An. Sorry for the Late upload today has been crazy
The Talk
"Remember, Glacia…" My father's words surged through my mind, as vivid and unyielding as the pillar of hellish flame teared its way toward me, rendering all in its path to naught but ash.
"We must be strong," his voice commanded from deep within my memories, even as the searing heat clawed at my resolve. "Those who look to us for guidance will mirror our strength. If we falter, so will they."
Closer came the hound's wrath, its sulfurous stench choking the air around me.
"We must be as cold and unyielding as steel," his tone turned sharp, striking like a hammer against my mind. "For even a single tear can strip the fear from your enemy's heart."
I clung to those lessons. I had lived them, breathed them, let them carve me into the unfeeling leader my people would need. I had been their shield, their guardian. Through the chaos of battle, I defended them without hesitation, trusting Jackson to survive his own struggles.
But the truth was I ignored him.
The memory clawed at my mind, jagged and cruel. I had ignored the one who trusted me, turned my back on the cries of my student—My friend—Not sparing a glance as he fell to his demons, as he was forced to become what I know deep down he was not.
My focus was elsewhere, my heart locked away. I chose to follow my father's teachings, to put my duty above all else. To close my ears to his screams and blind myself to his suffering.
"I had to…" I whispered, even as my soul screamed otherwise. "I had to protect them…"
The pillar of fire roared closer, a monstrous force barreling toward me. My father's voice rose above the inferno.
"Do not hesitate. Do not falter. Be steel. Be a glacier—unyielding, untouchable."
I had been all those things. Cold. Strong. Unflinching. I had been Glacia.
Yet as death loomed nearer, mocking my supposed strength, I found myself crumbling. What did my duty matter now? What good were my father's teachings if they led me to abandon someone who needed me?
Then, despite what I did—what I chose, through the suffocating haze, came a shadow—a figure. Sun-kissed skin marred with ash, burns branching out from his chest like cracks in porcelain. Who once again sacrificed for me but the one I disregarded?
Jackson.
"No," I gasped, my voice trembling. "Not again…"
He stood before me, unwavering as the inferno bore down upon us both. His arms encircled me, shielding me with a fierce embrace that defied all reason. His aura radiated an almost maddening joy, as though this moment, this sacrifice, was his life's greatest purpose. His pain thought of as nothing but a small price, one which he would gladly pay.
'I left him', my mind screamed. 'I left him to suffer alone. And yet… here he is. Protecting me. Again.'
The ice I had built within myself shattered. The glacier my father forged me into melted, leaving only an endless river of tears, the steel I had once used to cast myself was now nothing but a molten mass of anguish. I clung to him as sobs tore from my chest, my tears once again falling freely.
"What are you doing?!" I cried, my voice raw and breaking. "You're going to die!"
He said nothing, but his amethyst eyes met mine, steady and reassuring. They held no anger, no resentment—only a silent promise: 'You'll be okay.'
"Humans aren't meant for this!" I pleaded, desperation coating every word. "You can't survive this! You're not built for it!"
The flames raged against him, leaving the scent of scorched flesh to hang heavy in the air. But still, he stood firm, protecting me without hesitation.
When the fire finally receded, its wrath reduced to embers, only then did his strength gave way. His body slumped against mine, lifeless but for the shallow rise and fall of his chest. My heart shattered anew as I cradled him, my mind an unrelenting storm of guilt. Yet I could do nothing but mutter incoherent apologies to him 'I brought him here, I left him to fend for himself, I ignored his pain, the attack was meant for me'.
The weight of my failure crushed me, and in the depths of my despair, I felt it—a faint, tender touch against my cheek. A thumb brushing away my tears.
I froze, lifting my eyes to his, those brilliant violet pools dimmed but still filled with warmth. My breath hitched as a thought pierced through the storm of guilt: 'How could I ever have feared those eyes?'
"Don't… cry… Luna," he rasped, his voice barely a whisper. "You look so much better… when you smile."
A small smile touched his lips—it was not a true smile, not one of the ghastly smiles he tends to make when attempting to keep appearances nor the jovial laughter after a particular funny jab, it was a smile in spite of pain, one to show despite your being screaming for you to stop… It was a smile for me. A final gift.
And then he fell limp in my arms.
