As the S.S. Mystic Milotic docked in the shipyard, Florent Lambourne sighed to himself. He was annoyed he even had to bother with something like this, but that's what he got for being complacent. Reckless. Horny.

He stared out over the dark Azure sea, deciding he didn't have it in him to stand just yet. So much work to be done, so much on his plate. Leave it to the birth of a goddamn baby to make it worse.

Whipping his swivel chair back around to face his desk again, he grasped at the pile of papers that had been presented to him. The ones that gave him everything he needed to know about his plan for the evening.

Galar was always home to him. He'd spent most of his life there with no plans to uproot. The food was good, the architecture was astounding, and the opportunities…well, they were knocking. Not to mention the women were in abundance, just as eager to approach him at the first sign of his wealth as anyone would be. Nobody had caught his fancy until he met her.

Her. The absolute bane of his existence.

Vienna was leaps and bounds above any other woman he'd laid eyes on. Hair like a luxray's mane, skin glowing like a morelull's, lips as red as a magmar. So enticing. And her body? Unmatched.

She knew damn well she had a choke-hold on him, too. And she played him like a goddamn fool.

It'd been about seven months since she left him standing at the entrance of her college dorm, wallowing in his idiocy. She thought she could simply avoid telling him she was returning to her home region without telling him her real name. She thought she could skirt around him, spin him up in her web of lies, and get off scot-free.

Never. Not in a million years. People who tried to play him for a moron always lost their heads, literally and figuratively. Vienna, despite the grip she'd had on his heart, was no different. Especially not after what she'd done.

He shuffled through the papers again, finding the notes his spies had put together. She'd said she was Kalosian, and he believed her just based on her accent alone. He was pleased to know there was one thing about her that was truthful.

It'd been a while since he'd come to Kalos. He'd have enjoyed it more if he weren't seeing red.

Anybody would be livid if something were stolen from them, right? What was it with Kalosians thinking they could just take things from him? First it was that slimy Jean-Louis, and now—

Something tickled the inside of his right ear, and Florent's jaw instinctively clenched.

It seems we've arrived, spoke the literal devil on his shoulder. Soon, we'll have the family back together again.

"I don't understand how this could have happened if the ball was locked," Florent said, thumbing his lower lip, his maroon eyes locked on the page he held. Reading the words for the twentieth time in a row.

I've already clarified that I'm just as perplexed as you. However, if we've found the correct source, I can assure you that recapturing Venira will be a simple task.

Florent was silent for a beat. "And you're sure none of the guards had it on them?"

A chuckle. As much as I did enjoy the extended dinner, rest assured that I have not lied about that.

Florent sighed gruffly and settled back into his chair, palming his face. That was…what, twenty men becoming Gulattive's meal? Of course, the Pokemon of Gluttony wouldn't mind that, but that was par for the course.

Gluttony. Liking things in excess. Making Florent do things in excess.

It seemed like a good idea at the moment, the punishment for letting Venira escape being death. But, thinking about it days later with a much clearer head, he could feel the regret settling in.

Team Enigma was no small gang. Much more significant than any organized crime group. And slowly growing. But they couldn't afford such a loss. Yet, Florent hadn't hesitated to throw all who were on duty at the time of the Pokemon of Wrath's escape into Gulattive's mouth.

Rolling his shoulders, he steeled himself with a sharp breath.

They were examples. Examples of why not guarding his prized possessions with their lives was a horrible idea. The next subjects to fill their places would know better once Venira returned to her place in the keep.

"You do tend to pull my leg, Gulattive. Pardon me for wanting to make sure," he replied, letting a rancorous smile upturn his lips as he spoke.

I have no reason to lie about Venira escaping into your newest bastard.

The smile fled off Florent's face, replaced by a scowl he should have probably saved for the confrontation he was about to have. His gaze zeroed in on a specific paragraph.

It has been confirmed that on December 14th, 1997, at 8:16 pm, target Vienna Cinq-Mars gave birth to a baby girl. The child was born eight weeks premature and has been admitted to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit at Mount Molteau Hospital. Vienna Cinq-Mars suffered tremendous blood loss as a result of placental detachment and–

It was nice to know that at least she'd suffered, but it was unfortunate she was so resilient. She could have died in childbirth and taken the baby with her.

