Thank you for reading. Hopefully you enjoy. If you REALLY like it, I have a P-a-t-r-e-o-n, under the same name, where you can read 5 chapters ahead.
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"I did warn you."
"Oh, good for you!" I distorted my voice and raised my pitch to make absolutely sure Clair got the sarcasm. "GAH!" Based on the extra-hard way she pulled the bandage she was applying, she got it.
"Sheoo!" Betty tried to complain about my treatment, but I wasn't having it.
"SHUT UP!" Clair had to keep me sitting on the stone bed in my borrowed room as I flailed around in anger. "YOU DUMB FUCKING BALL OF ARMOR AND SPITE, YOU SHUT UP! I'LL FUCK YOU UP MYSELF, WITH ONE ARM! THAT WOULD BE FAIR, GIVEN YOUR TINY-ASS INTELLECT!"
Betty had the decency to flinch that time, which was something. Usually, my words just bounced off her shell like almost everything else did, but between the blood loss and mangled minced steak for a shoulder, I think the visual was striking enough to finally sink through.
"I thought you still had a brain somewhere in there, but apparently it's all shit from head to tail!" I stabbed a finger at her, ignoring how it made my other side scream. "I've been exceedingly patient with you, but this is too far!" Siren nodded grimly from her place beside me, all the smaller Pokémon crowded around me while Sol and Betty were forced to watch through the door. Clair was clearly losing her patience with Aurora's frantic fussing, the lupine Pokémon hyperventilating with panic until Espeon grabbed her to let the blue-haired woman work. "You silly, goofy, ingrate, dumb, stu-FUCK YOU!"
"Do you want to avoid bleeding to death, or should I let you finish screaming first? Because, if so, I'm going to need you to stop yelling into my ear," Clair asked eventually, while I searched for another synonym.
"I'm getting to it!"
I did not, in fact, get to it. Not for another two minutes, by which point Betty had lowered her gaze and bent her knees far enough that her eye was almost level with my knees, which for a nine-foot Shelgon was about as close to groveling as her anatomy allowed.
Still, I had to pause for breath eventually, and Clair jumped on the chance.
"Sit still."
"AAAH-grrrrrr!" I grit my teeth as she tied the knot, an instant pulsing starting as the blood flow was restricted. It hurt. I said several things that would've made Delia Ketchum wash my mouth out with soap, and Clair just hummed along like I was providing background music while she packed the wound.
"Don't be a baby!" The Blackthorn said, patting the bandage with the absentminded attitude of a dad going, 'That's not going anywhere'.
"AW!"
"Must've been one of the older Gible; little guy basically hit bone all the way around," she said, tying off the last bandage like she didn't hit me. "You'll live, though, with some painkillers."
"Great," I hissed. "Love that for me. Where the hell is everyone, anyway? Thought this was your special place or whatever garbage."
"Told them to leave for a bit. Figured you needed the time, and there are some perks to being a Gym Leader, despite not being the Clan Head," she sniffed, seemingly unable to resist a chance to complain about that. "That's part of why I came by now, as I've lifted that restriction. Lucky I did, or you would be dead on the floor. You kind of owe me your life, if you think about it."
"Thankfully, I don't do that a lot!" I frowned at myself and blamed the pain and whoosiness for the self-own.
"Like Trainer, like Pokémon." Fuck, that was a good comeback, too.
Betty made a low sound, somewhere between a growl and a whine, and shuffled a half step closer, eyes still directed down at the ground.
"No!" I said-no, I stated. Demanded, even.
She looked up.
"I know what you're doing! You're doing the sad, pathetic eyes, so I'll forgive you, and we'll go back to normal. Nah-ah, no way. Not happening. Not this time. You're not a Bagon anymore; you can't slink out of punishment by being a baby, that time's done!" It stung, but it was true.
She rumbled with displeasure.
