Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon. Nintendo does.

A/N: This is my first shot at a Pokemon fanfic, particularly a romantic one. This takes place after White defeats Alder, thus completing the game. No one knows what happened to N, save he's travelling to distant lands with an unnamed Dragon Pokemon.

A/N: The story will take place in N's and White's point of views. I know Hilda is the female character's name in the game, but I prefer White as her default name.


White's PoV.

"White! Breakfast is ready!" my mother said, neither yelling nor screaming.

Wait a minute . . . why am I home? I wondered, extremely tired. Therefore, I was unable to form even two words in my mind. I couldn't imagine why I was home, unless I defeated Alder. But Alder was so powerful . . . how did I do it?

"Maybe she's asleep," my mother sighed. Obviously she was talking to someone, sparking my curiosity.

"I'll wake her up!" a bright, cheery voice volunteered, "'cause I don't care whether she's Pokemon Champion or not! She needs to be up at . . . what time was it again?"

I opened my eyes, directing my sleepy gaze towards the television, standing tall and proud over the Nintendo Wii. I thought I always had the television on whenever I came home, I thought sleepily. A shuffle of footsteps came within earshot. Right away, I knew they belonged to Bianca.

As fast as thought, I cloaked myself in my maroon red sheets, enjoying the velvetiness and softness. I'd never thought I would miss my sheets, pillows and bed, which I'd believed to be extremely uncomfortable. Now I'd take the comforts of home over sleeping in fields, forests, cities, the desert . . . it didn't matter.

The footsteps were muffled by my hand-me-down carpet. Yeah, they were Bianca's, all right. I feigned sleeping, even going as far as shutting my eyelids. If I weren't an honest person, it might've worked.

"You can't fool me!" Bianca yelled at the top of her lungs. "Miss White, I've known you since childhood along with Cheren."

I tried to hide a smirk, which was easy since I had my back turned towards my childhood friend. "I'm up," I admitted, unwilling to bicker with Bianca. Swiveling around on the mattress, I stared into Bianca's eyes, so vivacious and innocent. Then I examined her tidy, color-coordinated outfit. "Anyways, why am I home?" I wanted to know. "This must be a dream, so . . . good night!"

As I delved back into my pillows, Bianca wrenched them free, leaving me to fall against the headboard. With no hat on my head, I was left to endure the mild pain throbbing in the back of my head. I cringed in pain, gritting my teeth. Inadvertently, my hands flew to my muddy brown mane, tightening their grip around the crown of my head.

Bianca smiled. "Good morning," she said cheerily, chuckling a little. "You know, it's just your mother, my parents and I! We need to officially celebrate your coronation as the Pokemon League Champion!" Bianca clapped her hands together, jumping up and down with joy.

"Where's Cheren?" I asked swiftly, not in the mood to celebrate unless he were here. "Is he still mad that he wasn't crowned Pokemon Champion or what?" I released the firm grip on my head, biting back a cry of pain. "Now, I've got a headache thanks to your carelessness, Bianca," I said grumpily. "Where is our friend?"

"He's asleep," Bianca confessed, unperturbed at my grumpy attitude.

I glanced at Bianca in disbelief. "W-Why didn't you wake him up first, Bianca?" I stammered, feeling the haze in my mind clearing up as I made to sit up.

Bianca laced her fingers together. "'C-cause he wanted to sleep in." She performed a little pirouette, the sunglow gold sundress she donned spinning around. As I examined the graceful movement, I glimpsed the nervous expression on her alabaster-toned face.

She must've noticed my stare, for she started to walk back and forth consciously. I would never admit this to Bianca, but her hair was perfect, ideal. On the contrary, my hair was knotty, stubbornly untidy and bushy, not even a hundred leagues close to my friend's. It was the same sheen as mud.

My memories of the epic battle between Pokemon League Champion and Pokemon League Challenger returned on swift wings, even swifter than my Volcarona's wings. I did defeat Alder, although it was anything but easy. I had exhausted a lot of my Full Restores and I only had two left over. Or was it three?

Bianca chanced a glance at me, but she made a terrible mistake, for she paled. "O-Okay," she conceded. "I wanted to wake you up 'cause you're my best friend! Luckily my parents were visiting your mother . . . My mother wanted a recipe of your mother's . . ." She bowed her head down, looking at the trimmed hem of her dress. "By the way, do I look stupid?"

