Chapter Text
He waits at the throne for me.
My shoulders feel heavy despite the weight of my cape being held. I hold my chin up and keep my back straight, trying to hide every tremble that wants to jitter through me as I make my way up to my father.
It was ridiculous, really. I was more than ready, more than prepared. So why was it such a struggle to walk the path that led to all that I’ve become?
I steal a glance at my sisters, who are tight-mouthed and solemn. One catches my look and gives me the slightest of smiles in return, while the other seems lost in thought, looking just past me. I know who her gaze is on as I turn, facing my father as he takes me in. No emotions run behind his eyes, and I pray the same goes for mine as he raises a golden toothed crown up high, commanding the interest of everyone in the room.
The silence turns dense and choking as I bow my head slowly, closing my eyes.
Time always seemed to still in these kinds of moments. Behind my eyes I see a little boy, the fear of the world lessened by the pokemon at his side. There’s a man, tall and foreboding, kneeling beside him, and when he asks the little boy’s name, he finds he cannot answer.
The man frowns, not one of pity, but of something the innocence of a child would not yet know. “Well, that will not do.”
My heart feels ready, yet scared as I feel the coldness of gold against my scalp, and as the room beholds the new King, I try not to buckle under the pressure I was so sure would not make me crack.
Couldn’t make me crack. No, not now.
Not after so long.
My eyes open. They look to my father.
He looks to my crown before dismissing me.
Every blind was cracked and curtain pulled back as the professeur made her way through the town in the early hours.
Children watched with hands tucked under their chin, no doubt fantasizing that it was them that Mrs. Juniper was making her way to, and daydreaming of the day when she finally did. Parents hum contently and recall with nostalgia their first steps into their journey of self as their children whine once again about why they couldn’t have their first pokemon.
“You’re not ready,” some would say. “You’re too young,” others would sigh.
Both used to be true for a certain young miss of the town. Brunette hair, snarled and spiked from the throes of sleep, cover a drooling face as a delicately wrapped box of blue and two lovingly sealed envelopes are set gently on a desk before the deliverer shuffles off to answer the persistent knocking of a door.
A moment later, her own comes crashing open.
“Hilda.”
Name jolting her awake, Hilda shoots up and brushes frazzled, drool infested strands of hair quickly to the side, trying to get bleary eyes to focus on the impatient figure before her.
“What are—” a yawn tears out of her, “you. . .”
Her eyes widen in realization.
“Oh!” she exclaims, then repeats as she practically leaps out of bed in search for a tie to tame her wild hair. “Oh oh oh! Did she come? Did I miss her? Oh, I missed her, didn’t I? It’s not fair! I could barely sleep last night— ” she growls in frustration as she practically turns her room upside-down. “Where the hell are these things?”
Cheren looks around, whistling low. “Gosh, Hilda, how’d you manage to wrangle this place this tidy?”
“I didn’t,” Hilda grumbles as she fishes a band from the depths of a drawer, and at that, Cheren didn’t need to guess who did.
She triumphantly ties her hair high on her head as she marches up to Cheren. “So?”
He frowns, taking in her bedraggled appearance, before nodding to the side.
On her desk sat a neatly wrapped gift, a note tucked under the looped ribbons of its bow. She was sure there could never be a more beautiful sight in the world as she approached it in a dreamlike state, snatching the note with eager hands.
Congratulations, you three! In this box rests three pokemon, one of which each of you will choose. Please talk amongst yourselves for who will choose who, and most importantly, have fun!
Her eyes fall to the bottom of the page.
Oh, and Miss Hilda. Happy birthday! I’m sure this moment was a long time in the making for you, as well as your friends. Remember to value the friendships with the pokemon and people you meet along the way in your journey!
Oh, how long she had waited for this!
It embarrassed her greatly that, at now eighteen years of age, she had never taken her first step into the journey kids half her age would already be making. Her mother, despite ever supportive, was always leery of letting Hilda run rampant with her friends, much less with a pokemon.
“You’re a born troublemaker,” she would chide, her voice a mix of teasing and truth. “You take after me. That’s why I fear for you.”
She understood her mother’s concern, but there was a satisfaction in knowing that today she could no longer control the outcome of Hilda’s fiery spirit, or keep it contained within the walls of the only home they ever knew.
But as Hilda slowly opened an envelope that was far removed from the gift, she found that perhaps there was more behind her mother’s reasonings than she had first thought.
Hilda,
Every parent thinks of this moment at some point in their life as they watch their child grow. It’s never an easy one, knowing that one day your kid will not be by your side and instead somewhere out there in the world, whether near or far. We can’t help but think of our time at that age, and of the struggle and hardship it inevitably brings. I know we’ve had our quarrels in the past about such things, and perhaps I was wrong to try and keep you so close. When I think back to when I was the age you are today, I remember not just the bad, but also the good, and nothing in the world could make me more happy than you getting to experience that. From my own travels I’ve met some of the most wonderful people on this side of earth, and pokemon whose bonds have never left my heart to this day. When I think of this, the fear that comes with being a mother lessens, if only by a little.
