A/N: Hey guys! IT'S FINALLY DONE! I spent probably the most time on this last chapter, which you can probably tell since it's signficantly longer than the others (heh heh heh -_-). Anyways, thank you all so much for following and sticking with this story, even though it's taken me way too much time to complete. Also, anyone who reviewed seriously deserves cookies (real ones, preferably with lots of chocolate and sugar) because your kind words were part of what motivated me to put this out as soon as I could :). It's really been a learning experience for me, and I hope to write more fanfics like this one in the future, so stay tuned! As I stated previously, I may continue along the Pokespe Fairytale theme, and do a couple more with different ships.

But enough talk. Read and review, and enjoy! Oh, and HAPPY 2018!


The next week passed in a blur. Countless stories of girls trying on the shoe and failing to fit, or of girls spinning excuses about enlarged toes or heels that had shrunk since the night of the ball, or of girls even attempting to reshape their own feet to match the slipper were all the townspeople would discuss. Yellow walked through it all, a whisper, silently considering (and berating) the fact that, out of ALL OF THE GIRLS IN THE KINGDOM, not a SINGLE ONE had the same shoe size as her.

She literally had no idea how that was possible. Yellow bought shoes from the marketplace. Ones that other girls probably also bought and wore. And they had her size available at almost every shoe store she'd visited (not that she often went out to buy shoes, but the point was that her shoe size was pretty common). It was either all of the girls the royal commissioners (yes, Prince Red had actually assigned a royal commission to stuff a shoe onto girls' feet) had encountered so far just had hideously disfigured feet, or the shoe was magic.

Yellow was betting on the latter.

Why, Blue, WHY?!

As soon as she'd heard the announcement, Yellow had hoped that she would be able to take the easy way out of her mess of a situation with Prince Red– the easy way being that a pretty, rich, and delightful young lady would try on the shoe, have it fit perfectly, and then go off and marry the Prince. It would be so simple– no embarrassment for Red, no shameful reputation for Yellow, and, as a bonus, there would be a romantic happily-ever-after tale for the kingdom to recount for ages.

But as the days wore on, and no young lady came forth with a foot just the right size for the shoe, Yellow's heart and hopes slowly sank into the ground. The blasted slipper wasn't going to fit some other foot. There wasn't going to be some other girl. And the entire situation was only going to end in pain, and ache, and cold, cold loneliness.

She had been standing in the tiny garden before her stepmother's house, broom in hand as she swept the front steps, when she realized that the only way this was ending was with a blow up in her face.

Because at some point Prince Red was either going to find her and realize he didn't want her, or never find a Princess at all.

She didn't know which one she preferred.

If I see him again, there will be no ballgowns or pumpkin carriages or moonlit wonder. No facades or masks or magic. He'll no the how big of a mistake this affair has been, turn me down faster than he decided to come looking for me, and live the rest of his life with the embarrassment of having almost chosen… me.

But on the other hand, it would be just as awful if he didn't find someone at all. Yellow didn't know how much pressure there was on him to find a princess and marry, but considering his age and how close he was to inheriting the throne, she knew that a queen would be demanded of him soon. And royal customs were strict– this silly shoe-doddle would most likely be the only attempt he would ever have at marrying for love or even just basic attraction, rather than advantage.

Which meant that having to give up on this Princess search would be devastating for Red.

Perhaps he'll find someone, even if they don't fit the shoe. Perhaps he'll meet a girl so charming and beautiful and perfect that he'll take her even though she isn't me. That would be good. That would be really, really good.

He would give up on her. He had to give up on her. It would make everything better if he just settled down with a nice girl and left Yellow far, far behind.

But the entire thing was basically out of her hands at this point. The search and the choosing of a Princess was all up to Red. The only thing she could do was pray that he came to his senses and got married to someone acceptable before any real scandal could occur.

Blue, if you're listening at all, any help in pushing Red down that path would be appreciated!

