6Heavy Lies the Crown
Lying motionless on the bed, Lance squeezed his eyes shut and tried to focus his thoughts on something else other than the pain in his head. But try as he might, the pain didn't fade. It only seemed to intensify as time passed by. It was like he had been engulfed in flames and burning from the inside. Every breath caused a sharp pain to implode in his head, and the smallest of movements sent a wave of pain through his entire body.
He flinched when a felt a hand touch his shoulder. Opening his eyes, he rolled over onto his back and looked up and found Lyra looking back down at him. She was holding a packet of painkillers and a glass of water in the other. He forced himself up right, his back resting against the headboard of the bed.
"How are you feeling now?"
"Just… a minor headache, that's all."
Lyra frowned. "One that leaves you almost on the floor? I know you don't want to seek help, but don't you think it's worth taking the risk?" she said, as she handed the glass and packet of painkillers over to Lance.
"It's passed now," he said, hoping they couldn't tell he was lying. Being powerless wasn't a position he was familiar with, and he didn't like it. "As I told you earlier, it started happening earlier in the month, several weeks after the celebrations. I thought it might have been just some local virus going around, but it came again, only a lot worse."
She sat down on the bed next to him. "I just can't understand why you'd want to remain silent about it."
"I told you before I didn't want you to worry, Lyra," he said, pulling her into a tight embrace again. "You've got more than enough to worry about already with the league and all. This is minor in comparison. I'm sure it's just some weird sickness." Withdrawing, he opened the packet, popped out a single tablet and placed it in his mouth. Immediately, he took a sip of water to aid in swallowing the tablet then took the second one. Fortunately, they were strong pills, and the effects were almost immediate. Already, he could feel the pain in his head lift.
"It's not cowardice to seek help when you need it, Lance," Lyra replied as she pulled away. She climbed to her feet then added, "Surely, there must be someone you know that you could ask? Someone that won't share it with the world? What if this happens again when you're out in public? Whatever it is, it needs to be stopped. I'm not going to go back to the league until I know you're okay."
"There is someone who can help," he started, his thoughts turning to his father. The man had claimed he was going to return to Sinnoh but had decided at the last minute he was going to stay for a few months. He was still becoming adjusted to having his father around after many long years spent believing he was dead. To have him return out of the blue had taken him by surprise. "For many years, I thought my parents had died. Turns out my father was living in Sinnoh living out his remaining years of his banishment sentence. He returned recently."
"Is there anything else you want to tell me?"
His stomach muscles tightened hearing the sudden sharpness in her tone. Lyra probably thought he was holding more secrets from her, and she had every reason to suspect that based on previous events. Events that had almost made her turn away from him for good. "No, that's everything. He's here in Blackthorn. He rented out one of the rooms in the local hotel for a few months. I could take you to him. I'm sure he'll happy to meet you."
"…I suppose…"
She seemed uncertain. Understandable, really, since she had just learned of his father. Meeting someone else's parents was always awkward. What would his father think? Would he approve of Lyra? The man hadn't had much contact with civilization. He was probably stuck in the old ways of the Blackthorn clan still. Would he find Lyra a worthy partner? Not that his feelings would change for Lyra if the man decided no but having his father's blessing would be nice.
"Are you sure you're able to walk?"
He nodded. "I'll be fine." To prove his case, he stood up from the bed.
She didn't look convinced, but rather than debate about it, Lyra followed him. "Just promise me you won't hide stuff from me. I know you want to keep me safe but keeping things from me does more harm than good. How can I help you if I don't know what you're dealing with?"
"That wasn't my intention… I just don't want to seem…"
"…Weak?" Lyra finished.
That was the word. Weak. Weakness wasn't tolerated in the Blackthorn clan. No one wanted a leader that couldn't help themselves or fight their own battles, and he was the next in line for clan elder. There was a certain expectation placed on him that he had to live up to and surpass. Strength of mind and body was respected, not cowardice.
"You're not weak, Lance. Don't even begin to believe that."
"It's kind of you to say that, but in the eyes of the council, they will disagree."
