The Prince hated as he had never hated before, and it was not enough.
The Raven laughed at him, thinking only that when the Prince fell, the heart to be harvested would still taste the sweetest out of all the kingdom. And the Prince must falter soon; no mortal man could fight so hard for long. The Raven did not know, exactly, how he himself could be killed, and somehow he knew that the only thing likely to harm him was the Prince's sword. He did not question how he knew that it was magical. Still, though the Prince could summon brambles and flowers to speed him and hinder his enemy, though the forces of the Kingdom had given themselves in his service by this time, the flick of wing or claw or beak had been enough to hold them all off. And oh, the hearts of the dead yet to be feasted upon.
Enough was enough, though. The Raven would never admit to himself that there was pain, or that some of the pain meant that he had been injured, and that the injuries were a drain upon his own strength.
"I tire of this, Prince!" roared the Raven.
"I am sick of this!" the Prince cried in his turn, despairing. Hatred and disgust for the enemy, shame at the destruction of the land; and yet, his unwavering determination forbade him to stop. It was not enough. He had not saved his kingdom: not the citizens grown greedy for his attention who had fought for and then fed the Raven, not the hastily- levied army nor the Royal Guard, not the retinues of his kinsmen and allies. All were dead or scattered.
He looked for the height where his slain knights lay, his best friend among them, but did not see it. He had no time to wonder that the landscape, the town itself, looked very different from what he thought should be there. The fight must have ranged far beyond his ken. He had nothing left- no strength of arms or speech or even body, no one left to help, and no more power save the last bit, the final remnant that was forbidden.
What did that matter, though? The kingdom was already destroyed, and so would he be, if he shattered his heart. It was already broken. True, there was the hope of the Princess who was to piece it back together- but he could not depend on that, or even consider it, right now.
Running as so many had done, leaving the Raven to gorge himself upon hearts already dead and then to starve, never tempted him. The Raven would never stay in one place to be starved; not unless he were contained. The Prince's hands trembled, but not with fear, as he undid buckles awkwardly without help, and shrugged out of his breastplate. He feared only a lack of time now.
Prince Siegfried set the pommel of the sword of his ancestors in a crack between stones, raised his eyes to the Raven, and shouted the words that spent the last dregs of himself, even as he made sure that the tip of the blade would miss ribs and breastbone and enter the heart.
Then he simply let his knees buckle.
There was not enough time to feel pain before the sword and the forbidden spell had done their work.
-
There had been places ready for them. Five strong towers, for the shards of the Prince's heart that had done most to fight the Raven. Five shards strong enough to imprison the enemy for a time unreckoned, until Princess Tutu called them out, intent upon restoring them to their proper place.
They encircled the thing that had once been their Prince.
"Look what you've become," spat one in disgust.
"This is the Prince? How lamentable!" said the next, ashamed.
"Is it not too late already?" Anger spoke.
"We have no choice but to return to our original heart now. Let us prepare ourselves," replied Despair.
"Yes. The Raven is about to revive," determined the last. "Let us not waver in our purpose."
Despite her distress at their hopelessness, Princess Tutu watched in awe as the five shards merged into one. These were surely the strongest parts of the Prince's heart- they suffered no confusion, displayed no uncertainty. And suddenly there was only one entity confronting her, exhorting her not to complete the Prince's heart until the curse of the Raven's blood had been banished from it.
And then it was a sliver of red in her cupped hands with no time for debate. She sent it to the Prince, hoping that it would be enough to break the curse but quite sure it wasn't. Nothing about this story would be so easy.
She was right. It wasn't.
Shards of Prince Siegfried's heart had given Princess Tutu more knowledge about that heart, and about herself. Now she knew that the Prince's will, uninfluenced by the Raven's blood, would never yield to the enemy, and that she must now carry out that will. Her pendant was the last shard of the heart, and it was the only one not contaminated.
There was no time to answer the one question that had come to the forefront of her mind, the one that possibly had just become the most important one of all... who was she?
What was Princess Tutu, that could bind a Prince's heart together?
Disclaimer: Princess Tutu and all related characters and elements are the property, copyright and trademark of HAL– GANSIS/TUTU and Ikukoh Itoh and no ownership or claim on said property, copyright or trademark is made or implied by their use in the work(s) of fan fiction presented here. This fan fiction constitutes a personal comment on the aforesaid properties pursuant to doctrines of fair use and fair comment. This fan fiction is non-commercial, not for sale or profit, and may not be sold or reproduced for commercial purposes.
A/N: Written for the deviantArt ClubTutu's July 2015 fanfic challenge "Heart Shards."
The identities of the five heart shards in the five gates of Gold Crown Town were not specified. It's always bugged me, so here are my best guesses. Likewise, Fakir later characterizes Princess Tutu as Hope, but she always seemed a little more complicated than just one feeling to me. One of the things I love about the anime is that it doesn't hand the viewer every answer.