Disclaimer: Pokémon is not mine and will never be. Sadly.

She should not have done this.

Anastasia fidgeted, glancing nervously around her for sudden movements. Any moment now, she could be recognized and recaptured. Paranoia kept her from acting out, but the nobles in the crowd remained stoic and detached, and the guards never once moved.

A sudden cry tore her attention from the watching eyes. The limp form of a red and yellow Pokémon hurtled past Ana's cheek, scattering dirt as it fell to the ground. Before the pursuing Staravia could recommence his attack, a steady rock form stepped forward to intercept it.

"Golem, good thinking! Protect Plusle and attack with Rock Throw!" Ana cried, remembering her job as a tournament participant. "Plusle, send up a Thunder Wave if you can."

Cassandra Sullivan watched as the Staravia under her command drew back, under fire, to perch on his partner's head. The unexpecting Salamence flinched as the sharp talons wrapped around his forehead until Staravia let out a squawk of indignation. Accepting his partner, Salamence slowly turned his nose to the sky, shaking his head from side to side.

The rays of the morning sun streamed down on the two combatants, but neither Ana nor Cassandra were truly glad to be on display. Both were nervous, despite their bests attempts to conceal their anxieties. The two stood in the same battlefield for entirely different reasons, though their interests coincided.

Cassandra belonged to the prestigious Sullivan family, a noble clan who had prospered under his late Majesty's favor. Being wealthy and renown, strong and prideful, Cassandra knew that the reputation of her kin rested solely on her shoulders. There was no way for her to forget because she had been forced into a stiff, tight costume in order to maintain the good Sullivan name.

Normally, Cassandra would be fine to display herself to the public in a simple dress and minimum jewelry, something comfortable and modest. On this particular day, the youngest daughter of Sullivan was adorned in the most flattering gown from her sister's wardrobe, complemented nicely by a sapphire broach worth enough to feed a village for a year. Her long ginger hair tied up with numerous shimmering pins, she felt quite like a doll. Naturally, Cassandra had been against it, but her mother was insistent, and she already knew she was cutting it close with even wanting to battle.

Anastasia, used to fancier outfitting than that she wore herself, could not help but feel that her traveler's attire paled in comparison with the skirts of her opponent. Disguised as a mere poet, Ana wondered if she could even be in the same class as Cassandra Sullivan. She shook her head; of course she was! Ana knew royals. They were human through and through, just lucky enough to be born into the light.

"Come on, Staravia, Aerial Ace." Cassandra's voice was smooth, free of the discomfort that laced her mind. Inwardly, she cursed the tournament organizer several times over for presenting her with the dilemma. Luckily, Anastasia was not close enough to see Salamence's problem, but it was only a matter of time before the suspicion would ring clear as day.

"Rock Throw again! Plusle, can you get behind Golem? The Staravia is only a hazard to you."

The bullet of a bird spiraled dangerously close to the rock and his rabbit ally. Erecting a wall of earth, Golem punched several rocks free and sent them flying towards the advancing Staravia. Plusle huddled behind Golem's chunky leg, all but helpless in the face of immediate danger.

Staravia dodged sideways to avoid the oncoming projectiles, spinning out of control before righting himself. He was exposed for the briefest moments while trying to clear his head of dizziness, and several boulders were tossed his way.

Cassandra could take the risk. "Staravia, get out of there! Salamence, can you destroy those boulders? They're in front of you, to the right a bit."

Staravia struggled to gain height, but the Rock Throw inched nearer with every fleeting move, and the Salamence was reacting sluggishly. A Hyper Beam was launched, seemingly aimed more towards the bird Pokémon than the attack endangering it. A second, aimed too high. Another, too low, a hit, narrowly grazing the side. The Golem was hit! But three boulders crushed Staravia on impact, snapping the poor Pokémon's wing and knocking him out.

The Golem, through pain, was laughing. Chuckles heaving his stony shoulders, his eyes shone with malicious humor, appreciating the good joke that the Plusle did not seem to understand. Likewise, Anastasia was lost. Perhaps it was that Salamence's power was too great to control? But no, that would not explain the blank expression that graced the dragon's features despite the casualty in battle. Cassandra faced the battle with gritted teeth. Surely even a blind Salamence could defeat such foes through brute strength alone, with proper tactics!

And she had not even uncovered what her opponent's weakness was.

"Very well, Salamence, we've got to play it big," Cassandra decided. "Fly straight up!"