She frowned. "Tell me about the council. What do they want?"
Talking about the history of his clan was a good way to distract his mind from recent events. It also was a good opportunity to talk to Lyra about the ways of his people so she would know what to expect when inducted into their clan through marriage. "Each dragon tamer is a descendant of a clan. There are hundreds of them, but only five are of importance. Each of the regions has one and is represented by the male. You've probably heard of their names before – Drake of Hoenn, Drasna of Kalos, Drayden of Unova and my grandfather, Edward of Johto-Kanto."
"That's only four names though."
"The Sinnoh clan was lost during the ancient days during the Times of Trouble." During his younger days, Lance and Clair had been forced to study the history of their people to understand how they came to be and the importance of upholding the values and beliefs of the Blackthorn clan. It hadn't been a topic he had been interested in, but grandfather had insisted it was important to know and understand.
Lyra nodded, prompting him to continue. "I suppose that's why dragon tamers always seem so stuck in the ways of the old," she said. "You do seem to be wiser than the average trainer, and I guess it's because of that upbringing."
"The average trainer starts their journey at the age of ten usually, but tamers always start as soon as they reach five years of age. Some would argue that it's too early for a child to commit to that lifestyle, but it's necessary. As you know, dragons take longer to evolve and that's why we start at an earlier age."
He remembered it clearly. The weekly schedule would always be the same and consisted of a mixture of three hours of history lessons, two hours of leadership and ethics, four hours on physical training and an extra three on pokémon studies. Learning these lessons at a young age was supposed to instil good values in tamers so they could apply these skills in protecting the innocents and the weak. Dragons were a symbol of pride, benevolence, honour, and knowledge, and it was expected owners of dragon-type pokémon also exhibited these traits.
"That sounds rough," Lyra said softly. "I knew it was tough, but I didn't realize how far the training went. You must've had a lonely upbringing."
"We never thought much of it at the time, but you're right – When I look back on it now, I realize we missed out on developing those essential skills other trainers learn by socializing with other children their age. While most children spent their time playing, we were studying or training. We didn't have time to play or socialize; that was frowned upon. That's why you'll find most tamers are quite… dull and strict. Mature too. Most are quite serious and incapable of smiling."
The more he thought about it, the more depressing it became. The word happiness certainly didn't come to mind when it came to describing his childhood. It was no wonder why Marina and his fan club labelled him as the 'the brooding and mysterious Dragon Master'. "So that's how you got into the league at a young age," Lyra said.
"I was seventeen when inducted into the elite four. Most people don't make it until their late twenties… Sometimes not even until they're in their late fifties as in the case of Agatha. It's a position that's supposed to be reserved for the most experienced trainers; not necessarily the strongest. When you take on the eight gyms, it's a matter of strength, but when you take on the elite four, your strength comes from knowledge. Without knowledge, you have no power. Without knowledge, you have no understanding of the bond with your pokémon."
"What made you decide to become Champion then?"
Good question. Originally, it was because he wanted to be the strongest trainer in the region and be the ultimate dragon master. Only in recent years had he come to realize how foolish that aspiration had been. "My clan values strength and courage, Lyra. That's what dragonite represents. I thought that in becoming a Champion, I'd be upholding the values of the Blackthorns and my ancestors. Champions are generally regarded as being the strongest of trainers in a specific region, and I wanted nothing more than to be just that – to prove to everyone that I could be like Red, but better." He then snorted. "You showed me that wasn't the case. That raw power alone wasn't what made Champions. It's much more than that."
She smiled. "Has anyone ever told you that you're way too hard on yourself?"
With a shrug, he said, "I grew up on high standards. If I didn't reach my goals, it'd be considered a failure. Up until recent years, I thought I knew everything." He gave her a roguish grin. "I suppose that's why I felt so threatened by you when you first appeared."
"You? Threatened by me? I was intimidated by you," Lyra replied, giving him a playful smile of her own. "It must've been that stern look in your eyes and that black cape of yours you covet so much that gave an imposing aura. Do you ever take it off?"
He shook his head. "Never in public."