…
My heart sank as I clutched Jackson's slumped form tightly against me. His weight, though slight compared to mine, felt crushing as I held him close, my arms trembling under the burden of his injuries. My eyes darted around the gathered crowd, desperate for help. "You!" I barked, struggling to steady the rising panic in my voice as I gestured to a startled Heliolisk. "Find someone from the healer corps—now!"
The golden lizard flinched, its dark crest flaring instinctively before nodding and darting off, its hurried footsteps fading into the uneasy murmurs of the crowd.
Then, the sea of onlookers parted, and a lone figure emerged—tall, imposing, his vermillion eyes locking onto me with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. His voice, cold and commanding, silenced the whispers as it boomed across the clearing.
"Glacia," he growled, his tone sharp and unyielding. "What are you doing with that… thing?"
I bristled, my ears flattening against my skull as his gaze shifted briefly to Jackson's pale, burnt form before snapping back to mine.
"Father," I began, keeping my voice steady as I tightened my grip on Jackson. "This is Jackson—"
"I don't care for its title," he cut me off, his words biting. "Look around, Glacia. Our homes are burned. Our people injured. Our children nearly taken—all by his kind."
With each word, he took a step closer, his aura rippling out in precise bursts, calculated to intimidate. My father's dominance was as methodical as it was oppressive, a display I had witnessed countless times.
When he reached out to take Jackson, my body moved on instinct. Holding Jackson protectively in my arms, I shifted, my entire frame curling around him as if shielding him from my father's touch. My own aura surged in defiance, as a low snarl escaped my throat.
"No," I growled, my crimson eyes narrowing into a glare. My voice dropped, venomous and unyielding. "He defended our people. He neutralized his own. And He saved my life. I will not dishonor Him by letting Him die."
My father froze, his paw hovering in mid-air as he met my glare. For a moment, the only sound was the faint crackle of flames still smoldering in the distance. Slowly, he withdrew his paw, though his eyes burned with disapproval.
"Fine," he relented, his tone clipped, his aura still taut with suppressed aggression. "He will receive aid. But we will discuss this later, Glacia—"
"Luna," I interrupted, straightening slightly, though I remained crouched protectively over Jackson. The tension in my voice mirrored the defiance in my gaze. "I received the title in my absence. It is mine now, and I much prefer it."
His eyes flickered, a brief flash of surprise breaking through his stoic exterior, but he said nothing further.
Before he could respond, another Lucario pushed through the crowd-He was shorter than my father, though few could claim to match the nigh 2 meter chief in stature- His shorter sensors and larger spikes marked him as male, the white wrappings covering his paws and blindfolding his eyes identified him as a member of the healer corps.
"My lady," he addressed me with a formal bow, his voice calm but urgent. "I heard there was wounded and have come to assist."
"There's no time for formalities," I snapped, my voice sharp as I gestured to Jackson's limp form. "This human needs aid immediately."
The healer knelt beside us, his brow furrowing as he carefully assessed Jackson. His head turned slightly toward my father, as if silently seeking his approval, despite the bandages covering his eyes.
"You heard her," my father said gruffly, his tone leaving no room for argument. With that, he turned away, his deep voice rising to organize the villagers in their efforts to rebuild.
Reluctantly, I loosened my hold, allowing the healer to lift Jackson from my arms. My body ached at the loss of his warmth, the absence of his weight leaving a void I couldn't explain. "Bring him to our home," I instructed firmly, my voice low. "He can recover there—away from the tents and any... unnecessary interference."
The healer nodded, handling Jackson with care as he rose and carried him toward the village. My eyes followed them until they disappeared into the crowd. Only then did I turn back to face the destruction around me.
The weight of guilt bore down on me, heavier than Jackson had been. My people needed me now, but in the back of my mind, a single thought took root:
I failed him once. I won't fail him again.
Steeling myself, I moved to help the villagers, determined to bury my anguish beneath duty—at least for now.
…
The stars were faint pinpricks of silver against the darkened sky as I ascended the winding mountain path toward home. The cool air carried the lingering scent of ash and smoke—a grim reminder of the day's events. My body protested with every step, muscles worn from hours spent hauling debris and reinforcing walls. Yet, I pressed on, the familiar terrain of my family's district offering a small but welcome sense of solace.
The village below was quieter now, its usual bustling energy replaced with an eerie stillness. Though some Pokémon still worked under the faint glow of lanterns, most had retreated to their homes, their murmurs and whispers trailing behind me like shadows.
