It will forever frustrate me that Sardward and Shieldbert were made to represent the descendants to the kings of Galar… when Hop and Leon are LITERALLY RIGHT THERE!
Like I thought we were going to get the plot twist that they learn their heritage they thought they had was a lie told to them by their family (Kind of like Pacifica's family in Gravity Falls) and it be revealed Hop and Leon are actually the true descendants. Like it felt like they were hinting it!
-The fact they both have purple hair and the color purple mainly represents royalty
-The fact they both have gold eyes that could show their connection to Zacian and Zamazenta. The only characters in Sword and Shield who have gold eyes mind you! (Also the fact the Doggo's color schemes when you blend them make purple)
-The fact that the first statue of the Hero of Galar we see has a striking resemblance to Leon with his long hair and his pose kind of looking like Leon's charizard pose!
-Leon’s entire king motif!
-How their hair can kind of be a reflection to a sword and shield with Leon being the shield and Hop being the sword in a way that doesn’t look like they insulted their hairdresser and they gave them the horrible hairstyles as payback… (Admittedly Hop's is a bit more of a stretch but Leon's is 100% a lot like a shield given the little hair swoops and the length of it.)
-Not to mention how their personalities kind of represent it to with Leon being the protector of Galar and all those he loves and cares about. The Shield, and Hop when he thinks someone he loves and cares about is in danger goes all out in attack mode without thinking. The Sword.
Anyway the lesson being at the end the two with the goofy hair realizing they shouldn't be basing their entire identities and achievements off of their ancestors because they rob themselves of their own lives and achievements... which I think that was their lesson anyway? It's been a while since I played that part of Sword and Shield but it really would have especially hit harder for them to be hit with that lie and them deciding to find themselves and it actually strengthen their own bonds as brothers because they're not trying to act like their ancestors they were so obsessively proud of all that time. They act like themselves from now on. The game does show they care about each other so that would be a sweet end for the goofs. (And maybe have them decide to change their hair too like please... please boys fix your hair...)
Then Leon and Hop learn they're the true descendants and they're like "Wow that's cool! Doesn't really change a thing for us or who we are though. We love the paths we've chosen and our bond as brothers is because we love and would do anything for each other even before knowing this!" And they're just happy that other brother is safe. Leon confirming he's proud of Hop no matter what path he takes and considers him his rival and Hop just being shooketh and then so happy which makes Leon extra happy. They're all happy, everyone's happy with their lives and their bonds are stronger than ever.
The End
...Sorry, I'm just really passionate about this sort of thing and Leon and Hop are my favorite characters in the Pokémon series with SWSH being my favorite game for a number of reasons. I just see so many story opportunities there but it isn't taken as someone who loves this stuff it hurts... 🥲
As Telemachus led the ninja down the hall, they were constantly in awe of the palace. Not even the palace of the emperor could compare; it had been beautiful, sure, but gaudy, a statement of status above all else. The palace of Ithaca was more simple but no less grand. Every once in a while, one of them would pause briefly to admire something before hastily rejoining the others. However, they couldn’t help noticing the slaves scurry along in the shadows, stopping only to bow to Telemachus, who gave them a nod or outright ignored them. The ninja exchanged looks. Kai’s hands were balled into fists. Cole silently sided with him. He felt sickened and a large part of him wanted to storm back to Odysseus and knock some sense into him. But what would that do to help them? Odysseus was barely an ally and they had all noticed the faint red splatters on the marble floor. No one fancied their own marks. But then, reasoned a tiny part of Cole, perhaps they couldn’t see the issue if this was their normal. It wasn’t any better and it was no excuse, but it was at least an explanation.
Telemachus half-walked half-skipped beside Lloyd. “Do you really come from gods?” He asked for the fiftieth time.
Cole quickly ducked his head. Oh, how close Telemachus actually was. He wondered vaguely, once everything had died down, whether they should tell the prince that Lloyd technically was from a god.
“Yeah.” Lloyd said. Cole passed the stone to him, who in turn passed it to Telemachus. The prince sucked in a breath, turning the stone over and over as if mesmorised.
“Lady Athena.” He whispered.
“Is that her name?” Nya asked. “The one in Cole’s dream?”
Telemachus shrugged. “It could be. We have many gods and goddesses.” He turned to Cole and requested the woman’s appearance. When Cole had finished, he shook his head. “That sounds more like Demeter. Lady Athena is always armed and is far more...” he paused, “blunt, shall we say?”
Eventually, they came to six lavish rooms. Cole was reminded of the rooms Chen had provided for them. Each room had a large double bed and elaborate pillars to support the ceiling as well as a table made of olive wood. Paintings of stories sprawled across the walls and onto the floors. All, thankfully, seemed to have a decent amount of shade. The slavegirl from earlier emerged from where she had been folding a piece of cloth at the foot of one the beds. She bowed to Telemachus and, quiet as a mouse, scampered away. Kai looked very much like he wanted to say something but Jay subtly trod on his toes. Telemachus noticed this.