Giving him a coy grin, she added, "That's understandable. I saw you once without it - you do look a bit strange. Not quite as dark and brooding."
"Disappointed?" he replied, raising an eyebrow at her sudden display of boldness.
"The opposite actually," she said, giving him another coy look. Lowering her tone, she added, "I think you should take it off more often."
He raised his other eyebrow. Not that he was surprised – the better word to describe it was amused. The conversation had started off on a serious note about the history of his clan, but now had taken a rather flirtatious tone. Lyra didn't often make suggestive remarks, but when she did it only made him desire her even more. He was half-tempted to pick her up bridal style and place her on the bed, but he had just enough self-control to resist the urge. "Well, you only have to say the magic word, and I might just do it for you."
"…I did not just hear you say that. "Both he and Lyra turned to the door where he found his cousin leaning against the frame, a somewhat mock expression of disgust on her face. "Let me know in advance when you decide to take that next step. I don't want to be forever mentally traumatized by the image of my cousin deflowering his girl."
A deep shade of red appeared on Lyra's cheeks, and she looked away, embarrassed. A surge of irritation emerged from the pit of his stomach to his head. He glowered, hoping Clair would pick up on the hint to hold her tongue and leave the room. "Have you got anything useful to say?"
She threw an envelope at him. Well, tried to. It flew a foot then dropped down to the floor about a metre away from his feet. He bent over, picked it up then opened it. Clair remained close by, as if expecting to read the letter too. There was only one line on the letter; 'Meet me at twelve at the local café this Wednesday.' If not for the dragonite stamp at the bottom, he would've not recognized the sender.
"So, what is it?" Clair said.
"An invitation to lunch."
"From?"
It dawned on him then Clair didn't know who Jacob was either. He wondered if he should bring her along as well to meet her uncle. "…Someone you should meet in person. It won't do any good if I just tell you myself."
"Well, all right then. I'm not going to say no to lunch. Haven't been to that café in a long time. You think they still sell those strawberry frappes?"
Shrugging, he said, "I don't know, Clair. I haven't been there myself in a few years." Cafes meant sitting down in a public area having journalists sitting a few metres away taking photos and writing notes. He usually opted to keep it safe and remain at the league if he felt eating food that wasn't cooked by Karen. Turning to Lyra, he added, "You're going to come, aren't you? I want you to be there."
She nodded, a smile spreading across her face. The redness was still on her face, but at least she hadn't run away from embarrassment. Clair could be so brash at times though he suspected she behaved like this on purpose. "Of course, I'll be there."
"You two make me sick," Clair murmured. "Maybe I might just pass on this."
She turned her back and exited the room. "Deflowering?" Lyra said.
"Don't worry, she's not serious." At least, he didn't think so. He'd have to have a word about that with her later when they were alone. "Would you like to have lunch with me? Thought I might visit this café beforehand and get a feel for the menu."
"Are you asking me out on a date?" she teased.
"Well, we never did that before we got together… So… Why not make up for lost time?"
Lyra smiled. That was enough to tell him she agreed. Even though they were together, he couldn't stop a bizarre fluttering sensation in his stomach. This would be the first time they went out together in public since the handover ceremony. He only hoped the dragon council members and his fan club weren't planning on being in the area. He wasn't overly fond of the idea of seeing pictures of himself and Lyra on the first page of every newspaper in the region. Still, what could possibly go wrong at a café of all places?
.
Blue hadn't left the house until his wounds had healed. No point in walking around the town with a few bruises – as good-looking as he was, no girl wanted to sleep with a dirtied face. They'd probably assume he was still in trouble, and somehow, they'd get involved too. He sat back down on the sofa and turned on the television. "Missing sailors and strange behaviour from the zubat," he said, reading out the scrolling text aloud. Same old news that had been reported for over a week now.
He switched the television and climbed to his feet. Maybe the local paper would have something new to read about. Stifling a groan, he headed outside and over to the mailbox. As per usual, the newspaper was lying on the grass rather than inside the box itself. Apparently, the postman did this on purpose.
