A/N: I have spent the last several chapters dropping hints at how bad Fakir's relationship with Charon is and now we finally get to see them interact! Foreshadowing for the win! And this episode has so much Fakir screen time! Whoo-hoo! I realize I am acting a lot like an obsessed fangirl right now, but he's my favorite bloody character in the entire show and I am obsessed…with developing his relationship with Ahiru. Because they are just too cute together. I think this pairing may have passed Sakura and Syaoran of Cardcaptor Sakura for the position of cutest couple ever. Which is saying something. That particular pairing has held that position since I was 13. I am currently 31 as I write this. Now that position belongs to Fakir and Ahiru. It's like the end of an era… ONE CHAPTER TO GO (not counting this one)! Yays! As a final note, I made another name change for this chapter. From Waniko/Crocodelia to Ethelinda; according to the list of names on my laptop the name is a German one meaning 'noble serpent'. I feel that it is a fitting name for a little crocodile girl. Right! On to the chapter! Let us begin!
Disclaimer: I do not own Princess Tutu and I likely never will! Now get that sword away from my throat! EEP! Dammit, Fakir, stop trying to kill me!
Chapter 10: Reconciliation and Revelation
Fakir slowly stood as Kraehe vanished into the black whirlwind she's summoned. As much as he would have liked to finish her off and end the threat she posed, he was willing to accept a retreat…for the moment. Now, however, he had a different issue to deal with. "Princess Tutu," the young knight coolly addressed the white-clad ballerina standing next to Mytho as he turned to face her, "You don't intend to cease returning the pieces of the Prince's heart?" "No," Tutu replied firmly, "because that is the Prince's wish." The green-eyed young man huffed out a short, sharp breath of air as he started to walk across the room to where the other two teens stood. He was still clutching the glass shard he'd grabbed as an improvised weapon loosely in his right hand. "Are you going to shatter his heart again," Princess Tutu demanded warily. Fakir had to suppress a scoff at her question. He had already given up on that as an option; still…it gave him an opening to test her will. "What if I am," the young man challenged smoothly as he drew near. The blue-eyed ballerina tensed, "I can't allow you to do that." "Then will you kill me," the dark-haired teen asked evenly as he came to a halt right in front of his feminine adversary. Tutu leaned backwards slightly as her eyes widened in shock at his question, but didn't answer. "Could you kill me," the young knight challenged once more as he met her gaze with a cold stare. The white-clad ballerina's voice was horrified as she weakly replied, "That's not…"
The young knight could tell that was a 'no' just from her attitude, and that enraged him. He suddenly lashed out with his improvised weapon aiming for the ballerina's throat. He didn't intend to kill her, or even injure her, but to make his point clear. If she wished to protect Mytho…then she needed to be willing to kill even if only as a last resort. The glass shard clipped the chain holding her pendant on before she could even react. The prince gasped in fear and swiftly moved forward to hold his friend back from attacking once more. "Stop," the white haired teen pleaded as he wrapped his arms around the taller teen. Fakir, however, wasn't paying attention and continued to glare fiercely at the terrified form of Princess Tutu. "With the raven right there in front of you, why couldn't you defeat her," he demanded angrily, "You can't protect Mytho simply by returning his heart to him!" "Fakir," the prince snapped reprovingly, but again the young knight ignored him. "But," Tutu protested softly, "Kraehe was in pain…" The dark-haired teen narrowed his eyes as he shot back coldly, "That should be your chance! I could do it! And if it came to that, I could kill you as well!" Mytho had had enough and snapped out a sharp plea, "Tutu, run!" The white-clad ballerina recoiled slightly, but obeyed the prince's command. "Why must you interfere with the returning of my heart," the golden-eyed teen asked his friend reproachfully as he shut his eyes.
