#spiritedandloyal

Knock knock, knock. 

“Candela?”

Blanche’s voice was quiet and strained. Tired, maybe.

“What do you want, Blanche?”

Candela’s response was definitely harsh. She’d been stewing in her anger all evening, and it was the kind that ran too deep to be set free with a few punching bags.

There was a pause before Blanche asked “Are you going to come to bed tonight?”

Oh. Right. Tonight was her turn to be Blanche’s personal heater. Because unlike most significant others, she had to share with Blanche’s twin.

“When’s the last time you actually had to come find me, instead of the other way around?”

A shorter pause this time. “You’re upset with me?”

“Maybe.” She snipped.

“C’mon, Candy, don’t be passive aggressive about this, it’s not-”

The last of Candela’s restraint snapped at hearing Noire’s voice. She grabbed the nearest object and threw it.

“STAY THE FUCK OUT OF THIS, NOIRE!”

The decorative throw pillow thunked against the door with enough force to make the nearby artwork rattle against the wall. There was a pause, during which she was sure the twins were whispering to one another, and then one set of feet padded off down the hall.

“Noire has left.” Blanche announced. Candela didn’t respond. “Candela, open the door, please.”

Candela didn’t move.

“Candela, don’t make me override the lock, please. I don’t wish to have to do that.”

Candela sighed.

“Go be with your precious twin, lovely. I’ll be fine.”

“You are,” Blanche hesitated, just for a second. “Precious to me as well. Please let me in so we can discuss this properly.”

Candela was quiet for a moment, emotions swirling inside her like one of Articuno’s storms of legend- chaotic and disorienting, cold and burning all at once. She didn’t want to. But she never could say no to Blanche.

She stood up and crossed to open the door.

Blanche’s breath left them in a little gasp when Candela opened the door, like they’ve been hit in the gut. Candela realized she must look terrible; puffy and red-eyed, smeared make-up, bloodied knuckles and rumpled gym clothes.

She couldn’t find it in herself to care.

Blanche murmured a thanks as they entered and shut the door softly behind them. They didn’t reach for her, nor say anything. They just watched, gaze calculating as always.

“Yes.” Candela said finally.

“Yes..?”

“Yes! I’m upset with you!” Blanche’s face dropped. “And you’re not the only fucking one!”

“With Noire too?”

“No, darling, I’m perfectly fucking peachy with them. Everything is fantastic.”

Blanche was quiet for a second.

“Did you want to be my assistant?”

Candela stared at her, mouth agape.

“Wait, wait- are you serious?” She asked. “Really, darling? Was that not obvious?”

“Not precisely.”

[The worst part, Candela realized, was that they were being honest.]

“I’ve spent the last month working my ass off to try and impress you! I did all those reports! Took extra notes in meetings! Reminded you of events and brought you food! I beat Instinct II’s ranking!”

Now it was Blanche’s turn to be stricken speechless. Candela realized that she is shaking, not with fury or sorrow, but with something that blended both into one and the same.

That feeling, she realized, is heartbreak.

“I know you’re not the greatest with reading people, Blanche, but- how in Arceus’ name did you miss that?”

“I didn’t miss it.” Blanche retorted. “I just assumed that it was your typical ambition fueling you. I didn’t… you didn’t tell me you were vying for the assistant’s position.”

Candela fumed. “Did Noire tell you they wanted to be your assistant?!”

Blanche had the decency to look slightly abashed. “…No.”

“Exactly!” To Candela’s mortification, she realized hot tears were already spilling out of her eyes. “And that’s just it! It always is!”

“That I chose my twin over you?” Blanche asked, a hint of a snarl in their voice.

“That everyone chooses somebody else over me!” Candela snapped, whirling around. The crack in her voice, the weakness, horrified her. “I am NEVER somebody’s first priority!”

“Candela-”

“Four older brothers! You think I was ever anything but the leftover? The fifth wheel? And I’ve never escaped it! Ever!” Her voice cracked on a sob. “And then I had to go and fall in love with the one person who I would throw everything away for and they would still always have someone more important!”

“Candela…”

“Everyone in my life has someone more important. Everyone. You have Noire, Carl has Spark, and my family disowned me. And it’s not fair.”

“Life has never been fair.” Blanche murmured from behind her. They seemed calm, if Candela ignored the frost spreading across the nearest windows.

“No, Blanche, I mean that it’s not fair of me to blame that on everyone else.” Candela said, and the worst of the anger suddenly drained out of her, taking her strength with it. She slumped to the floor, drawing her knees to her chest and pressing the heel of her palms into her eyes like it would block the flow of tears.

Blanche hesitated before speaking, and Candela pressed on. “I’m not dumb, Blanche. I’m the common variable.”

“Oh.” Blanche sat on the floor next to her. “This is an issue of self-worth.”

“No shit.”

A silence hung over them.

“You were Professor Willow’s first assistant to be chosen.”

“Yeah, yeah, and then you beat me at every test.”

“And you beat me repeatedly in battle despite disadvantageous type match-ups. That is not what we’re talking about. Willow did choose you first and you know he didn’t make that choice lightly.”

