Author's Notes: So I tried my hand at some Chessshipping…although I guess this fic focuses a little more on White than on concentrated Chessshipping. It's…tentative, I guess. I've never written Touya/Black/Hilbert before, so his characterization might be a little…awkward or inconsistent.
…Ahahaha okay this whole fic is a little bit awkward aughughuhguhg. u_u I'm…experimenting…I guess…


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"You look beautiful, White."

"I know, mother."

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"Turn around so I can zip up the back, darling."

How am I supposed to walk in this?

"Oh, I'm so glad that you decided to keep your hair long. It's so much prettier that way."

I didn't keep it long for you.

"The makeup makes you glow, darling. You look like a live doll."

But I am dead inside, mother.

"Come now, honey. Let's go show the world how stunning Lady White is."

I don't want to. That is not my name.

"Go make me proud! I love you, White."

"Of course, mother. I love you too."

The doors open and out steps the sublime Lady White of high society.

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Dirty Your Evening Gown

(Once upon a time there was a princess. But that was once upon a time, indeed.)


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The first time she sees him, she notices him because he looks out of place. Not dreadfully so—just a bit awkward. He looks as if he'd much rather be wearing a jacket with jeans and a hat instead of a formal charcoal-gray tuxedo with his hair gelled back. It makes her smile actually, because it's something refreshing amidst all these pompous boys and stiff men who want to marry her or introduce their sons in their impeccably starched suits and crusty locks.

It's a fleeting moment of amusement before her attention is demanded by a boy whose name she did not care to remember.

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The first time he sees her, he notices her because her very presence demands attention. Everyone in the world knows who she is, and as long as one came in traditional formal attire even the pettiest of families were admitted to her coming-of-age party for a chance to bask in her noble presence.

Of course the girl is breathtakingly gorgeous and that's the first thing he notices, but there is something else. There's something ugly underneath her beauty that is subtly disguised—but not desperately hidden.

It makes him smile, because it's something refreshing amidst these faceless dolls covered in powder and rouge to hide every imperfection that was given to them.

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She escapes to the balcony because it's dreadfully warm. Lady White stands behind the thick glass doors draped with red velvet curtains to hide from the view of the guests inside. They would think that she had merely retired to her room for a few hours, claiming exhaustion or something of the sort. It would be perfectly believable because she was the porcelain, delicate princess of the House of White.

"It must be hard, hiding in your own skin," a voice says.

Lady White turns, startled.

The somewhat-out-of-place-boy with the charcoal gray suit stands near the curtain with a glass of champagne in his hand, looking out at the stars. He doesn't look quite so out of place now, she thinks; the atmosphere of the outside seems like his home.

"Pardon me, sir, I did not see you there. May I inquire as to what you mean?"

He turns to stare at her with amber eyes, shifting his position to scrutinize her.

"You don't have to do that," he says after a moment.

"Do what, sir?" she replies with a saccharine smile.

He blinks at the masterfully manipulated acid sugar in her voice, but returns it with an almost mocking smile of his own before shrugging.

"I'm not old enough to be called sir. My name's Black."

She hesitates. Black, as opposed to her White.

"Then what are you suggesting that I not do, Sir Black?" she asks again.

He cringes a little at the combination. "I don't know. Whatever it is that you're doing." He frowns as he walks away.

Lady White trembles alone on the balcony, feeling as though someone is trying to break into her domain.

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I do not believe he was dangerous, White, her serperior says that night as she strokes his long, serpentine body. In fact, he seemed quite well-intentioned.

"I know. It…it was just unsettling," She says, unsure of why it made her so uncomfortable.

He was right, you know. You don't have to do…this. You knew perfectly well what he meant.

"I think it was just unsettling because…no one else has ever noticed. But where else would I go? Lady White of high society was born and raised here, raised and cultivated. I'm the precious flower of this garden."

But you are not Lady White. You are just White. It is not your responsibility to care for the garden. Let it wilt. The insects will simply find another to annoy.

White contemplates her serperior's words.

And as much as I enjoy the benefits of high society, I will go with you regardless of where it is.

She smiles, and presses her forehead against her serperior's.

"Thank you," she whispers.

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The parties continue. She sees him often, but he does not engage her in a conversation again and just smiles and gives a short bow before disappearing into the crowd. This boy called Black is good at acting, she realizes, because she cannot distinguish him for his out-of-place aura anymore.

She wants to reach out because she feels as though she is beginning to drown. It was like his words, mixed with her serperior's, had punctured a hole in her boat that she had been managing to keep afloat and now it was filling with water and she was sinking. She feels more and more uncomfortable in the skin of Lady White every day.

Her thoughts are interrupted when she bumps into someone.

The entire room goes dead silent.

Lady White recognizes the person who bumped into her as Black; she also realizes that her pure white dress is now stained with dark burgundy wine. Lady White blinks, then stares at the boy in front of her.

Black gives her a bright smile with a hint of a smirk that only she is witness to because of their close proximity before he launches into a spectacular apologetic flurry. Lady White blinks again, too confused to say anything, while her mother pulls her aside to change and the other guests begin to scold the boy for his utter carelessness.

She keeps her eyes trained on him as she is pulled away; as Black stands up straight, he smiles at her before disappearing into the crowd again. The gentlemen who were scolding him take a while to notice that he is no longer there.

Black is fantastic at acting, White confirms in her mind.

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"That boy! How unbelievably rude!"

He did it on purpose…but why?

"Those apologies—how crass! We never should have opened up these parties to the general public! They don't deserve to come into contact with you, my dear."

Shut up, mother, I am trying to think! Stop fussing, for Reshiram's sake, it's not as if he shot me!

