AN: Is it just me, or is it really confusing to update? Tell me I'm not the only one who has to click around for five minutes.

TheLadyKnight: Ah, you're ahead of me! (shhhhh, keep it low about the fairy godmother).

Bnehlacc Rikku: I actually studied Spanish for four years (it's been years though), but I was able to make out most of what you said. ;) Thanks!

Miss Dee Ex Jay: I'm really glad that you liked Joe and the idea of him together with Janine, it was more of a random thing on my part. ;) I'm sorry to say though, that the amount of people who had supported a fairy godmother was greater. I really appreciate you giving your opinion and I kept in mind not to get too absorbed into the fairy issue. Actually, it was either have a fairy godmother or have Izzy show up and work his own type of "magic," which probably would have made more sense, but the fairy godmother was just too fun to not write. Thank you for the review!

Disclaimer: Digimon is not mine.

Chapter Eleven – Believe

Sora choked and waved her hands in wild panic as a heavy pillow fell squarely on her face. Throwing away the object against the farthest wall, she cracked her eyes open in what could be classified as a glare.

A deep laugh followed. "What are you doing in bed? You should be getting ready for the ball."

She gave a groan and turned over onto her side, curling up her legs on the bed as she did so. "I'm not going!"

Taichi's face went blank, unsure of whether to laugh or scold. "Elaborate."

"I'm not ready."

"And you won't be unless you move."

"You don't understand, Tai. I'm not ready, and there's no way that I can be ready."

"But you have a mask, you've been working on this mask like a mad woman!" Taichi yelled as he walked towards the small tattered table and picked up the object as if she needed specification. The mask was a piece of magnificence—after Joe had delivered the much needed base, of course. The edges were traced in elegant shimmering silver, scattered and adorned with a gleaming substance that Taichi could not identify. With the base colored a luxurious dark that struck him as black in the shadows and a gorgeous navy in the light, the mask held together with the overall appeal of superb contrast and stunning designs. Taichi shook his head and tossed the item to Sora.

She sat up in the bed with a sheet wrapped around her slender frame and reached out a hand to trace the planes of the mask, a longing look in her eyes. "I so wanted to go," she whispered.

The chestnut haired man crossed his arms idly. "I don't see why you can't. Look, you have a mask!"

Sora didn't know whether to be annoyed at Taichi's lack of understanding for womanly needs or to laugh—she settled for the latter. "Oh Tai, I can't go to the ball with just a mask—"

"That's right, girl!"

The occupants of the room snapped their heads towards the doorway where the girlish voice had come from. Two jaws hung open at the woman who had appeared. She walked into the room, glancing around and poking random objects with a slender white "pointing tool." "—can't go to a masquerade ball with just a mask and a fancy piece of paper! Girl, it's all about the fashion, you have to dazzle that prince!" she continued, completely disregarding their shocked expressions as if it was any other day.

Sora blinked, unsure if what she was hearing and seeing tangible. The stranger who had appeared was fascinatingly… shiny. If Sora didn't know better, she could have sworn that the woman was glowing. Glimmering pink streaks were positioned throughout her hair that cascaded down her back and overlapped the pink gown the woman wore. A soft pastel pink, the dress was definitely of a fashion that Sora had not laid eyes on before. The front was in the design of a low V, as was the back, and a rough, transparent silk was layered over the entire skirt from the pink silk sash that was wrapped around her slender waist. The woman's arms were left untraditionally bare.

Taichi was the first to find his voice. "Excuse me, who—"

"Oh! Did I forget to introduce myself again? They keep telling me, but I just get so caught up with the—oh my gosh!" she screamed.

Sora laughed as Taichi noticeably jumped a few inches into the air, but the smile disappeared as quickly as it came when the pink haired woman rounded on Sora, an angry flair in her eyes.