Yellow finished up with her routine cleaning of the garden. It was starting to getting dark, and she didn't really like being out when the sun set. The night atmosphere often felt suffocating, especially when her mood was so grim. And Stepmother always got upset when Yellow didn't get in to make dinner soon enough.

As she stowed her broom in its usual place at the side of the house, however, Yellow's ears picked up on a faint sound coming from the direction of the town center. Unusual, since their part of the country was always dead silent at this evening hour. She peered down the road stretching in front of the porch. In the fading light, her eyes landed on a shape clattering down the dirt path. It appeared to be a horse drawn carriage. But even the growing darkness couldn't hide the way the last of the sun's rays glittered off of the roof of the cart. Gold. Silver.

It wasn't just any courier vehicle or traveling caravan. It was a royal carriage. And, as Yellow watched, it stopped in front of a house only three doors down from hers. A guard stepped out. An older, distinguished gentleman followed. And, behind both of them…

Prince Red.

She'd recognize him anywhere; the dark hair, set jawline, lean, laid back form the only sign of his youth. It was with a sinking heart and distanced, wry expression painted on her face that she watched him. He was so, so beautiful.

And so, so, so impossibly far away.

Yellow knew that she should hide. Run, or clamber into the cellar, or bolt for the backdoor and fly as fast as her feet would carry her into the woods, the meadow, the rest of the world. Create a barrier of miles so sturdy that the glorious, inevitable, devastating mistake of a boy standing before her eyes would never, ever catch up to her.

But, of course, like the weakling she was, Yellow couldn't move.

She stood there, watching the way he moved, the way he talked, the way he brushed the hair back from his forehead in that offhanded way of his, and wished on all the stars in the galaxy that he could somehow be hers.

A small, infinitesimal part of her wondered. Wondered what would happen if, against all reason, he chose her. If he slipped the shoe onto her foot and realized that she was the one, the only, the girl he had laughed with and talked with and hurt with and, of course, inexplicably fallen in love with. If he took her back to his palace and married her and chose to be with her for the rest of their days.

Because that was how fairytales went.

He always chose her.

But this wasn't a fairytale, because suddenly her Stepmother was there, dragging her through the front door and into the living room and shoving her onto the couch and opening a box resting on the table and- oh, it was her father's treasure box because a beautiful silver slipper was sitting so still in Stepmother's hand and Stepmother was shouting about liars and princesses and how wretched girls like Yellow had no right to anything as beautiful as that red-eyed boy–

And then Yellow was sitting in the cellar, arms tightly wrapped around her knees while the wooden door leading to the rest of the house slammed above her. The cold, damp air around her seeped into her skin, her muscles, her bones, smelling like mildew and wood and shadowy earth. It was a mix that tasted like bitterness and broken hopes.

Yellow knew that she'd been stupid. Not hiding her treasure box well enough, standing in the garden gaping at Prince Red like a fool in the direct view of her family, leaving her soul bare to fall in love for even a millisecond because, just as the sun rose and fell every day, she was destined to never find happiness.

It was simply the way the world worked.

She should have known better than to try and fight against it.

The sense of anguish Yellow had felt at seeing Prince Red just moments before, at having him so close within her grasp, gradually faded away. Harsh, unforgiving resignation took its place. Red would be the final, and only, boy who would bring down her defenses. She wouldn't be so weak as to give away her heart ever again. This first experience had been too tiring, too torn up, too battering to repeat.

Everything would have been better if I'd just never met him in the first place. The thought rose up like bitter bile in her throat.

A part of her hated Prince Red for all of it, hated his smile and his words and the way his eyes lit up when something amused him… hated him because it was his fault he was just so incredibly, unfairly easy to fall in love with. She hated ever watching him, ever talking with him, ever letting him slip his way past her walls of stone and pull at her in a way that felt so natural, so right that she couldn't pull away.

