Aneko: This one is inspired from Pride and Prejudice, believe it or not, which, I must say, is a wonderful book, even if it isn't terribly easy to understand. I recommend watching the movie first, personally. It makes the book so much easier to process. This might be one of the shortest things I've ever written.
Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Princess Tutu franchise. (Boo hoo!) And I wish I did, because I would demand another season…Not that they would listen, but still…
Knowing
He could never have said when the exact moment was. It wasn't a heart-stopping, world-ending moment. It was something that came on slow, gentle, like the lapping of waves against the shore on a misty morning.
People really seemed to like asking him that, and Mytho was no exception.
"So when exactly did you know?" He asks, honeyed eyes curious as he leans his elbows on the table.
He shrugs and doesn't answer as he stares into the dregs of his tea. It's easier for Mytho in matters like this. He is a rather amazing person for that. Maybe it's because he's a Prince. He always seems to know the answers to matters of the heart with such certainty that it's shocking. Fakir feels like he could never be so sure of himself. All his decisions and realizations only occur after he has struggled his best and can struggle no more.
He tries to remember, to think back and look at those times from not too long ago, when she was a nuisance and he had a heart of stone. But all he thinks of is white feathers and swords, twisted last chords and blood like black ink. It's not really a memory, but it's there, and it reminds him of the things that he doesn't want to be reminded of. He closes his eyes, because it's easier that way. But still he finds nothing.
Just a little bit, a dark twisting feeling develops in his stomach. Shouldn't this be something he's supposed to know? How could he seriously not know that about the person he claimed to love? What kind of person is he, to not know?
At the creak of a door opening, he opens his eyes to see her in the doorway with a basket of flowers under her arm. She has that almost-stupid smile on her face as she talks to her companion about something stupid and trivial (But since it's about her, he doesn't care if it's stupid or trivial, because it's about her). Seeing her blue, blue eyes and long, oddly colored hair, he goes back, back to before the darkness. Beforelast chords and feathers and swords and blood.
There is a girl.
There is a boy.
And there is no regret.
And just maybe, there was also a little bit of happiness, tucked somewhere in the corner of it all. He thinks that it doesn't have to be as complicated as he has let it become. It doesn't have to be about that one individual thing.
Maybe it was when she had bullied (he would admit that now) him into writing again.
Maybe it was when he had (so) unwillingly let her help him find and protect Mytho.
Maybe—
No, simpler than that.
When she cried for him.
When she made stupid little mistakes.
When she proved just how strong she really was.
When she—
She looks up, noticing his gaze, and all his confused wonderings come to a halt. A small action—just the corners of her mouth curling up a bit.
Without realizing it, he's started smiling too. He gets out of his chair to help her with the basket, not because he really cares what she brought back, but because he wants to hear her voice, wants to hear the sound and cadence of it and enjoy it.
He looks back at Mytho and shrugs. "Does it matter?"