"What are you doing! You should be getting ready, girl!" She turned to Taichi and shooed him out with a wave of the thin white rod in her hand. Sora blinked in an effort to keep her eyes from falling out of their sockets as she watched Taichi float to the door just before it slammed shut. "Can't have a guy in the room when you change now can you?" she said with a wink.

Sora gave a small nod. "I'm sorr—"

"Oops, hi girl, my name's Mimi. I'm your fairy godsister."

"Fairy god… sister?"

Mimi clicked her tongue in an irked manner. "Okay, godmother, but just look at me girl, I'm not ready to be anyone's mother. I'm way too young and beautiful."

There was a pause as Mimi walked around the room, examining things and Sora searched her mind for anything to say. "Uh… fairies?" She mentally slapped herself. Brilliant.

"Sure." The glistening woman gave a casual shrug. "Don't check for wings, 'cuz you won't find any, girl."

"Why do you keep calling me 'girl'?"

"Well don't expect me to do a one-eighty after spending all that time in the twenty-first century."

Sora swallowed audibly and she was sure her eyes would surely fall out by the end of the night. "What?" she choked.

"Oh that Victoria is always asking for some secrets of mine. Really, she wouldn't be—oops sorry dear, got carried away again." Mimi stopped for a moment and brought up her pointing rod under her chin, seemingly deep in thought. "Well I know it's hard to believe, but I know that you do. You're a special girl, Sora, that's why I'm here. In fact, Fate's very fond of you, she's a good friend of mine—anyways, let me explain. I know that for years you've always believed in… magic." She held up her hand and continued before Sora could protest. "Taking a wild guess, you probably always felt that there was something else, something more right? Something you couldn't understand, like the spring in the forest."

"The spring?"

"Why do you think you're so comfortable there, girl? Not just anyone can find it."

A slow smile crept up on Sora's lips as acceptance and understanding slowly dawned on her. Even if the woman in front of her wasn't a fairy, it was clear that she was something beyond ordinary. Setting aside all rational thought, Sora made a decision to believe.

"So, you ready to go to that ball?"

"But I don't have—"

"Really girl, what do you think this thing is? A pointing rod?" Mimi motioned to the white rod in her hand and Sora looked away, clearing her throat loudly. "Oh girl, haven't you heard of Harry Po—it's a wand."

"A wand!"

"Right, so just leave it to Meems! They don't call me the fashion fairy for nothin'."

"They do?"

"Well of course, just look at this dress I have on—"

"It's really—"

"Gorgeous, isn't it?"

"—shocking."

"Well girl, it's Vera Wang!"

"I'm sorry?"

"Oh, she's a fabulous designer."

"A designer?" asked Sora. Mimi caught the gleam that lit up in her eyes.

"Well, I just know you and I are going to get along famously." She looked Sora from head to toe and promptly declared, "I think pink."
Sora blinked. "Pink?"

"For the dress!"

There was a moment when Sora didn't know whether to tell Mimi she would have preferred a slightly different color, or to just let the magical being do as she pleased. Before she could decide on which path of action to take, Mimi had brought Sora up to a standing position with her wand and she felt something heavy enveloping around her body.

It was a cool, breezy sensation, gone as soon as it had come and leaving Sora standing with a ball gown that would make Catherine Grant and Miyako green. Looking down, Sora sighed with relief at the sunset rose color that met her eyes.

"I thought maybe something too pink might not suit you all too well—take a look, what do you think?" Mimi insisted with a wave of her ivory wand. A colossal three panel mirror filled the room before Sora's eyes. "The room is a bit small, a girl knows you have to have the right space for a mirror."

Taking a step forward, Sora could scarcely believe the woman in the mirror was her. A rectangular opening led into slender fitting sleeves and a very appealing bodice that showed off her curves quite efficiently. The bodice glittered with dazzling beads, which met a wide satin skirt that swished to and fro with her movements. Much like Mimi's own dress, a fine, see-through thin silk layer covered most of the skirt; only this silk was a soft yellow color over the smooth rosy peach of the skirts.

