A/N: Hi guys! Sorry it's been so long...(heh heh heh six months...). This story is actually going to be a three-shot, since it turned out a little longer than I expected. Please review, all comments are appreciated. Thanks, and I hope you enjoy Part 2!
The palace stood in all of its glory, towers spiraling into oblivion, flags waving merrily atop every peak. It looked right out of a fairytale book. And Yellow was reminded once again that she did NOT live in a fairy tale.
He won't even look at you twice. Except to perhaps note how annoyed he is at always seeing you around...
She released a shuddering breath and gingerly accepted the hand of one of the mice-turned-attendants, who helped her out of her seat in the pumpkin carriage.
Whoof. Deep breath, Yellow.
And then she was there, standing on the front steps of the royal palace of all places, preparing for the first ball in the entirety of her sixteen years.
Clamminess started to set in, and she knew her nerves were kicking into overtime, mind exploding with everything that could go wrong. Misty, her stepmother, the magic that wore off at midnight...
But she was here, and it was too late to turn back now. Not after all that she had been through to make it.
For just this one night, I can be more than just another poor country girl from the slums of the capital. For just this one night, I can pretend that I am more than just a stepping stone for Misty's success.
For tonight, I will be Yellow— short, but not helpless; quiet, but not afraid; obedient, but not to be controlled.
She stepped through the gates into what she could only hope was the night of her life.
"Your Highness, look..."
Prince Red of Kanto turned his head away from the conversation he had just been holding with the father of a young court lady, and followed everyone's gazes to the top of the ivory staircase leading into the ball room.
And there she was.
She descended the steps with the utmost care, too enraptured with the crowds and with the bright lights as to see anything past her own two feet, and her own two hands clasped in the folds of her skirt. This was it. She was here.
Yellow allowed herself a brief smile, eyes closing for the slightest of pauses as she imagined the kinds of wonders the night could hold. The food, the ballgowns, the quiet murmur and gossip of the gentry. And the dancing... Yellow loved dancing. She could barely remember the days when her father used to lead her out to the vegetable patch, and pick her up in his arms and swing her around and around, like he said the suitors did to their sweethearts.
"But you're not my suitor!" Yellow had laughed.
"I love you more than any suitor ever will, Amarillo. And they'd better know that!"
She shook out of her trance. Her father was not here, and she would honor his memory by dancing until her feet couldn't take another step.
She would honor the little girl she had once been by enjoying herself no matter who watched her.
And she would honor her faerie godmother by...
No.
Sorry Blue, she whispered, but I am NOT going to "get him" like you asked.
But suddenly the staircase ended, and the room was wide and gloriously open in front of her, and...and he was kneeling there. In front of her.
Hand extended. Eyes tilted up to meet hers.
The room had fallen dead silent. And Yellow was at a loss for words.
"My Lady," his voice was the fuzzy glow of sunset. "Will you do me the honor of sharing a dance?"
And she was once again falling. Falling falling falling into the endless abyss of his deep red eyes, never to be seen again. Disintegrating into a million sparks and butterflies that reminded her oh so much of that morning and the roses and the sunshine and...him.
He was asking her to dance.
This is what you came for, isn't it?
Slowly, tentatively, as if the one tiny action might break her, Yellow placed one small, gloved hand into his.
The room was spinning and she couldn't quite catch her breath, but suddenly there was no more Misty, no more of her stepmother's screaming or the endless chores that seemed to fill up all of her days. There were no more crushed hopes or dashed fantasies, no more ratty skirts or broken-hearted blondie girls waiting for their dreams to come true.
Dance.
Prince Red led her onto the dance floor, ebony boots clicking an eery rhythm on the polished marble beneath them. The crowd around them parted, creating a pathway of faces that seemed to stretch on forever to either side. Yellow waited with bated breath for someone to start laughing, or jeering, and screaming in her ear that it was all just another one of her stepmother's cruel jokes meant to humiliate her and remind her just how small she was. And not just physically.
But her step-mother stood slightly to her left, hidden behind a lady with a ridiculous peacock hat and matching chiffon ballgown, face morphed into the picture of wonder and jealousy. Misty, ever the enchantress, had her perfect lips parted in ladylike disbelief. But...they didn't look like they recognized her. Odd.