"Yeah yeah, I'm sure you're sorry, though I can't tell if it's cause you got me hurt, or because you're in trouble, and I don't care. Sorry doesn't remove the teeth marks in my shoulder! Sorry doesn't make up for scaring Zorua, or Honedge's blade chipping!" I got up onto my feet, swaying a little before Clair steadied me. For a first-stage evolution, that Gible could chomp like nobody's business, and I'd lost a good amount of blood.
But that wasn't going to stop me from verbally kicking her ass.
"You wanna help?! Huh? You want to actually fix this instead of just feeling bad about it for five minutes and then doing the same shit next week? Okay. Fine." I nodded exaggeratedly. It was a thought I'd had earlier, but I wasn't sure if it would actually work. But at that point, who cared? If not, she wouldn't enjoy it, at least. "You're gonna learn some fucking self-control, and you're gonna learn it the boring way, because apparently getting your shell caved in by a Dragonair wasn't enough of a lesson to get through your thick skull!"
"What's the boring way?" Clair asked, her tone somewhere between humoring me and genuinely curious.
"She's gonna watch," I said. "She's not gonna fight. She's not gonna socialize or sleep with us. She's cut off. She's just gonna train, all by herself. She's gonna sit her big, dumb ass down and watch her sister learn Dragon Pulse before she does, and she's gonna think real hard about why. About how fucking shit everything is when she's the one making decisions. Because I'm fine!" My shoulder screamed, my eyes lost focus for a second, and I wobbled. "It's not about me! It's about the rest of the team risking their lives to save you, for no reason! Apparently, I fold too quickly, so now it's time for someone with a little more backbone!"
Betty's head snapped toward Siren so fast her shell scraped part of the doorway off.
Siren, for her part, goggled up at me with incredulous eyes.
"... you know, that's not terrible," Clair hummed to my surprise.
"What?" I questioned. "I'd have thought you'd hate it, since your way's all about the brute force."
"Brute force is often the easiest way to get the worst out," she shrugged, leaning in to inspect the crack the Machoke had tried to rip open. Betty moved to shift out of the way, but the soft sound of scales on rock from behind reminded her that Saya the Dragonair was close by. "You get the 'I'm invincible' nonsense out, and then you can work on genuine affection and respect. I think by now, she's gotten her ass kicked enough that the first part is more or less accomplished, and given her current distress, the second part was never really in doubt."
I mulled that over and saw her point. "... I'm still gonna do it."
"As you fucking should!" She snorted, flicking Betty's shell and staring her down when she looked. It didn't even seem necessary; she just did it for the love of the game. "You're the Trainer. Train."
Now, THAT, I could do.
—-
"So, who's the runt?" I asked the next morning, chewing on a mouthful of rations. Clair had offered some of her own, but the food had seemed suspiciously fleshy, and I somehow doubted the Blackthorns bothered to get meat substitutes or Ditto.
Seemed more like the 'the good ol' ways!' types, like Grant, and I'd consumed more than enough Pokémon for my taste.
Sleep had been rough, in the 'never came' kind of way. It had already been late when Betty's little 'excursion' took place, and by the time the immediate aftermath had been dealt with, I'd been stuck with a bunch of Pokémon full of adrenaline and worry, which had taken whatever time had been left.
Any time I managed to calm them sufficiently, I'd pass out in brief stints – most likely from the blood loss – and then be roused swiftly by the whole team re-panicking all over again.
Well, the whole team other than Betty, whom I'd banished to the first room we tried to stay in, where we broke the bed, within easy smelling distance. Heavy sighs and moans had vibrated the separating wall all night, but I'd held fast and didn't acknowledge her.
Clair, halfway through her own breakfast of something that was mostly meat and looked like it had been cooked directly on a hot rock, followed my nod toward where the little Dratini was doing her best impression of Zorua by lurking just under the surface of the river in the main room. The Dratini perked up when I arched a piece of berry over the heads of the other young Dragon-Types who were busy chowing down their breakfast.
"Ah." She chewed for a while before answering, though it was less about manners and more about her thinking about her words. The biggest clue was the occasional flash of half-masticated food visible through her lightly open mouth. "That's Newt."