How cruel it was that out of all the girls in the kingdom, she, the one with the smallest chance of having him, had to be the one who fell for him the hardest.

Upstairs, the front door opened. The sound of voices– male– and giggles– Misty. Boots tromped over polished wood.

Prince Red. The entourage was here.

After several moments of chatter, with Stepmother's shrill voice slicing through the ear like a knife, things quieted down a little. Even from a floor below, Yellow sensed the exact moment when Misty sat down on Stepmother's prized floral couch to await her verdict. Felt the tension in the air when the silver slipper was presented. Heard the heavy silence when the shoe did not fit.

Stepmother was making excuses now. Saying that Misty's foot must have grown in the time between the ball and now, everyone knew how teenage girls were. Pleading that Misty was obviously the princess Red was seeking, because how could she not be? She, with her shiny hair and lovely eyes and dignified manner?

As if following along with a storybook, Yellow knew that this was the moment where Red was supposed to cut his losses and just tell Misty yes. To realize how slim his chances were of finding his mystery girl, and that the happily ever after to his story would perhaps come easiest if he simply accepted the gorgeous, cerulean-eyed beauty in front of him and made her his Queen.

Please, Red, just tell her yes. It would be for the best. Stepmother would be happy, Misty would be happy, the entire kingdom would be so, so happy.

You wouldn't be happy… Yellow angrily thrust wherever that voice had come from back into the depths of her mind. It had sounded strangely like Blue…

After all, her happiness had pretty much stopped mattering the second she was thrust against her will into the cellar of her own home. And besides- the joy of one insignificant peasant girl was nothing compared to the welfare of an entire kingdom.

So Yellow waited with bated breath for Red to tell Misty yes, for the future of Kanto to be changed with one single word, for the fanfare and the glory and the pain and the heartache to begin and-

"Are there any other maidens residing in your home?"

…what? He… he turned her down. Prince Red turned Misty down because-

Because he still wants me.

A flicker of hope. Would he find her? It was highly unlikely, but not impossible, and surely-

No. Don't even consider it, Yellow. He won't find you, he won't choose you, he doesn't even know who you are. Hoping means you're only going to end up hurting more.

She heard Stepmother inform the royal entourage in a sugary sweet voice that no, of course there were no other maidens in the house. Felt the vibrations as boots stomped back to the front entrance. Waited for the door to slam shut behind not only the Prince and his crew but on The Story of Yellow and Red when suddenly…

Suddenly Prince Red was exclaiming about something. There was…

The silver slipper. In the treasure box. That Stepmother must have mistakenly left out on the living room table in her haste to shove Yellow into the cellar.

Fear, anxiety, excitement, and an overwhelming swell of hope nearly rushed through Yellow. He might actually find her. Prince Red, beautiful and charming and the most eligible bachelor in the kingdom, might actually end up finding her.

In the cellar of a country home. Dressed in rags. Most likely with dirt and mud on her face. Smelling like the outdoors and work and poverty.

Oh god.

Yellow scrambled to her feet, rapidly brushing down her skirts and finger-combing through her ponytail. At least she'd had enough of a brain to run a brush through it this morning, although that hadn't seemed to work very well considering there were still several knots. Hurriedly untangling the knots, she proceeded to rub at her cheeks with her palms to smear away potential dirt splotches when the door to the cellar was suddenly flung open.

Yellow squinted at the intrusion of light. Loud, thumping footsteps echoed down the narrow stairwell above her. She could just make out the silhouette of a person standing at the top. Not quite tall enough to be Prince Red, but still masculine in stature. It was most likely the older gentleman who she had seen accompanying him to the house before theirs. Perhaps an advisor of some sort, she thought offhandedly.

Her breath hitched, however, when the advisor reached the bottom of the steps. When his eyes shrewdly scanned the cramped quarters in front of him. When his gaze lighted on her, a lone figurine cloaked in shadow and dust and cobwebs. She almost smiled at the double take he took upon noticing her presence.