Ana glanced at the sky, wondering if there were any elements of the weather to take advantage of. None worthy of noting, she sighed. "Plusle, get on Golem's back. Use Copycat to get on even ground with Salamence! Golem, see if you can use Rollout to gain acceleration!"

Salamence spread his great red wings, unfurling them to reveal a massive wingspan. One powerful downward thrust launched the dragon into the air, straight up, with no unnecessary movements. A continuous gust of air caused by the repeated motion of flaps made it difficult for the Plusle's own attack to form, but the electric Pokémon managed to pull two glowing wings out of the Salamence's attack. As the Plusle rose after the dragon, Golem span on the ground, racing to and fro in anticipation. Adrenaline gave him speed unmatched until he was but a blur flitting about on the dirt ground, waiting like a dust angel of death.

"Salamence, straight ahead! Don't let them knock you down. Zen Headbutt!"

Soft purple enveloped Salamence, radiating a strange aura around the Pokémon's form. Salamence hovered, neglecting the use of his wings for a second, simply focusing on the strenuous task of exerting Psychic pressure. Then, quick as a bullet, he rocketed forward without warning.

"We've got an advantage! Spark! Now!"

Electricity coursed through the air around Plusle, mingling with the strange rays of power that emanated from blue scales. Talons of lightning singed at their intended mark as the poor Plusle fell from the sky, smoking, exhausted from the battle he had waged against the mental intruder. His sacrifice was not in vain, for the static left over from the Plusle's strength worked magic on Salamence's wings, paralyzing the muscles he used to stay elevated. Both plummeted to the ground. One made contact, creating a soft plume of dust. The other was greeted not by dirt but by rock, as the wheel that was Golem set his sights on preventing the dragon from landing.

Rollout hit the beast over and over again, battering the damaged body until at last the blinded eyes of the Salamence rolled into the back of his head, and he fainted.

XXX

She looked familiar, but Felix Chandler just couldn't put his finger on why. The lass who had won the final battle in the first round; her disguise was that of a poet, but the mere way she carried herself – elegant, skillful, prideful – matched the stride of nobility. The girl, Ana...

Beside Felix, the criminal called Sarixa Koteri was growing impatient with simply watching.

"Aren't you going to do something? Like, I don't know, wave a hand and conjure up something to pass the time instead of staring at this commoner like a lovesick fool? Don't you have any pride?" she huffed, annoyed.

"Hush, Sarixa, I'm thinking right now." His tone was a parent acknowledging ever so slightly a child's whims. He had long perfected this nonchalance simply being in Sarixa's challenging presence.

"I didn't escape from that stinky prison to watch you think. That's all you ever do! 'Hush, Sarixa, I'm thinking. Quiet, I've got to think this out. Gosh, Sarixa, don't you think before you act?' Can we please stop thinking for once in our lives before we die?" Her imitation of the young man's voice was poor, high-pitched, and squeaky.

Felix turned towards her, an odd expression gracing his features. "Sarixa, say there was a poet who was actually a noble in disguise. Would that be 'fun' for you?"

He did not need to ask; he did not need an answer. Rixa was up for anything, and her definition of what was fun far exceeded the norms of any other person. Her violet eye hazed over in an emotion not joy, not disappointment, not yet excitement.

Grim interest, a feline's keen humor.

The girl twirled a lock of disgusting hair around a nimble finger. "I don't know, Chandler, what will happen to this noble in the end?"

Felix brought his hand up to hide his growing grin, but his eyes still danced with satisfaction. Something to satisfy the demands of his curiosity, at long last. "Sarixa, I believe that end result would depend on us..."

XXX

The plan started with the Imperial Palace, and that was the best part of Rixa. She never had stuck around to see the good Captain's fury at her escape last week. She giggled; it appeared the culprit always did return to the scene of the crime. She voiced her musings to Chandler, but the boy shook his head, saying, "I don't think that's the right comparison for this situation."

"What a killjoy," Sarixa grumbled aloud. Chandler had insisted that they split up to investigate this poet of a noble, so she was alone in the dungeons she had broken in through, all save for the Golbat he'd given her earlier.

A group of soldiers marched down a nearby hallway, headed off to who-knows-where. Sarixa wondered for a brief moment what would happen if she dropped a visit to the dear Captain Felix to mock him for not noticing her 'friend' amongst the prison guards. Golbat made a funny noise, interrupting her thoughts. Rixa sighed. Even in separation, Chandler was monitoring her.

With a startling burst of immaturity, she stuck out her tongue at the Golbat. "Nyeh! I'll do whatever I want; what are you going to do about it?"