"IS WHITE UP OR NOT, BIANCA?" Bianca's mother roared. At the sound of her voice, both of us flinched.

Bianca paled. "S-She is now!" she stuttered, folding her arms. "Her hair's so messy and tangled and she looked as if she woke up from the dead . . ." Bianca faltered, looking at me sheepishly. "I think I better give you some privacy, you know!" Bianca twirled around, a hint of golden stilettos barely visible beneath her sundress sparkling in the shafts of sunlight streaming through my open windows.

"Gimme some privacy," I agreed, thrusting the sleek sheets off my willowy frame. I vaguely wondered how I'd managed to switch out of my clothes as I was clothed in hot pink pajamas. "Why couldn't I have some red ones?" I said aloud to myself, wondering why my mother had chosen a pink backpack and why Professor Juniper had handed me a pink Pokedex and case to hold my badges in.

I leaped off the bed, tripping over my backpack stationed next to my bed. "No!" I cried, plummeting to the carpet floor. I fell down, although I had forgotten how soft the carpet was. Thank goodness it wasn't marble or linoleum. I heard something slither out of my backpack, eyeing a Poke Ball emerge into existence before my very eyes.

The Poke Ball swung open on its hinges, accompanied by a blinding flash of white light. My Samurott had appeared, taking up half of my room. "Hey!" I greeted, climbing on to my feet. Samurott roared in a friendly way, apparently overjoyed to see me. "How are you this morning?" For once, I yearned to keep Samurott out of the Poke Ball, wanting nothing more than to stroll down the stairs with him at my side.

I whirled around, picking my backpack gingerly by the straps, lowering it onto my mahogany dresser. Right now, I didn't mind Samurott's company because this was where I met him. Technically, he was intricately laid in a velvet-covered box with Cheren's and Bianca's Pokemon in a Poke Ball as Oshawott. "Do you remember this place?" I said to him, cocking my head.

I heard a roar from Samurott . . . that had to be agreeing with me. For once, I wished N was here. Wait! I hate that boy, I said to myself, albeit I was blushing at the mere thought of him. I'd felt sorry for him when his father Ghetsis manipulated him, but that still didn't justify his ambition to wrongly rule the world along with Zekrom. Still, N had some good in him, and I saw that side of him surface whenever we ran into each other, especially at the Ferris wheel at Nimbasa City.

Don't think about that, I chided myself, wrenching open the dresser, eyeing a fresh set of undergarments. I knelt down, diving for another drawer, opening it silently and swiftly. I felt Samurott nudging me, and it took all of my willpower not to laugh in response to his playfulness. "I'll play with you later," I promised, fishing out a plain ivory t-shirt, so different from the one I grew accustomed to wearing on my travels. "Now, I need a clean pair of shorts, another cap, some socks and . . . what else?"

N's PoV.

I slid off my Pokemon, which had landed on one of four remote islands barricaded by crystal blue buoys, the sea water lapping against them. I gazed at a whirlpool swirling about endlessly. It reminded me of the Relic Castle's quicksand pits, which were so powerful they could suck anyone into their depths. But this whirlpool . . . it appeared far too dangerous and wild for a mere soul to cross over or across it without being in mortal jeopardy.

"Dragonite, return!" I yelled, unclipping the Poke Ball from my belt, pushing the button on the capsule and watching it fly open. I turned away, not bothering to see whether Dragonite had heeded my orders or not. But White . . . her silvery, musical voice requested for her Pokemon to return to their Poke Balls. Now I understood why Pokemon had taken such a liking to White, although I was still adamant to my own opinion.

But ever since she'd battled me with her Pokemon in Accumula Town, I was drawn to her. At first, I'd dismissed it as seeing the unmistakable signs of her Oshawott liking her. Now that I had some time to think about my encounters with her, I'd realized I was always drawn to White because she was different from her friends, Alder or the Gym Leaders of Unova. The very thought of being magnetically attracted to a stranger both frightened and enthralled me.

I clipped the Poke Ball to my belt, plopping down on the briny beach. A weak breeze picked up, ruffling my thick tea green hair, always in casual disarray. Frowning, I adjusted my hat, shielding my bangs from the sea-smelling wind. "This would be the perfect place to live for a while and possibly train my newly acquired Pokemon," I said to myself, knowing full well no one could hear me.

I had my Pokemon for company, but never had I felt so alone. When I left Unova, I had said farewell to the remnants of my followers, not caring whether they would disband Team Plasma or not. They could have the castle for all I care. Either way, I would not abdicate my throne to anyone, not even my father.