Because of course, of course he wasn't expecting there to be a girl hidden down here, dressed in rags and shivering from the dampness around her. Of course he hadn't wasn't seeking to discover someone actually hidden away in this innocent country cottage with the adoring two women. Of course not.

A frown creased his features, something Yellow barely made out in the poor light, and she realized with interest that this man, whoever he was, did not like her. Or, to be more specific, he did not like the idea of her. The idea that there was yet another maiden in this house for Prince Red to foolishly stuff into a shoe.

He does not approve of the search.

Yellow watched, rather than felt him reach out and clamp his hand around her arm. Moved as if in a trance when he pulled her up the stairs after him, eager to get this over with and prove that she, dirty and frail, was not the mystery princess. Stopped breathing altogether when her feet stumbled into the sunset softened living room and there, standing right before her, was Red.

His features contorted into shock at her sudden appearance. Then concern. Then…recognition.

Yellow panicked for a second, afraid that he was going to outright tell the world that she had been the girl he'd danced with at the ball. But then she remembered that he had seen her other times before, at the marketplace and in the forest.

Of course. He knew her as that girl, the one in the ratty clothes with the bewildered look who he just seemed to keep running into.

Yellow scanned the room around her, taking in the shocked expression on Misty's face (the other girl had probably not even realized Yellow was in the house) and the fury etched onto Stepmother's features, knowing that the next couple of minutes would be the most important of her life. This was it. The moment of truth, where all of her mistakes and her dreams boiled over into one big, crushing resolution. She would either be made or be broken, and even now she wasn't really sure which one she would prefer.

She would never be fit to be a Princess. But she also did not want to rot under Stepmother's iron fist for the rest of eternity.

Yellow suddenly wanted to sit down, feeling a slight bit nauseous. Because now, now that everything had come to a peak and he was right there in front of her, eyes wide and confused and… hopeful, Yellow didn't know if she could do it. If she could sit down and place that slipper on her foot and have it fit and be brought back to the palace and crowned queen and of course end up the laughingstock of the kingdom because she wasn't qualified to rule and-

She would prove a disappointment and embarrassment to Prince Red. And Yellow had learned long ago, when her father had died, that the only thing more painful than not ever being able to love someone would be to love them and then to lose them-

"Miss, are you alright?"

Yellow almost jumped out of her skin. Right. The slipper. The search. They were all waiting. She had just been standing there staring stupidly straight ahead. She realized that it had been Red's voice breaking her out of her reverie, warm and reassuring and understanding as if he knew exactly what she had been thinking about.

Oh, Red. You deserve so much better than me.

And you deserve better than having to wait another eternity for me to try on the shoe and just get everything over with. Yellow swallowed her unease and lifted her chin.

With a resigned sort of calm, she slowly made her way over to the floral couch Misty that had most likely occupied only moments before and sat down, ignoring the torn edges of her skirt or the way the guards looked on in amusement or how heavy the silence around her seemed to be.

Just put on the shoe, Yellow. Just put it on, and worry about the rest later.

But, of course, as soon as Yellow had started to remove the worn slipper currently covering her foot, Stepmother's voice cut through the air in protest. "This is ridiculous! Yellow is our maidservant, clearly not considered one of the 'eligible ladies' your highness has limited his search to. Why, she wasn't even at the ball! She was at home, cleaning like she usually does, and if you would only look at Misty she is your mystery girl-"

Yellow was pulled up from the couch, roughly manhandled, and dragged across the floor towards the cellar. She didn't struggle. No use creating more of a fuss. She knew with certainty that decision of whether or not she would stay was not hers to make.

Red, do you want me?

She was moving past the couch. Red's advisor was heatedly speaking to him.

She was approaching the cellar door. Red seemed to have stopped listening to the man beside him.

Her feet slid across the cellar threshold.

"Stop."