Florent began to wonder how Vienna thought she would get away with it. She'd never even informed him she had gotten pregnant. Part of him wondered if she'd even known herself, but that was beside the point. She still left without telling him, which was criminal in itself.

It was one thing for Vienna to have lied about her age—he'd remembered thinking she looked a little young to be twenty-four, but he'd decided to chalk her youthful appearance up to her immaculate Kalosian genes, as it seemed those women never aged—but it was another to leave without warning, then bear a child that somehow managed to inherit his most powerful asset.

Florent couldn't afford another illegitimate kid running around with his claim to power within them. The Blood Legendaries were his and his alone to bestow, especially concerning that one Pokemon of Wrath.

He needed to kill that baby. Tonight. And maybe Vienna, too, just out of pure spite. As pretty, as rambunctious, as entirely conniving as she was, she'd make a splendid snack for Gluttony.

He'd normally have one of his operatives carry out the acts, but this was a special case. He wanted to see the life drain from the baby's face. He wanted to tell Vienna the baby was dead, then perhaps see the horror in her eyes as she realized she would be next. It would be some fabulous revenge.

As he silently imagined his personal murder spree, a knock rang out from the door to his office. He dropped his papers and sat up straighter. "Come in, please."

The door swung open slowly, and in walked his right hand and closest confidant, Silvain. "Your grace, the ship is set to disembark. There is a car waiting out front for you."

Florent let out another sigh and finally willed himself to stand.

"How hard can it be to kill a premature baby?" he muttered.

Surely not difficult, Gulattive replied, which is why it must be done.

There was a forcefulness in Gulattive's tone that sent an involuntary chill up Florent's spine. He'd never been scared of the legendary, but there was a level of edge to the 'mon that sent Florent's survival instincts into a frenzy. He sometimes wondered how they'd made it thirty-four years together with little incident.

He couldn't help but notice how dead-set Gulattive was on keeping Venira at bay. She was the strongest, but she'd been stuck in her ball for years. Gulattive had seemed convinced that that was for the best.

All it did was pique Florent's interest.

The seven legendaries had been with his family for the last millennia, and none of them had managed to get Venira out of her ball. She was dead to the world up until now. Would Florent have been better off being the vessel for Wrath instead of Gluttony? Now that she had decided to awaken, he had to consider the possibilities…

"You're quite invested in this," he commented.

Venira is a tyrant, Gulattive snapped. She must be kept at bay, or she'll destroy all of us.

The sudden outburst caused Florent to jolt, effectively ceasing his trek out of his office. Silvain, ever steeled, didn't move. But, the two were left staring at each other dumbly until Florent could force himself to move again.

"I would be surprised if the embodiment of Wrath weren't a tyrant," he said evenly before continuing forward.

Florent was set on making his way to the ship's exit when a thought occurred to him. He once again stopped mid-step, leaving Silvain to gaze upon him quizzically. Florent didn't acknowledge him as he checked his watch.

9:31 pm. Past Armel's bedtime.

His brow furrowed. He'd been so caught up in tracking down his other kid that he'd begun to neglect the one he already had on hand. He honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten a good look at the six-year-old's face…

There was time for a detour.

"Please give me a moment. I need to see something first," he said.

xXx

Armel's room was a deck up, with all the more oversized bedrooms. Not too far out of the way of his office. He'd make this quick, then be on his way.

Florent pushed the door open to his son's room, eyes squinting in the dark. At least the room was dark. Florent expected at least a lone light shining into one of Armel's books as he evaded sleep with his reading. Florent supposed the boy could be doing much worse things while staying up past 9, but…bedtime was bedtime. He was the boss, and that was that.

Stepping into the room, he was greeted with faint snoring. With a few tiptoed steps, he was near the bed, watching Armel's chest rise and fall at its slow pace. Out cold for the night. Good.

His eyes slowly roved over Armel's sleeping form, and for the briefest moment, he felt himself second-guessing his plans. He very well could kidnap the child and bring it aboard. Raise it like he was Armel; the boy was constantly complaining about a lack of companionship, like the Blood Legendary he harbored wasn't enough for him. Though Florent realized one could only handle so much of the Pokemon of Greed for so long, especially a six-year-old. Eating at his thoughts, making him the poor amnesiac he was.