Sora opened her mouth and closed it at a complete loss of words. When she spoke, it came as a raspy croak, "Um… thank you."

Mimi laughed fondly at her hoarse gratitude. "Always happens the first time." She crossed her arms and circled around Sora. "I know most people put on the dress last, but like I always say, it's you that has to match the dress, not the other way around, girl." She flipped at Sora's hair curiously. "My, he is talented. Too bad."

Before Sora could register what Mimi had said, she had waved her wand and Sora watched her reflection in the mirror, once again feeling the strain behind her eyes as they threatened to fall from their hollows. Her auburn hair, in all its silken glory, had grown like animated vines until luscious waves tumbled down Sora's back once more—only now, soft yellow-peach ribbons entwined with the strands, holding a portion of her hair back.

Mimi nodded with approval. "I wasn't too sure that the yellow ribbons would work, but they're perfect."

Sora fingered her hair hesitantly as if the slightest touch would destroy the delicate magic. "How—" no, wrong question, "Why—" no, dumb question, "Where—" no, irrelevant question. She closed her mouth and smiled, settling on a silent thanks.

"Well, didn't want you to stand out too much with your hair so short. Besides, would you like it better if the prince didn't recognize you immediately? Wasn't that what you were going for? To see if he truly loves you for who you are?"

Fiery brows rose.

"Twenty-first century, it's pretty common," explained Mimi with a wink. "Okay girl, time to accessorize."

Sora brought her hands up to the pendant that had snuck beneath her bodice and traced the chain until her fingers met with the small clasp. Taking off the necklace, she set it atop the worn table. Just for that night, it would be better if Yamato did not recognize her immediately. Wearing the necklace would only be a claim to her identity. Was it cruel? No. She shook her head; besides, what was the alternative? Walk up and say, "Hey, sorry I ran from the palace, but I'm here now, so let's get married!" No, it would be much better to attend as just another guest.

"Are you done daydreaming?" Mimi's clear soprano broke through Sora's inner conflictions easily. She blinked rapidly and straightened her back, turning to smile at her new fairy "godsister."

"I'm done."

"Great, come over here and stand up straight." Mimi waited until Sora did as beckoned. With barely even a twitch of the wand, Sora felt a cool weight on her neck. Elegant gold earrings dangled from her ears, matching with the gold around her slender neck, inset with pink diamonds. Gold bracelets of the same fashion circled her wrists and it occurred to Sora that the ensemble was probably worth quite a bit more than her. She shivered with the thought, suddenly growing a bit self-conscious.

"Don't you think it might be a little too much, Mimi?" she offered.

The other woman let out a laugh and shook her head. "Not at all compared to what those other girls are probably wearing. In fact, I don't think your dress is quite risqué enough."

Sora forced a hesitant laugh. "That's quite all right, I love it the way it is."

Mimi lifted her chin and smiled with a hint of good-natured superiority. "Now girl, if you don't mind, can you take a few steps around the room to test out your new shoes?"

"New sho—" Sora's words were cut off abruptly with a gasp as she suddenly felt her posture straighten due to some new height added to her heels. A few more steps toward the bed and Sora felt a difference in the way she walked. Her dark eyes flickered to Mimi just as she took a seat on the hard bed and slowly lifted the skirts of the gown. A pair of glossy, semi-translucent slippers had formed snugly around her feet and Sora had to wonder how the glass could sustain her weight. She lifted her dress hems further, much more slowly this time, for she was too filled with anxiety drumming her heart.

Sora glanced down at her legs, searching for the imperfection along her right leg that Miyako had left, but there was none. She touched her leg gingerly; ran a finger down along the calf feeling for the scar. It was one of those moments you realize how much of a gift everything was in life—the ability to see, hear, touch, feel, sing, talk, smell, taste, walk. Those mundane qualities were as much gifts to treasure, as was one's extreme wealth; in their own way, they were wealth.