Knotting his brows in anger, he leaned over and picked it up then returned indoors. Laying the paper out on the table, he flipped through the pages, looking for something that hadn't already been mentioned. "Missing sailors. Zubat behaviour. Lance and Lyra – on the rocks? Misty on a date with Brock." He stopped at the latest news article. "On a date with Brock? You really must be getting desperate Misty."
He scanned the article. According to the journalist, Misty and Brock had attended the opening of Surge's new restaurant. There was a photo of them holding hands. He almost barfed at the sight. Surely, this had to be a set up? No one in the right state of mind would ever touch someone like her. He called her carrot top.
"I suppose Brock is the only guy who'd be willing to pay for you… He's always struck me as being a little desperate," Blue told himself, holding back a snicker. He closed the paper then looked to the door again. Lyra hadn't replied to his proposal yet. He wondered if she was even going to come. Maybe he had scared her off. Weird. Since when did a girl not want to be around the great Blue Oak? He sighed. Now what could he do to pass some time? He looked to the region map hanging on the opposite wall just above the television. Maybe he could visit Misty and get on her case about not investigating the caves. The girl had been too busy for preparing for some stupid date. It was enough to get her fired from the gym leader conference for 'slacking off on her duties'.
Deciding that would be a good way to kill some time, Blue summoned his pidgeotto and climbed on his companion's back. "We're heading to Cerulean City. I'm gonna pay Misty a visit." The bird nodded, stretched its wings to the side then launched up high into the air. Beating her wings, she gained altitude, keeping at level with some of the low clouds. Being up this high was a nice change of pace from the usual. Maybe that's why Red had left. To get away from civilization. Coward.
The wind bristled against his skin and ruffled his hair yet not a single strand fell out of place. Nothing could ever unhinge him, not even the elements. Pidgeotto kept steady in the air, flapping her wings every couple of minutes, only to glide through the clouds. Unfortunately, the flight to Cerulean was a short one. Sometimes it was nice just to glide through the air and watch the world below.
Pidgeotto landed a few moments later right before the Cerulean City Gym. He brought a hand behind the avian's neck and gave it a rub, prompting a soft coo from his companion. If there was one thing he learned from his defeat to Red, it was be nice to your pokémon. He returned the avian to its pokéball, attacked it back to his belt then entered the gym.
The stench of chlorine greeted him. How could anyone train in a place like this all day long let alone live with the smell? The only positive thing about this gym was the females in bathing suits doing laps alongside their pokémon. At least it gave him something to look at. "Look at what the cat dragged in."
He tore his gaze away from the females and glanced towards the source of the voice. Misty, the infamous Waterflower sister, the ugly one of the brood. He grimaced and raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sight. "Misty, put some clothes on. You can't be walking around looking like that! Have you no shame?" he taunted, knowing fully well his comments would rub her the wrong way.
It was one of the reasons he liked visiting her. His words always filled her with great rage. It was amusing. Her face would turn red like a tomato then she'd blow up like a volcano. Already, she was beginning to exhibit signs of anger. Her ears were turning red. A sure fire-sign another Misty tantrum was on the way.
"You have no authority over me, Oak. This is my gym, and I can do what I please."
He lowered his arm. "I thought you'd be pleased to see me here."
"And why would I be happy to see you?"
In the corner of his eye, he caught the girls in water looking at him. One of them smiled. He winked back. The girl turned away, embarrassed. "Because I'm Blue Oak, the most attractive guy you'll ever lay your eyes on. I thought girls liked looking at good-looking guys? Oh wait. You're not really a girl though, are you?"
She glared, placing her hands on her hips. "Have you got anything useful to say?"
"Yeah, I do actually. I trust you've heard about the behaviour of the local zubat."
"What about it?"
By now the local students had climbed out of the pool. They had their towels wrapped around them and were looking in his direction. Blue pointed at Misty. "You have a duty to protect this city from threats… Yet instead of checking out the caves, I hear you've been out on a date instead. Slacking off on your duties for a bit of lovin'?"