I surveyed the ocean, as blue as White's eyes. Then I closed my eyes, inhaling and exhaling the salty breeze, feeling its coolness slap my face. My Pokemon needed a fresh breather because it was unfair for them to be prisoners in the capsules they named Poke Balls. "No one but White understands me . . . or how Pokemon should be properly treated," I mumbled, producing one of my Poke Balls from my belt. I began to throw it up and down absentmindedly, wondering why I was running from White. Actually I couldn't comprehend why I was even thinking of her.

The last time I'd spied on White was when she barged out of the Pokemon League with a brilliant smile on her face. She had to be Pokemon Champion now, because why else would she smile? Just seeing her dazzling smile made me smile . . . no, twitch! I shook my head, my bangs caressing my earlobes gingerly. She may be the only friend I have. But I can't stop thinking about her!

I had a dream at one point. But I wanted another dream, which was why I'd left my home region. To be frank, I had no clue where I was. But I could sense Pokemon both lurking in the waters and behind me. I craned my neck, swiping the Poke Ball out of the air. Besides being by myself, it dawned on me that the four mountainous outcroppings protruding out of the loose fair sand were in fact dungeons, possibly connected to one another.

One thing was for certain. A Pokemon of tremendous power lived in the bowels of the dungeons, as ancient and legendary as Zekrom. Perhaps even older.

I fastened the Poke Ball to my belt before reaching behind my back to hold a simple yet brand-new knapsack, sufficient enough to carry luggage and necessities. I, however, desired one thing from this bag. "A reminder," I told myself bitterly, delving my hand into its depths, my fingers probing bottles, Poke Balls, berries and other items . . . until my fingers brushed against the grooves of a rather heavy, jagged object. Smirking, I fished out my crown, glowing gold. "But do I really want to carry this around as a keepsake . . . or a reminder?" I said aloud, deliberating on whether or not to throw it in the ocean where it would inevitably sink into the depths, lost to mankind forevermore.

"You're pretty difficult to track down," a voice said from behind me, making me start, "and you're the King of Unova, not some regular young adult on a journey of self-discovery."

Right at that moment, I knew I was in deep trouble. I was aware of the fact that I was being followed wherever I went, meaning I can never find my purpose in life without being chased by the shadows of my recent history. "I'm not going back without a fight," I snarled, reaching for a Poke Ball. I pressed the button gingerly, watching the device enlarge in size. "Unless you give me one good reason."

White's PoV.

"Nothing like a bubble bath to warm the bones," I declared, "and breakfast is ready! So that means I've got to hurry up and get dressed!" I examined myself in the mirror, seeing my dark hair damper than a wet dish towel. I hated having so much hair yet I loved it at the same time. "Okay, should I do hygiene first or get dressed?" I wondered, picking up a clear toothbrush and a bottle of toothpaste. "I need a coin to decide!"

Just then, I heard another shuffling of footsteps, which did not belong to Bianca, but to my mother. I pretended she wasn't there, unscrewing the lid of the toothpaste slowly. I smiled, seeing Samurott enjoying his stroll around the room. I felt saddened at the mere thought of my other five Pokemon imprisoned in their Poke Balls. Imprisoned is too harsh of a word, I mused, applying pressure to the tube the toothpaste was confined in, seeing a pasty river eject outwards.

I wiped the mess around the lip of the opened tube, examining the thick liquid clinging on to my finger. Ignoring the minor problem, I began brushing my teeth, trying to ignore the heated glare my mother was giving me through the mirror. I didn't know what was worse, the reflection or the actual gaze she was giving me.

I twisted the faucet, crystalline water flowing freely from it. I held my toothbrush by the tip as I washed the plaque away from its bristly surface. Counting to ten, I drew the toothbrush from the sink and threw it into a crimson cup along with my tube of toothpaste. I finished the ritual by washing my mouth with the cold, crisp water, a gurgling sound rippling from my lips as I spat into the sink.

As I turned the water off – watching the remnants washing away into the sink – my mother asked, "Are you going to eat or not?" Her eyes blinked while giving me that penetrating glance as if she was pulling out my deepest, darkest secrets. "Bianca and Cheren are waiting for you downstairs, White."