Yellow barely had time to take them in before she was whisked forward into an elegant waltz, fingers clasped tightly in those of the Prince. A slow, melancholy tune drifted from the chamber orchestra, and perhaps it was just her imagination, but the candles seemed almost to dim. Her eyes wandered the people around her, nobility and even some royalty, all decked in lavish finery, all watching the peasant in princess heels twirling with their Prince. But, slowly, the music drove her audience forward, bright skirts and nimble feet once more lighting the palace ballroom. A crowd of dancers to join the pair. A weight lifted off of Yellow's chest.
"Eh...hem..."
The weight returned full force. She almost missed a step before a firm hand on her waist steadied her. Oh right. The Prince.
Heart hammering yet again, she lifted her gaze from the ballroom and met his ruby stare. Like autumn leaves before the wind blew them away. There were a thousand and one things she wanted to say to him, but her lips just couldn't quite seem to form the words.
"Ah...um...hi." Ouch. Yellow wanted to cringe. A thousand and one things, and that was what came out?
But Red barely seemed to notice. His eyes remained steadily fixed on her, almost contemplative, as they twirled and fell apart and came together again. She lowered her head slightly. He was probably considering all of the thousands of faults that were obvious from a first glance at her. Not pretty enough, not confident enough, not regal enough. Definitely not tall enough...
"So, is this your first time at the palace?"
Yellow blinked. She was surprised he hadn't chosen to ask about her appearance, or her heritage. Huh. Her thoughts returned to his question when she realized he was waiting for a reply.
She gave a small nod "yes". Of course it's my first time in the palace. You've seen what I wear on a daily basis- do I look rich enough to visit here regularly?
Red's lips curved up into a grin. Almost...playful. "And how do you like it?"
This time, Yellow didn't need any time to sort out her thoughts. They came tumbling out of her mouth like a waterfall, spilling over each other in their haste to reach open air. "Like it? It's absolutely breathtaking! The candles, the staircases, the arches, and-...um..." Yellow blushed as she realized that she may have been a tad too eager. First slow to respond, now too forward... Red must think she was bipolar at this point. Or psycho. One or the other.
To her relief, all he did was laugh. A rich, brilliant sound that echoed in her ears and filled her with wonder from the tips of her toes to the roots of her hair. Forget about the arches. That, by far, was the most breathtaking thing she had encountered all night.
If she had to leave right then and there, Yellow would have left with her evening complete.
Prince Red's chuckle faltered, however, when his gaze locked onto something over her shoulder. Yellow watched, oddly fascinated, as his features shifted from joy to frustration to...resignation. Was something...or someone...there? She didn't dare turn around, knowing that she would most likely miss a step if she did. The music had sped up while they were dancing, and she needed to concentrate on her feet or else she'd go tumbling down. She waited with bated breath as the circle of dancers spun, changing directions so that she was now in Red's old position.
And could see what he had been looking at.
Only, there was no one there. Dresses, ballroom, columns, mosaics, the thrones, the king... the King. He was staring straight at them. Yellow was too far away to read his face, but she could tell he wasn't smiling.
Oh.
Cheeks heating, she flicked her eyes back onto Red, who was now the one watching her. Her face must have been screaming discomfort, because his lips pursed slightly with displeasure. Then...there was something else in his expression. Slightly reckless, slightly excited, slightly afraid... He studied her for a moment.
"Come with me." Yellow nearly fell when he started to pull her, still in time with the waltz now playing, towards the edge of the ballroom floor. After a few short measures, they were at the edge of the crowd. Then they were out of it. Red stopped dancing, but still held onto her hand, and Yellow was too startled to speak.
What is going on?
Red pulled her out of the ballroom, through an archway, and into a wide, ornate corridor that stretched on and on. Yellow stumbled after him, heels making no sound on the carpeted floor.
She knew that in these kinds of situations, a girl was supposed to start screaming for help, or to kick her abductor in the...you-know-where...and run. In fact, under normal circumstances, that was probably exactly what Yellow would have done. But...she didn't feel in danger. Rather, there was a sort of tension in the air, a good kind. Like the buzz before a lightning storm. A lightning storm she wanted nothing more than to be swept up in.
Besides, this was the Prince. What harm could possibly come to her?
Unless he was a sadistic rapist. Or a secret murderer. Or...
Stop it, Yellow. You're being ridiculous.
He was the Prince. This was a special circumstance. And, if anything did end up happening to her, it wasn't like there was anyone out there who would actually care.
A flight of stairs appeared at the end of the hallway. Yellow barely had time to take in the intricate carvings on the golden railings lining them before she was at the bottom, passing through an archway, feet no longer sinking into plush palace carpeting. She was outside.