"She got a name?" My eyebrows rose. "Figured she'd be wild, the way everyone else treats her. I thought she was a baby as well, but that would be one strong baby."
"Heh!" It wasn't a happy exhale that escaped her lips. "Strong, huh? A strong baby, yes, she would be indeed. Given the fact that she's eight years old, however, your opinion on her strength might change."
"EIGHT!?" I gaped at the small Dratini – Newt – checking its – hers – surroundings carefully. Seeing the others busy trying to snatch as much of each other's food as possible without Clair reprimanding them, Newt slithered from the river gracefully and grabbed the chunk of Sitris Berry before quickly returning to her safe place.
"Yeah, eight, and she's not anybody's," Clair said, and there was a softness under the words that hadn't been there a second ago. She leaned over and grabbed a Bagon by the top of its skull when it tried to bully an Axew away from its food, lifting the struggling reptile with surprising ease and putting it down on her other side. The Bagon kicked the ground in annoyance, but didn't protest. "Well. I suppose if you want to be technical, she's Lance's."
The hits kept coming. "Lance's got a kid?! Well, not Lance Lance, but-!"
"Lance's starter does, yes. His main Dragonite, the Alpha that you saw in Celadon and your billionaire friend keeps jerking off to." Clair poked at her food while watching Newt devour hers with relish. "It was a little over eight years ago, now. Lance wasn't yet Champion, but he was already a Master and beat my dad, the Gym Leader at the time. Turned down the title, though. Wasn't-... wasn't good enough for him. 'Why would I waste my time,' he said, 'with som-', look, it doesn't matter, stop asking!" She interrupted her own story, waving her hand so hard she nearly smacked me. "Anyway! Asshole was already hot shit, so when we found out his Alpha had mated, we were all quite ecstatic. The mother was one of the stronger wild Dragonite – one of the bigger, too – so the hopes were high. Surely, the offspring would be absolute specimens. Shit, maybe this was how we finally got that Titan we'd been breeding for. And then, there was only one egg. Dragonite normally have clutches of two to four. And then Newt hatches, and she's not big. She's the opposite of big, in fact. She's a Pygmy."
"Pygmy," I echoed. It wasn't an unfamiliar term. I'd looked around for information on the size variety in Pokémon. Between Betty, Sol, and even Espeon's small stature, it seemed like something worth knowing about, and I'd almost assumed Espeon was one such case, but had determined that she was too big. "Like an Alpha but backwards."
"That's the gist," Clair agreed. "Roughly half-size, sometimes less. Somewhere between Alpha and Titan for rarity, same random-ass genetic lottery, opposite result. You can understand our disappointment, and I suppose, imagine the rest. Nobody wanted her, obviously, not any of the younger Clan kids, not Dragonite, not Lance. She's been here ever since. She's old enough – and even strong enough, despite her handicap – to head down to the Pit, but they'd swarm her even faster than they did Behemoth. She's trapped up here, with the children too weak to help her grow however much her condition lets her, and too superior to train with."
I kept my eyes on Newt, who, in turn, was doing her level best to look like she wasn't watching us watch her.
"That's fucked up," I finally said, making Clair look at me, confused. "Like, I technically get the logic, I suppose, in a very caveman way. Size means power; more mass means more force behind everything, easier to intimidate, all of that jazz. I've got the biggest fucking Shelgon and Arcanine riding around on my belt; I understand the appeal." I thought about Betty smashing the stone bed, cratering the ground with every move, feet sinking into whatever the flooring was made of. "But it's not just an upside. It's not free. She's slow as shit until she evolves into something with wings; she can barely see around her own shell half the time. Sure, she's got power, but only against things right in front of her, and if you don't care about what's behind. That's not even mentioning the attitude problems. Most of her problems lately have literally been because she can't understand that being the biggest thing in the room doesn't mean she gets to skip the part where you think before you charge in, and Sol's laziness also starts in his size. There's having to feed her and clean up after her. Newt's tiny, sure, but she's fast. She's careful because she's had to be, got a good move pool – she pulled off a nearly working Dragon Pulse – and her control seems really, really good. Yeah, maybe she's never going to be a tanky juggernaut, but not every Pokémon does or needs to be."
