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Kepler settles into a routine. He hates to admit it, but queendom sort of suits him. Separated from Hoenn’s regularly dosed bullshit, he’s thriving. He wonders if anyone from The Time Before would even recognize him. Probably not.
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Chief amongst his many irons in the fire became enlisting an array of champions in order to keep Ashley Shepard and Selena Desmarais safe. “A Kingsguard, if you will,” he explained to his-- his husband, his king-- as he trolled over the options. With the alleigances of yesteryear left to die in the dirt, he approached first Kazimir Wynter , himself already famous for his bravery and heroics from back in the original timeline.
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Next came maverick noah ryder : the burned man had been a stranger to him, their only connection the fact they both came from that Long Ago Hoenn-- but he was skilled in combat, kept a cool head, and seemed, for the most part, relatively loyal.
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His third choice was the famous-- or infamous-- Black Knight, Shred . He was known for his fearlessness in battle and also, a little bit, for his being slightly unhinged. But he’d thrown himself all in during the fight with Necrozma and Kepler saw value in the possibility gleaming in the sheer batshittery the man seemed to be rolling with. Plus, sometimes a little purpose helps to hone the blade.
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Alexei Ivanov was the next name on his list. He had been one of the longest-standing Gym Leaders in the Hoenn region and, Kepler assumed, did not hold the title without cause. His skill with avians and knowledge of archery would be a proverbial feather in the cap of this proposed Kingsguard.
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He does not ask paxton concordas . He will never ask paxton concordas for anything. Any time they have to spend in each other’s company-- blessedly very little-- is cold and brief. Some things are too sharp to ever bury.
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Though his reticence to craft a dark ore weapon marks him as the odd one out, Thomas Benoit is next on his list; his previous battle-fame and presence in Ye Olde Hoenn make him a top-tier target, and he’s proven his fighting capabilities time and again, even without the aide of an empowered weapon.
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Last on his list is athena oswald , who has already moved in and taken over the stadium in the heart of their city. She’s extremely capable and intelligent, quickly earning Kepler’s respect. He finds he has a lot more of that, now, since he’s been so far removed from his comfort zone.
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As the years pass, things continue to grow, and change. Chocobo matures into a real Zapdos, worthy of the name and legend. Kepler becomes oddly possessive of his big chicken, and rarely ever lets him out of his sight. He knows that there are whispers amongst the commonfolk, about the striking resemblance Chocobo has to the monster that once besieged the city gates.
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Running Hammerlocke as the hand of the Kings takes up all his time. He is no FERNANDO SILPH , to be swept away by the paranoia and the hidden legends of the world around him. Where once he would have thrown himself wholeheartedly, obsessively into seeking answers, and the truth, he finds that Ash’s need for his aid is a more pressing issue. It’s a strange sort of metamorphosis, one that, maybe, he would not have chosen for himself, had the need not arisen independently.
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Where once he would have studied the objects that plunge through their atmosphere, he is, instead, wrapped up in the healing from them: levying contractor’s fees to repair the damage, rerouting traffic, and making sure aid arrives where it is needed.
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One of Ash’s most influential projects as king is the founding of an orphanage-- namely for those who lost their families in the many attacks from the Poison horde, but disparity has no tenderness, so any child who found themselves unwanted or in need of aid was welcome. Ash played a huge part in it: designing it, making sure it had everything it needed for maximum comfort and support, even going so far as to handpick the staff.
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He would visit it on the regular, making sure the children were healthy, happy, and well cared for. Kepler had never had a fondness for kids, before, but seeing his husband surrounded by giggling, smiling children made his heart do funny things-- well, funnier things than it already did.
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On one of their last visits-- though they wouldn’t know it-- he found his hand moving unbidden to his midsection, the smile stagnating and dying on his face, before having to excuse himself to go cry in secret.

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Ruby Garcia comes to check on him. It’s touching, especially since their last big hurrah together got her beloved Houndour permanently encapsulated in forever-frozen ice.
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He gives her the best Hammerlocke welcome he could possibly conjure, flexing a little bit of his clout as queen in a way he doesn’t usually do. He figures they both deserve it, after all.
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“It’s good to see you,” he says, over a large array of fine dishes and expensive wine, heartbreakingly genuine. “How, is, um. Wherever you are?”
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They share a pleasant chat over snacks and booze in the face of the end of the world.
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Pluto ages. It should not be something that is possible, but she does. Her lights begin to grow dim. Her movements become rickety and slow, like the joints that once kept her stone-clad body gum up and fail. She can barely hover more than a few inches off the ground, now, toes in a constant drag behind her. It saddens Kepler immensely, as she has been his stalwart companion for many years, but she does, eventually, give up the ghost, monolithic form separating with a sigh as she tumbles to the earth.
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He buries her in the night, in the center of town, around the emerging statue of the legendary canine that is slowly eroding out of the ground like a festering splinter.
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At Ash’s side, Kepler has to weather the rising and falling of the citizenry around them. The receding poison is a cause for celebration, but he can’t ignore the nausea that churns in his gut. The last two years of his life in Hoenn had been spent studying weather and climate anomalies-- and this one rang eerily familiar. Still, he has a kingdom to help lead, and so he puts his metaphorical blinders on and charges ahead while battling down the dread and anxiety that keeps building like a credit score: invisible and yet, somehow able to dictate the flow of your life.
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Summer Atreides ’s letter arrives and something sinks home when Kepler reads it. The end is near. It is now or it is never, make the leap or die, forever.
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He pulls Ashley Shepard aside at the very next opportunity, the nerves-- and other things-- coursing through his body having him on the edge of vomiting.
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“We need to talk. We have a-- situation. I--,” He opens his mouth but the words don’t come. They die on the back of his throat. So he swallows the confession and hands the letter over with a shaking hand. “--think we have to have a plan. For, you know, the end of the world.”
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He can’t say it. He can’t say it. He can’t say it.
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They might all die, anyway. It wouldn’t matter, in the end.
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