Red pulled to a halt ahead of her, and only when he let go did Yellow realize that he had still been grasping her hand.
"This is my favorite part of the palace." He pointed ahead, towards what could only have been the most decadent garden Yellow had ever seen. "Growing up, I was never really given much freedom to do as I pleased. This garden was the closest thing I had to a playground, to friends, to, well, a childhood."
Yellow gazed around at the enormous flowers drooping from their stems, the insects flitting about despite the lack of sun, the willow trees lining a path made of pebbles smoother than glass. The air was sweet, like perfume, but not so much as to be overbearing and suffocating. It looked like a garden out of a fairytale. Moon dappled, peaceful, aglow with life. Paradise.
But, like the midnight mist hanging over lake water, the garden's magic seemed to burn away the longer she stared at it. The longer she let the words Red had spilled sink in.
Up until now, Yellow had never really considered what challenges might come with being, well, a prince. He was always the golden spark in the distance, the Lucky one, the boy loved and admired by an entire kingdom. He seemed to have it all.
But there was the King with his sharp eyes and his sharper disdain. The court ladies and gents with their gossip and jealousy. The expectation that his simple existence had to be good enough to satisfy hundreds, no, thousands of people he'd never personally met.
It was such a shame that fortune always came with a price.
The loveliness of her surroundings would have made any story illustration jealous. But all Yellow could picture was a lonely little boy walking along the rounded pebble pathway, aching from a burden men twice his size could never have lifted.
Yellow opened her mouth, but no words fell out. Sure, she should probably tell him she's sorry, or say something compassionate and witty like all of the princesses did in their stories, but she wasn't a Princess, and this wasn't a fairytale, and she was just a girl who honestly had no idea how to comfort a boy.
The silence dragged on as both figures stood staring into the depths of the greenery.
Finally, Yellow couldn't take it anymore. She turned to Red. "It's a beautiful garden, Your Highness. Thank you for...sh-showing me."
As if pulled from a stupor, Red shook his head, a few locks of dark hair falling across his brow. "I thought you might like it. And please, call me Red."
Yellow's heart skipped a beat, and suddenly the melancholy atmosphere vanished. Red? Call me Red. CALL ME RED?!
Oh dear oh dear oh dear.
This was good. This was amazing, beyond amazing, everything she could ever have dreamed of good.
First name terms meant interest, right?
But... Yellow could picture her face plastered over posters all across towns, mortified and humiliated, when Prince Red turned her down. Interest. It wouldn't last for long.
Stop thinking about it, Yellow! You're here to have fun. To enjoy yourself, if you even know what that means. Take a deep breath.
She breathed in and out very slowly.
Okay. Now turn to him and say something witty. Act as if his last phrase didn't bother you at all.
Yellow tilted her lips up into what she hoped was a flirty grin and looked up at Pr-... Red.
And looked. And looked.
Say something!
Red's face morphed into something of quizzical amusement.
"Umm, miss, are you okay?"
Yellow's face exploded into what she knew had to be an extremely unflattering shade of crimson, and she thanked her lucky stars it was dark out. So, no witty comments today...
Breathe in, breathe out.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry." She turned back to the garden, cheeks still burning. "Can...Can we look around?"
"Oh! Of course, that's why I even brought you here. Please, feel free to go wherever you like." Red waved a hand towards the vast greenery in front of them, and Yellow reluctantly slipped her hand out of his in order to step forward. The cold air replacing his heat almost came as a shock to her fingers.
However, any remaining tingles were soon forgotten as the wonders of the garden ensnared her interest. Flowers of all shapes and sizes, small, large, pink, silver, flooded her vision. Some hung in waves from wooden structures, others seemed to sprout from seemingly nowhere. The hum of midnight insects created a tranquil atmosphere, and she felt as if she were walking in a hazy, barely formed dream. Sure, the garden was a place of sadness. But sadness always seemed to come in the beautiful form.
She could sense Prince Red following her at an arm's length, almost touching but not quite. Huh. Her, being followed by a Prince. This would make some story.
Finally, after what seemed like hours but was probably only a few minutes, Yellow pulled to a stop in front of a gnarled willow tree. A lonely wooden swing hung from one of its wide branches, creaking softly in the warm breeze.
It looked like one of the paintings she'd done once upon a time.
"Um, you can sit down if you want..." Red tentatively stepped past her and grasped ropes attaching the swing seat to the willow branch, stilling what little motion was driving it. He gave her a small smile, and Yellow's breath hitched.