Stepmother froze, her grip on Yellow loosening just a fraction. Red was stepping forward now, his face contorted into a scowl. The words he uttered next were just as unfriendly.

"Please release the girl. She has just as much a right to try the shoe as any other young lady in the kingdom. Your treatment of her is atrocious."

Yellow was dropped to the floor in a heap, Stepmother's mouth already moving at lightning speed, placating the Prince, making excuses for the manhandling of Yellow, talking up Misty yet again-

Oh, to hell with it all. Yellow was sick of her Stepmother and her endless torrent of talk. If the lady thought she could make herself better by simply say she was better, than she would someday learn the hard way that good character took more than bluff. Yellow was done with her. Pulling herself up from the floor, Yellow brushed past the woman who had ruled over her for the last half of her life without sparing her a look.

Stepmother called after her. "Young lady, I haven't yet given you permission to-"

Yellow ignored her completely. Even if she came out of this affair brokenhearted and far worse for wear, at least she would have the satisfaction of knowing she had stood up to her stepmother for the first time in her life. Buoyed with that confidence, Yellow strode over to to the couch, yanked off the worn slipper currently on her foot and held her hand out for the silver one.

Surprised by her forwardness, Prince Red's advisor did not utter a word before handing it to her.

Yellow took it gingerly, fingers tingling at the spark of magic she could already feel coming from the object. It was hard to believe nobody else had realized the slipper wasn't normal. A slow warmth leaked from the points where her skin touched the glittering surface of the shoe all throughout the rest of her body. A sense of comfort flowed with it. As if the creator of the magic itself were standing right there next to Yellow, holding her hand, whispering that everything would be alright.

Go for it, Yellow. Just this once, have some faith in yourself. I believe in you. Blue's voice.

Yellow's eyes met Prince Red's from where he was standing across the room, watching her. In his features, she was startled to find just how much of herself she saw mirrored back to her. There was that touch of pain in his expression, of having gone through too much for his young age, that glint of wonder and curiosity, and that all-encompassing, heavy loneliness that Yellow had only ever really known in herself before. Kindred spirits. That's what they were.

Kind of funny how that worked out when they couldn't be further apart in social class.

Gaze never leaving his, Yellow opened her mouth and whispered the three words that she probably should have said a long, long time ago, back on that day when she had first stared up at his frame in the dim lighting of that perfume shop and allowed herself to drown in the way he looked at her. Back in that flower meadow with the wind whipping through her hair when she'd first realized just how horribly this story was going to end and didn't tell him. Back at the ball, when she'd known that paper girls drawn up in roses were never supposed to fall in love, and let herself fall for him anyways.

"I'm sorry, Red."

Yellow placed the slipper on the floor. Took a breath. Slipped her foot daintily into the lining. Watched as it inevitably slid into the shoe. A perfect fit. Such an insignificant little action it was quite ironic how much it meant.

Red's gaze met Yellow's once again from across the room. There was shock, wonder, excitement, certainty written all over his features. And there was that spark– the crackle of adventure and anticipation and hope that she had seen in his eyes every time he'd looked at her before. It was the thing that had probably drawn her to him in the first place, now that she thought back on it; the feeling he gave her that everything was going to be just fine as long as he was there. As long as they were together.

Except there might not be a "together", because now Red's advisor was raising his voice and Stepmother was screaming right beside him and Misty looked like she wanted to cry and Red…

Red wouldn't stop staring at her.

Yellow waited for him to turn away. To agree with all of the protests echoing around them and take the easy route out; the one that pretended he had never seen her or felt anything towards her to begin with, and allowed him to move on with his life.

Look away, Red. No one would blame you for not choosing me.

But the funny, and bittersweet, and unexpected, and beautiful thing was that… he didn't. Red's crimson stare never left her own as he cut through the commotion around him and walked until he was only inches away from Yellow. He smelled like pine wood and sunshine and maybe, just maybe, like her future.