“Forgive me, do you want me to call her back to aid you with clothing?”
“No thanks,” Lloyd said diplomatically before Kai could launch himself at Telemachus. “We can manage that ourselves.”
Telemachus looked confused but respectfully gave them space and went back down the hall.
In his room, Cole ran his fingers over the soft white linen. Parts of the red lining was silk. Clearly, he thought to himself as he remembered the rich purples and blues the royal family were wearing, colour meant how important you were. Red was the colour of soldiers. Or perhaps it was just easier to hide blood from battle. Either way, it suited him just fine. He sighed as he removed his top and stood in the shade of the room.
“Never complaining about the heat ever again.” He vowed, stretching his aching muscles against the cold stone.
To his surprise, the clothing was just a square sheet of fabric. He had to admit it was practical yet he was stunned. Everyone looked so elegant and all they were wearing was a singular sheet of fabric. He sighed, tied a leather cord around his waist, and made his way into Lloyd’s room, where everyone else was gathered.
Jay was now joking about how they were no longer able to do spinjistu for fear of exposure while Nya rolled her eyes at his immaturity. She was wearing a long dress not that dissimilar from Penelope’s as well as draped shawl. She was not happy about it.
“How am I meant to fight in this?” She exclaimed. “How?”
“It appears local customs expect modesty from women.” Zane said.
Nya gave him a look and he winced.
“There’s a difference between modesty and not being able to kick someone’s butt. Literally!” She gestured to the skirt.
Zane clearly wanted to say that this society did not expect women to fight either but chose life.
Kai huffed. “That’s what your hung up on, sis? What about the slavery outside the door.”
A chill swept through the room.
“We can’t abolish slavery, Kai.” Cole sighed and quickly added, “Look, I want to as much as you do, but making ourselves public enemies is going to make the mission harder than it already is.”
Kai grumbled but agreed, albeit reluctantly.
An older woman poked her head around the door and bowed to them. If she had heard what they said, she showed no signs of acknowledgement.
“My lords and lady,” she said, “King Odysseus wishes for you to dine with him and his family tonight.”
“We’ll be there.” Lloyd responded. “And you don’t have to bow to us.”
The woman bowed again and left without answer.
---
“Ah, travellers, good evening.” Odysseus greeted them. “Come, join us.”
The ninja bowed respectfully.
The dining room was not what they had expected. Rather than a long table, the royal family was gracefully reclined on plush lounges around a table. Olives were piled high as well as laods of loaves of bread. The scents of pork, lamb, and beef wound temptingly through the air as well as a few fish. Goblets, presumably full of wine, stood gracefully at all positions. Cole noticed a few slaves stood off to side with more.
Odysseus seemed to be in a better mood than earlier.
“Telemachus tells us that you can be trusted. I believe him.” He smiled proudly. “He’d developed an excellent sense for trust in my absence?”
“Absence?” Jay echoed as they joined.
Penelope’s eyes widened a fraction. “You truly are from distant lands if you have heard of the war against Troy.” She muttered.
The ninja exchanged looks. So there’d been a war recently, good to know. Telemachus looked astounded.
“You truly are a mysterious bunch.” He chuckled. “You come from distant lands and have not heard the news that all of Greece knows. It is like you know not of us at all.”
Zane smiled. “That is not too far off.”
Odysseus took a long drink from his goblet. “If they do not know the tale, I had better tell it.”
The ninja and Telemachus listened in wonderment (even though Telemachus must have surely heard it a hundred times) as Odysseus recounted the war and his treacherous journey home. Occassionally, Penelope squeezed his hand or shoulder supportively.
“Divine attention is not worth the glory and trouble it brings.” Odysseus said grimly once he’d finished. His eyes scanned them as the ninja all glanced at Lloyd. “Do not tell me you have been in our lands for not even a day and have already earned the gods attentioned beyond Demeter’s quest.” He groaned.
Lloyd sheepishly recounted his dream. However, Odysseus seemed to relax somewhat.
“You did not say it was Hermes.” He said. “If Hermes means to help you, I trust him. He may be a trickster but he is more helpful than most gods.” He chuckled lowly. “I may be biased; he helped me return home."
Zane visibly stored that away for later. Cole smiled at how organised his boyfriend could be.
“How curious you do not know even one of our gods.” Penelope said.
In response, the ninja began to explain their own stories as best they could. Penelope’s brow furrowed.
“I thought you had seen hardship. You all bear the look my husband did upon his return.”
No one could meet her eyes.
Odysseus looked at them for a long moment. “Whatever you need,” he murmured, “we will provide."
The rest of the evening passed in a blurr for Zane. There were jokes and exchanging of tales. Even the slaves in the corners had listened with open curiosity and, with their master’s permission, asked their own questions. Telemachus, despite being in his very early twenties, had looked like a boy given sweets. Eventually, everyone had retired to their rooms and bid each other goodnight.