Florent often found himself annoyed with the impulsiveness Gulattive gave him. Still, he was sure it was far more manageable than dealing with a mind-eater like Avareed. Waking up every day forgetting most of, if not all, of the day previous. Needing to write it all down as a reminder. So much for a child of Armel's age to be dealing with. A sibling to confide in would suit him since he was still too young for another Pokemon partner.

But Florent didn't want to deal with this with another kid. Especially not a kid holding the Pokemon of Wrath. He could barely be bothered with Armel most of the time, but with Armel and a newborn? A newborn he didn't even ask for? Not that he'd asked for Armel, but things happened. It was Florent's fault for not being careful about who he invited back to his room and doubly because he wasn't vigilant with his contraceptives. Besides, somebody had to hold Greed, and he supposed it was best off in his own kid.

Not Wrath, though. He wanted Wrath to go to somebody of his choosing now that she was awake. Preferably himself somehow. Not a baby. Not the baby of the woman who played him.

Cutting his gaze to the nightstand next to Armel's bed, Florent noticed the boy's journal neatly stacked next to the lamp. The one that held every minute of every day, lest he forget about it the next morning. Without thinking, Florent approached the stand and took the journal in his hand, flipping through the full, wrinkled pages to the most recent ones. It looked like Armel would be needing a new book soon. Florent made a mental note to have one of the nannies pick one up.

He lazily skimmed the words, noticing how Armel's handwriting seemed to fluctuate between immaculate and absolute combusken scratch. Florent had half a mind to wake and chastise him about it, but he caught himself on the thought and shook it off. No, that was no reason to wake a sleeping boy. He'd bring it up with the tutors in the morning and leave it at that.

In a moment of curiosity, he flipped to some earlier entries. With a quick skim, he found one that stood out.

April 4th, 1997.

Galar.

Father brought a friend home today. Her name is Vienna. She has big hair and big lips and is very pretty. She is also very nice. The stuffed impidimp is from her. We like Vienna.

Florent's rage surged, and he reached over to shake Armel. He stopped as his hand landed on the boy's back.

No. No. Even poor Armel had been fooled. It wasn't his fault. Let him sleep in bliss, he thought.

With a shaky breath, Florent flipped back to the newer entries.

There wasn't much of note. Just things about his meals, what he was learning in his lessons, more reminiscing about Pokemon partners. A few notes on nonsense conversations he'd had with Avareed, which he could barely understand. Kids were strange, especially when they had primordial legendaries stuck to them.

He was about to shut the book when he flipped to one of the entries from earlier in the week.

December 14th, 1997

Galar.

One of the Pokemon got out today. Venira is what father called it. He yelled a lot and threw all the guards that were there in the lower part of the boat. Gulattive ate them, and father made me and the others watch. I was really scared of how much they screamed. It sounded like it was hurting. It was an accident, and I don't think they deserved it. But father told me that he didn't care and that I needed to learn. I don't know what I need to learn but I didn't like that lesson. Father is scary when he's like that.

Blood smells bad. I hope I don't end up like that.

Florent's eyes slipped shut as he exhaled slowly. Now the regret was gripping him entirely.

An example had been made, yes, but at what cost? What was a young boy like Armel supposed to take from watching a group of grunts get eaten alive? Fear that it could be him at some point? What the hell had Florent been thinking?

Armel couldn't be kept under Florent's thumb with Avareed if he was afraid of him. Besides, the boy was too young for gore like that. Perhaps when he was older, he'd be able to stomach it better.

Florent grasped the page and tore it out in a single flick. Crumpling it, he sat the journal down and turned back for the door. He didn't get very far before the blankets on the bed rustled.

"Father?"

Another slow exhale as Florent stopped in his tracks. He gripped the paper in his fist and turned his head. "What are you doing up?"

Every time Florent looked at Armel, he always found himself amazed at how much the boy resembled him. From the face to the hair, to the maroon glow in his eyes-the true sign of a Lambourne born with a Blood Legendary. Genetics really were unreal. As much as Florent hadn't wanted to be a father, it was quite neat to have a miniature version of himself. Hopefully, he could raise it to act the same as well.