Clair was staring at me like I'd ripped all of my clothes off and declared myself a dragon who was going to stay in the Den forever. Actually, weirder than that. I'd bet money a Blackthorn had once done that.
"What?" I said.
"You have a Titan," she said slowly, like she was explaining something to a child. "You, personally, are walking around with the single largest, human-owned Dragon-Type currently in the Indigo League databases. You have a fucking Shiny Alpha on top of it, too, and you're sitting here telling me that being bigger isn't better?"
"Wha-why does everybody think I'm such a fucking size queen!? Don't answer, I know why!" I cut her off before she could start. "I get you Dragon fucks have a hard on for 'POWER!' but brute strength isn't the only advantage you can have!"
Clair didn't say anything for a long moment, just kinda staring off into space.
"Huh," she grunted eventually, noncommittally, and quickly changed the subject. "I got you some more painkillers."
"Nice, thanks." I nodded my appreciation; the wound's throbbing reignited at the reminder.
"Oh, don't thank me yet!" She chuckled in an off way. "Because they didn't come from Nan, our healer. Nah, instead it was relayed by a messenger from the Elders. Be honored, Periwinkle. You have been invited to dinner. You have already accepted." Definitely not a question.
… ominous.
—-
"Absolutely not! You'll stay over there and watch for now!" I told Betty, for the fourth time that morning, as she tried once again to shuffle her way into the training circle where Siren and Newt had set up.
Betty grumbled, halfway between a roar and a whine, only to stumble back as she got an Ice Beam to the face. Her next noise was a proper roar that had my ears ringing, but that wouldn't be enough.
"See, the boss told you no! Apologize for trying to butt in without her permission!" Siren looked at me somewhat doubtfully. While she'd been strict with Betty as a Bagon, it had calmed considerably since the massive dragon evolved – and understandably so; it was one thing as a big baby, and a whole other when Betty weighed more than 100 times what Siren did.
But it would be good for both of them. Bossing around the Shelgon would give Siren some more confidence and help her reestablish her position in the team. Lately, the rest had started to pass her strength-wise. Not just Betty and Sol – those were expected. Hercules had a Type advantage, and even then I suspected that it stung to see the little Elekid leap ahead of her like that.
But recently, Aurora's Ice moves had surpassed hers in power as well, even Ice Beam coming swiftly to the fox. Espeon's psychic could throw her around like a rag doll, and Honedge could slice through stone.
Where did that leave Siren, the first member of the team? A little ahead of Aurora for another couple of weeks? Second weakest, only above Zorua?
So, hopefully, putting her in official charge of the largest member of the team would reaffirm the hierarchy.
For Betty, it was basically just humiliation and forcing her to bow to a 'weak' Pokémon, without pushing it with Aurora or something. Betty would probably just have attacked the fox. But she'd spent years under Siren's thumb; she'd re-learn how.
Plus, Newt, her genetic opposite, being able to use Dragon Pulse while Betty couldn't would help rub salt in the wound.
Despite her reservations, though, Siren, floating in the middle of the circle with the Prism Scale hanging crooked down her temple from all the abuse it had taken, still gave Betty a look I could only describe as viciously, gorgeously smug.
Newt, for her part, seemed to have decided that if Betty wasn't allowed to participate, then Betty wasn't a threat, and had relaxed enough to actually demonstrate the compression technique again in slow motion, curling small green flecks of Dragon-Type energy into a marble-sized ball in front of her snout before letting it dissolve harmlessly.
"Again," I told Siren, and she turned back to the target with the ferocious focus that made her the most terrifying fish I'd ever met.
Tiny, tiny little glimmers of green danced around her head for a moment painlessly before they fell under the Feebas' iron will and swirled inwards, colliding with each other. It wasn't the smooth fusion that Newt had managed, the specks sparking and losing a lot of energy as they were mashed together. At the end of the day, it was less than they added to the greater whole, which was what mattered.