"She defended him with such ferocity…"
The voice, soft yet tinged with disbelief, made my ears flick involuntarily. I turned slightly to see a Delcatty with tanned fur and drooping purple ears murmuring to her companion. The other feline, a Persian with a similarly tanned coat, was larger, his crimson gemstone gleaming faintly in the moonlight.
"She would," the Persian replied, flicking his tail with disdain. "He saved her life. You know how Lucarios are about debts."
The word debts lingered in the air like a barb, sharp and accusatory.
Not all voices were so restrained.
"A human," a deep voice growled, its owner a hulking Machoke perched beside a half-repaired wall. He leaned against the stone, his muscular arms crossed as he glared at me. "Why protect one of them?"
I didn't falter, keeping my gaze fixed ahead. But my ears betrayed me, twitching involuntarily at every word. Their opinions were irrelevant. I knew what I had done, and why. That was all that mattered—or so I told myself.
The sound of clinking metal drew my attention as a small figure approached. A Pawniard, his polished blades catching the faint moonlight, scurried up the path, his azure helm glinting like a shard of ice.
"Lady Glacia!" he called, his high-pitched voice breaking through the oppressive silence.
I stopped, crouching slightly to meet his gaze. "What is it?" I asked, my voice calm despite the weight of exhaustion pressing on me.
"Is the human going to be okay?" His claws tapped nervously against the stone path, the movement betraying his unease.
For a moment, I hesitated, my mind conjuring all the possibilities—the good, the bad, and the unspeakable. Images of Jackson's still form haunted me, but I shoved the thoughts aside. The Pawniard's wide, hopeful eyes anchored me, and I forced myself to speak.
"Yes, little one. The human will be alright," I said, keeping my tone even. Confidence I didn't truly feel laced my words like armor.
The Pawniard's face brightened, his rigid posture softening as he bowed quickly. "Thank you, Lady Glacia!" he chirped before scurrying away into the night.
I straightened, watching his small form disappear into the shadows. Though my legs ached, I resumed my climb. The path steepened as the houses grew sparse, their sturdy stone exteriors scarred by time and weather. At last, my family's home came into view. Perched high above the village like a silent sentinel, its steeply slanted roof and thick wooden beams seemed both familiar and foreboding. Tonight, its walls felt heavier, as though the weight of its legacy bore down on me.
I pushed open the heavy wooden door, stepping into the cool interior. The faint scent of aged spruce mixed with traces of incense greeted me, a scent I had known all my life. Yet tonight, it felt foreign.
The healer knelt beside Jackson, his movements precise despite the bandages covering his forepaws and the cloth blindfold wrapped around his eyes. Though he spoke little, his reputation for skill was unmatched, and the faint pink glow of a fading Heal Pulse illuminated the room as he withdrew his paws.
Jackson lay motionless on my bedding—an arrangement I had insisted on since we had no guest accommodations. My father would sooner sleep outside than share his and Mother's space. The human's chest rose and fell faintly beneath layers of freshly wrapped bandages, his face pale but peaceful in unconsciousness.
"He is stable," the healer said, his voice low and even. "His wounds are grave, but he will recover. He will not wake for some time, but his life is no longer in immediate danger."
A breath I hadn't realized I was holding escaped me in a quiet sigh. Relief washed over me, though it felt fragile, like glass that could shatter with the wrong movement.
"Thank you," I said, my voice softer than intended. The words felt inadequate for the gratitude I felt.
The healer rose gracefully, bowing his head slightly. "If there is nothing further, I shall take my leave."
"You are dismissed," I replied, watching as he turned and made his way to the door. The sound of it closing behind him was like a whisper, leaving the room silent, save for the faint rustle of Jackson's uneven breaths.
As the door closed behind him, I heard a distorted greeting, followed by the familiar rhythm of pawsteps. Turning around, I saw my father entering, his imposing figure casting a long shadow in the dim light. His vermillion eyes flicked to Jackson before settling on me.
"Come," he said, his tone firm and leaving no room for negotiation.
We moved to the dining room, its stone walls cool and unyielding. The wooden planks beneath our feet creaked softly with each step. At the center sat the rectangular table, illuminated by a single lantern hanging from the thick crossbeams above. I took a seat, my father settling across from me, leaving Jackson and any distractions behind. This discussion demanded our undivided attention.
For a moment, silence hung between us, broken only by the faint crackling of the lantern's flame. My father was the first to speak.