“That was just one-”

“And once sets a precedent.” Blanche insisted, reaching forwards to brush Candela’s bangs out of her face. Their fingers were icy cold and Candela flinched automatically. Their hand left and she wished she could call it back, but she felt tired and heavy and weak.

“Darling, would it have even changed anything?” She asked. “If you knew I wanted to be your assistant, before?”

Blanche was quiet for a minute. Stock-still, but in the way a frozen river was: all the turbulence of intense thought kept beneath a shell of serenity, with no way to tell if the ice was thick or thin. Candela watched their eyes, the way they flickered and glanced over her, the minute micro-expressions that didn’t reach the rest of their face. She was searching for something in those troubled green irises. She didn’t know what she was looking for.

Blanche sighed.

“I will not lie to you and pretend that you could ever eclipse Noire in the scope of my general priorities.” Blanche murmured. “But Noire is… a part of me. An extension, like a limb. Like Articuno is. I am not complete without them.”

“I’m going to kick your ass all the way back to your therapist if you keep talking like that.” Candela threatened, but there was little heat behind it. Resignation had replaced rage a while back; after everything Blanche had endured, no one expected them to be fully independent.

“My point is,” Blanche continued, “That after Noire, you are my first priority. My best friend, my romantic partner, my ally in battle. To count Noire against your importance would be like counting Articuno.”

“Don’t.” Candela sighed. “Don’t try and make it out like Noire doesn’t count. I will always come in third to your bond and your twin. That’s… I knew what I was getting into with this. Don’t pretend you should change for me. I wouldn’t want you to if you could.”

“Wouldn’t you?” Blanche asked.

“I would, and it would be selfish, and I would regret it forever!” Candela snapped. “Trust me, dear, I’ve spent enough nights awake thinking about it.”

A cool hand rested on Candela’s knee. She wanted to put her own atop of it, but her own hands were gross with tears and snot and split knuckles from hitting punching bags too hard, and Blanche deserved better than that, so she didn’t.

[She was so sick of not being good enough.]

“Let me re-frame what I was going to say.” Blanche said after a long silence. “Just because you are not my first priority does not mean that you are not critically important to me.”

Maybe it was just her imagination, but Candela swore that the frost-burnt symbol over her collarbone grew colder with the words spoken, a reminder of the crest of Articuno branded on her skin.

“It is no secret that if something were to happen to me, Noire would not make for a good leader. Not even for a short duration of time if I were, say, injured.”

“They’d be out for blood, you mean.” Candela snorted.

“And then presumably glued to my bedside, yes.” Blanche agreed. “Which is why I need you.”

Candela paused at that. Blanche didn’t elaborate.

“You’ve lost me, darling.”

Blanche sighed. “I am… not proficient in heart-to-heart conversations.”

“I know that, babe. But I was following up until then.”

Blanche groaned. They took a long minute to find their words.

“If something serious should happen to either Noire or myself, the other will not be in a state fit to handle Team Mystic. That is the responsibility I am entrusting to you as Mystic III.”

“…I think I get it.” Candela said finally.

“Do you?” Blanche said. Their freezing cold hands grasped Candela’s jaw and lifted her head to face them. Blanche’s eyes held a startling intensity normally reserved for battle, but they were as green as the sea. No hint of Articuno’s icy will- just Blanche. Always Blanche.

“Team Mystic is my greatest responsibility. It is my life’s work. It is lives, people and Pokémon alike, balanced on my shoulders. Its upkeep and prestige are of utmost importance. The team’s well-being is crucial to the balance of this city and of this region. And when something happens to me, which I have no doubt it will one day, I am entrusting it to you. Not to Noire. Not to anybody else. You. And Articuno agrees with me. This is what I meant by making you Mystic III. You are not a backup for Noire. You are your own person, and I love you for that.”

It wasn’t what she wanted to hear. It wasn’t what she hoped for. It wasn’t quite enough to heal her aching heart. But at the same time, it was so much more than she dared to dream of. Maybe more than she deserved. And it’s honest and true, and it came from Blanche.

She lunged forwards and their lips met, sudden and a bit messy. Blanche gasped into the kiss but returned it eagerly, still cradling Candela’s face in their hands. She could taste her own tears in the kiss, salty and sharp, but Blanche didn’t seem bothered by them. She could hardly find room to breathe but she couldn’t bring herself to pull away, grounding herself in the feeling of cool lips on hers, cold and yet still so animated and alive. Blanche, gorgeous Blanche, intelligent Blanche, witty, clever Blanche, proud, snarky, brilliant Blanche- she was theirs. Not their first priority, but theirs nonetheless.

“Je t’aime, ma feu bleue.” Blanche murmured as they broke the kiss. Their foreheads were pressed together. Blanche’s hands cupped her cheek and wiped away tears with their thumbs, Candela’s own hands tangled in their white locks. “Come sleep with me?”

Part of Candela wanted to say no, that she needed time and space to process this. But she doesn’t. She’d already given up so much just to be with Blanche: her family, her old team, her pride. It would be ungrateful to waste a second of it, she thought- “I don’t know, darling.” She offered them a smirk. “I think maybe I deserve a hot shower first~”