Soon, a green, wobbly, oblong, round-ish sphere twitched and trembled before Siren. It grew slowly, approaching and then surpassing what Newt had used to demonstrate, swirling and moving more and more erratically, until, finally-
BOOM!
-she lost control, the infantile technique blowing up in her face. With surprising dexterity, Newt slithered forwards and caught the Water-Type, using her long body as a wall.
"Thank you, Newt," Siren echoed me with a gurgle while shaking off the explosion. The Dratini looked taken aback and unsure how to respond, averting her gaze.
Seemed the key to a well-behaved Dragon-Type was relentless bullying.
On that note, I pointed and glared at Betty. She glared back for a moment, but it seemed to be sinking in that I was well and truly done as, eventually, she rumbled a low note that, maybe, could be interpreted as a 'thank you'.
"Yeah, you better fucking-..." I stomped off before I worked myself up anymore, the adrenaline making my wound pulse anew. The Blackthorn painkillers – a suspiciously thick liquid that warmed the whole body and which I highly doubted was League-approved – were good for the pain, but they also messed with my head something fierce, so I preferred limiting how much I took.
Across the training area, mostly unbothered by the group therapy session happening in the middle of it, Aurora was demonstrating exactly how much progress an unended tide of opponents to smack down could buy.
"Beam it," I told her, and she spread her legs and tails wide. Her narrow snout cracked open, chilly mist leaking out between her teeth from a blueish-white orb of energy. Abruptly, the orb destabilized and a ray of pale energy lanced out, carving a frost-rimed line across a boulder that had survived Betty and Saya's earlier demolition job, the stone splintering and shattering from the sudden temperature shift. It wasn't perfect – it was slow, both to form and in flight, and still bled a little too much power into the air rather than holding until impact – but it was an Ice Beam, undeniably, and it wasn't that long ago she'd barely been able to manage a coherent Icy Wind.
"There you go," I told her, and she preened, tails fanning out in six directions at once, glacial-blue eyes bright as she rubbed against my legs happily. Picking her up, her mood switched on a dime, sniffing at my shoulder and laying her head against it softly.
"Aww, it's okay, I'll be fine!" I hugged her to her great enjoyment – and my own for that matter, her low temperature seeping through my bandage. We stood there for a moment before I put her down. Or tried to, as it took a couple of attempts to get her to let go. "Hell, I'll be patched up before Betty's shell is – though I might retain a bit more of a mark." The foreign Vulpix growled at the mention of the Shelgon, spewing a bit of cold wind out as a threat. "You'll beat her up for me? That would be a sight, but it's probably better if we didn't. Don't think her ego could handle that right now." Aurora snorted and swished her tails at the thought of caring about Betty's feelings, but let it lie regardless.
"Show me what else you got?" She perked up at the mention, energy consuming her to such a degree that she was shaking. Turning to the same rock she'd been using for Ice Beam practice, she checked over her shoulder several times to make sure I was looking. "I'm watching!" Her mood was infectious, and the beginnings of hope started swelling in my chest.
Had she finally done it?
Power filled the air like static, a building charge unlike her normal attacks. The constant, ethereal billowing of her fur increased; her tails stood straight, and her eyes shone with power as they took on a golden hue. Suddenly, her mouth opened wide, a bright glow emerging from within-
-and emerging as a rainbow-colored, kaleidoscopic beam of pulsing energy that hurt the eyes to look at. It struck the rock with a crack! and split it along where the Ice Beam had weakened it.
I deflated with a sigh. I'd learnt to recognize Psychic energy when I saw it, and Extrasensory was a fairly common move for Kantonian Ninetales. Aurora's was terribly weak, but still recognizable.
"... g-good." Aurora went from preening to being on the verge of a breakdown from my tone. "No, it's good, it is, was, whatever! Well done!" I spent a while making sure she believed me with copious amounts of affection. "It's just… not quite what I had in mind, but still good!" She cocked her head, confused at the double meaning. "That was Psychic-Type, not Fairy-good job!"