"What is your connection to that man, Gla—" he paused, catching himself, "Luna?"
I was speechless. My father was always a strict and disciplined pillar of duty—a Pokémon who commanded respect through sheer presence and capability. I had expected him to challenge my decisions, perhaps demand Jackson be cast out of the village to protect its people, or even disown me for defying tradition and shedding the title my home bestowed upon me. Yet, here he was, accepting my chosen name and asking why, instead of enforcing what he likely thought was the correct path.
I struggled to find words. "W-what do you mean, Father?" I cursed the waver in my voice but quickly steeled myself for his response.
"Luna," he began, his tone softening in an unfamiliar way, "you are my daughter. The one I raised to be my heir."
His voice held a warmth I rarely heard—a reflection of years gone by. "I saw your first steps, witnessed your first victory. While your mother taught you combat, it was I who taught you of your birthright—who imparted the knowledge you would need to lead."
Memories stirred, unbidden, and a small smile crept across my muzzle.
"I even had the honor of painfully teaching a valuable lesson to that young Gallade for having the nerve to ask me if he could court you."
The fond memories immediately shriveled, burned, and were thrown off a metaphorical cliff. My face turned lilac in embarrassment as I glared at him. "FATHER!"
His lips curled into a rare smile, clearly relishing the universal joy all parents feel when embarrassing their children.
"Now, back to the topic at hand," he said, ignoring my outburst. "I know you well enough to see that, under normal circumstances, you might have treated his injuries and sent him away later. Instead, you acted with aggression I have not seen in you for a long time. So, daughter, I ask again—how have you come to know this human?"
I sighed mentally, realizing this conversation was inevitable. I had hoped to smooth over the details with Jackson first, but it seemed fate had other plans.
"After leaving the village to complete the mission, I encountered a Tyranitar that had claimed a significant territory," I began. "Unfortunately, its territory overlapped with key migration routes. I determined that immediate removal was the best course of action… It went poorly."
I paused, gathering my thoughts. "After a lengthy battle, I managed to draw it away from the critical area, creating a temporary solution. Exhausted and injured, I attempted to retreat, planning to return with reinforcements. That, too, went poorly. I ended up leaping off a waterfall in a desperate attempt to survive."
His expression didn't shift, but I knew he was listening intently.
"It was then that I met Jackson—or, rather, he met me. I had fallen unconscious after the drop. Fortunately, his camp was nearby, and he had heard my confrontation with the Tyranitar. He dragged me from the water's edge, saving my life."
I watched his vermillion eyes flicker in what I could only describe as faint surprise.
"Not only did he save me," I continued, "but he sacrificed his only shirt, a significant portion of his supplies, and even his bedding to tend to my injuries and keep me comfortable on the cavern floor."
My tone grew sharp with irritation at the memory. "Despite my many attempts to repay him, he refused all of my offers."
I let out a small exhale before continuing. "The following night, I attempted to return to the village, but my injuries left me vulnerable. A Blaziken ambushed me, and I lost the battle badly. My right shoulder was still healing from a dislocation, and my leg suffered a fracture. I was utterly defenseless."
I glanced briefly at the door. "That's when he arrived. Brandishing a hunting spear, he released so much malice in his aura that it backed down. Then he turned to me, cussed me out on how stupid I was and proceeded to carry me back to his camp in his arms."
A few chuckles rumbled in my throat as I recounted the last bit of that tale "It was then when I was growing increasingly irritated with the fact that he couldn't understand my words that he declared that he and I quote "Oh, don't give me that 'Rio, Lucario' crap. I know for a fact Lucario can use Aura to talk to people," I mimicked Jackson's words, a small smile playing on my muzzle.
I allowed myself a moment to enjoy the look of pure, unfiltered offense etched onto my father's face. He looked as though Jackson had insulted every Lucario to ever exist. Then, I continued, "It was around that time that he asked for my name. I… didn't want to disclose it—"
Father raised a paw, cutting me off mid-sentence. His vermillion eyes softened as he spoke, his voice low but steady.
"You don't need to lie, Luna. I know you hated the title—so did your mother and I, from the moment our people gave it to you."
"What?" I replied, utterly bewildered.
"We hated it," he reiterated firmly. "Daze especially. She wanted to publicly humiliate the one who came up with it. If she'd had her way, they'd still be nursing the bruises from her lessons in humility. But in the end, we determined it was better for you."