Her gaze hardened. "I'm not a cave expert, Blue. I wouldn't even know where to begin. Besides, the cave might be in my city, but the last I heard was that the league took over it because of the dangerous pokémon living inside it. I even have the writ from Lance. Would you like to read it yourself?"
Ah, right. She had him there. When Lance had taken over, he made a lot of changes to the region, including prohibiting access to dangerous places. Cerulean Cave was such a place. He had hoped she hadn't known that. "Right. You got me there. Looks like you're not that stupid after all. Guess you had to have something," he retorted, trying to keep his voice steady. He didn't like being on the losing side.
"Yeah, I do. I've got a gym. What do you have? Nothing."
His jaw twitched. "Things you'll never be able to have."
"I don't need some fancy title to feel worthy, Oak. I'm not that desperate."
"But desperate enough to go out with that loser, Brock."
She narrowed her eyes, her lower lip curling back. "Brock is not a loser. Why do you care who I spend time with anyway?"
"I don't. I'm just saying you must be desperate to go out with a guy like that… But then again, it's you we're talking about. You are the not so sensational sister. I guess dating a guy like Brock fits perfectly." Her fingers clenched into fists. Ah, now he was getting her riled up. Finally. "It must hurt you deep inside to know you'll never be any better than your sisters. Whilst they're touring the world, you're stuck here running a gym. Heck, you're hardly ever mentioned in the interviews. It's like you don't even exist."
"It's better than being alone…. I'm sure you can relate to that one."
He held back a snarl. So, Misty thought she could turn the tables on him, did she? "I'm not alone. I have fans all around the world that would do anything for me in a heartbeat."
She choked back laughter. "They don't even care about you, Oak. No one does. The girls that chase after you are so brain dead, they wouldn't even be able to tell the difference between a cupcake and a muffin." She took a step towards him. "You think all this and that – but you're not, Oak. You're no one of importance. Not anymore. People actually cheered when you were defeated by Red so all this talk about you being loved by all is just full of crap."
This wasn't going out the way he had planned. Misty was supposed to be the one getting all riled up. Not him. But he couldn't just turn around and leave. Pride told him to stay and defend himself. "I am important. I'm the grandson of Samuel Oak, the world's most famous professor."
"And you capitalize on his fame and abuse it."
"Are you not in the same position? You're related to three famous sisters. You only got the gym because of them."
She shook her head. "I earned the right to lead this gym, Oak. Ever heard of working hard before? Probably not. You wouldn't even know the meaning of hard work because you've had everything handed to you on a silver platter." She closed the distance between them then stabbed him in the chest with her finger. "You're just one of those spoiled rich kids who leech off the miseries of others less fortunate than you to make you feel better about yourself. Why do you think people were so happy when you were dethroned?"
"Because they were jealous of me and what I had!" he hissed in retaliation, moving her hand away. He pointed at himself. "I had fame. I had money. I had power. I had the look. People hate what they don't have because it only reminds them of what they lack."
"Is that why you hated Red so much? I remember you used to bully him. Didn't you push him over in the mud once? I also heard you locked him in a room and didn't let him out until it was nighttime. It must be hard living with yourself. Maybe that's why your grandfather didn't show for your ceremony, but showed up for Red. You were just a disappointment to him."
The girls in the bathing suits were still standing nearby all huddled together in a group. They were still watching. At least they didn't have any phones on them to record the moment. He glared at them, his patience wearing thin. "What are you lot looking at? Don't you have anything better to do?" he demanded. The girls hurried off.
"I know how that feels, Oak. To be the bystander. The black sheep in the family. To be the sibling pushed aside like you're nothing. I've had to live in the shadows of my sisters for years. It wasn't up until recently that I came to accept myself for who I am."
He looked at her again. "You don't anything about me," he said through clenched teeth.
"I know you're alone. You brag about your achievements because you think it'll make you feel better, but the feeling is only temporary and before you know it, you're empty again."
He snorted, rolling his eyes. "Spare me the lecture."