We'd get there.
It took a minute to extract myself, but I left her to continue practicing her two new moves. Espeon would be happy, at least, and we could pick it back up the next day.
Speaking of Espeon, though, I wasn't surprised to find her sitting on a stalagmite, tail swinging furiously as she glared at the proceedings.
Crack!
CRAAAACK!
"How's the Psybeam coming along?" My response was the jewel on her forehead shining brightly before a wrist-thick beam of energy that looked strikingly similar to the Extrasensory I'd just seen lanced out. The difference was that the Psybeam ripped through a large stalagmite, and then another behind that.
I was sure it was a complete coincidence that it nearly landed on Sol when it toppled over, the Arcanine barely avoiding it with a yelp.
"Looking good!" I praised, to no response. "And what about the Detect training? You were looking kind of-Okay, okay!" I held up my hands when she snapped her head over to glare at me. "I trust you. If you're taking a break, it's because you need it."
Crack!
The loud sound and bright flash filled the room, and Espeon bared her teeth.
"... there's always going to be cases like this," I started slowly, picking her up and putting her down on my lap. "You know that. You can't learn everything just because it's a Psychic-Type move-OW, yes you can, yes you can!" She slowly retracted her claws from where they'd dug into my thighs.
In front of us, it was Herc's turn to be on the attack. He charged forward at a decent clip, though without Quick Attack, at the waiting Sol. The Electabuzz cocked a hand back for a mighty punch, stomped hard, and threw the fist forwards-
CRRRACK!
-where it disappeared in an enormous blast of light, the sharp crack of the sound barrier breaking nearly deafening me as the huge canine vanished. For a moment, he was simply gone, only to reappear mid-air, ten-ish feet over the ground, and fall with a startled bark.
"At least he's managed it," I mused as they switched places. For once, Sol had actually gotten Teleport working before Herc did – though that might be because of his stronger Fighting-Type genes. The Electric-Type still ended up somewhere random, whereas Sol at least got close. Conversely, Hercules didn't look and sound like a lesser Pokémon using Explosion.
Espeon hissed again.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure you'll figure it out," I soothed her ego. She had not taken it well when, in particular, Sol had been able to learn the TM and she couldn't. Since then, she'd taken to staring at them every available hour to try and figure out the secret. I'd even had to stop her from trying to get them to Teleport with her.
It would just be my luck if they ended up fused into some kind of unholy abomination that would have Team Rocket creaming their pants. Better let them get a handle on it first.
—-
"You ready?"
"As ready as I'll ever be for something I don't want to do," I complained, getting an unimpressed look as I was herded out of the Den. "I don't care about your Clan. I'm way too involved in Clan politics as is; I don't want any more!"
"Will you calm down!?" Clair snapped. "It's not that big of a deal. You'll get some free food, don't have to talk to anyone if you don't want to, and then you'll be called for a quick meeting. It's probably just going to be the same as what I wanted from you; maybe an offer to buy Behemoth, but that's it! You'll be in no danger, not when we invited you in. That's a hard rule."
"What's with all the uncertainty!?"
She marched me out past Siren, who'd been left in charge of a still-sulking Betty for the evening after I convinced her I'd be fine, and didn't stop until we hit the mouth of the Den itself. We emerged from the jagged split in the mountainside a few hundred feet up, wind howling past it like the mountain resented anyone trying to leave. Far below, lights from the tiny houses glowed through the light snowstorm that had gripped the area.
"Down we go," Clair said, unhelpfully, and whistled.
Saya answered from somewhere below the ledge, uncoiling out of a crevice, and glided up to hover expectantly, pale blue scales catching the last of the daylight that made it through the snow.
"You're joking. In this weather!?"
"I'm really not. Get on, or walk down the mountain yourself. Maybe if you're lucky, you'll still be alive when I come back up after eating. Your choice." Clair had already climbed onto Saya's back while talking and reached down for me with an expression that suggested my choice was, in fact, an illusion.