It was a few seconds before Armel responded with a yawn. "I…I heard a noise."

"I was just checking your windows," Florent replied. "Go back to sleep."

He didn't give him a chance to reply before exiting the bedroom.

"Your grace," Silvain spoke, catching his attention. Florent raised his gaze to meet his assistants, only to see that he was being handed a lab coat, what looked to be an I.D, his dampening device, and Venira's repaired pokeball.

"These are for you. The subjects in the lab were able to fashion a working keycard for ease of access. You should be able to get into all the wards without much hassle.'

Florent pursed his lips and took the items, eyeing the I.D. closely. It looked official. It felt official, too. With a doctor's coat on, nobody would know what he was up to unless he was stupid.

"You've outdone yourself," he praised as he began slipping the coat over his shoulders. "This should go rather smoothly then, hm?"

When he was sure the coat was snuggly in place and he had everything he needed, he handed Gulattive's ball to a puzzled Silvain.

"You don't require Gluttony's assistance?" he asked.

"I'd prefer if I didn't have him screaming in my ear while I'm trying to practice stealth," Florent replied. Some time away apart was always good. The hospital was a solid two-and-a-half-hour drive from the shipyard, so Gulattive would be too far away to interfere. And Florent would have his dampener with him, so no mental interference would happen either.

He wanted to do this alone, without an eldritch god bossing him around. Or doing something rash.

I do not scream in your ear. I speak firmly into your ear, Gulattive protested.

"Of course, sir. I will guard him accordingly."

"I trust that you will."

As Florent stepped onto the ramp leading off the ship, Gulattive's voice began to tickle his ear again.

I'm quite offended that you think I won't be an asset to you for this, he said.

And I don't trust that you won't eat the child yourself and cause me more strife. Let me handle this on my own, Florent thought back sternly.

He flicked on the small radio-shaped device, its dull purr indicating to him that it was working. Even if Gulattive did respond, Florent didn't hear it.

xXx

The ride over to the hospital was entirely uneventful. Though, Florent did enjoy watching the passing buildings and foliage. Kalos was a beautiful region. Once all of this blew over, he would try to enjoy it.

As the car rolled on, he shuffled through his notes again. Reading up on who he was up against.

The child was born nearly two months premature. That was an issue in itself. Aside from being grossly underdeveloped before her birth, she was diagnosed with respiratory distress syndrome, severe hypotension, and anemia. It was a wonder she managed to survive to make it into the NICU.

Vienna was also spending time in an intensive care unit. She'd suffered traumatic blood loss due to placental detachment, leading to early birth. Clearly the Birth Curse in effect, he realized with a shake of his head. One of the perks of having a pact with seven eldritch gods.

However, Vienna was stable and expected to recover fully, and even the baby showed signs of progress, even after only a few days. Of course, this would be one instance in the birth of a Lambourne-where they became tethered to one of the Blood Legendaries-when nobody died. Truly obnoxious.

It'd taken quite a long time for his spies to track her down. There were many women named "Vienna" in Kalos, though none quite as pretty. But Vienna's father being a cop and her mother being a well-renowned coordinator helped. Much information about their genius daughter, set to go to Professor school on a full scholarship. Vienna Cinq-Mars, the brain. Vienna Cinq-Mars, the player.

He felt ridiculous, putting so much stock in an eighteen-year-old. He supposed he had a right, as he'd been under the impression that she was much older the entire time they saw each other. How was he supposed to know she'd been lying about her age? How was he supposed to deduce that she was fucking with him?

Yes, he was certain he should take her out, too. Nobody needed to know he got played by a barely legal girl. Maybe it was deserved; he was a fool.

Even so late at night, Mount Molteau hospital was still bustling. A wailing ambulance pulled up to the emergency room entrance as they drove through the campus. They passed numerous cars and buses on their way to the main building, where the maternity ward was.

The car didn't park, instead pulling off to the side near what looked to be a back entrance. The door was closed, and a keycard reader was embedded into the wall next to it. Florent slipped out of the back seat, adjusting the coat as he went.

"I will be back here in 20 minutes to meet you, your majesty," the driver said. "Good luck to you."

