Summary: The Raven demands a heart pure, unlike any other, to be brought to him. He gives this task to his daughter Kraehe and her Raven Prince. When memories begin to resurface and sacrifices, doors open and set a new story in motion.

Disclaimer: Well, as the other writers say "I don't own this!"

Time: Set during season 2

Chapter 1: Coppelia-Blumenwalzer

After class ended Mytho suddenly disappeared. Not only had he gone without waiting for the older male dancer, he vanished without a word to anyone, Fakir made it his priority to check on the albino. Mytho had been behaving unusual or rather, more than normally, Fakir had caught some older classmen who had seen Mytho retreating into the forest. Fakir took to retreating to the dorms, surely Mytho would have returned by then. He paused to push down the bronze handle that separated him from the partnered room. Seating himself on his own rumpled bed Fakir began to empty his school cluttered satchel. The room painted with neutral colors bounced in afternoon rays, with it came an eerie silence which would have gone unnoticed if not for the slightly parted pale curtains and cryptic laughter.

The discordant sound directed him to Mytho, grin cracked, and back leveraged on the cold sill of the window. Mytho, not turning from his spot, slid the polished windowpane upward with ease unexpectedly leaning back. Fakir dashed from his spot, his arm outstretched.

"Mytho!"

Earlier that day

In the quaint studio Fakir rolled his shoulders, green locks falling to the side, extending his long legs in relief. He relaxed against barre observing the other ballet students who split into groups for the warm-up, the faint pounding of the approaching Mr. Cat reflected off dull floor tiles.

"Alright everyone!" The students took their seats on the ground and circled around the center. Mytho stared at the disinterested knight and clutched his chest as he winced at a throbbing feeling.

*Thump*

"First comes practice, second is practice, there is no third or fourth, and fifth is practice." Mytho moved down further from the knight, this of course did not go unnoticed by Fakir who only glanced at the other and tuned back into the cat's lecture. The albino's unsteady gaze catches the attention of a certain duck like girl.

"Without looking somewhere else!" Fakir shook his head as the cat chastised Ahiru again that day. Really, it's a mystery as to what passes through her head.

"I coincidentally happened to be able to see Nyadzinsky practicing…" The cat said with nostalgia, a glimmer shined in his slit eyes, the infamous trio turned to each other whispering.

"Yes, the legendary ballet dancer caught the attention of everyone."

"Who?" Mumbled Ahiru, Pike groaned and Lily giggled. The duo then resorted to explain to the duckling about her obliviousness.

"I was about one year and 3 months old."

"You know, the danseur noble," said the teasing yellow haired friend. Still disregarding the lecture.

"Yes, that was him...The one with a jump so great as to be called miraculous. Such choreography that cried out genius, that was Nyadzinsky." His eyes, almost longingly, retold orange pools that mirrored his. He realized the irrelevancy, coughing, and continued.

"To summarize, someone who has not mastered the basics cannot perform great acts or possess a supreme spirit."

A deep chime is heard outside and the class exits, Fakir swiftly made his way to the changing room tugging on a loose-fitted shirt after the last of the male students departed. Paused in his musings he scanned expectantly for a silverette companion. The room felt tense and nauseating, something was very wrong, gulping he trailed out past the ballet section.

Where did Mytho wander off to? As if he has a place to go! But, Mytho didn't have anywhere to actually be.

With that thought Fakir crossed into the hedged perimeter of the male dormitories.

"Mytho!"

The knight reached out successful in his hold on the prince, and preventing the prince from taking his own life. The sharp action forces the two back inside, gravity's response is instant as the prince unwittingly straddles the knight. The silverette cackles this time his smile is intact, wine stained hues observed the perplexed Fakir amusedly. There was something unique about the foolish knight. Fakir is one of a kind.

"Hey, Fakir, you could've really gotten yourself. That would've been bad."

Fakir stared back as if the advanced ballet student had said something farfetched, brow raised, and unaware of a gear turning. Watching.

xxx

"What interesting developments, the Prince and the Knight."

Chapter 1: END