Sora hadn't lost her leg, or the ability to walk, but being rid of odd struts and uncontrollable jolts in her step was suddenly a heaven in its own. She grinned widely at Mimi, her eyes sparkling with glee, unable to contain her radiating bliss.

Mimi winked and held her hand to stop Sora before she could speak. "Don't thank me, remember, I'm the fashion fairy—don't want to make a living off of healing people, right girl? Just tell me a couple more times how much you love the dress."

For the first time she could remember, Sora squealed with excitement and lunged at her fairy godsister, giggling with as much girlish joy as she was capable of.

The door burst open as Tai rushed in, having heard the commotion. He stopped just at the doorway, mouth open. "Wow," he whispered, looking Sora from head to toe. He opened his mouth again as logic slowly filtered back but decided against it. "I won't ask. Never thought a lass like you could look… like that."

The two women contained their laughter as they watched Taichi retreat, closing the door behind him.

"I'll be back late!" Sora shouted after him. It was barely audible, but she heard him grunt in reply.

"Girl, if you don't hurry up, you're going to attend the ball late," said Mimi with her free hand placed firmly on her hip.

"How am I to attend?"

"That's already been prepared—and not by me. Really girl, what do you expect me to do, turn pumpkins into carriages?" Mimi paused for a moment, recalling something. "Darn Disney…" she muttered quietly.

"What?"

"Oh nothing dear, but those slippers you have on—"

"Are you sure the glass won't crack?"

"Of course I'm sure! It's faerie glass! Besides, those shoes are my favorite things about your outfit! No way are you getting yourself out of that. Trust me, everyone will notice—oh look, your carriage is here," she tilted her head towards the window and Sora obliged.

Just below, looking completely out of place in front of a butcher shop, was a grand ivory colored carriage. At least, she guessed it to be ivory; it stood out like dimming embers with a soft topaz glow in the dark. "Where—"

"It's from Joe. He's pretty nice, isn't he?"

"Too nice."

"No such thing, now hurry before you miss the ball. Really, I didn't think it was going to take so long to get you ready, but then again, a girl does need proper time when it comes to her appearance so you can't rush these things."

Sora circled her arms around the other woman affectionately. "Thank you Mimi, I don't know what else I can do but thank you," she said after pulling away.

"Just be sure to get your man or I'll never be able to forgive you!"

"Of course!" In the excitement, Sora had almost forgotten the mask. She grabbed the piece and placed it over the upper portion of her face, covering her eyes and completing the ensemble, earning an approving smile from Mimi.

"By the way, it's all yours. The dress, the earrings, the shoes, everything." Mimi informed her casually as they made their way down the stairs.

Sora rubbed her eyes—dangerous on the stairs, yes, but the straining sensation was returning. If the surprises didn't stop, she was going to meet Yamato with a migraine.

Mimi laughed. "Don't worry, no more surprises. I'll see you tomorrow. Now go, your prince awaits."

Taichi stood by the carriage door, ignoring the footman and offered Sora his hand. She laughed and smiled brilliantly, placing her hand in his and plopping down on the cushioned red seats of the ivory coach. The door closed and the coachman nodded politely before sending off the horses with a crack of his whip. Sora turned in her seat, sticking her hands unceremoniously out the window, waving as widely as she could to Taichi and Mimi as they watched her speed off. It looked as if the woman was dabbing her eyes with a small handkerchief, but with another blink of the eye, she was gone and Taichi was left standing alone, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

§

"Lady Glendale, the pleasure is mine." Yes, I do know I have blue eyes. Thank you, thank you, now move along please, Yamato thought sarcastically with a grin plastered on his face. He watched, amused, as Lady Glendale's fair features contorted with bewilderment and something akin to disgust as she laid eyes on what was behind Yamato. "Let me introduce you, this is Squall, my most prized stallion." Lady Glendale cracked a weak smile and hurried into the palace.

