One shot: Destiny’s Uncertainty
This is my first attempt at writing pokemon fan fiction, so any and all comments would be welcome and also a special thank you to Kairi for beta reading this one shot.
Destiny’s Uncertainty
The horizon was filled with dark, grey clouds. Occasional rays of light pierced through the shadowy layers, brightening the city below. The streets were quiet and vacant, for everyone was inside their homes, awaiting the news of the battle.
In the centre of the city was the grand palace. Its central tower stood tall, overlooking the rest of the city and its surrounding walls. The interior, which was decorated with the finest furniture, carpets, sculptures and paintings money could buy was empty this night, save for the dozen or so guards standing watch over the deserted hallways.
In the tower, a man clad in royal purple robes sat himself on a grand oak chair, leaning over a desk with his loyal companion by his side. Papers piled in one corner of the table, an oil lamp in the other, and the ink well at the very edge. Two letters lay in front of the man, whose hand held a pidgeot feather quill and let it glide across the paper, writing with such speed and elegance that it could have only come from years of experience. Once he finished writing, he returned the quill to the well and stole a glance out the window right in front of him, over his peaceful city.
"Why?" he asked out loud, and sighed. No matter how much he thought about it, he couldn't come up with an answer. He was so close, so close in realizing his dream...
He picked up the letter and read it through, making sure there were no errors, he couldn't afford for there to be petty mistakes. As he did this he recalled the message he had received earlier.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
My Lord, I must inform you that at this time, the battle is all but over and our forces have lost.
As we marched on to the castle, our enemies' armies were gone, fooled by your ploy. They moved as you predicted and left their capital wide open to attack.
As the siege began, we took them by surprise, quickly securing the outer walls of the city and marching on to the castle at its heart. We launched an attack at the walls, but the opposing forced fought fiercely. We were unable to breach its walls until a small force led by your brother successfully infiltrated the castle, opening the gates, granting access for our army. Ren, our enemy, had built his castle well. The grounds were infested with traps, inevitably slowing down our progress.
As you know, my Lord, this battle was a race against time. Ren would send out messenger birds to pull back his army once he learned of our attack. We had to take his head before they arrived.
In this, I failed. My forces and I couldn't penetrate the inner keep or gain a foot-hold in its walls. Once again, your brother set off with his elite guard to open the gates. Most of our army was inside the castle now and our rear flank was held by Jia’s and Zeo's forces.
Alas, our enemy's armies had returned sooner than expected. As they arrived, Jia's forces turned and ran, leaving Zeo and his troops alone to face the larger force. I was told he fought valiantly until the end, refusing to surrender in order to buy us time, even taking the heads of two lieutenants of the opposing force.
In the end he fell, and a similar fate fell upon your brother. From the information I gathered from the troops I questioned, I drew one conclusion, this had all been arranged. Jia's forces had informed the enemy of your brother's plan and he was ambushed while he was inside and killed.
At this moment, we are trapped within the castle's walls. The enemy is in front and behind and we have no chance of escaping. We fight on, but it is only a matter of time until we are defeated. Then, our fates shall lie in the hands of Ren.
My fate may be decided, but I have informed you of this, thanks to telepathic abilities of my dear natu, because I believe Jia plans to take the throne since your armies are away. He will undoubtedly use this defeat as an excuse to seize power and will claim you are now longer competent to lead.
Please Lord Issac, I know you despise cowardice but you must escape from the capital while you can. Meet up with Ivan and his forces; then, return to the capital to claim Jia’s head.
Well...I can hear the drums of Ren's forces. They are trying to get in again, so it's time for me to teach them why Garet is feared across the land. This may be the last you hear from me, Lord Isaac, so please stay safe and never give up on your dream.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Isaac finished reading through his own written message, rolled it up and rose to his feet. He went to the table, located at the edge of the room. A bowl was on the centre of the table, harbouring a lit candle. It was full of wax from the burning candle, but the extra amount was poured out from the spout embedded into the bowl. Isaac picked up this bowl and blew out the candle. He took it over to the desk and poured some wax on to the rolled up letter, and then pressed his ring into the wax, imprinting a capital 'I.' Isaac's companion then began to growl.