"This will most definitely stain…how dare he! I shall have his head! Come, darling, put this one on instead. It is much more elaborate so I was saving it for a different occasion, but—"

"No."

"What?"

"I said no, mother. I don't want to wear the dress."

"I suppose it is too elaborate? Very well, I shall find a different—"

"I don't want to wear anymore dresses, mother."

She is already at the door in her stained white gown, her hand on the knob. White is trembling as the words leave her mouth, but she cannot—and will not—stop now.

"I'm tired of being Lady White, mother. This was never necessary, that is not my name—not who I am. I'm not a doll for you to drag around. I'm done. Goodbye, mother."

The door opens and Lady White of high society breaks out of her shell and runs.

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As she dashes down the carpeted floors in her white stilettos, she feels herself being pulled into one of the guest rooms on the side. The door closes and she meets the amused amber eyes of Black. There is a smile on his face.

"Doesn't it hurt, running in those things?" he asks, leaning against the door with his arms folded as he appraises her.

She gives a breathy sort of chuckle. "Like a bitch," she tells him, and he laughs.

He holds out a box to her, paired with a dark blue shopping bag.

"I got you some presents," he says.

She hesitates briefly as she takes them, for what on earth would he have gotten her? But she grins as she opens them, looking up at him.

"Kick of your stilettos, my dear," he smiles as he leaves the room. "I give you five minutes."

So she strips off her white gown and kicks of her stilettos indeed; the ripped denim shorts are cool against her skin, the soft cotton of the white shirt and black vest comfortably loose on her frame. The black-and-pink combat boots are strong and sturdy—perfect for running. She ties the pink laces extra-tight, and ties up her hair with a red hair-tie from the set in the bag.

A soft knock comes on the door before it opens and in steps Black, dressed in dark brown cargo pants and a blue-and-white jacket. His dress shoes are replaced with red sneakers; his sleek brown hair is covered by a red-and-black hat. A bag is draped over his shoulder, and she can see a string of pokeballs hanging off his belt.

"I met your serperior in the hall," he says, holding up a familiar premier ball before handing it to her. "I think he anticipated something would be happening tonight."

"He's always been intuitive," White tells him, smiling. "Or perhaps he was watching. So, how are we gonna blow this joint? This place makes my skin crawl."

Black smiles. "Now, now. Is that any way for Lady White of high society to talk?"

She grins, lighting smacking his arm. "Screw you, you knew what I was really like. If I was really Lady White I'd call the guards on you right now and you'd be arrested for too many things to count."

Black holds up his hand in concession and shakes his head, still smiling. "So, do you want to leave quietly or with a bang?"

White hits her palm with her fist and grins.

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It was a spectacular scandal.

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She looks up at the stars, her hand in his. Her serperior is half-coiled on her stomach, his samurott resting near his side.

"It's been a year since that happened," she smiles. "And Serperior was right. It died down pretty fast, considering."

"I didn't mean an actual bang when I said that, y'know," he replies. "I'll bet those windows were hella pricey."

White laughs. "Don't worry, my mother was looking to replace them anyway. Besides, I don't do things half-assed."

"Pffft, I'll say. You even beat a few people up."

"Hey, as a lady I couldn't even slap the perverts' hands away, alright? Argh, it makes me shiver just remembering it. Fuck being a lady, seriously."

Black chuckles. "Man, I don't understand how you survived. You were completely born to be a trainer. And look, you even stole my Champion title from me."

"Hah! Well, you can try and steal it back, can't you?"

"Oh don't worry, I will."

"Heh, I'll be waiting."

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She wrote a letter to her mother, detailing why she left. She sent it off with her braviary, and it was months before she received a reply in return.

White was sitting with Black in a café in Nacrene City when it came, and it contained only six words.

I love you, White. Take care.

And she smiled.

"Say," she began as she folded up the paper and put it into her bag, "Why did you decide to pour wine on me that day, anyway? It was risky, considering things could have played out differently afterwards."

Black didn't speak for a moment, taking the straw out of his drink and twirling it in his fingers.

"You didn't look like you liked the dress," he grinned. "And I thought your evening gown needed some dirt on it."

She laughed at his noncommittal answer, leaning back in her seat. This hadn't been the only time she'd asked him the question, and every time he replied with something different.

"Why'd you come with me?" He asked, after a few moments of silence passed. "I mean we saw each other at scattered parties for a month, but you didn't have a clue as to who I was. That was equally if not more risky."

He watched her stir her smoothie with the straw before she grinned at him.

"Well, you were out of place at the parties," she said, "And I thought maybe you needed some company."

It was Black's turn to laugh, "You're avoiding my question," he said.

"You never answer mine," she replied, taking a sip of her drink.

He ordered a sandwich, while she ordered a piece of cake. There was a companionable silence at they ate. Black paused, staring at White for a few moments before he smiled.

"Maybe I freed you because I liked you," he said, somewhat hesitantly.

Her fork hovered near her mouth, halted by his words. She smiled. "Well, maybe I ran away with you because I fell in love with you," she said as she ate a piece of cake.

Black stared at her, eyes wide, before putting his head down on the table. "Man, you always have to outshine me, don't you?" he laughed.

"Didn't I say? I don't do things half-assed," she grinned, but paused for a minute before reassuring him, "But not to say you're half-assed."

Black lifted his face and grinned, "Well, I can't exactly let that pass, now can I?"

He leaned over the table and kissed her, leaving her stunned as he pulled back. He licked his lips and smirked, watching her cheeks color as she spluttered incoherent words.

And it was all a spectacular scandal, indeed.