It was odd, surprising, pleasing, and untraditional all at once to see the prince by the gates with his horse, greeting all the guests that attended. As promised, Yamato stood by his guards, hoping to catch a glimpse of an auburn haired beauty. Squall was there—after being promised an extra bucket of carrots—to endure the same torture. As odd as people found it, Yamato valued his horse's opinion and trusted it to no ends.

A brilliant white carriage pulled by an amazing six horses slowed to a stop before the palace gates. The guards exchanged looks and watched as the footman held the door open. What hideous shoes, was the first thought that came to Yamato's mind as a pair of slender legs emerged, the woman's dress hauled provocatively to her knees. Down stepped Catherine Grant, cleavage and all.

Yamato clenched his jaw instinctively at the sight of the woman he had thrown out from the palace; his mother had warned him that night to let her into the ball. It was hard to not recognize the woman behind the mask—not many would dare to show so much. "Miss Catherine Grant," he simply stated after she handed the guards her invitation and headed his way.

Catherine flashed a dazzling smile with the knowledge that he recognized her, but it quickly faltered as disappointment settled. He offered no compliments of her new gown, made from the finest gold fabrics and beads. Her hair, beautiful as it was, was captured in a tight braided bun with her bangs allowed to fall freely. Her mask was needless to say, elaborate and stunning. It was of a fine gold that matched her dress and lined with small pearls. She stepped up to the prince, made a low curtsy, remembering never to remove her clear blue eyes from his darker ones and making sure to lean forward with her chest as much as she could. "My prince. I'm flattered that you can recognize me, even behind this mask," said Catherine in a suggestive tone.

"The floor is not clean. If you lean forward any more, I'm afraid you'll fall, Miss Grant."

With a sharp intake of breath she straightened up, head held up high. "Thank you, your highness."

Behind her Squall made a loud sneezing sound. Catherine jumped around with her eyes wide and a hand held over her chest. "What is that?"

"That is my horse, Miss."

"Oh."

"The rest of the guests are inside the palace. If you'll excuse me, I must greet the ones just arriving." Yamato gave a vexed sigh as Catherine walked towards the palace and turned to the next carriage that arrived. My God, what are these women thinking? He wondered as a bright, deep pink coach stopped before the guards—this time, they snickered.

Her legs were not bared dangerously to the knees, but Yamato did catch a glimpse of her calves as she slipped down from the carriage and her dress slipped up. She was dressed in a dark pink that almost matched the vehicle and her lavender hair was done in a fashionable twist, accompanied by large pink roses. Yamato squinted his eyes against the light reflected at him off the excessive glitter that was used on her mask.

She smiled. "You highness."

Yamato scowled, her voice reminded him of a goose. There weren't many people who could make that impression on him. At least she had the decency to step off a carriage like a normal person. "Miss Miyako Inoue?"

Her mouth widened and she leaned forward eagerly. Yamato blinked wildly against the light she literally radiated with. "Your highness, I am flattered!"

"Yes, good… um… go inside, please," he mumbled. Squall would probably kill her with a hoof. It wasn't a bad idea actually, considering she was the girl who made Sora's life a hellhole, but it would be much too messy. Perhaps later.

Miyako frowned, "But—"

"Please!" Yamato shouted, all too eager to get her inside and away from his suffering eyes.

Much like Catherine, Miyako took a sharp intake of breath and stormed inside.

Yamato sighed. Five minutes later, he was growing impatient, thinking that the guests had all arrived. It was then, that a modest ivory coach, pulled by two white horses (Squall neighed with approval) stopped before the palace. Yamato's eyebrows raised as the young woman inside opened the door, startling the footman, and then apologizing to him, obviously forgetting that it was his job. When she emerged from the carriage, she held her dress firmly, making sure as little of her legs were seen. A glint caught Yamato's eyes just before she dropped her sunset rose skirts and planted her feel firmly on the floor. If he didn't know better, her slippers looked as if they were made of glass.