I got on, squeezing the thick and muscular back between my thighs.
Flying, it turned out, was fine. Flying with a shoulder that had recently lost an argument with a baby Gible's mouth, while a Dragonair took the descent like she had somewhere better to be, was less fine, and the snowstorm really compounded it. I spent the first thirty seconds losing my mind, my good arm in a death grip around Clair's waist, several new curse words assembling themselves for later use.
Then Saya leveled out into a long, lazy glide, snaking her way through the sky as the wind bent around us and I made the mistake of looking down.
Blackthorn City didn't so much sit at the mountain's base as erupt from it, and I instantly developed a first impression.
Blackthorn was very tall.
Every building reached upwards, narrow towers with sides too steep to climb, flat roofs in slate pockmarked with footprints and small craters. Platforms jutted from the higher floors in angular shelves to allow the dragons to land, scored deep with claw marks built on top of claw marks over centuries. Some parts were melted, accidentally, to be sure, but also in an effort of repair, newer parts of the buildings fitted to the old with various degrees of care.
Unlike Saffron or Vermillion's skyscrapers, though, there was no steel or glass – other than the odd window. Instead, it was all rock and slate.
A dozen flyers buzzed around us as we glided through the sky along the mountain, Dragonair, Flygon, and the rarer Dragonite coming up to meet us before breaking off to return to their duties.
The Gym was carved into the very foot of the mountain, a huge palisade rising high up the rock wall, broad and wide, a pair of absolutely huge, intricately carved doors sitting in the middle. A wall surrounded the entrance to the Gym, a proper, thick stone wall that cordoned it off from the rest of the city. Saya brought us down into its courtyard with a controlled skid that sent gravel scattering in a wide fan. My legs, upon dismounting, informed me they had strong opinions about ever doing that again.
"Clan lives here too," Clair said before I could ask. "Well, Clan lives in the whole city, but the main branch is here. This is a bigger gathering, though, so we're pretty full. Tunnels go back a ways, connect up to the Den if you know your way." She didn't wait for a response, already moving. "Alright, let's get this over with."
She led the way into the Gym, a pair of Trainers standing guard, bowing deeply to her as we passed. The reception area was surprisingly close to Pewter's – bare rock walls and floor, furniture burned and carved straight from the stone.
The biggest differences were the various pelts and skins that served as pillows, the rows of teeth and claws used as decorations, and chair legs.
I hoped those were gathered non violently.
Swiftly moving through a door, we walked through a tunnel of dark rock, real-ass torches hanging up high to prevent anyone from bumping into them. Our shadows moved strangely in the odd lightning while we walked through crossroads, and I'd soon lost track of where we were as Clair took turn after turn without hesitation.
Still, we did eventually get to our destination.
The dining hall.
Four long tables ran the length of the room like ribs, packed edge to edge with Blackthorns in various states of dragon-themed finery – scale motifs, claw jewelry, one guy who'd apparently decided a Dragonite tooth necklace was a completely normal accessory choice, with hair colors of various blues, purple, red, pink, orange. It was a massive room, as large as the Cerulean Gym arena, of more dark stone lit up by torches that lined the walls in brackets shaped like claws, throwing everything into warm, flickering orange that did absolutely nothing to make me feel any less like a Magikarp that had wandered into a full tank of Sharpedo.
That metaphor didn't work since Magikarp were hollow, but whatever. Remoraid then.
But the noise. A hundred people screaming over each other, cutlery banging and drinks clanging, scraping of chairs and thumps of plates.
Clair steered me to a seat about halfway down the second table from the dais – pretty much in the middle, not close enough to be an honor, not far enough to be an insult – and abandoned me there with a pat on my good shoulder and zero words of comfort.
The Blackthorns on either side looked like they'd been carved from the same slate as their city. A broad-shouldered woman with a Dragonair-shaped hairpin holding back vivid red locks sized me up the second I sat down.
"So you're the one who's been hiding in the Den," she said. Not really a question.
