Based upon Disney's Cinderella. The first in a long series of Final Princesses. I own nothing, kay? Kay, onto the story! May be expanded into a full chaptered story, if anyone wants it to be.

You are crying on your father's shoulder as he holds you. Both of you are standing in front of a freshly made grave. Its name makes fresh tears fall, you can't help it. Earlier that day, your mother passed away. The woman who you only got a short six years with, yet her memory is fresh in your young mind.

Eventually your father brings you back inside, just before the rain starts falling. He sits down on the small couch, tears are falling from his eyes also, yet he makes no sound. He just simply hugs you tighter, because you are the spitting image of your mother.

You may have your father's hair color, but her face looks identical to hers. A small nose, a soft tiny mouth, large eyes, he knows you will grow up to look just like her. Only instead of both eyes a sparkling green, the one on the left is blue.

Soon you both fall asleep, the grief having exhausted all of your energy. Six months after she's gone, your father announces he's remarrying. At first, you are outraged. Feeling like he is betraying your mother, the woman who gave your life.

You refuse to speak to him, for a week. Then he explains how this is all for you, he can't have you grow up without a mother, and what if something happened to him? You are only six, but you understand.

You are still reluctant, even at the simple wedding. You try and see if this woman, who is your new step-mother, will ever measure up to the shining angel that was your mother. You know she will not, but you will be good to her. You won't make her feel unwelcome; you will do your best, be the best step-daughter you can. She also has two daughters, one is your age, and the other is two years older.

Both are plain, but you don't think you look any better. Yet you can almost sense a bit of envy from them. You shrug it off; you are becoming family once father says "I do." Surely they wouldn't be envious of you, for you are only six.

Two years past, you do not love your step-mother, you tolerate her. She is nice to you, a bit uptight, yet she is nice. Your sisters want to play with you, you are almost never alone and you enjoy it. The sting of your mother's death is fading; you know she's in a better place, so that brings you some peace.

One day, on a bright spring morning, father passes in his sleep. You can hear your heart stop, and feel the instant grief and misery. You cannot stand in this bedroom, where your father is laying on his bed, seemingly asleep but you know better.

You run, run out to the gardens and weep. Unknown to the three pairs of eyes, watching you run scornfully. You only hear your heart breaking, taste the grief. You want him back, him and mom. Because why should they leave? It isn't fair, nor is it right. You are only eight, you are too familiar with death at your age.

Though, a small part of you whispers, whispers you are not alone. You have your step-family. They have always been nice, they seem to like you, maybe hold a general respect. So you know you are going to help out more, going to do your best even more.

You think you are not alone, you think they will help you with the grief anf anguish of losing your other parent. You are wrong, this is when their true colors show. They are mean to you now, they are ording you to clean and cook, to deal with their varying moods.

You are only eight when you become a servant in your house, the house you've lived in for all your life. They rule it, and you are no more than the servant. Your room is moved to a tower, keeping you as far away from them as possible. You befriend the mice and birds, you understand them and they you. They are your only friends.

You are thirteen when you go to the market, have been going there by yourself since you were eight. You meet a handsome boy, a year older than you. He walks with you, offers to hold your bags, you decline politely.

You notice his dirty blonde hair, all shaggy. His bright blue eyes like the sea, he's dressed slightly better than most people here, you don't really notice his clothes, you just notice how he smiling makes you smile. Soon it's time for you to leave, you don't want to. For the first time in years, you are being yourself, not a servant.

You are who you are with this boy; you don't want it to end. But he leaves first, promising to see you again. When he leaves, your heart is beating wildly, you miss him already. And you didn't even get his name.

It carries on like that, each day in the market, you meet up, talk and be yourself. You are children, you are young and you embrace it. When you are fifteen, he tells you he's going away, off on a campaign.

Her heart breaks a little, because a part of you loves him, even if you won't acknowledge it. You nod, your eyes are misty, because you want him to stay with you, yet you are too unselfish to ask for that.