His breath caught as he got his first good look at her. Her auburn hair mesmerized him and Squall had stopped his lazy trotting. The color was familiar, imprinted into his mind, but not the style. She handed her invitation to the guards who each sent her warm smiles, which she reciprocated and for a brief instant, Yamato would have given his right arm to be one of them.

He could tell she was nervous and rattled as she walked towards him. Her walk was perfect, no sign of a limp or any other injuries, but Yamato couldn't stop the nagging feeling that he knew her. She didn't look up to meet his eyes, but gave a small polite curtsy nonetheless. Yamato bowed low, trying to will her eyes to his.

He caught it for a mere second before she glanced away. Her voice was soft and reminded him of sweet honey. Not many people had that effect on him either. "Sora?" he whispered, barely audibly.

She heard, and Sora felt her entire body tense. Her mind tingled with something she could not describe and she felt her cheeks heat up.

Yamato felt her hesitation and quickly amended his mistake. "My apologies, that was rude of me." He turned to Squall, ready to introduce the two, but found the horse already stepping forward to nuzzle her affectionately. Her laughter rang out like wind chimes.

"Hi Squall," she said softly into the horse's ear but realized her mistake the moment she let the words slip.

Yamato's breath hitched in his throat. Everything about the woman told him it was Sora, told him that he knew exactly who it was, but he was not about to force it out of her. In two weeks time, was it possible to grow a foot of hair and cure a permanent limp? Yamato set the thought aside as he watched her stroke Squall lovingly and his hand itched to do the same to her hair. She was magic and he was ready to believe anything to be with her again.

Sora was currently wondering why she was born with auburn hair. It made her stick out like white against black. He already called her by her name once, but she wasn't quite as ready to fall back into his arms as she thought she was. She wasn't ready to answer questions that she didn't have the answer to and she wasn't ready for the unwanted scrutiny and attention it would bring her. For now, she only wanted to be with him.

"Lady…" Yamato waited for her to give her name, but stubborn as ever, she remained silent. "Sara—I hope you don't mind me calling you that, but you refuse to give your name, so I must give you one," he said with a wink.

Sora's heart thudded against her chest, knowing perfectly well that he was flirting with her. "It's okay."

"Good. Then Lady Sara, I would like to escort you inside." He offered his hand and waited for Sora to loop hers through it. She did so with little hesitation.

"I suppose it's harmless."

Harmless was most definitely not the adequate word to describe the deafening silence and shameless stares that greeted the couple. Sora shrunk behind and felt Yamato release her hand to place his on her lower back in a comforting gesture. Sora had no idea what Mimi meant when she told her that her previously short hair would draw attention. With a quick glance around the room, it was clear that most of the ladies had their hair bundled up while hers cascaded down her back. However, she did know what Mimi had meant when she said everyone would notice the glass slippers. In the silence of the room, it had a most distinctive clink that resembled a small bell when her heels met with the ballroom floor. Sora smiled; she liked the clink.

The majority of the ballroom had recovered from seeing Yamato enter with a woman by his side and were now in huddled groups, most likely criticizing anything they could about Sora's appearance.

The couple stopped in the middle of the ballroom and Sora realized Yamato meant to dance with her. She drew back and gave a weak laugh. "I'm afraid, your highness, that I'm not very good at dancing. I'll surely step on your feet."

"Oh, I doubt that. And why don't you call me Yamato?"

"I really shouldn't."

"I insist."
"No."

"Yes."

"No."
"Please?"

"…no."

He laughed, enjoying their playful banter without a doubt that the woman before him was his Sora. "If you refuse to call me by my name, then you must dance with me."

"I must?"

"You must."
"There are so many others here; they're all much more talented than I."

"But none of these women are you, Lady Sara. If a woman were to step on my feet, I would be honored if it was you."

