was odd how complete strangers could have such similar feelings, such similar allegiances to important people they'd lost track of.

"It's agreed, then."

While Gold was the one in the royal dungeons, Crystal felt like she was in a prison of her own.

There were guards stationed outside her chamber doors—a blatant statement enough that she wasn't permitted to leave. She hadn't tried to yet, but she knew they were not there to keep other people out, considering they routinely let in maids. Though her chambers were spacious, the confinement was driving her mad. She felt as if she was just a little bird, trapped in a cage.

And it disgusted her that she'd been captured by Lance Corvus. He wanted her back in the castle, where he could control her. He wanted to keep all of his things where he could see them, all of his chess pieces before him. Maybe he had tracked her down and dragged her back to the palace, but he sure as hell couldn't keep her locked up for long.

There were no convenient trees or ivy outside any of her windows, but there was one balcony a level below her own, and she was just desperate enough to lower herself over the side of her balcony, and drop down onto the second. It jarred her knees painfully, but she was out of her chambers and in the castle proper in a cinch.

As soon as she could find it,

Crystal raced down the stairs of the dungeon. No guards called out to her, somehow. No one questioned her.

The dungeon was dark, damp, and dank. The walls and floors were stones and bars and moss and armour. She flew past guards and cells and leaks and pipes. Either there were few occupants, or the prisoners were being quiet, or the blood was pounding so hard in her ears that it was like cotton balls had been stuck into them, because she hardly heard a thing, just distant clanging.

Finally, she reached the very last cell down one corridor, where she knew he was being kept, and knelt to the ground, her hands tight against the bars to keep herself steady. It was a difficult sight to bear, but there was Gold, on the other side of those putrid bars. He was bleeding. What had they done to him?

"Hi there, little bird," he croaked and she could have sobbed. "You look very pale."

"And with good reason." She blinked, not wanting him to see her break down. How her heart hurt watching him wince every time he moved a muscle. "How could they do this?"

"They just can, and so they do," he replied. She was not sure of exactly what he said, though, since it came out in gruff grunts. "This ain't the finale, though."

Her stomach twisted. "You're not saying…"

"Oh, but I am." He lifted his head just a bit more, so that she could see his face better. His amber eyes only shined brighter in the dark. "I'm going to die."

"You're not!" she shot back. "I won't let them kill you!"

He stood and turned in a circle, shoving his hands through his messy hair, frustrated. "You can't stop them, Crystal—don't you see?" His fist landed on the stone wall. "None of us can stop them from getting what they want, and what they want now is to eliminate any pests who've gotten too close to home." He paused, taking a ragged breath and leaning his head on his arm, still against the wall. "Yellow is dead. They killed her, too. And it's all my fault."

The weight in Crystal's chest was almost too much to bear. She could hardly breathe as she stood. How could Yellow have been taken from the world so easily? "It's not your fault, Gold, and it's not hers either. I know that she couldn't have done anything wrong. It must have been a misunderstanding."

"It wasn't." He faced her again. "They thought she was a traitor because inside her locket was ammolite, the stone of the Hoenn royals." He swore horribly. "She trusted me, and I got her killed. I told her that I would keep her safe, and now she's dead." He hung his head in shame. "She was a sister to me, Crystal. And nobody even knew that when they executed her."

She reached her hand through the bars. Thankfully, he stepped closer and gave her his hand in return. She held it tight. "It is horrible, I know. I miss her as well. But—" she choked on her words, biting back her tears, "I don't want you to die. I don't want you to leave me, because when everyone else had gone, you followed me. And I know that I would follow you, to the ends of the world and beyond. Please, please, do not give in for a single moment; do not die without a fight, or else I will never forgive you."

"I love you," he replied, and only that.

The bars between them meant so much more than keeping a prisoner away. It meant keeping him away from her. But society be damned; she'd break down those bars herself if that's what it took to get him back.

A/N: GOT A BIT CARRIED AWAY WITH THAT NIGHTMARE, I DID. I read dream sequences in stories, but they're just memories on repeat. And I wonder: does that really happen? If I'm thinking about something a lot, or if something is making me worried, I may have a dream related to it, but nothing clear and relevant, like these mystical-memory-dreams seem to be. So, Poppy's dream referenced a memory, but it was also confusing and warped and dream-like. Also, dreams where you're running tend to mean that you're running from something in reality.

Speaking of running from things...I am SO sorry for the delay AGAIN! This time, I actually sort of have a reason, because school recently started for me and I already have a lot to do, so I'm very sorry. BUT I have a plan for this. I know it all seems confusing now, but I hope it'll make sense in a few chapters. If I play my cards right, it'll be done soon. No more filler now. Nope, now it's all ACTION!

Rant over! Thank you for reading and waiting! It honestly means SO MUCH to me. So thank you.
-Silvia

Disclaimer: I do not own Pokespe or anything else.