"I know. I can hear them, too.”
Isaac walked over the window and saw a crowd of people beginning to form outside the gate. It looked as if word of the battle had already reached the capital. The people, angry at their nation's loss and the countless deaths of loved ones in the war had chosen him to be the outlet of their anger. Led by Jia, they would soon come for him
Isaac had received the message from Garet several hours ago, and in preparation had ordered everyone to leave, including his wife Mia and his children. The only ones who refused to leave were Isaac's elite bodyguards.
He then whistled and a pidgeotto came, landing on his raised forearm. The bird had a leather figure of eight leather loose around his leg. Isaac placed the letter into the loose. He then told it to go to Ren with the message. That message might just be enough to convince Ren to let Garet live. It was a long shot, but it was all Isaac could do for his friend.
He reminisced on the days when he and Ren had first met. They had both been part of the council of the Lords, they met and talked and both men shared the dream of a land of peace. Both also realized that it could only be achieved by having a single, powerful leader and united people.
After the king died, he left no heir to his throne, and it fell to the council to decide would be the next king. The power hungry lords couldn't agree on a successor and eventually a war broke out, with lord attacking lord attempting to gain power. In this time of war and chaos, one by one the lords fell as they were defeated and their kingdoms absorbed or destroyed by the more powerful lords until only Ren and Isaac were left. Both men declared themselves king and went to war with each other, but throughout it all the two men remained friends and saw each other as equals. And as such they would never allow themselves to submit to one another.
Issac’s most recent plan had almost worked and could have succeeded if not for Jia’s sabotage, but he had devoted two thirds of his army to this plan and with its failure he didn’t know if his weakened kingdom could survive Ren’s counterattack.
Even now, as Isaac looked over the city. He still couldn’t understand how he had lost the legend’s blessing. Ever since that night when Jirachi appeared before both Issac and Ren and told them that they had great destinies to fulfil, Issac had believed they he was destined to rule. As time passed he grew more certain that he had chosen by the legendaries to rule as he won battle after battle, his lands had successful harvests were other lords harvests failed and when his kingdom was one of the few that wasn’t affected by a great earthquake.
But with recent events playing out the way they have, it appeared he might have been wrong. A thunderous crash alerted Issac that the mob outside had broken down the gate and were now on their way.
Issac bent down and pulled back the carpet to reveal the floorboards beneath. He pushed down on the edge of a certain floorboard to hear a barely audible click, and then pulled out a stone out of the wall beneath the window to reveal a hole. Issac then quickly went back to desk and picked up the second letter, took the ring of his finger and hid them in the hole. He then replaced the stone.
Issac knew that one couldn’t claim the throne without the imperial ring and without it; Jia’s claim would become void. He had also written a letter which stated what truly happened at the battle today so a least one copy of what really happened would exist, since Jia undoubtedly would claim the loss was due to Issac’s incompendance as a commander and not due to Jia’s forces running away. Issac could now hear the clashing of blades echoing through the tower’s corridors.
Issac looked up at a picture on the wall. It was a portrait of his brother and him dressed in their respective armours. No matter how much he wanted to mourn his brother’s passing, he couldn’t, because he had a promise he had to keep.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Years ago, not long after the council fell apart, on the walls of this very city, underneath a clear sky and the shining sun, two warriors walked along the wall, looking out over the surrounding farmland.
They looked very similar, standing at almost the same height. The slightly taller one had more muscular build and was adorned in purple and red armour. Glistening scimitars crossed upon his back. The shorter one was adorned in purple and blue armour, and possessed a long sword with a pair of daggers, one at each side, attached to his waist.
The taller one turned to the shorter one, and said, "Isaac, my brother, war is upon us and the time to fight shall come soon. As the lord of these lands, it is your duty to lead and protect the people who occupy the lands."
