I have no father.
My father was a human. I do not know who he was. I will never know who he was. I am not the Raven's daughter. The Raven was never my father. I am not Kraehe. I am not a crow.
Mytho interrupts me with a gentle touch on my shoulder. He leans in, his lips near my ear. Tips of white hair tickle my cheek. He whispers something soft and sweet, his voice a melodic lull, and I lose his words in the magic that is his voice. But I give him a small smile, nod slightly. He presses a kiss to my brow and gracefully dances away, off to attend to the business of his kingdom.
I do not belong in this fairytale world. It is a world of words and stories, and I am made of flesh and blood. But my Prince is as real as I am, and I see the people around us slowly coming to life as well. They are paper-people, flat and fake, but they are steadily peeling themselves off the page. With them, the kingdom rouses itself from its slumber, for its Prince has returned. The story is no longer halted.
Sometimes I think I detect Fakir's hand in events, and despite everything, it makes my lip curl. This ending is just a little too perfect. I have suffered, and my Prince is forever changed, but the kingdom carries on unaffected. We were welcomed without any doubt, and my presence by the Prince's side is never questioned. No one asks Mytho why he is marrying the Raven's daughter.
But of course they don't ask. That would be a foolish question. Because I am not the Raven's daughter. I am not Kraehe. I am Rue. I was never anyone else. The Raven lied to me. He was never my father. I am a normal human girl.
Here, in this world where I do not fit yet no one says it, I do normal, human things. I support my Prince, as any Princess would. I dance in the mornings and rest in the evenings. Since arriving here, I have learned many new things, and I suspect there is much more to learn. My days are never dull, nor are they too taxing. This new world is not perfect, but it is enough. I should be happy. And a part of me is happy.
But, come nightfall, I sob until I have no tears. I mourn the death of my father. I have no father. I have nothing to be sad about. Yet the ache does not go away.
I go through the motions of a happily-ever-after. But there is a pit in my stomach, a hole in my heart. My father is dead. I killed him. He will never come back. I do not want him back. I miss him. I want to go to him, and tell him about my day. I want to share my happiness with him. I want him to know that I finally won the love of the Prince. I want him to be at my wedding.
The blackness of the night brings no comfort. The only sounds in my room are my hiccupping sobs, echoing off of bare walls. He lied to me my entire life. He tried to kill me. He tried to eat my Prince's heart. But I still long to go back to him.
There is a soft knock on my door. I rub at my teary eyes, and it creaks open before I am completely composed. A shaft of light cuts through the darkness, and from it emerges my Prince. He leans on the door behind him, shutting out the candlelight from the antechamber. We exchange a few quiet words, and then he comes to join me in my bed. I shift to make room for him, and he wraps his arms tight around me.
"Father was cruel to me," I tell my Prince. He gently strokes my hair. "I was not his daughter. He never loved me. So why...?" I trail off, unable to articulate my feelings adequately.
"Sometimes we love people even after they have hurt us," Mytho says. He, of all people, would know that. I feel a pang of guilt deep in my belly when he adds, "After all, you still love me, even after the things I did while under the influence of the Raven's blood."
I shudder. He tightens his grip around me. "That's hardly comparable," I say bitterly.
"Even so," Mytho says. He doesn't say any more, just holds me tight, and I feel stronger for the quiet comfort of his presence. This is not perfect, but I am very happy, here in his arms. I can be happy, even if a part of me is sad.
I have no father. My father is dead.
Silently, despite everything, I allow myself a moment to grieve.