"You're angry, Blue. You don't feel safe, and you don't know what to do about it. You wish you had control of your demons, but instead they control you. You're lost, and alone, and everything you do stems from that fear, and you hate it. You feel abandoned by your own family, and you think you can draw attention to yourself by leaving a path of destruction behind you." She closed the distance between them and grabbed his arm. "I've been there, Oak. I've been in that dark place for years, and I only just crawled out."
He swatted her hand aside. "I'm nothing like you, Misty."
"Then you'll always be unloved and unwanted. You could've been a great Champion, Blue – but you blew it. Maybe Red isn't the coward you think he is – maybe that's you. You're the one running." She turned her back and walked away to grab a towel off the rack.
He didn't respond. Just remained silent, his mind failing to come up with a witty reply. Misty was wrong about him. No way could she possibly know how he felt. How could she even understand? She was just some gym leader. Her words should have no effect on him so why couldn't he force her words outside of his head? Finding the stench of chlorine suddenly intoxicating, Blue made for door and exited the gym.
"Blue."
He looked up. Red.
.
All eyes were upon them as they entered the local café. Everyone wanted to get a glimpse of the newest couple in the region, the royal couple, Lance and Lyra. That's what they were referred to as now – according to fans, the Blackthorns were like royalty, and saw this match-up as such. Stomach muscles tightening, Lyra did her best to avoid eye contact. If she didn't look them directly in the eyes, she could pretend they didn't exist.
There was a good chance most of these people had read Marina's blog post and wanted to see for themselves if there was trouble between the pair. Why did people always have to know what other people were doing? Lance laced an arm around her waist and pulled her in closer. He leaned over and said, "Don't let them get to you, Lyra. They can believe what they want, but we know the truth and that's all that matters."
She wished she could be as confident as him. It was easier for Lance to adapt since for some reason, females were always the ones judged in celebrity pairings. Some of the blog comments read, 'She's too plain looking for him', 'Lance probably let her win', and even 'They won't last long. He'll realize she's nothing special soon'. The nerve of some people.
Lyra scanned the room, trying to ignore the local customers. Lance's father was supposed to be meeting them here today, and that only made her feel more anxious. Would he disprove of her? Based on the information Lance had given her about the Blackthorns, she was expecting his father to be a traditionalist. He'd probably expect her to play the role of a traditional woman.
"There he is," Lance said, tilting his head forwards, bringing her attention to a man sitting in the far corner. He was dressed all in black, and his features were hidden beneath the hood. Drawing in a deep breath, Lyra followed Lance to the table, desperately trying to calm herself down. First impressions were important after all. "Father, this is Lyra," Lance started, pulling a chair back.
Lyra sat down. Lance took the seat next to her. The man looked up from the newspaper on the table, his dark eyes searching. She noticed there was a vertical scar through his right eye. No wonder he kept the hood down. "I've heard much about you, Lyra. You're the one who defeated my son and claimed the title of Champion."
"That is correct," she replied, dropping her hands to her lap. How was she supposed to address him? Lance hadn't said anything about greetings.
"An impressive feat to achieve," he replied, his dark eyes turning back to Lance. "Such an odd concept, really. This league and champion business. Women never used to fight. Marriages would be arranged between the parents to ensure only the strongest genes were passed on."
Lance narrowed his eyes. "Well, it's a good thing we've moved on from those times then otherwise I never would've met Lyra."
His father raised a brow, an amused smile tracing his lips. "I am not criticizing your choices, Lance, but you must be aware of the trials you now face. I've noticed the arrival of new visitors entering our city – You do know why they are here."
"They want to claim the city as their own,' Lance replied.
"And they will take it if you don't take action."
"I'm the Clan Elder now. I can drive them out."
The man shook his head. "You're confident, but it's not so simple. You haven't officially been sworn in as the next elder." Lance raised an eyebrow. The man seemed equally surprised. "You thought that the passing of your grandfather would automatically make you the leader? You need to prove yourself, Lance. You need to undergo a trial before the council leaders to prove you are worthy of it."
Now it was Lyra's turn to be surprised. A trial? He hadn't spoken of it, but judging by the look on his face, he didn't know either. "What do you mean he has to face trial?" Lyra said, turning back to the older man.