Florent gave a single nod as he pushed the door shut. "I won't need it," he said.

As expected, the keycard worked. He slipped in through the back entrance and briefly wandered in the direction of what he figured was the front desk. However, he soon caught sight of a sign directing him to the neonatal ward, and he followed his way from there. Simple enough. Maybe he wouldn't even need 20 minutes.

It had been a while since Florent had visited a hospital so late at night. It was rather eerie just how empty it was, as he'd have expected a maternity ward to be a tad busier. Wasn't it a prime inconvenient birthing hour? There had to be at least one poor woman nearby screaming through the spawn of her offspring.

His mind was wandering, though. It didn't matter why the place was so quiet; it was ideal. Less prying eyes around meant plenty of opportunity to smother a baby without getting caught. And because this child was being held up in the NICU, it was like the kill was being presented to him on a gold platter. Maybe he wouldn't even need to smother it. He could unplug some machine as a little "whoops" and call it a night.

The NICU was laid out as expected. Rows upon rows of incubated cribs, all affixed with varying machines to suit each infant's needs. Some were a little more equipped than others—for the more unfortunate souls, it seemed. But, every crib dawned an infantile name tag, each decorated to suit the apparent gender of whoever occupied the spot.

Florent breathed an involuntary sigh of relief because that made his job much more manageable. Here he'd thought he'd have to go around and unplug every crib. While he was never truly above murder, mass infanticide seemed a little extreme for the circumstances. He was only here for one; the other innocents needn't be bothered.

It was amazing how many babies had been delivered with a problem. He'd have assumed the NICU was the main nursery had he not known better. He looped around three whole rows before finally finding the name that had been reported to him in his notes.

Odette Harmonie Cinq-Mars

A cute name. A darling name. It was a pity that it would never truly see the light of day. The rat of a child had committed the grave sin of stealing one of his most prized possessions from him. That could only be punished by death. Even if her entrance into this world did awaken Venira from her slumber, it was still unforgivable. He could deal with the science behind it later when the damn 'mon was back in her ball on the ship.

Florent examined the crib for a beat, trying to decide which wires and tubes hooked up to it could be unplugged to ensure a quick death. He could have been able to tell she'd been born ridiculously weak even if he hadn't gotten any reports on it. The array of monitors and IV drips beside her safe haven made that clear. Maybe he'd be doing her a favor, ending her life like this.

As he took some quiet steps around the crib, he took a peek inside, just for the hell of it, to see who he was against.

By gods, he wished he hadn't.

Small.So small. Tiny arms and legs splayed out in all directions, each wrapped in a tube or wire. A cannula, most likely the smallest one the doctors had on hand, was still too big for her little button nose, so it had to be taped in place. Her chest rose and fell steadily, indicating she was sleeping despite the discomfort she probably felt. And goodness, she had so much hair on that little head. More hair than he'd ever seen on a newborn baby.

She was perfect.

It was surreal just how fast all of his violent thoughts melted away. The longer he beheld the sight of this baby girl, his baby girl, the more intense the warmth in his chest began to feel.

"Oh, my gods…" he muttered, placing his hands against the tempered glass, longing to run his fingers along her little cheek. The tape would be in the way, though. Was it going to irritate her skin when they pulled it off? Would the doctors even place that tape on her in the first place if they knew it would cause a rash? Surely not. He'd throw a fit.

He blinked at the thought. Him? Throwing a fit at some NICU nurses and doctors because a baby got a light skin irritation from some medical tape? Was he going mad?

No, he wasn't. Just a brief lapse in judgment. He needed to get back to what he was doing. It was all too obvious, now that he was looking at her, that he'd be putting her out of her misery. She wouldn't last much longer without the machines she was hooked up to, so why even bother trying? That was no way for a baby to live, even if it was temporary.

But he couldn't take his hands off the glass. He couldn't look away.

Suddenly, his legs felt like grimer residue. Before he knew it, he'd sunk to his knees, now finding himself at eye level with her. Odette.

"Odette," he whispered.

The name felt like a top-shelf wine against his tongue. It danced off his lips as effortlessly as the fouette of a prima ballerina. It felt magical to say, even at that volume. Vienna was many things, but she at least knew how to pick out names.