I did a pirouette, my hair flowing out behind me. "Lovely," I said sarcastically, snatching my denim shorts from a hanger. I looked down, slipping the shorts over my undergarments. "What's on the menu?" I noticed the offended expression on my mother's face, so I decided I had better change the subject while her anger was still fresh.

"Don't change the subject, White," my mother cautioned. "Just because you are Pokemon Champion . . . you're still a teenager and you live underneath my household! Think about what your father would say."

My mother examined me, eyeing me throwing on the same t-shirt I selected. I swung my hair around before slapping on an ebony vest, already filled up with necessities: My Pokedex and badge case, the badges drastically losing their glorious luster from not being polished frequently. That can easily be fixed, I thought, itching to take out the case and polish the badges until they glimmered again. But I'd probably do that out of boredom.

I paled. "I don't remember Father," I confessed, "but you say he was a good person."

"He was."

"Whatever happened to him?" I said, knowing my mother would either change the subject or leave the room.

Sure enough, my prediction came true.

"I cooked your favorite pancakes, just for you," she responded.

Just as I was slipping on my brand-new ebony gloves, my mother attacked my mane with a comb. "OWW!" I screamed, even though my hair was damp. "Mother, I can do it myself!" I protested, unconsciously leaning against the sink, my gloved fingers clutching the dais for support.

I gritted my teeth, hoping all of the tangles and . . . "White, how about you eat and then get dressed?" a methodical, feathery and calm voice suggested, making both my mother and I flinch. "Hello, Samurott. Where's your friends?" There was a shuffling of footsteps, unmistakably belonging to my childhood friend and one-time crush, Cheren.

Cheren materialized behind my mother, the navy-haired teen several inches taller than her. "I can't understand women," he remarked, peering at me through his eyeglasses, framing his calculating and intelligent-looking eyes. "Shoot, even I have a hard time understanding my best friends. Perhaps that's another dream I must undertake, hmm?"

I gave a shout of laughter, albeit cringed when my mom brushed the middle part of my hair violently. "What's your first dream, my friend?" I teased, smirking in spite of myself. I knew what his answer would be. That would be everybody's response from this day forwards, assuming everybody knew who was Pokemon Champion now.

"I thought that would be obvious enough." Cheren produced a tiny Poke Ball, twirling it around with two of his fingers. As he probed the exterior carefully and thoroughly, he continued, "I have to defeat you from this point onward, since you've stripped the title of Unova Pokemon Champion from Alder."

My mother ceased her tedious exercise, leaving me free to tie up my hair into a ponytail. "Gimme my hat, Cheren."

Cheren extended his hand out to his right, procuring a snowy white hat embossed with an ebony W. My mother wheeled around, relieving Cheren of the hat before relinquishing it to me. "Thanks, Mother," I told her, boring my eyes into her stormy gray ones.

"White, your food's getting cold." With that, my mother left.

I crushed my hat, holding it like a bowler before putting it atop the crown of my head. I pushed the stray wisps of my hair away from my forehead, twirling them around my earlobes. "Samurott, back to the Poke Ball!" I had just realized the Poke Ball was propped against my foot. Bending down, I scooped it up, stroking the surface gently.

Lacing my fingers around the spherical shape, I tapped the circle in front, the hinges swinging back. A jet of reddish light enveloped Samurott, drawing my Pokemon back into his home.

"What about your socks? Your Running Shoes?" Cheren pressed me, making me flinch. I'd completely forgotten about all of that.

I glared at Cheren, who stared at me, unfazed. "You sound like my mother," I criticized, grounding my teeth together, "but is this celebration really mandatory or what? If you beat me, then we would've had all of this celebrating for nothing." I shrank the Poke Ball, putting it in my denim shorts. Then, I crossed over to the dresser, wrenching it open with more force than I had expected.

There was rustling behind me and I had a feeling Cheren was searching the maze of shoes for the Running Shoes my mother so generously handed over to me on Route 2. "Good luck finding the shoes," I said, peering into the drawer, an ocean of multicolored socks inside its depths.

"I haven't been in this room ever since that Pokemon Battle," Cheren said from the closet.

Bianca had entered the bedroom, flashing her usual carefree smile. "Your mother did a good job fixing it up! I need to thank her for her hard work and . . . what's the matter, White?" She darted over to me. "I'm Bianca, Queen of Fashion, at your service!"

Behind me, I heard Cheren sigh.