He hugs you, and it feels like he doesn't want to let go, as much as you don't want him to go. After a couple of minutes, or hours, you pull apart. He stares into your unique eyes, and you are equally lost in his blue ones.

You don't know who leans first, if it was you or him, or both of you. But you meet in the sweetest kiss, he is your friend, he is your first crush and your first kiss. And briefly, you wonder if you are his first as well. When you pull back, you blink in surprise, and touch your lips, feeling them tingle. He has a crooked little grin, and a light blush, you know you are blushing too.

Your life is dull after he leaves; it seems as if your step-family is even meaner, nastier. Trying to attack you more, but you don't know why. Because they can't possibly be envious of you, though you know you are beautiful, like your mother. You do not flaunt it, or even acknowledge it.

You are nineteen, a ball is being held, you want to go, desperately. You beg your mother, using the logic of the letter against her. For it says every available maiden, you are available, your boy has not returned, so you are not seeing anyone.

Her snide smile catches you slightly off-guard, along with her agreeing. Against her daughter's protest, she tells you if you get all your chores done, and find a proper dress, you are allowed to go. You let her condescending smile go, and thank her profusely.

You hurry upstairs, pull out your mother's old dress. But as you look at the beautiful, pink and white dress, you know it is out of style. Your mice and bird friends look at you with sympathy as your step-sisters call your name, needing help with their dresses.

You sigh, and feel dejected. Knowing the chances of getting your dress done in time, is next to impossible. You hurry downstairs, keeping the disappointment off your face as you help with their preparation.

It is almost time to go to the ball, you drug upstairs, dejected and disappointed you will not to go. But when you reach your room, your friends the mice and birds present your mother's dress. Modified to fit with the times, who gasp, stunned at the work they've gone through.

You put it on, twirling in as you laugh, happiness for the first time in years filling your soul. You see the carriage pull up and you rush downstairs, calling for them to wait. They gasp as you approach them, for reasons unknown to you.

They look shocked, stunned and jealous. You plead your cast to your step-mother, telling her you finished your chores and have a dress. They stare at you, in an eerie silence. Then the oldest step-sister, gasp and exclaims about you wearing her pearls.

Then they are both ripping at the dress that is the only reminder of your mother, calling you names, "Thief", "Liar", and "Wrench". They walk out haughtily, while you are close to tears as you look down at the ripped, torn fabric.

The condescending tone, you've become used to when it comes to your step-mother. Tells you loftily about a few more chores, she just made up. Then she leaves you, with a cruel glint and sinister smile. The door closing sounds like a prison, making you choke on your sobs. You can't take it, you run, out to the gardens.

Needing the security and safety of the beloved gardens, you weep on the same bench you weep on when your father died. Was this to be your life, you wonder amidst your tears. You are crying so much, you don't realize the stone has turned to silk, and the warmth of a person.

You only realize when a hand lands on your shoulder. You jerk your head up; your eyes are blood shot, and red-rimmed, are staring into the kind eyes of a beautiful woman her brown eyes warm and full of love.

She comforts you, cheers you up. She asks why you aren't at the ball. You stand up and look down at your dress, to which the woman nods understandingly. Then from her blue, silk sparkling cloak, she pulls a yellow, glowing wand.

She waves it around, a pumpkin becomes a carriage, your mice friends are turned into horses, and the dog is the coach man. You gasp, stunned. Your earlier sadness is now overshadowed by your fairy godmother's unquestionable kindness.

Soon the tattered dress is transformed, into a beautiful light blue, sparkling ball gown. Your hair is pulled up, a tiara is keeping your bangs back, a pair of glass slippers on your feet.

You are stunned, happy and thankful. You thank her over and over; listen half-heartedly to her warning about how the spell will wear off once it strikes midnight. You get into the white carriage and wave as you are off to the ball.

All for one night of being you, like it was when you were a teenager with the boy a part of you will always love. When you enter the ball, you feel all eyes on you. The prince is dancing with the youngest step-sister, but he stops and stares at you.