"I'd call it 'recovering from a Gible using my shoulder as a chew toy,' but sure, we can go with hiding." Not really true, but she started aggressively, so whatever. I didn't want to be there anyway.
"Heard you've got a Titan." That came from the bald, older man across from me who was missing a decent chunk of one ear. Probably burnt, with the scars stretching the skin like he'd taken a Flamethrower to the face. He was also chewing with his mouth fully open. "Heard she lost a fight to a Dragonair, too."
Fuck you, Clair.
"Heard you're a bitch," I shot back, and he barked out something that could've been a laugh or a warning, hard to say which. "You don't worry about her. I got it."
"Nah, doubt it." It was the hairpin woman again, sipping from her cup without breaking eye contact as she leaned into my space. "I don't think a runt like you has the stones to handle something like that."
"Good thing nobody asked you, then. Now back the hell up. I'm a kid, you weirdo." If they wanted to fucking go, I'd go. She hummed and lingered for a moment before backing off in favor of more food. I doubted it would last long.
There was no order or anything. People were grabbing whatever they wanted, spilling food and drink across the table as they damn near fought over it. The Blackthorns were yelling to be heard over each other, spraying food from filled mouths and shoving more in as soon as there was space. I was getting jostled from all around me, having to push and shove to get my hands on some kind of veggie-curry-thing.
It was… nice. Not in a particularly pleasant way, more of a 'these people are real ' kind of way. There was no pomp or ceremony. Just people.
I'd almost relaxed. Then, the doors at the entrance slammed open hard enough that I felt it through the table.
The room went quiet, breaths held as a very tall man walked in. Everyone stretched to look, awestruck expressions painted on every single person.
Lance didn't look at anyone, walking in as if the entire hall – and his own Clan – weren't even there, a Dratini on his shoulder as the only person in the room with a Pokémon out. He looked the same as the last time I'd seen him, cape swooshing behind him, the corner whipping a teen in the eye and making him clutch his face, biting his tongue to avoid making a scene.
Then, halfway across the room, he stopped.
Turned.
Looked directly at me.
Every single Blackthorn on either side of me developed a sudden, urgent interest in their plates.
I was overcome with that same feeling I had the first time I'd seen the Indigo Champion, that sense of standing before something huge and predatory. I'd thought him being an asshole would alleviate it, thought being around Bruno – a bona fide Master of the highest caliber – would make it easier to bear, thought hanging out in the Dragon den would allow me to shake it off quicker.
It didn't.
By the time I did manage to snap out of it, Lance was already upon me, looming over me. I froze, Honedge in my shadow on the verge of jumping to my defense as the Dragon Master raised a hand and placed it on the back of my chair.
And then I was moving.
SCRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-
Involuntarily, my eyes bounced between the four tables as I was dragged along, not a single one of the previously haughty and challenging humans willing to meet my eyes.
-EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-
Soon, the long dining hall stretched out before me, over a hundred Blackthorns looking at me while trying to look like they weren't. And then I had to grab onto the seat beneath me, as the whole chair with me on it was lifted up to the dais by Lance's one hand and then placed down again to continue scraping.
-EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECH!
Thud!
Finally, I was forced between a middle-aged, blue-haired man who reminded me of Clair and an ancient, damn-near bald woman with milky-white eyes and a missing arm, who was one of the only people in the hall who didn't look like she cared what was going on – though even she had stopped eating.
Lance stopped for a second and looked back out over the room. He still didn't say anything, but I could see the back of his head slowly moving like he was staring down every one in there, daring them to comment.
When no one did, he snorted derisively and took the big chair in the middle, flinging himself into it and grabbing a hunk of meat straight from a plate in front of him.
Only after the first bite had passed his lips did everyone else resume.
Leaning forwards a little, I met Clair's wide eyes before slowly lifting my cutlery, trying to hide my pounding heart as I chewed.
—-
Big Daddy Lance.
Thank you for reading. Hopefully you enjoyed. If you REALLY liked it, I have a P-a-t-r-e-o-n, under the same name, where you can read 5 chapters ahead.