Zane listened through the walls to his family. Asleep, all of them. Yet, Zane could not. Something was calling him. It had been pulling at him for a while now and he could have sworn the owl outside his window had been intently watching him. Once absolutely certain none of the ninja were awake, Zane slipped down the hall. He didn’t know where he was going but the insistent tugging in his core seemed to. Every so often, he would pass a guard, who would nod respectfully, a gesture which Zane returned. Someone bumped into him. It was the slave girl from earlier. She had dark skin and wore her black hair in braids. Zane was relieved to see she was uninjured. The royal family didn’t strike him as abusive owners - a small part of him internally threw up - but they were often dismissive.
“Forgive me, my lord.” She mumbled with a bow and scampered off.
“Wait,” Zane called. “May I know your name.”
The girl looked surprise. “Maharet, my lord.” She whispered and tiptoed away.
The silence Maharet left gave Zane space to think. His thoughts wandered to the Never Realm. How many had he enslaved? How much had he been? The others often told him that it wasn’t his fault, Vex had manipulated him. Logically, he knew this but the heart was far more fickle. The fact that he had been forgiven was even more astounding. He could see why the Ithacan royals saw no issue. He had seen the enslavement of others as normal, it was highly likely that they did do. Zane found himself thinking of Maharet. Where was she from? Did she have a family? Did she miss them? He wondered if the royals ever wondered those same things.
At last, he came to a courtyard. There stood a statue of a beautiful, stern looking woman. She wore bronze armour and clutched a spear. A grotesque face was embossed on her shield.
The world went dark.
“Get up.” A stern voice commanded and Zane felt something tap his head.
Zane’s visual processors could not process where he was. No longer in the courtyard that was for sure. Rather, it was as if he was in outerspace. Stars blinked on all sides, but he could see no planets or moons. What he could see was the woman whom the statue depicted.
“You are Athena?” He asked.
She ignored him. “You are not human.” She observed, tilting her head slightly. “Are you perhaps one of Hephaetus’ automatons?”
“I am a nindroid, built to protect those who cannot protect themselves.” Zane responded warily.
“Curious,” Athena muttered. She pulled up a screen of sorts that displayed all of his previous battles. “You are a good fighter.” She admitted after a minute or so. Her lips quirked into a smirk. “I could help you be great. If you are worthy.”
Zane studied his options. She was clearly wanting a fight. He had a funng feeling she would fight fair rather than use her powers to an advantage. His hands brushed his shurikens. Odysseus had warned against divine attention and his story was enough to prove why. But if Zane won, then he would gain favour and potentially protection that could help them later. And divine tutalage, something he couldn’t deny had piqued his interest.
“Very well.” He said eventually and drew his shurikens. “I accept your challenge.”
Athena nodded. “I knew you would.”
They circled each other, watching for when the other would move. Now! Zane thought and lept aside as Athena charged at him. The goddess was clearly expecting it. She whirled around and aimed her spear and swung it towards his ankles. Zane jumped and launched a shuriken, striking her fingers. Athena gasped at the gold spreading across her hand but didn’t yield yet. She aimed a jab at Zane which he barely dodged. He lept back again and suddenly spun toward her. Athena was a blur through the tornado but Zane saw she’d pulled her spear up as well as aiming the spear. Quickly, he launched himself over the shield and kicked her square in the chest. Athena stumbled, surprised, then swung her spear like a baseball bat. It landed with a heavy clunk against his side, temporarily winding him. He caught his breath. He suddenly charged at her, making to tackle her. She braced ready. At the last second, Zane spun into another tornado. He kicked her knees and punched her. She fell, looking baffled but pleased.
“Well done.” She said appraisingly as she got to her feet. “You bested me. I looking forward to our next meeting.”
There are going to be days (or weeks, or months) where you sit down to write and feel... disconnected. From your voice, from your characters, from your ideas. Like the person who used to write your stories just packed up and left.
They didn't. They're just tired. Here's how to keep writing anyway:
Lower the bar (Until it's on the floor)
You are not here to write something brilliant. You are here to write something. A paragraph. A sentence. A single line of dialogue. Movement matters way more than quality.
Write around the story
Don't force it. If you can't write the scene, try:
⋆ A character ramble / journal entry
⋆ A conversation that won't be included in the final draft
⋆ A list of things the character would never admit out loud
⋆ A messy summary of what should happen
Engage with the story from a different angle.
Borrow a voice until yours comes back
No, not with AI. Read something that feels close to what you want to write, or watch a scene that captures the tone, then write immediately after. Not to copy, to reignite your instincts.
Write the emotion, not the plot.
What is your character feeling in this moment? What are they afraid of? What do they want but won't say? What's being kept from them? The emotion leads, the plot catches up later.
Stop trying to "feel like a writer" first.
You don't write when you feel like a writer. You feel like a writer because you write.
You are still a writer, even on the days it feels distant. Especially then.
The basic idea of my book: Covid knocks off nearly the whole population, earth is basically dead so we moved to a new planet and oh boy did shit go downhill fast. Anyways, here's this random teenager alive fifty years after 😁