Isaac turned to his brother, trying to figure out his point.
“It will be my job to fight in order to help you realize your dream, so I want you to promise me something.”
“What's that?” Issac asked.
“I want you promise me that if I should ever fall in battle or die because of the actions of another, do not grieve for me for I have lived and shall continue to live a life without regret. Instead, celebrate my life and the many great achievements I would have accomplished. Slay those responsible for my death and burn their bodies, so that from the heavens above I can see that they come to join me.”
* * * * * * * * * * * *
‘It’s time,’ Issac thought as he heard footsteps echoing down the hallway. Someone was approaching. He walked over to a wooden stand in the corner of the room and picked up his sword, seeing his companion getting to her feet.
Two men were running down the hall. Both wore dirty brown tunics and matching pants. The taller of the two held an axe and the smaller held a dagger.
“He’s in the room up ahead,” the taller one said.
“Are you sure?” the smaller one asked cautiously.
“Yeah. I saw him through a window when we were outside,” the larger one replied.
The two then came running to the end of the corridor, where a pair of closed wooden doors greeted them. They then charged forward, gripping their weapons in anticipation, bursting through the doors to find…
What greeted the two was an apparently empty room. They began to look around. The larger man moved to search the left side of the room, heading towards the desk. The smaller man began searching the left side of the room. The larger man found a purple rope draped over a chair, directly adjacent of the desk. He placed his axe on the desk and sifted through the drawers.
"Where could it be?" he grumbled. He then caught a glimpse of movement and a quick flash of white out of the corner of his eye. Stunned, he slowly moved his finger towards his weapon, ready to strike.
The man didn’t attack, strangely. Instead, he didn’t move a muscle and he had on a mask of terror. Before him stood a sleek black creature with curled demonic horns and a long, arrow ended tail. The creature also had bone ridges on its back and a small white skull pendant around its neck. It growled menacingly, showing its teeth, and positioned itself, ready to pounce. Its red eyes gave a piercing gaze which had frozen the man; he had been caught in a leer attack and couldn’t look away.
He finally blinked and pried away from the gaze when he heard a thump behind him. He turned his head and tried to see what had caused the noise, keeping a stray eye on the creature, his weapon in tact.
“Larry? What happened?” the man called out.
There was no answer. The creature, impatient, growled more loudly and narrowed its eyes, brimful of malice. It did not venture forth.
“Larry?” the man called out again, clearly worried.
He twisted his upper body to the right and looked behind him. What he saw was Larry lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood, a dagger sticking out of his neck and a bewildered look on his face.
The man looked forward again, and this time not only did he see the hellhound but he also saw a person standing next to it. The person had on a chain mail vest, was dressed in purple and held a sword in one hand and dagger in another. The man recognized the dagger; it was identical to the one that killed his friend. He then charged forward, axe firmly gripped in hand, throat emitting a sound of a wounded beast, face twisted with fury.
The man swung his axe in a high arc, aiming for Issac’s head. Issac ducked under the strike and slashed the man’s side with the edge of his sword, cutting though the man's tunic, causing blood to flow freely. The man cried out and stumbled forwards from the strike, only to be head butted in the chest by the creature. A cracking noise was heard as one of the man’s ribs cracked from the impact. He fell to the ground, but quickly rose, fuelled by determination to avenge his friend; he had one hand holding his side where his rib was broken and his axe in the other. His struggle was brought to an end as Issac, who had quickly positioned himself behind the man, struck him with his sword across his back. The man fell, never to rise again.
Issac could hear more footsteps as people came running to investigate the shouting. He walked over towards the door, removing his dagger from the other man's corpse.
“Reaper, come here,” Issac commanded.
The hellhound came and stood by her master.
“It’s time for me to realize my destiny, and keep my promise. Now let’s go!”
Issac then began running forward towards the door, Reaper at his side and his mind filled with only one thought.