The world did not explode with Chandler's witty comebacks, his derogatory and snide comebacks, but the bat Pokémon did falter in his flight, gaping widely at the girl but not quite comprehending exactly what had just happened. Then, as if realizing that understanding might be bad for mental health, the Golbat simply ignored her. He flew down to a potato sack used to store food for the prisoners and tugged on the rough fabric. Rixa stared at the gesture, reluctant to follow a Pokémon's suggestions.

Finally, she relented, but only under the knowledge that the Golbat was actually making sense. With the pace of a herd of Torkoal stampeding through quicksand, Sarixa made her way over to the bag and tore some cloth loose. Using that makeshift handkerchief, she removed the majority of the grit in her hair that had for so long been a dead giveaway to her identity. Afterwards, because she was both embarrassed and subconscious at her surprisingly bright hair color, Rixa tied the dirty rag into a bandanna around her head.

"There," she snarled, irritable at her new appearance. "Now I look like a filthy maid. Gee, this is the best transformation of my life."

"Have fun with that!" Sarixa cheerfully retorted to herself. She molded her features back into a pout. "But it's really hard to have fun when everyone is looking at you because they think you belong in a Grumpig pen."

Golbat looked on as she argued with herself. They continued in a leisurely stroll. "Yes, well, you won't notice if you make a game out of it."

"Ooh, a game? What kind of game?"

"Let's see. If you're a maid, you're allowed to go into areas unnoticed under the pretense of cleaning. You can see if you can find something pretty to take home, or maybe you'll overhear some juicy piece of gossip! You know how noblewomen are. They'll say anything."

"Hm, that does sound nice. It'll be like a game of make-believe. Chandler would be happy too, if I did uncover some—"

Sarixa found that conversations with oneself was a suitable pastime that resulted in excellent results, as a peculiar man sauntered past her. He was exactly the kind of person that would pique Chandler's interest, the regal way he brushed the wall as he walked, one foot before the other.

Every stride he took was carefully calculated to look natural, as if by chance he had long since lost sight of the steps in an ordinary walk, and he was trying to hide it. He ambled ahead as if time itself had frozen just for him, as if nothing else mattered except that he enjoy himself, as if he were strangely detached from the physical world.

The Golbat, who had taken recluse in a stray nook, flittered nervously around Sarixa's head, gnashing his jaws together in anxiety. Rixa, curious, returned the Pokémon to his ball to prevent him from harming himself. Then, carefully, guardedly, she tiptoed after him.

Never once did the man show an interest to the maid girl tailing him. He might not have even noticed her, so deeply immersed he was in his thoughts. Many soldiers and nobles passed the two during their walk in the hallway, but the only one who managed to jar the man from his innermost sanctions was a young woman of maybe eighteen years of age. She had silver hair almost as radiant as Sarixa's own and blue eyes. Her dress was outlandish, not of Jotan origin. She was a full five inches shorter than Rixa, but her distant poise mixed with her slight scowl gave her a frightening disposition. This woman would take charge of any conflict and fix it permanently.

"Lord of Mahogany, Sir Torin," she acknowledged with a pained grimace.

"Sinnoan ambassador, Lady Naomi Astari," greeted Torin gently, docile.

Sarixa lingered in the shadowy background. The palace corridors made a welcoming place for idle chatter, but the words tossed between these two nobles were certainly not idle, and Sarixa wanted to be attentive when they decided to leave for a more elusive room.

"How are the affairs of Jotan nobility?" Torin simpered, staring down at the Lady with veiled eyes. "Has a King been decided yet?"

"No," replied Naomi stiffly. "There are still two stages in the tournament."

The Lord of Mahogany tilted his head sideways, still looking condescendingly at the Sinnoan noblewoman. "Oh, really? Do you already know what these two stages will be about?"

Naomi looked uncomfortable. The silver haired girl looked around for an escape, any really. She simply did not trust the maroon-eyed Knight in front of her, but as a noble, she felt he had the right to know.

"There will be the...ah, the judging round, which is next. The nobles will decide who exactly is qualified to continue in the tournament. This includes the Lances, Sir Wright, Lady Drae, Lord Chambers, and the ambassadors..."

She trailed off noticeably, and Torin smiled. "Even me?"

Naomi coughed, before straightening. She looked straight into his eyes, and blue met red-purple. "Yes, I suppose you would be essential for the judging of the King. I will send a messenger as soon as the judging date is confirmed. Is this okay?"

"Excellent. What about the last round?"