This baby. This perfect baby girl. Odette Harmonie. This was his daughter. His progeny. The one presence to have been enough to drive Venira to awaken. The thing Florent been interested in accomplishing happened when Odette took her first, albeit labored, breath.

What the actual fuck was he thinking?

Everything he'd previously thought was out the window. He would take her, raise her, and make her a woman of substance, class, pedigree, and power. Being stuck in the NICU like this would be a minor setback. She would be destined for fantastic things with Venira within her. It was certain. He'd make sure of it.

Perfection deserved nothing less than the best. He was suddenly very glad he'd left Gulattive behind.

He reached for the hatch that would open the incubator but immediately stopped as he was about to pull it open.

There was a medical ward aboard the Mystic Milotic. It was suitable for an onboard clinic, enough to handle pretty hefty injuries. But, there was no nursery. Nothing to handle a baby who had been born with so many problems; so early.

No, no, he'd make it work. He'd order things in and set it up himself, and—

A light flicked on in the hall, causing him to flinch. He had the badge and coat, and he'd be fine enough to maneuver his way out if caught alone. But holding Odette? Would she even be okay long enough outside the incubator to survive the trek back to the ship? Or the time it would take to commandeer the equipment needed to sustain her? He started thinking about it more, only to realize that no specialized pediatricians were on board. Nobody to handle things if something were to go wrong.

Now he was panicking. He needed to take her with him; he couldn't stand the thought of leaving the building without his little girl.

But he just…couldn't do that to her.

He wasn't equipped to handle it. She wouldn't survive if he took her, and the thought of her dying on his watch hurt him more than the thought of leaving her behind. He'd much rather her be alive and out of reach than in his arms and dead.

He'd also need time to talk Gulattive down from the inevitable tantrum he would throw.

Tears prickled at the corners of Florent's eyes as he kneeled down again. He rested his forehead against the glass, watching her little chest rise and fall, rise and fall, rise and fall.

So small. So beautiful. She needed to be okay. He'd take the heartbreak to be sure of that.

"Gods, I love you so much," he murmured into the glass. He wondered if she had developed enough eardrums to hear him. Or if her brain could compute his words. If she somehow knew that she was half of him.

"Do you know that? I love you, Odette. My world is yours."

Footsteps neared the NICU, but they only sounded like a clock ticking. Soon that clock would go off, signaling the end of their meeting. Florent wished he could stop time and sit there with her forever. Even with her looking so ill, he felt like the sight of her would never get old.

Unfortunately, things didn't work for him like that.

He stood for the last time, running his hands along the glass. Pretending it was her skin. "I will be back for you, my darling. You have my word," he said.

Pulling away from her crib was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do.

As the door to the NICU swung open, a nurse entered to do her rounds. Florent stuck himself into a cranny between a wall and another crib, keeping in the shadows as she walked to the opposite end of the room. He watched the woman with tears in his eyes and willed her to take extra special care of Odette. If he couldn't, someone else would need to.

With a final look toward his baby's resting place, he tiptoed toward the door and slipped back into the hallway.

The ride back to the shipyard was borderline unbearable. Florent sobbed uncontrollably in the back seat, having to put up the car divider to ensure the driver couldn't hear him. Nobody needed to witness him in such a weak state, anyway.

It hurt. It hurt so badly. It topped every other pain he'd ever felt. He shouldn't have looked in the crib. He should have just pulled a plug and been done with it.

Clawing into his palm, he inhaled a shaky breath. He couldn't think like that anymore. The fact that he'd gone into that hospital with the intent to kill was terrible enough, but it was much worse that he was still thinking about it even after his lapse in judgment. Killing her wouldn't be an option anymore. Truthfully, he'd sooner die in her place.

It was wonderful to think of her growing up, enjoying the things she wanted to enjoy, and being a beautiful, successful woman. He wanted her to experience everything wonderful in life and he'd annihilate anybody who willed the opposite. Returning home without her left him feeling like he'd lost a part of his soul.

He couldn't hold her. He couldn't run his thumb over her cheek. He couldn't weave a strand of her curly black hair around his finger. He couldn't take one of her tiny hands in his and kiss it over and over again. He couldn't show her how much he loved her.