Within an instant you recognize those blue eyes, as bright as the sea, the still shaggy dirty blonde hair. You wonder briefly if he will recognize you too, by the way his breath catches, you know he does.

Your step-sister tries to get his attention back on her, but he is as focused on you, as you are on him. He walks to you, too slowly for your liking. You want to rush up to him, hug him and be relieved he's back.

You wonder why you didn't ever realize he was a prince, maybe because he was in the market place, or maybe because it does not matter. Soon he is standing in front of you, he offers you his hand and asks you to dance.

You accept with a small smile, not the grin you wish to answer him back with. But that crooked grin, the one he gave you after you kissed, makes you sigh with longing to be closer.

The grip he has on your waist and hand, let you know he wishes he will never let you go again. Tells you he is as adored with you, as you are with him. You dance across the ballroom; the rest of the world fades away. It's only you and him; it's all it will ever be.

Soon once the song ends, you leave to the garden. You walk along the path; he is whispering words of endearment, telling you how beautiful you look. You simply blush, smile and hold his hand.

It's like you are fifteen again, but the feelings he evokes with the touch of his hand, are much stronger. You know, a simple thought, that you love him. Will always love him, and the look in his eyes, is the same.

Soon you are sitting on a small wall, overlooking the beautiful pond. You lean in and kiss him again. Like the one when you were fifteen, its sweeter and yet stronger. You don't want to pull away, he grips the back of your neck lightly, wanting this to last as long as you do.

When you pull back, the love is shining in both of your eyes. You are unable to repress the love you feel. He leans in, to kiss you again. In your love filled mind, you dazzlingly hear the chime of the clock, signaling it is midnight.

Your eyes shot open, startling the prince. You stand up and hurriedly tell him you have to leave. You get barely a step away, before he grabs your hand. His ask you why, confused and partly amused by you.

Yet the panic in your eyes makes him even more confusion and concerned. You tell him you are sorry, you wish you could stay. Then you yank your hand out of his strong hands that you wish could wrap around you. Picking up your dress, you run off, hearing him behind you.

You almost trip and lose one of your shoes, sighing you leave it and rush to the carriage. Leaving the prince with your shoe, you barely make it home in time. When you lay down in bed, exhausted and feeling a mix of happy and sad, you belatedly realize you now know his name, but failed to give him yours.

The next day is the same as all the others, except a Duke arrives, you are at the top of the steps, watching in joy as he announces that the prince wishes to marry the woman you fits the shoe. The shoe is the glass slipper you left, joy courses in your veins and you rush to your room to retrieve the other, to prove you are his true love.

But when you find it, you turn around and the door is locked. You know who did it, and you beg and plead for the woman to show an ounce of kindness, to let you out. But she ignored you, and you hear her footsteps growing softer and hushed voices.

You tell your mice friends to find the key, she will not, will not let anything separate her and Tidus, her prince. So you wait, trying and failing to open the door, tears of frustration making their way down your soft face.

You know your step-sisters are trying on the shoe, and you know they will not fit it. But once they are done, the Duke will leave along with her happily ever after. Soon you hear them, rushing as fast as there little mouse legs will carry them. You can see them climbing up the top step, struggling with all there might.

They stagger to the door, and slid the key under. You are grateful and promise them plenty of cheese. You quickly unlock the door, joy filling you as you rush down the stairs, the Duke is about to leave.

But your voice asks him to stop, every looks at you. You who is standing on the top of the stairs, your step-mother looks furious and step-sisters outraged. Your step-mother breaks the shoe on purpose, but you pull out yours.

The Dukes smiles and puts it on you, it fits like it did last night. Within the hour you are reunited with him, he hugs you do him, ask for your name. As all around you, people are preparing your wedding, and you tell him, softly with tears of happiness pouring down your face.

"Yuna, my name is Yuna."

Cast-

Cinderella-Yuna

Prince-Tidus

Lady Termaine-Dona

Grand Duke-Auron

Anastastia-Lucil

Drizella-Elme

Fairy Godmother-Lenne