"Essentially, it is the same. However, instead of the nobles deciding on the winner, the population of Jota will vote for their favorite. We've decided to allow campaigns and such, and hopefully the whole ordeal will be over and forgotten by the end of the season."

Torin laughed. "My sweet Lady, I doubt that this shall ever be forgotten. After all, it is the first time Sinnoa has ever played a major role in Jotan affairs."

Cold, ice, steel. "Are you suggesting that I do not have the capabilities necessary for this task, or do you imply that I have ulterior motives for my interest?"

Mingling with thorns, a blade, move too much and be pricked. "Not at all, but one can't help but feel...cautious. The Lord and Lady of Cretan have the right idea, hm?"

But two could play at that game. "But milord, you have far more to gain than I. Isn't that right? Though I might be placing an unworthy King in Jota's throne, you could simply say a word and have him replaced. You could rule in his stead."

"I have no wish to be King. That would be...problematic. For both of us, agreed?"

Sarixa was enchanted. The nobles she had messed with in her time had never acted like this. In fact, the level of syrupy animosity spread thick in the air between the two was beyond her understanding. Rixa watched a whole new world unfold before her eyes, a universe where sharp words were power, where wits and tact were key to survival. In place of blunt blows, there were concealed quips; where otherwise would be explosive arguments, Naomi Astari and Torin Mahogany paid each other poison-tipped compliments.

Unsettling, uncertain, unknown; their conversation veered from the tournament to the color of the flowers to the fashion statements of the year. Sarixa grew bored of their pleasant chatter, yet was drawn to the way their eyes would lock to create the sensation that the words they spoke bore entirely different meaning.

And then Naomi Astari of Sinnoa glanced in Rixa's direction and nodded once. The conversation was over, or rather, the part that Sarixa could be present for. With a stumbling curtsy, the disguised criminal edged away and out of view.

But no, it was all too much fun to give up. Sarixa pressed the button on Chandler's Pokéball, releasing the Golbat that she felt oh-too-grateful for. A single darting glance at the ceiling gave the order, and the bat Pokémon disappeared from sight in his efforts to relocate his master.

It was the end of the line for Sarixa's role, but Felix Chandler had ways of acquiring information, and it was time to put them to use.

XXX

The structure of Jota's castle was remarkably unique, and Felix thanked the architect who designed it for that. Long forgotten from misuse, there were a series of winding corridors hidden in the walls. Through a thick layer of dust, Felix could barely make out the words of two nobles. It appeared he had arrived too late, for the voices were deep and gruff: two males.

"Naomi Astari?" said a surprised voice, like that of a child in a man's tone. "Why would you want to know about her? She's an excellent leader, since you're asking me. Are you interested? The Astaris are an amazing line. If you've studied their history, it was actually the Astaris who founded the Sinnoan Court laws. Lady Naomi had no doubtedly inherited that brilliance, because her ideas are the work of a genius."

"So I hear," remarked a deeper, matured drawl. This one was nothing like the first, confident yet sly whereas his companion had been quick and intrigued. "It sounds like you've fallen under a spell, Lord Chambers, if you don't mind me saying so. You're of a fine age for marriage, yes?"

"Oh, Lord Mahogany, I wish you wouldn't jest so. Though I am Sinnoan by birth, I wouldn't dream of taking a bride from anywhere other than Jota. The late King found me, though I was but an unfortunate orphan, and gave me my titles and lands. For his kindness, I proudly stand by Jota, and Jota only."

The second, this Mahogany figure that Felix had heard about from Sarixa, said wryly, "You've already repaid him, haven't you? I've heard that he looked upon you like the son he never had. On top of that, you excelled in all your studies, becoming the greatest tactician Jota has ever seen."

Flushed. "Oh, stop it. You're teasing, surely. What about you? Do you plan on marrying? When this is all over, I mean. I know you're busy with whatever you're doing now."

"I believe I've been promised to the heiress of the country Tyra. Ah, her name escapes me, but she is of the Luxe line, if I recall correctly."

"Anastasia Luxe?"

"Ah! Lord Chambers, you are knowledgeable in all subjects, as usual. Talking with you never fails to test the extent of my capabilities."

Felix looked away. Certainly it was interesting, but all very vague. He felt as if they were dancing around the important topics, briefly breaching unspoken lines, but never was it too long until the conversation was back to circling nothing.

"You kid," laughed Ethan Chambers. "I have done nothing great enough to warrant your praise. But you, legitimate heir to the Jotan throne which the country is squabbling over, you tell me you are engaged to the princess, soon to be the queen, of a country as big as Tyra? That is an unbelievable conquest! I cannot believe your brother pulled that arrangement off."

