#i have this hc already that wikstrom was very hesitant to chase the elite four role because he felt like.

[exagides]

Excalibur is currently embroiled in a friendly one-on-one with one of the other aegislash of his family. Wikstrom, knowing that the two are safe to duel to their hearts’ content out in the expansive gardens, stands with one foot on the bottom rung of the wooden fence, his arms rested over the top.

“You truly should aim higher, Wik.” His father says, leaning over his shoulder. Wikstrom jumps, turning from watching Excalibur. His father looms over him ( his father is so much taller — Wikstrom inherited papa’s height ) and smiles.

“I do not know what you mean.” Wikstrom says, making sure his gaze doesn’t linger too long on his father’s face. Eye contact may be polite, but it’s also an easy way to be read.

“You completed thy gym challenges rather quickly, in years past,” his father continues on. “And Excalibur could use more of a challenge.”

This again.

“I am needed here, am I not?” Wikstrom says. He already knows the answer.

“You are almost twenty. You have done so much for this family already, and verily you shall carry on the legacy of the Chevalier name quite well.” There’s that look in his father’s eyes, the one that says he’s not going to put this matter aside. “You have a natural talent for battle. That Elite Four man is looking for an apprentice to mentor…”

“I would have to challenge him first.” Wikstrom says. “And win.”

“I believe you would triumph.”

The sound of the dueling aegislash comes to a lull, and when Wikstrom looks back to Excalibur, he’s hovering closer, shield held close to himself. He looks winded — as much as a sentient sword can look as such. Wikstrom reaches out, knocking the front of his shield with his knuckles, and Excalibur makes a quiet cooing noise.

“And I do believe Excalibur thinks so, too. Do you not?” 

Excalibur already knows the topic at hand. He makes an encouraging noise, bringing his shield up higher. One swift move and the bottom edge of it knocks lightly against Wikstrom’s forehead, causing him to lean back. 

“You truly wish to pursue this?” Wikstrom asks.

Excalibur’s eye narrows at him. As if to say ‘of course, stupid’, he knocks his shield a little harder against Wikstrom’s forehead. This time it actually hurts, and Wikstrom finds himself laughing as he rubs the spot that hopefully won’t bruise.

“Fine, aye, but do not expect it to be easy,” Wikstrom warns, and he turns to his father once more. “And do not expect it to happen so quickly.”

“I have faith in you, Wikstrom.” He says. A beat passes before his father’s arm wraps around his shoulder, bringing him close to his side. “Think not of why most challenge the League, and think instead of how you helped thy friends on their personal journeys. You have potential to do that for many more.”

“You—” Wikstrom hesitates. But he knows. He’s had the same thought — the only real barrier has been the thought of leaving his family behind. The estate, the history — he doesn’t want to leave. Challenging the Elite Four with the intent to be mentored would mean leaving for a long time, and unlike going on a region-wide journey, he would be moving completely. Away. To be closer to the League.

But that’s really no excuse, not when there’s so much good he could do if he were to make it. And doesn't his father already know what would make his heart happiest?

“You are right.”