Yellow's heart started to beat faster, just like it had every other time he had stood in front of her and simply smiled. And he was smiling. As if there was a secret only the two of them shared, and he was just glad to have found her to recall it again. The world shrank down to only his eyes and his face and his grin as Yellow realized that… he was going to tell her yes.

Against all odds and principles and rules and orders, he was going to make her a Princess.

His Princess.

That small, insecure piece of Yellow that somehow never seemed to go away was still nagging at her to turn down his Impending proposal. After all, she wouldn't make a good queen. Knew nothing about politics or diplomacy or military or strategy. Was poorer than dirt, and the farthest thing from enough for this gorgeous, brilliant boy. But for the first time in a while, Yellow heard the complaints and doubts and worries her inner self expressed, absorbed them, and deliberately ignored them. Chose not to listen to them.

Because maybe, maybe this one time she would just let herself be happy. Take what she wanted, and do the selfish thing for once in her life. Hold on to the beautiful kind boy in front of her and never let him go because good things like him only came about once in a lifetime and did she really want to give that up? Her brain told her that losing him would probably be for the best, considering her social class and upbringing. But her heart told her no no no no no as if the very word had become her new heartbeat.

No, you don't want to give him up. No, you don't want to lose him. No, you don't want to spend the rest of forever wondering what if, what if, what if you had said yes. No, you are going to tell him yes.

Red's hand reached out and brushed a lock of hair away from her forehead. Yellow only then realized that the room had gone quiet, but she couldn't bring herself to care as Red's fingers dropped from her ear to her cheek, cheek to shoulder, shoulder to hand. He was holding her hand as if she were the most delicate creature on Earth, and he had to take care not to shatter her to pieces.

The first words that he said to her made Yellow want to laugh.

"I never caught your name the last time we met."

She never had told him before she ran from him that night at the ball. Of course it would be the first thing he wanted to know as they stood face to face.

Feeling almost shy again, Yellow softly breathed out her name. "Yellow."

Red smiled wider. "Yellow. We match."

A blush bloomed across her cheeks, and she gave an awkward laugh to try and cover it up. "Yeah. I guess we do."

Red. Yellow. Probably the only two people in the kingdom named after colors.

Red's next words seemed to ring out as an address to the entire room, shattering the veil of intimacy they had just created. "Well, then, Yellow of the Kingdom of Kanto, servant to this esteemed household, I don't think I need to tell you how enchanted I was with you at the ball. And after you blew me off without giving me your name, I have to say that I am elated to know it now, and to have found you again."

He pulled her up to her feet from where she had been sitting on the couch, foot still settled comfortably in that single silver slipper. His large hands each held one of hers. He made solid eye contact with her as he continued to speak.

"I am a man of my word. I announced that I would marry the young lady who owned the silver slipper I had found. You are the lady, I presume?"

Yellow nodded once, and Red continued.

"Then, as the girl whose foot fit the shoe, and as the maiden who took my breath away at the ball, Miss Yellow, would you do me the honor of becoming my Princess?"

No, you can't do it. Yes, you can. No, it'll be too difficult, no, you'll fail, no- yes yes, just say yes, yes yes…

"Yes. I-I would like nothing more than… to be with you."

Red's smile could have touched the stars it was so wide, and it was like the Earth stopped spinning and Yellow was still in awe that she was the one to have made him so happy when he suddenly swept her up in his arms and crushed her to his chest. She didn't even have time to worry about how her dirty clothing must be soiling his crisp suit because now he was whispering in her ear how delighted he was that she had said yes, how beautiful and sweet and adorable he thought she was, and how amazing a Princess she was going to make. And how nothing else mattered because he had found her.

Yellow drank it all in slowly, small arms wrapped tightly around his torso, and wondered why she had ever been so convinced she had to let him go.

Peasant girls weren't supposed to end up with Princes. Broken things like her were not supposed to ever belong to something as beautiful as love. But against all odds… here she was.

Here they were.