"I have no brother," Mahogany said, puzzled. "The King called for it, I guess. This brother you speak of, who is he?"

Felix leaned up against the plaster that separated him from the two nobles. How odd, he thought, everyone knew who the great Garret Mahogany was! It was Garret they knew as the Lord Mahogany, not Torin.

But Lord Chambers didn't say this. He said, slowly, hesitantly, "You're right. I must have simply read about a similar case in my studies. I was mistaken; I meant to praise the good King for his success. That aside, have you met Lady Anastasia yet?"

The topic was swept under the rug as Torin stated that, no, he had not had that pleasure yet. Felix frowned. He had wanted to pursue that piece of information, that the youngest Mahogany brother had no memory of the King's eldest nephew, Torin's own older brother.

"Ah, you won't be disappointed. I've only seen dear Princess Anastasia in peace meetings, but she's a rather pretty piece. Not to offend, but I believe she is quite...ah, rebellious. I trust you will find your own ways to deal with her, though. You are an influential man."

Blah, blah, translated Felix in his head. More flowery nonsense. The boy couldn't care less about paying compliments every other word; he'd been standing there for forever and a moon, and they'd gotten almost nowhere!

Torin sounded distant. "Yes, so I've heard. It's a very beautiful piece, to be forcibly chained to a man one has never met before, but so frightfully disheartening, like the grace of a bird in your hand, waiting to be crushed."

"A very grim simile, milord!" exclaimed Chambers loudly. "You must view it in a more professional manner. Imagine, this marriage would tie the Jotan and Tyran lines together by blood. Future wars would be out of the question! Both nations would gain a most valuable ally, and not to mention, should tragedy strike again, in the form of another plague or catastrophe, we would always be able to depend on Tyra for support. Princess Anastasia should feel honored to have such a role in life, a much greater responsibility than sitting about all day and chattering about nothing at all, like many women around here."

Felix found great irony in that statement, both in the hypocrisy, and because he knew that there was a certain someone who would not feel the same about the 'great responsibility.'

XXX

The battle's results had caused a tremendous uproar, and Ana regretted ever participating. She had told herself to lie low, only to get the urge to completely defy all she had been taught in her life. Now, the attention she'd garnered from being 'the poor country girl who had defeated a member of the esteemed Sullivan family' threatened to overwhelm her. As if! A country girl, she thought irritably. Foreign, yes, uneducated about many Jotan customs, definitely, but Anastasia bristled at the thought of being compared to a country villager.

Not that, she added in her mind, there was anything wrong with being born as a commoner. But Ana had her pride, blast it, and now, it was being shredded to pieces.

A shout and a whistle brought her attention to the immediate problem at hand. Worst than living life rolling in Spoink mud was the aspect of being captured again. Although the Jotans could never begin to guess the extents of her identity, she had come from Tyra with soldiers, and those soldiers had heard of her adventures. They were searching high and low for her this very instant, and Ana knew that she would be doomed to sewing and bearing sons for some wretched, fat, greedy noble if she was ever caught.

There would be no worse fate than that of a useless one, she thought.

"There's a good lass," whispered a ragged breath behind her. "Just you stay right there and don't you run away now."

Several phrases that would make a drunkard wince spewed out of Ana's mouth as she jumped. The soldier who had found her stepped back in surprise, seemingly reconfirming that this vulgar girl in front of him was indeed the princess.

Two seconds, and Anastasia was gone. The soldier raised his voice to a yell, drawing the rest of the guards towards the leafy paradise that Ana had taken refuge under.

The girl spun around, but there were faces everywhere and even more arms. There was nowhere to run, but Ana struggled and pulled, tugging free when her wine-colored dress snagged on a stump.

An elbow flew at her face somewhere in the jumble, and Anastasia whipped out the bronze dagger in her belt. She did not have to use it, and she thanked the stars above, as the limbs drew away from her. She did not realize that her pursuers were gone until she was out of the garden and well out of reach, and she turned back. Ana saw nothing, just a lingering mass of black smog, like a cloud of death, parting for no one less than an angel.

"A simple thanks would suffice," said a voice behind her. Red flashed past her, recalling a Pokémon from within the smoke. "Excellent as always, Dusknoir."

Ana jumped for the second time in five minutes, but the boy was barely older than her and looked to be the opposite of a soldier.