"Okay, Your Majesty," I remarked brightly, gesturing towards the neatly folded socks. "Help me choose what's in style." I expected for Bianca to squat or maybe sit down, but she remained immobile at the spot, a flummoxed expression on her face. "Can you sit down?" I asked her a bit too rudely.

For a fleeting second, Bianca's face twisted with rage. Then, it went back to her originally-cheerful facial expression, matching her cheery disposition. "Can I stand up? Please?" she added, her enraged tone diluted with heartbreaking pleading.

"All right," I conceded, fishing out a pair of nadeshiko pink socks.

"I found the Running Shoes," Cheren announced, "but you may want to straighten all of this out before your mother arrives in your room." Judging by the sound of his voice, he was behind the door of the walk-in closet. "Are you decent?" he asked me.

"Yeah!" Bianca and I chimed in unison.

"By the way, I left your food on top of your dresser," Bianca confessed, shaking her head at the revolting pair of socks I'd chosen. "They're a little too unattractive and gaudy."

I sighed. Sometimes I wondered if Bianca had a heart or not. But Bianca and I had been friends since we were toddlers and that meant something to me. If there were two people I cherished their friendships with me the most . . . Bianca and Cheren took the cake. It was true I'd befriended other people on my journey, albeit the bonds I'd made weren't as powerful as the ones I made with Bianca and Cheren. We were practically best friends forever. You could even call us the Golden Trio.

"Why don't you let Bianca and I search for a suitable pair of socks while you eat?" Cheren suggested, kneeling down next to me. "Your mother's cooking is great, White. Surely you of all people know that."

I nodded. Looking up, I glimpsed the dinner plate Bianca had brought upstairs to my room. Fluidly, I rose to my feet, picked up the plate from the dresser, sliced the pancake with the knife, speared a piece and took a bite. Slowly, I munched on it, enjoying the blueberry-flavored pancakes, warmer than I expected. I also tasted the melted butter spread om the surface, enhancing its flavor. "Delicious as usual," I informed Cheren and Bianca.

Both of them ignored me.

"How about this pair, Bianca?" Cheren was dangling a pair of rosy pink socks, bordered by a thin flat black stripe at the tip.

Bianca, who was holding a pair of plain white socks, smiled. "Perfect!" she exclaimed, dropping my unfolded socks atop the ocean of multicolored socks.

"First my room, then my socks," I said grimly, emphasizing my point by counting two fingers. "I'm sorry, Bianca . . . I'm just a little grumpy, that's all," I added quickly, eyeing the expression on Cheren's face.

"I don't act like this when I'm grumpy," Cheren said seriously, "but would you be kind enough not to unleash your wrath on Bianca and I? We're only trying to help you. And Bianca, don't criticize her."

Bianca frowned. She took the socks by the top and began folding them until they were nice and even. "I'm sorry, White," she apologized.

I smiled. "It's okay." As I fed myself my third-to-last piece of cut pancake – courtesy of my mother – I examined Bianca gingerly aligning the white socks on top of the others. She took hold of the brass handle afterwards, pushing the drawer back into place. "Say, why don't we have a Pokemon Battle?" I said brightly.

I placed my plate atop the dresser, too full to even munch the remaining two pieces.

"White, catch!" Cheren threw me my socks, which I caught deftly. Next, he conjured my Running Shoes out of nowhere, aiming them straight at me.

I barely had time to catch the shoes with both my hands before I lost my balance, collapsing on to the carpet. "On second thought, no Pokemon Battle," I moaned, covering my bare feet with socks. Finally, I fit my Running Shoes onto my feet, lacing them up tightly. "Let's go greet our parents!" I punched one fist in the air before darting towards my backpack, sliding it on to my back.

Just then, I heard screams of terror erupting from the first floor, followed suit by voices sounding eerily familiar. I turned around, staring at Bianca and Cheren, both as white as ghosts.

"Well? What are we waiting for? Let's go!" I told them.

Without further ado, I sprinted towards the stairs, thinking all the while about whom or what was awaiting downstairs. Only one person mattered at the moment to me: My mother.

Little did I know that a chain of events was about to occur.

A/N: And my Prologue is finished. Read and Review! This is my first attempt at Ferriswheelshipping, so I would like some feedback. No flaming please! Stay tuned for the next chapter, where the fun begins!

This chapter has been edited. No serious changes have been made to the prologue that would affect the plot. The content has been edited in order to promote the upcoming sequel of For the Love of a King: History, Eventide.

Edited on: 11/01/15