‘This is for you, my brother.’
This is my first attempt at writing pokemon fan fiction, so any and all comments would be welcome and also a special thank you to Kairi for beta reading this one shot.
Destiny’s Uncertainty
The horizon was filled with dark, grey clouds. Occasional rays of light pierced through the shadowy layers, brightening the city below. The streets were quiet and vacant, for everyone was inside their homes, awaiting the news of the battle.
In the centre of the city was the grand palace. Its central tower stood tall, overlooking the rest of the city and its surrounding walls. The interior, which was decorated with the finest furniture, carpets, sculptures and paintings money could buy was empty this night, save for the dozen or so guards standing watch over the deserted hallways.
In the tower, a man clad in royal purple robes sat himself on a grand oak chair, leaning over a desk with his loyal companion by his side. Papers piled in one corner of the table, an oil lamp in the other, and the ink well at the very edge. Two letters lay in front of the man, whose hand held a pidgeot feather quill and let it glide across the paper, writing with such speed and elegance that it could have only come from years of experience. Once he finished writing, he returned the quill to the well and stole a glance out the window right in front of him, over his peaceful city.
"Why?" he asked out loud, and sighed. No matter how much he thought about it, he couldn't come up with an answer. He was so close, so close in realizing his dream...
He picked up the letter and read it through, making sure there were no errors, he couldn't afford for there to be petty mistakes. As he did this he recalled the message he had received earlier.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
My Lord, I must inform you that at this time, the battle is all but over and our forces have lost.
As we marched on to the castle, our enemies' armies were gone, fooled by your ploy. They moved as you predicted and left their capital wide open to attack.
As the siege began, we took them by surprise, quickly securing the outer walls of the city and marching on to the castle at its heart. We launched an attack at the walls, but the opposing forced fought fiercely. We were unable to breach its walls until a small force led by your brother successfully infiltrated the castle, opening the gates, granting access for our army. Ren, our enemy, had built his castle well. The grounds were infested with traps, inevitably slowing down our progress.
As you know, my Lord, this battle was a race against time. Ren would send out messenger birds to pull back his army once he learned of our attack. We had to take his head before they arrived.
In this, I failed. My forces and I couldn't penetrate the inner keep or gain a foot-hold in its walls. Once again, your brother set off with his elite guard to open the gates. Most of our army was inside the castle now and our rear flank was held by Jia’s and Zeo's forces.
Alas, our enemy's armies had returned sooner than expected. As they arrived, Jia's forces turned and ran, leaving Zeo and his troops alone to face the larger force. I was told he fought valiantly until the end, refusing to surrender in order to buy us time, even taking the heads of two lieutenants of the opposing force.
In the end he fell, and a similar fate fell upon your brother. From the information I gathered from the troops I questioned, I drew one conclusion, this had all been arranged. Jia's forces had informed the enemy of your brother's plan and he was ambushed while he was inside and killed.
At this moment, we are trapped within the castle's walls. The enemy is in front and behind and we have no chance of escaping. We fight on, but it is only a matter of time until we are defeated. Then, our fates shall lie in the hands of Ren.
My fate may be decided, but I have informed you of this, thanks to telepathic abilities of my dear natu, because I believe Jia plans to take the throne since your armies are away. He will undoubtedly use this defeat as an excuse to seize power and will claim you are now longer competent to lead.
Please Lord Issac, I know you despise cowardice but you must escape from the capital while you can. Meet up with Ivan and his forces; then, return to the capital to claim Jia’s head.
Well...I can hear the drums of Ren's forces. They are trying to get in again, so it's time for me to teach them why Garet is feared across the land. This may be the last you hear from me, Lord Isaac, so please stay safe and never give up on your dream.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Isaac finished reading through his own written message, rolled it up and rose to his feet. He went to the table, located at the edge of the room. A bowl was on the centre of the table, harbouring a lit candle. It was full of wax from the burning candle, but the extra amount was poured out from the spout embedded into the bowl. Isaac picked up this bowl and blew out the candle. He took it over to the desk and poured some wax on to the rolled up letter, and then pressed his ring into the wax, imprinting a capital 'I.' Isaac's companion then began to growl.