How was he going to sleep? Hell, how was he ever going to sail out of Kalos? How could he return to Galar without Odette with him?

Florent hadn't realized the car had stopped until the door was pulled open.

"Welcome back, your majesty. I hope you had a good trip," the attending grunt said as he stood by. Florent sniffled quietly as he hastily wiped the tears from his eyes.

"It was wonderful," he said, stepping out. He did his best to hide the stuffiness in his voice.

"Is everything alright?" the grunt asked. Evidently, Florent needed to try harder. He sent a pointed glance toward the grunt as he cleared his throat and adjusted the collar of his shirt.

"All is well. I expect a bottle of Moet in my room in five minutes," he said curtly. He'd certainly need a drink or five.

Silvain was at the ship's entrance, Gulattive's ball still in his hand. He must have taken notice of Florent's tear-stained face and puffy eyes, because he quickly became perplexed.

"Sir, are you okay? Was your outing a success?" he queried.

Florent willed himself to take another deep, leveling breath and plucked the specialty ball from Silvain's hand.

"I'd say so," he said, moving past him and toward his office. Silvain's footsteps followed him, but he couldn't concentrate much on that as Gulattive filled his mind almost immediately, now that the dampener was out of reach.

Well, I take it you weren't caught. How did you do it? the Gluttony Pokemon asked.

Florent didn't answer. He was silent on his walk back to the office. Gulattive was no stupid legendary because he picked up rather quickly.

Is Venira in her ball?

"No," Florent said. He threw himself into his chair, setting the ball down on the desk. He felt a headache coming on. At least it would distract him from the throbbing in his chest.

You didn't kill the child. It wasn't a question.

Florent sighed. "I did not."

The ball rocked. It opened with a foreboding pop, and a slew of maroon smoke filled the room. It wasn't long before Gulattive took form before Florent's deadpan gaze.

When he wasn't powered up by blood, Gulattive looked no more menacing than a mid-evolution Pokemon. His voice, however, still managed to carry all the weight of a primordial eldritch terror.

He was lanky, with arms as long as his legless, floating body. A cloak appeared to cover what should have been his head, but there was none to speak of. Only a single, bloodshot red eye sat in place, blazing in anger.

"How?" Gulattive yelled. The force of his voice caused the chandelier overhead to rock and the china in the nearby cabinet to rattle.

Florent wondered how he should explain himself. He wondered if he even should. "She's my daughter," he eventually said. "I decided I didn't want to kill my daughter."

Gulattive seethed, and he slammed his tendrils down on the desk, his single bloodshot eye hovering dangerously close to Florent's nose.

"Have you forgotten that she has become Venira's new vessel? You were supposed to get her back, and the only way to do so is–"

"I decided I didn't want to kill my daughter," Florent repeated angrily, also slamming the desk. "What don't you understand about that?"

Narrowing his eye, Gulattive hovered backward. "If you didn't want to kill her, why didn't you bring her here?"

"I couldn't. She's very ill and needs to stay where she can get the proper care."

Gulattive looked like he was contemplating how to respond.

"What makes you think an ill child could handle Wrath? Are you planning to leave her to be raised by this eighteen-year-old who–"

"Enough!" Florent screamed.

He was tired. His head hurt. His heart hurt far worse. Even so, he wouldn't let Gulattive convince him why keeping Odette alive was wrong. That wouldn't happen.

"Last time I checked, you rely on me for your sustenance, yet you're awfully vocal in my day-to-day doings. I've allowed it this far, but I will not let you tell me why I should kill my own baby. I'm not going to hear it," he spat.

Gulattive might have been frowning if he had a visible mouth. "Aren't you planning to return to Galar? What are you going to do about her being here in Kalos? Do you plan to return for her when she's in better health?"

Florent clenched his jaw and settled back in his seat. Yes, that was something he had considered. It was meant to be a quick trip. But, the thought of leaving was causing him far too much anxiety.

He abruptly turned his head toward Silvain, quietly standing by the door as always.

"Silvain," he called. "Change of plans. Alert the crew."

Silvain stiffened as he was regarded. "Your grace?"

Florent rose and peered back out over the sea.

"We'll be setting up our new home base here in Kalos. Starting today."