Sora narrowed her eyes, annoyed at how damn charming he was and even more annoyed with how much her body reacted to their close proximity. Her heart was racing and her hands were shaking uncharacteristically. Her mind blurred, her eyes glazed, and her knees felt weak. "All right, but when you suffer from the bruises, you will not blame them on me."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

As Yamato had suspected, Sora was merely modest. The sensation of holding her close as they waltzed around the ballroom floor, oblivious to the seething girls who watched was euphoric. He glanced down and grinned at the healthy pink that stained Sora's cheeks as they swayed together. The strands of her hair felt cool and silky against his right hand positioned formally on her back and Yamato considered spreading his fingers to touch more of her hair—his dance instructor would be appalled.

Sora marveled at the way Yamato danced. His posture was needless to say, perfect, his spine in complete vertical alignment. It wasn't hard to dance with him, to know where he would step, turn where he would turn, whisk where he would whisk. She lifted her chin proudly; it was especially pleasing to feel his left hand clasped firmly around her right. She had been a bit hesitant to rest her other hand on his arm, but when she did, it was as if the fabric melted away beneath her touch and she blushed at the contact. She looked up and met his eyes.

"Sara, Sara, Sara," he cooed. "Did I mention you look exactly like a woman I know?"

"Oh… really," she answered, unsure of where the conversation would lead.

"Oh yes," his voice was lower now, huskier, dangerously alluring. "The mask you have on is unlike the rest I've seen. It's very stunning."

Sora blinked. It was startling, the way he changed subjects. "Thank you." It was also highly flattering to hear him compliment the cursed mask she had slaved over.

"She has eyes, just like yours."

Sora remained quiet.

"Her hair was the same color too. It's beautiful—I think it is my favorite color now. It reminds me of…"

Her eyes met his with curiosity as to how he would describe her hair. The last time he complimented her eyes, he had said they were "nice." She was amused with just how poetic he could become.

"Rusted metal."

Sora's expression went blank and for a second, Yamato worried that he had offended her in his attempt to elicit a laugh, but the fear quickly subsided as the corner of her lips tugged into a slow smile and then bloomed into a wide grin before evolving into a laugh.

"I shall tell the world that your favorite color is that of rusted metal!"

Yamato laughed as they did a spin turn. "Your laugh is just like hers. Like the sound of…"

"Oh no, there is no need to try to flatter me with your broken poetry," she said playfully, but Yamato only gave her a sly look and continued.

"A nightingale's song."

She laughed again. "Now you're comparing me with birds!"

"No? I thought you would like it."

"Well…" Even behind a mask, Yamato found Sora's expression irresistible. "I do. I've never had anyone say my laugh sounded like a nightingale's song."

"Never? I'm shocked."

"I haven't had the chance to laugh with many men before!"

"Then I'm honored." Their playful banter stopped as the two glided around the ballroom floor, oblivious to the world beyond. "Her name is Sora," he said suddenly.

Sora's heart leapt into her throat as she glanced up to meet his cobalt eyes boring into her.

"She left me," he added.

Sora looked away and tried to concentrate on the repetitive one, two, three of the tempo. "I'm sure that's a misunderstanding. I don't think anyone would want to leave you."

"Then why did she go? Can you tell me?"

She dared not meet his eyes, knowing that if she did, she would see everything she didn't want to. She would see his hurt, his longing. "Perhaps, she lacked the self-confidence it takes to be with you. Perhaps, she was feeling inadequate in comparison to the many others." She met his eyes, much to her mind's dismay and stared into… love? Yamato's features were calm and handsome and though he might've hurt before, the only thing that was apparent in his eyes was love. Love for her. "Maybe… she was running away from what she felt for you," she breathed out.

"But did she know that I was falling in love with her?"