"In the earlier days, clan members would battle amongst each other for the right to rule, but as you've said, times have changed. The leaders of each clan decided all the in-fighting for leadership was barbaric and decided to find another means of approving leadership. Edward Blackthorn started this movement, and thus the council was formed." The man folded the paper then pushed it aside. "All representative faces of the dragon clans of the world would come together as one to make crucial decisions – such as leadership. Anyone who was in line to become the successor of their clan would have to be judged before the other leaders."
Lance leaned back in his chair. "Then I've got nothing to worry about then. I completed my studies, joined the league, and then became Champion of two regions. That should be enough to appease the council."
"Have you committed any crimes?"
"Nothing to the extent of Team Rocket."
"Even the smallest things count, Lance. I was banished for defending our city from a rogue Dragonite because I broke a law. I've heard you've done something similar." He pulled the paper back over, unfolded it then flipped to the page about local news. Lyra looked down. There was an image of Blue, and of one of the foreign tamers. The words 'Former Champion Strikes Back' was in bold. Lyra knew he had hit Blue, but Lance had attacked someone else too?
"He was asking for it."
"That I don't disagree with, but you need to show a level of self-control, Lance. There are other ways to defeat your rivals without resorting to cheap tactics. Is that what you want the Blackthorn clan to be known for? Thuggery?"
Lyra saw his jaw tighten. "What do you propose I do then?"
"They didn't just come to take over Blackthorn, Lance. They've come for something greater and building a base in Blackthorn will allow them easier access. I trust you've seen the latest headlines in the paper about the missing sailors near the Whirlpool Islands?" His father leaned forward, resting his elbows on the edge of the table.
"You think they've come for Lugia then."
Lyra raised a brow. "Lugia? The white dragon of the seas?"
"Correct, and they have come for that reason. With Edward out of the picture, and no official leader for Blackthorn, the council know this is the best time to capture the beast. You can't allow that to happen – if Lugia falls into their hands, the battle will be lost and there will be no Blackthorn clan left." He closed the paper again.
Lance frowned, seemingly deep in thought. She saw concern in his eyes and felt sympathy towards him. Here she was worrying about what people thought of them whilst the future of the Blackthorn clan weighed on Lance's shoulders. Not to mention he was also battling some sort of odd sickness which naturally he had failed to bring up. "You want me to summon Lugia and capture it so I can use it against the other councils because that would clear my name. Is that it?"
It made sense. Legendaries only allowed themselves to be captured by a trainer with a pure heart. If Lance was able to capture Lugia, that would prove he was the worthy of being the true leader of the clan. "If you don't, you'll be banished from this land, like I was. You will forfeit all rights and the Blackthorn Clan will be no more. Is that a fate you want for future generations?" his father countered.
"You're asking me to go on a suicide mission. What if Lugia refuses? The clan will end no matter what."
He shook his head. "You have a chance Lance to make things right for our people. Find and capture Lugia then drive the foreign tamers out. Break up the council – no organization should have that much power that they can decide what happens in regions outside their own." Clenching a fist, he added, "With the power of Lugia at your side, you can do that."
"You just want me to do what you could not," Lance replied with a glare. "That's why you came back, isn't it? If you wanted to see me, you would've come earlier, but you never did."
"I was forbidden to return whilst Edward was in charge."
"That's a weak excuse. If you genuinely cared, you would've come anyway, and now you do because you want me to start a war." Lance gripped the edge of the table with his right hand, his left hand resting at his side. "If Lugia wasn't in the picture, would you have even come?" Silence. Lance snorted. Lyra struggled to think of something to say, but nothing came to mind. This was between father and son on an issue about clan politics.
"Son, I-"
"You don't have the right to call me that. You've been dead to me for years,' Lance hissed, rising from his chair. "Why should I even care for a single word you have to say? And here I was thinking of asking you to stay here and help me, but I won't be a pawn in a game you lost long ago. You can find Lugia yourself if it matters that much to you. Lyra, we're leaving. I'm sorry for bringing you here."
