Don't lose your head (your arm is fine)

The Victini was always this happy-go-lucky. After all, the literal embodiment of victory was always guaranteed to win, so why bother worrying? Her home was lovely, a little ruin in the middle of the forest, and the few people who'd come there would see her and bow, praising the little pokemon for her role in their good fortune and victory. And she loved it, their praise. She ate it up, aware of how right they were to be praising the embodiment of victory.

Of course, though, sometimes less than pleasant folk came, trying to intrude into her little piece of paradise. The Victini was able to scare them off, of course, as even the most brave trainer couldn't hope to overcome victory herself, much less when she demonstrated her skill with flame. Of course, you'd get the few who were too stubborn to leave and who would try to force her inside their wretched contraptions, but she still was defiant, unable to lose, and in the end, if one didn't leave willingly, the Victini would force them to.

All in all, her life was good. She'd sit in trees, eating berries and relaxing with her fellow pokemon. They respected her, and occasionally even her fellow mythical pokemon allies and friends would drop by, staying and talking with the spirit of victory before their own duties called. The Victini looked forward to Jirachi's visits most though, as the pokemon responsible for luck was tied closely with the pokemon of victory, for clear reasons.

They were close, with the sleepy pokemon and Victini talking for days on end, often teasing each other and engaging in small competitions, which were of course harmless. After all, who was to tell them they were disallowed from having fun, despite their responsibilities? They weren't the only of their kind, and so when they were preoccupied another Jirachi or Victini would take over their duties. And they talked for ages, about their lot in life, about their abilities, their role in the world. Victini took pride in her ability to bring fortune to others, while the Jirachi thought of their skills more as a curse than anything else- people vied for their power, and in order to achieve it, they'd do almost anything. Of course, Victini didn't take it wholly seriously and would laugh it off, but eventually they came to realize their own power was a curse in its own way. Being physically unable to lose is a poor ability in some circumstances, and though it seemed like a blessing to her, it wouldn't always be.

Victini knew he was young for a mythical pokemon, but he really didn't register this until he met others, others who weren't his Jirichi friend. Mespirit once came to visit, and it was only then that the pokemon realized how young he was in comparison to his kin. Perhaps it was this that led to him being captured- thoughts of how he was, all things considered, still a child to his friends and kin. The thought rotted away at him, pulling him down a dark path, one which he found himself struggling to escape from. The tar of self-doubt tugged at him, and no matter what, it felt like the Victini couldn't burn it away, like he had all else.

That was where she was found when the horrible humans came. Curled up in her tree home, shivering at how impossibly tiny and insignificant she was. She barely even registered the humans had come to capture her before she was stuffed inside one of their miserable little contraptions, forced to do their bidding or she would never be released from this little prison, one she could barely breathe in. She, of course, wondered what her friends would think when next they visited, but it wasn't very productive, and as such, the little Victini, now nicknamed Vicky, waited for a chance to escape.