All I could do was stare at him, words caught in my throat. Finally, I managed, "All those winters… all those years I bore that title, forced to wear it as if it were a badge of honor. I thought… I thought you found it fitting of me. That was the only reason I endured it."
My voice trembled as I spoke, emotions threatening to overwhelm me. Was it rage? Sadness? Hurt? Relief? I couldn't tell. For once in my life, I was utterly adrift in the sea of my own feelings.
"We knew," Father said quietly, his tone tinged with regret. "We knew perfectly well how much you despised it—or, at the very least, how embarrassed it made you. Do you know why I wanted you to be my heir?"
"Because the last five chiefs were of our clan," I replied almost automatically. The answer seemed obvious. My father was a man of duty, and responsibility was ingrained into our family's legacy. Leadership was practically our birthright.
He chuckled, though the sound was bitter and mirthless. "You would think that, wouldn't you? No, Luna. I wanted you to be the next chief because you are a female."
Before I could voice my confusion, he pressed on, his voice firm and unwavering.
"Your mother and I love you very much, Luna." The statement was simple, unembellished, but absolute. There was no hesitation in his voice, no flicker of doubt. He believed every word, and he would not tolerate anyone—even me—doubting his sincerity.
"But we both knew what your fate would be if you remained in a position where a male held authority over you. You are my daughter, the daughter of Chief Chrome. That alone would make you a target—whether for power, status, or offspring."
He spat the last word with a venom I had never imagined him capable of.
"So, we devised a plan," he continued. "You would become the next chief. No one in the village would be your superior. You would choose your own mate, on your own terms, and in your own time."
My father's gaze burned into mine, intense and unwavering. "To accomplish this, we went to great lengths. I faked sterility after your birth—no other candidates could rise if there were no other children to challenge you. And to ensure no one could question your capability, we trained you to exhaustion, day after day, until no one in this village could best you."
He paused, his voice softening just slightly. "They could not accuse you of being unfit due to emotional weakness, so I taught you to be cold. The title… we decided to use it as a tool, to further your claim. And for that…"
My father bowed his head slightly, an honest, sincere gesture. "…I owe you my deepest apologies, my dearest daughter. I forced you down a road of ice and steel, justifying it as 'for your own good.'"
I sat there, stunned into silence, his words echoing in my mind. The weight of everything he had said, everything he had done, settled heavily on my shoulders. Finally, I managed to speak, my voice barely above a whisper.
"It… It's okay, Dad. I… I forgive you."
Forgiving him wasn't the hard part—I could see the logic behind his actions, and I knew that in his position, I might have done the same. No, the hard part was holding back the storm of emotions raging inside me. All the sacrifices, all the pain, all the ridicule they endured… all because they loved me. It was almost too much to bear.
After a long moment, the tumult subsided, leaving behind only gratitude and love.
"So," Father said, a smile now tugging at the corners of his muzzle, "how did you come by your new title?"
"Right," I said, my voice steadying. "Well, while Jackson was carrying me back to camp, we were arguing—mostly about how stupid my decision to leave had been. He got tired of calling me 'you' or 'that Lucario I saved' and asked for my name."
I felt my cheeks heat as I recalled the moment. "I… I didn't like the title I had, and explaining its meaning would have been too embarrassing, so I told him I didn't have one."
Father raised a brow, his curiosity clearly piqued. "And?"
"After a few moments of silence, he decided to call me Luna."
"Just like that?" Father asked, incredulous. "A mere spontaneous decision, or did the title carry meaning?"
My blush deepened. "Well… while he was thinking, just before he said it, I heard him whisper something. It was so quiet I might have missed it if I wasn't in his arms."
"What did he say?" Father pressed, leaning forward slightly.
I looked up at him, a grin spreading across my face. "He called me beautiful."
The night continued, our conversation shifting to the month that followed and my decision to bring Jackson to the village. Finally, as I made my way to my room, my father's voice stopped me.
"Luna," he said, his tone serious. "There will be a meeting to decide what to do with him. The people are frightened, and they may force him out once he awakens. But know this—I am on your side."
I nodded, his words resonating deeply, and closed the door behind me. Curling up beside Jackson, careful not to jostle his injuries, I let out a sigh. Taking one last look at his sleeping form I closed my eyes
'I won't leave your side, no matter what.'
The thought echoed in my mind as sleep finally claimed me.