Creaky wooden swings and handsome princes to push them. She was living in a fairytale.
Taking care not to trip on any wayward roots, Yellow made her way to the small swing. She searched Red's gaze for a moment, wondering for the umpteenth time why there was no trace of malice there, no hint of disgust at what was obviously a peasant girl standing in front of him.
He was too kind. Too good. Too smart and brave and calm and interesting...
Why would he choose me?
Yellow gathered her full skirts, grateful for an excuse to hide her trembling fingers as she pushed the fabric underneath her, sitting down on the swing. It gave a lonely creak before settling under her weight. Her hands found the two course ropes holding the swing up, and she marveled at how small her hands looked wrapped around the twine.
You're so small, Yellow. It would be a marvel if any man even deigned to view you as anything but a child!
Her stepmother's voice rang in her ear, and Yellow's heart shrank just slightly. So small. Nothing but a child.
She tightened her grip on the rope. Small, childish, but she was the one sitting there alone with the most eligible bachelor in the kingdom, and her stepmother was nowhere in sight.
Enjoy this, Yellow.
Suddenly, Yellow felt herself beginning to move, the silver of her ballgown whispering softly through the air. The swing let out a single groan of protest before giving in to motion, and a warm presence burned at Yellow's back. Red. His hands, so much larger than hers, gripped the ropes just above her head, pushing and pulling at them so that she swung gently back and forth.
Back and forth. Yellow had ridden swings before, when her father was still around to push her on them, and Misty wasn't there to push her off of them. She remembered that it was the closest she had ever felt to flying.
But this... Yellow knew that she was barely a foot off the ground, but somehow her heart and her soul seemed to exist high above the garden, the palace, the entire kingdom. It was as if someone had severed her spirit from her body, and she was floating far, far away, never to return to the pain of reality. Except that there was a tether holding her back- Prince Red. Like the string to her kite. An anchor.
For a moment, Yellow was positive that she was out of her mind. Her, simple, clueless Yellow, could not possibly be sitting in a swing with Prince Red of Kanto standing only inches behind her, pushing her, giving her a glimpse into his world. She could not possibly have met her fairy godmother and an assistant fairy god...father?..., or seen her old rags become the finest silver gown she'd ever laid eyes on, or waltzed for the first time in her life on a ballroom floor bursting with nobles. It was simply not possible.
A delirious giggle bubbled up to her throat, and suddenly she was laughing as if she was two years old again, and her father had tickled her with a feather until she was rolling on the ground.
The sound shattered the nighttime tranquility and filled the air with pure, unfiltered joy. Yellow laughed and laughed and laughed until she was nearly wheezing, doubled over on the now still swing and gripping the rope to her left as if her life depended on it.
"I-I-I'm so-sorry!" She gasped between breaths. "It's just...all s-so impossible!" Yellow forced herself to suppress her giggles, and turned her head around to look at him.
Red was smiling, a soft wonderstruck smile that made her think there was something on her face. No one had ever looked at her like that. Heart suddenly in her throat, the last of her joy ebbed away as time seemed to freeze the moment around her. Red's gaze burned into her, something akin to a conflict warring in his eyes. Confusion, anxiety, amusement...but...bright, as if his world had suddenly gone from black and white to bursting with color. And something a little darker...
"Umm, I beg your pardon...?" Yellow whispered the question into the still night air, suddenly aware of how close he was. If she reached up, she could touch his cheek.
Yellow's heart sped up further when he slowly leaned in towards her, stopping when they were only centimeters apart. I could kiss him now if I really wanted to... His mouth quirked into a lopsided smile. The kind that girls across the kingdom dream about at night.
"You are the strangest, most beautiful thing I have ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on, miss." A lock of hair fell into his forehead as he spoke, and Yellow resisted the urge to brush it away. Her. Strange. Beautiful. Beautiful. Her mind seemed to fog up, the words reverberating through her and repeating themselves again and again. You are the most beautiful thing I have ever laid eyes on.
She knew his declaration warranted a reply, but for some reason her tongue was frozen in her mouth.
Prince Red, thank you?
Prince Red, that was the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me in my entire life?
Prince Red, you are the most beautiful thing in this world, not me?
Red, I love you?
An abrasive, eery toll suddenly rang in the air, breaking the silence and snapping Yellow back from her daze. Oh no. The clock. Her fairy godmother.
Midnight.