"I know. I can hear them, too.”
Isaac walked over the window and saw a crowd of people beginning to form outside the gate. It looked as if word of the battle had already reached the capital. The people, angry at their nation's loss and the countless deaths of loved ones in the war had chosen him to be the outlet of their anger. Led by Jia, they would soon come for him
Isaac had received the message from Garet several hours ago, and in preparation had ordered everyone to leave, including his wife Mia and his children. The only ones who refused to leave were Isaac's elite bodyguards.
He then whistled and a pidgeotto came, landing on his raised forearm. The bird had a leather figure of eight leather loose around his leg. Isaac placed the letter into the loose. He then told it to go to Ren with the message. That message might just be enough to convince Ren to let Garet live. It was a long shot, but it was all Isaac could do for his friend.
He reminisced on the days when he and Ren had first met. They had both been part of the council of the Lords, they met and talked and both men shared the dream of a land of peace. Both also realized that it could only be achieved by having a single, powerful leader and united people.
After the king died, he left no heir to his throne, and it fell to the council to decide would be the next king. The power hungry lords couldn't agree on a successor and eventually a war broke out, with lord attacking lord attempting to gain power. In this time of war and chaos, one by one the lords fell as they were defeated and their kingdoms absorbed or destroyed by the more powerful lords until only Ren and Isaac were left. Both men declared themselves king and went to war with each other, but throughout it all the two men remained friends and saw each other as equals. And as such they would never allow themselves to submit to one another.
Issac’s most recent plan had almost worked and could have succeeded if not for Jia’s sabotage, but he had devoted two thirds of his army to this plan and with its failure he didn’t know if his weakened kingdom could survive Ren’s counterattack.
Even now, as Isaac looked over the city. He still couldn’t understand how he had lost the legend’s blessing. Ever since that night when Jirachi appeared before both Issac and Ren and told them that they had great destinies to fulfil, Issac had believed they he was destined to rule. As time passed he grew more certain that he had chosen by the legendaries to rule as he won battle after battle, his lands had successful harvests were other lords harvests failed and when his kingdom was one of the few that wasn’t affected by a great earthquake.
But with recent events playing out the way they have, it appeared he might have been wrong. A thunderous crash alerted Issac that the mob outside had broken down the gate and were now on their way.
Issac bent down and pulled back the carpet to reveal the floorboards beneath. He pushed down on the edge of a certain floorboard to hear a barely audible click, and then pulled out a stone out of the wall beneath the window to reveal a hole. Issac then quickly went back to desk and picked up the second letter, took the ring of his finger and hid them in the hole. He then replaced the stone.
Issac knew that one couldn’t claim the throne without the imperial ring and without it; Jia’s claim would become void. He had also written a letter which stated what truly happened at the battle today so a least one copy of what really happened would exist, since Jia undoubtedly would claim the loss was due to Issac’s incompendance as a commander and not due to Jia’s forces running away. Issac could now hear the clashing of blades echoing through the tower’s corridors.
Issac looked up at a picture on the wall. It was a portrait of his brother and him dressed in their respective armours. No matter how much he wanted to mourn his brother’s passing, he couldn’t, because he had a promise he had to keep.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Years ago, not long after the council fell apart, on the walls of this very city, underneath a clear sky and the shining sun, two warriors walked along the wall, looking out over the surrounding farmland.
They looked very similar, standing at almost the same height. The slightly taller one had more muscular build and was adorned in purple and red armour. Glistening scimitars crossed upon his back. The shorter one was adorned in purple and blue armour, and possessed a long sword with a pair of daggers, one at each side, attached to his waist.
The taller one turned to the shorter one, and said, "Isaac, my brother, war is upon us and the time to fight shall come soon. As the lord of these lands, it is your duty to lead and protect the people who occupy the lands."