She saw him visibly cringe, but it was gone within a second. Was it the onset of another surprise headache coming on again? "I'm staying, Lance," she replied, searching his eyes. Anger. Hurt. "I want to know more about Lugia." Perhaps it was the wrong thing to say – she didn't fail to notice how the muscle in jaw twitched – but he couldn't force her to leave. "Then he can leave."
Lance didn't respond. Instead, he turned around and stormed out of the café, ignoring the surprised onlookers taking photos. All eyes lingered on her. What a scene for the gossips to remember. She wanted to hurry after him, but her legs refused to move. Instead, she kept her gaze on Lance's father, feeling a chill race down her spine as their eyes locked. His eyes were the same colour, but they lacked the warmth Lance had. "You must be the rational level-headed one then. He chose well."
"Is that supposed to be a compliment?"
His expression was unchanged. Not even a hint of amusement. As hard as stone. "He's the only one who can find and capture Lugia, Lyra. If he doesn't, everything we have here will be lost. My father's visions were never wrong."
"You want me to convince him to risk everything?"
"Would you not do the same if you were faced with losing your home forever?"
Good question. "I'm not going to make him do something he doesn't want."
"Let me ask you this, Lyra - Do you see a future with Lance?"
She furrowed her brows. "What? Of course, I do. I'm not going to stand aside and allow him to suffer."
"Then if you love my son as much as you claim to, you will help him claim his right as the true heir of the Blackthorn clan if you want that future to become a reality. If Lance is banished, you'll have nothing. You'll be tied to someone who has no future. It's the ultimate humiliation which makes death rather endearing. I'll ask you again – do you see a future with him? Marriage? Children?"
The fairy-tale life most girls fantasized about. The dream life – a good home, a loving partner, and a family of her own. It wasn't something she had given much thought about, but she knew that's where their relationship was eventually heading. Daunting but necessary. "I made a promise to myself that I would always stand at his side no matter how rough it became. I'm not going to abandon him like you did."
"I had no choice," the man replied, his voice low. "I had to leave the city. If I returned while my father was still in charge, I would be hunted down and killed. That is the law of the council. Once you are banished, there is no going back. You're no longer part of a clan. You're nobody important. I don't want that fate to be shared with Lance."
"He is your son. Even if you were banished, you still could've at least tried to try to see him."
"And allow him to stand face to face with the traitor of the clan?"
Pride. It always came back to pride. Blue, Lance and even Red climbed to the top of the league to prove their own self-worth, believing it would help them somehow become better people. "You didn't want him to be embarrassed to be related to you," Lyra answered after a few moments pause. "So, you thought that simply by vanishing and pretending you were dead it would somehow make things better."
"And it's turned out well," he answered. "He never needed me. My father did a better job of raising Lance and Clair than I ever could – if I was still around, what would I have done? I didn't even a roof over my head, and I had to forage for food, and you think I could've helped him? Keeping my distance as much as it hurt was for the best."
He presented a solid argument that she couldn't argue with. Who was she to dictate how a parent should act towards their own child? With a sigh, she slumped back in her chair. "You want me to convince him to find Lugia to restore honour for the clan."
"This is what my father envisioned, Lyra. He knew that you and Lance would someday cross paths and work together to make this region a better place. I thought I was going to be a hero for my people in the same way you lot thought Red was. We were wrong. My father saw you become the Champion in his visions. The defender of the light. You can't break free of these chains of fate."
Destiny. Wasn't that something Edward had said as well? Something about her destiny being tied to Lance? "I never said for any of this."
"As much as we like to think we have control over our lives, we don't." He rose to his feet. "Go to him. Convince him to change his mind. When he returns to Blackthorn, we'll have to prepare for the trial and the battle to come. I know you won't disappoint."
There were other questions she wanted to ask, but a lump had formed in her throat. So much expectation, and here she had thought she had already fulfilled Edward's visions. What had else had he seen he hadn't shared? Did another threat greater than Team Rocket loom on the horizon? Was he referring to the dragon council or something else? Drawing in a deep breath, Lyra retraced Lance's footsteps and exited the bar.