Sora felt like someone had just thrown a bucket of cold water on her and her chest heaved with the deep breaths she took. Yamato released her hand and left it hanging as he reached forward to run his long fingers through her hair. It was then that she noticed he had waltzed them right into the gardens in the back of the palace—the sly thing—and the cold she felt was the fresh air against her skin. "If she was afraid… then why did she come back?"

"Because she realized she could not run from it. And, it seemed that she underestimated just how much she loved you."

They were alone in the dark gardens of the palace and the conversation had gotten very intimate. This could end very well or very badly, Sora noted.

"I'd like to ask her something," he smirked, "that is, only if she were here."

She swallowed loudly. "What would you ask her?"

That enticing smirk again and Sora was suddenly very aware that they had moved away from the glow of the ballroom. "I would like to ask her…" he drawled out, advancing towards the woman before him until her back touched the palace wall. He smiled, this time it looked more honest, and leaned forward with his left hand on Sora's hip, his right hand on the wall. "I would like to ask her," he repeated, "if I could kiss her."

It was getting hard to breathe and apparently Fate had decided it would end very well. Her heart had tripled its pace and her skin tingled. A blush crept up slowly from her neck and she prayed that the darkness hid it from Yamato. "I… don't think she would mind." His right hand touched her cheek in a soft caress and slowly moved to slip a thumb under her mask. She placed a hand gently on his wrist. "No, don't."

"But I want to see your face, my love. You look so stunning tonight, don't deny me the pleasure of seeing your beautiful face."

Her lips tugged into a smile. "You still have that silver tongue."

"You said that the last time we kissed."

"That could hardly be thought of as a kiss. More like… a mere brush up."

"I'll be sure to remember that this time."

"Don't take off the mask."

He frowned. "Why not, love?"

"Would you go against your own word? You asked that we not remove our masks."

Yamato only laughed. "I asked that they not remove their masks as a precaution if you did not come. If forced into a marriage, I would hope to choose the woman whose personality was the most bearable. But I am already in love with you, mask or not, it would not matter."

"Oh." Then she frowned. "You were going to replace me!"

He laughed again and ran his hand through her hair. "No, never replace you. Now, are you going to let me kiss you?"

"Are you going to remove my mask?"

"Are you deformed?"

"Prince!"

He gave her a mirthful look and chuckled. "No, I will not, if you do not wish me to."

"Oh. All right then, take it off."

"Is that an invitation? I have noticed how dark it is and just how alone we are."

Sora blushed crimson as inappropriate thoughts flashed through her mind. "No, it is not an invitation to anything besides removing my—"

His fingers slipped under her mask and traced behind to the silver ribbons that held it in place. Pulling the ribbons loose and exposing the upper half of Sora's face to the fresh air, it was then that she noticed something was amiss.

"Can you even see my face?"

"I can always see your face."

"Then why remove my mask?"

"Because, my heart, I want to feel your skin," he whispered suggestively, while slowly closing the gap between them. As if to prove his point, Yamato's right hand cupped her cheek fully and ran his fingers over the soft contours of her features. Sora seemed to have lost her ability to speak, which only brought a smirk to his lips as they touched hers. "I'll remember to kiss you properly this time."

AN: Terrible place to end a chapter, isn't it? I was going to continue on, but I realized that firstly, the chapter was getting too long, second, what more could I say about the night? They kissed and went home, whoop! ;) and third, I had ideas about the next chapter connecting with this one. In fact, I was so excited about the next chapter, that I just started a new document and went on writing.

I think, this one is by far, my favorite chapter. It was so so so much fun to write and I got carried away at some parts. I hope you guys enjoy it! (enjoyment equals reviews, yeeees.)

Which reminds me, I was blown away at the story stats. Haha, a huge number of people don't review! But that's to be expected and I have no right to complain at all. I'm very happy with the people who do review and I'm flattered that people would read this story in the first place. So thank you, for taking the time to read this story. (And props for even reading the notes at the bottom!)

Two more chapters to go! (I'm 90 sure, but then again, you never know.)