"I would, but one, I have no idea what for, and two, you just scrapped any chance of gratitude by sneaking up on me. I hate people who sneak up on me," she snapped.

The boy merely smirked, much to Ana's chagrin. "Oh, why, it's the Tyran princess! What good luck has befallen me to meet your Grace here—ugh!"

His declaration was interrupted as Anastasia drove her knife's sheath into his stomach. "Are you insane? I'm doomed if they find me. Don't help me escape and then just hand me over. And stop laughing!"

The boy could suppress a mocking grin. "For a princess in disguise, you're not that bright, you know that? You don't even stop to think about how I know that you're a princess. You've never seen me before, have you, Miss Anastasia Luxe?"

"I..." The girl turned slowly towards him, her face overcome with emotion. "Who exactly...are you?"

"I only want to help, Miss Luxe."

"How much...do you know?"

"More than you think I know, Miss, but not enough. Never enough."

Their voiced quieting, eyes downcast, the duo subconsciously backed away from the thick veil of smoke that blinded the soldiers. Thick with mistrust, fear, and resignation, Ana spoke again.

"What is it?"

They ducked into the shade of the castle, out of view from any stray eye.

"It's for your own good. I just want you to stop running away."

Ana took an affronted step backwards, finding herself against the palace walls. "I never run away! What are you talking about?"

"You're getting married soon, aren't you? To a man you've never even met."

"Lord Mahogany," the girl spat out of scorn. "Some old geezer fifty years older than me. I'm so disgusted. I'm the blasted true heir of Tyra, but when Father died, some greedy...he took over everything! And sent me off to become a prissy noblewoman. He stole my throne! I'll never let that happen!"

The boy was eerily quiet for a moment, and then, "Give Lord Torin a chance. He's pretty young, not even thirty yet. It's too much to ask you to accept him, but...at least meet him once properly."

"Why?" demanded Anastasia. "Why should I give him the time of day? Why should I be courteous when he's out to steal the future of a girl he doesn't even know? Answer me!"

He closed his eyes, and when he spoke again, the words were so unfamiliar together that they sounded less than human. "You're more right than you believe you are. He has been arranged as your future, but, Anastasia, you see, you are his future as well."

Anastasia did not understand. She did not understand everything, the world, the reason her life was being thrown away, why she – the most blessed woman in Tyra – was also the most cursed. Above all, what Anastasia could not understand was why this boy, this random, strange boy, could make her not understand it all. Up until that very moment, she'd been so sure of herself. The future was full of possibilities, endless paths to take at her leisure, because Ana simply would not give in to fate. The boy, it seemed, had taken all those choices and narrowed them into one.

A single, lonely, painful road.

A challenge.

Would she endure it? Could she endure it?

This, Ana also did not know.

So she fled, eating her words. She ran away, away from the engagement, away from the problems, and away from the boy.

She did not look back, did not see a dirty girl pop out and take a spot next to the boy.

"So, Chandler, this is more active than you've been in years. Why take such a major role in a stranger's life? Especially since it doesn't concern you, or the tournament, at all."

Felix Chandler, still smiling, said, "The dominoes have been lined, Sarixa, and we've just knocked the first one down. Don't you think it will be 'fun' to see where the pieces fall? Enlightening, indeed."

The girl chimed in, her voice melting with Felix's own. "Enlightening, but not enough. Never. Enough."

...Darn, this chapter was long...well, for me, anyways. I didn't even get to include all the scenes I wanted to fit in!

I liked this chapter a lot when I wrote it, but then I looked back and thought that a lot of it was written in a confusing, flowery way. Even the battle scene. Well, I suck at sticking with a coherent tone, so please bear with me. Yell, if it makes you feel better...(and hope that I don't screw up the next chappie~)

Anyways, I put up a poll not too long ago. The results are very important in the end, so those of you who haven't voted yet, drop by whenever you have the time. It's the first of several polls which I will post later on as the story progresses, so check around often. I'm not sure, but do you want me to slip in a note in the A/N every time I post a new one? Just wondering.

Just something random that I noticed while writing (helps you know the characters more! Sorta.). Fun fact- Felix Chandler and Anastasia Luxe's fathers are both named William. I found this interesting, but then again, it is me, so...

Thanks to Ano-chan, for beta-ing.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN, for those who celebrate it. :)

Credits

Anastasia Luxe- MrMissMrs Random

Cassandra Sullivan- winterkitten

Felix Chandler- Ano-chan

Sarixa Koteri- Jigglypuff's Pillow

Naomi Astari- Nicole Vermillion