Isaac turned to his brother, trying to figure out his point.
“It will be my job to fight in order to help you realize your dream, so I want you to promise me something.”
“What's that?” Issac asked.
“I want you promise me that if I should ever fall in battle or die because of the actions of another, do not grieve for me for I have lived and shall continue to live a life without regret. Instead, celebrate my life and the many great achievements I would have accomplished. Slay those responsible for my death and burn their bodies, so that from the heavens above I can see that they come to join me.”
* * * * * * * * * * * *
‘It’s time,’ Issac thought as he heard footsteps echoing down the hallway. Someone was approaching. He walked over to a wooden stand in the corner of the room and picked up his sword, seeing his companion getting to her feet.
Two men were running down the hall. Both wore dirty brown tunics and matching pants. The taller of the two held an axe and the smaller held a dagger.
“He’s in the room up ahead,” the taller one said.
“Are you sure?” the smaller one asked cautiously.
“Yeah. I saw him through a window when we were outside,” the larger one replied.
The two then came running to the end of the corridor, where a pair of closed wooden doors greeted them. They then charged forward, gripping their weapons in anticipation, bursting through the doors to find…
What greeted the two was an apparently empty room. They began to look around. The larger man moved to search the left side of the room, heading towards the desk. The smaller man began searching the left side of the room. The larger man found a purple rope draped over a chair, directly adjacent of the desk. He placed his axe on the desk and sifted through the drawers.
"Where could it be?" he grumbled. He then caught a glimpse of movement and a quick flash of white out of the corner of his eye. Stunned, he slowly moved his finger towards his weapon, ready to strike.
The man didn’t attack, strangely. Instead, he didn’t move a muscle and he had on a mask of terror. Before him stood a sleek black creature with curled demonic horns and a long, arrow ended tail. The creature also had bone ridges on its back and a small white skull pendant around its neck. It growled menacingly, showing its teeth, and positioned itself, ready to pounce. Its red eyes gave a piercing gaze which had frozen the man; he had been caught in a leer attack and couldn’t look away.
He finally blinked and pried away from the gaze when he heard a thump behind him. He turned his head and tried to see what had caused the noise, keeping a stray eye on the creature, his weapon in tact.
“Larry? What happened?” the man called out.
There was no answer. The creature, impatient, growled more loudly and narrowed its eyes, brimful of malice. It did not venture forth.
“Larry?” the man called out again, clearly worried.
He twisted his upper body to the right and looked behind him. What he saw was Larry lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood, a dagger sticking out of his neck and a bewildered look on his face.
The man looked forward again, and this time not only did he see the hellhound but he also saw a person standing next to it. The person had on a chain mail vest, was dressed in purple and held a sword in one hand and dagger in another. The man recognized the dagger; it was identical to the one that killed his friend. He then charged forward, axe firmly gripped in hand, throat emitting a sound of a wounded beast, face twisted with fury.
The man swung his axe in a high arc, aiming for Issac’s head. Issac ducked under the strike and slashed the man’s side with the edge of his sword, cutting though the man's tunic, causing blood to flow freely. The man cried out and stumbled forwards from the strike, only to be head butted in the chest by the creature. A cracking noise was heard as one of the man’s ribs cracked from the impact. He fell to the ground, but quickly rose, fuelled by determination to avenge his friend; he had one hand holding his side where his rib was broken and his axe in the other. His struggle was brought to an end as Issac, who had quickly positioned himself behind the man, struck him with his sword across his back. The man fell, never to rise again.
Issac could hear more footsteps as people came running to investigate the shouting. He walked over towards the door, removing his dagger from the other man's corpse.
“Reaper, come here,” Issac commanded.
The hellhound came and stood by her master.
“It’s time for me to realize my destiny, and keep my promise. Now let’s go!”
Issac then began running forward towards the door, Reaper at his side and his mind filled with only one thought.
‘This is for you, my brother.’