My daughter, today you step foot into the wild territory of the unknown. Know that I will never stop thinking of you as you go on this journey, and if you ever find a moment away from all the friends and pokemon you will meet, perhaps you will remember your mother and keep in touch.
Love you, forever and always,
~ Mom
“Damn it,” Hilda mutters as Cheren frowns.
“What’s the ma—”
He stumbles back as Hilda flies from the room, clopping down the stairs until she meets with her mother in the kitchen.
“Way to ruin the mood!” Hilda shouts, holding the card up high as she flings her arms around her aproned mom, who almost drops an egg positioned to crack.
“Goodness!” her mother exclaims, then laughs as she hugs her daughter back, card fluttering to the floor. “Happy birthday, my girl,” she says, stroking her daughter’s hair and looking to a scowling Cheren, who has followed in the wake of Hilda’s impromptu hug.
“Can we get to meeting our starters?” he huffs as the front door knocks. “I’ve waited long enough to become a trainer. I don’t want to wait another second more.”
Her mother laughs and ushers Hilda and Cheren back up the stairs, threatening with a waving spatula caked with batter. “Go! I’m sure your starters are just as eager to meet you as you are them!”
Cheren protests and Hilda laughs as the sticky batter begins to splatter onto them, making them rush up the stairs as they hear the sound of their other friend’s voice drift up from below.
“Run, Bianca!” Hilda shouts as she slams her door shut to the shrieks that soon ensue.
Like children, they scurry over and rip the gift open in a frenzy, lifting off the lid in slow dramatization with O’d mouths as Bianca bursts into the room.
“Your mother’s insane!” she gasps out, hat in hand and picking off bits of crusting yellow matter. “Forty-three and still food fights? I think she threw in a yolk when I wasn’t looking!”
Any other complaint quickly disappears when her eyes land on the now tattered but open box of starters. “Oh, Hilda!” she gasps, gripping both her and Cheren’s shoulder. “I’m so excited! We’re finally becoming trainers!”
They stare at the three carefully tucked pokeballs for a moment before Bianca clears her throat. “You should get first pick, Hilds. It is your birthday, after all.”
Cheren nods in agreement, and they each watch as Hilda silently hovers a hand over their soon-to-be starters. Each ball seemed to call out to her equally, and she almost just resorts to the tried-and-true eeny-meeny when she thought she spotted the smallest of shakes from one.
Curious, she reaches out to it, and just as the tips of her fingers graze the hard shell, out tears a burst of light from it, making Hilda jump back with a yelp of surprise.
Her friends also take a quick step back as a blur of green appears in front of them, before flopping to the ground on deft feet. This green blur now has a face, a rather snooty one at that, with a large leaf-paddle tail that flicks like an agitated pachirisu at them.
It put its stubby hands to its sides, eyes narrowing at the welcome party that did nothing but stare back. It sniffs the air, takes one disdainful glance around, then locks eyes with Hilda with the same look a receptionist would give you while saying you’re late for your appointment.
Bianca gasps while even Cheren leans in curiously as it takes a small lap around the room, a carefully disguised look on its face. It loops around to the other side of them, before crossing its arms and looking at Hilda expectingly.
It didn’t need to speak for her to know exactly what it was thinking. Well? What are ya waiting for? Crack open the others!”
“Oh, Hilda!” Bianca cried. “It’s so cute!”
She made the mistake of reaching for it, to which it gave one slow flick of its tail, holding out a hand with eyes full of warning. A “watch the nails” moment if Hilda ever saw one.
“Give it some space,” Cheren chides as he reaches for one of the pokeballs. “Why don’t you come pick your starter. I’ll even let you decide which one I should have.”
“Really?” Bianca said as she skurries over to him, snivy forgotten.
“I don’t mind. The fact that I’m getting one in the first place is enough.”
And so, as Cheren and Bianca hover excitedly over their options, Hilda stares awkwardly at the Snivy that still had its eyes trained on her. The corner of its mouth twitches, drawing back while it returns to tapping its tiny foot.
“Hello!” Hilda says cheerfully, clutching her knees as she bends down to get a better look at the unimpressed creature. “I’m Hilda!”
Stony, aristocratic silence. Not that she expects it to start talking, of course.
She waits awkwardly as it raises whatever is equivalent to its brow. It looks her up and down slowly, and it's only then that she notices her unkempt appearance of mismatched pajamas and frizzy bedhead.
“Oh!” she says. “Um, sorry for. . .” She waves in her general direction. “. . . This.”
Good Arceus, was this thing judging her?
It just sniffs in response, tossing an angry look over her shoulder at a bickering Cheren and Bianca.
“Wait—”
“Too late, this one’s mine.”
“But you said— you— . . . you know what, I think I actually feel closer to this one after all.”
Snivy gives a scratchy hiss that sounds of leaves rustling. Its face says what it thinks plainly. What’s the delay?
And then, much to Hilda’s shock, it did say it plainly, a clear as day “what’s the hold up?” as two flashes of light sparkle in the corner of Hilda’s eye, and they both turn to see two new mons enter the space.