Fakir was taken aback slightly by that question as he repeated softly, "Interfere?" "I want to get my heart back," Mytho stated firmly causing the young knight to flinch slightly as he lowered his gaze, "No matter what fate is waiting for me…" The dark haired teen flinched a second time at the mention of fate and started to tremble slightly as his fear returned once more. "I…," the white-haired teen started to say before he started in shock as he felt the faint tremors running through his taller friend's body. "Fakir," he asked concernedly, "Are you trembling? Why?" The malachite-eyed young man tensed and pulled himself free of his friend's arms. "It's nothing," he denied quietly as he allowed the glass shard he'd been wielding to fall to the ground. The golden-eyed teen studied his knight intently before he frowned, "Are you sure?" Fakir scowled back, "If I say it's nothing than it's nothing. Just drop it." It was one thing to admit his deepest fears to himself, but it was quite another to share them with anyone else. The young man was not, and had never truly been, comfortable with other people seeing just how deeply his emotions ran. Admitting that he was terrified of dying at the claws of the Monster Raven was just not something he could do. "Let's just go back to the dorms," Fakir sighed as he looked away, "Before anything else happens…" The prince studied the resignation and exhaustion in his knight's posture before he slowly nodded in agreement, "All right."
The dark-haired teen left the room ahead of Mytho and was several steps ahead when he left the building. This proved to be fortuitous for when he opened the door he caught a glimpse of something red glinting on the ground. As he turned his head to look more closely he recognized the shape of Princess Tutu's pendant before it changed into a simple, red, vaguely egg-shaped stone pendant. Fakir's eyes narrowed as he murmured softly, "This is…" 'Tutu's pendant,' he finished in his head as he hurried down the stairs to kneel next to it. As he reached out to pick it up he noticed the chain had snapped and realized he must have damaged it earlier when he attacked Tutu. He studied it intently as he stood back up with a slight frown on his face. She must not have noticed when it fell off while she was fleeing. That was careless of her. Hearing his friend's steps drawing nearer, the young knight quickly stuffed the pendant in the pocket of his uniform jacket. He feigned as though he had been looking around for threats when Mytho walked out the door prompting the white-haired teen to give him a concerned look. "What are you doing," the prince asked, "Is something wrong?" "I'm just making sure Kraehe or one of her minions isn't hanging around," Fakir lied.
The golden-eyed teen looked somewhat skeptical, but accepted his explanation, "If you say so." The two young men walked the rest of the way back to the dorms in silence. Even when they swung by the usual café to snag a quick dinner they didn't really talk; it was only once they returned to the dorms that the silence was broken. "I forgive you," Mytho told his friend evenly. The young knight stumbled slightly and turned to look at the shorter teen with wide eyes, "What?" "For hitting me yesterday," the white-haired young man clarified, "So don't avoid me anymore. I was worried about you." "Worried about me," Fakir asked in confusion, "Why?" "Your note," the prince pulled the crumpled piece of paper out of his uniform jacket, "Your hand was shaking so badly when you wrote this that I could barely read it. Your handwriting has never been that bad before." "I was tired," the taller young man sighed, "Really tired. I haven't been sleeping well lately. That's all." Mytho frowned as he recalled the times he'd woken up over the last week to find Fakir already awake. "Just how bad have your nightmares gotten," the prince worried. The young knight flinched slightly and looked away, "Don't worry about such pointless things. Last night was worse than normal, but it's still nothing I'm not used to."
When they got up to their room, Mytho headed straight for the shower. The young knight reasoned that the shorter teen needed it more as he had actually attended classes. The only reason Fakir could see for taking a shower himself was to wash off the residual glass fragments clinging to his hair. Normally, he showered first and made sure to keep them short. The reason for this was simple. The prince tended to take very long, hot showers that used up most of the building's hot water. Under the circumstances, however, the dark-haired teen figured that he could just stick his head under the faucet and rinse his hair quickly to get the glass out. That didn't require a full shower. Besides, he'd taken one last night before bed and his day hadn't been physically demanding enough for him to need another so soon.
Instead, he spent the time Mytho was in the shower sitting in the window sill staring at Tutu's pendant contemplatively. He'd pretty much grabbed it on impulse, but now that he had it he needed to work out what he was going to do with it. 'Perhaps I can use it to draw her to me,' Fakir mused, 'As bait. Then I can finally learn who she really is.' Admittedly, he wasn't entirely sure what he'd do once he learned her true identity. He supposed he could simply refrain from returning the pendant. True, it mean going against Mytho's wishes once more but he was still willing to do whatever it took to stall the story if he possibly could. If Tutu couldn't transform into her mystical ballerina form then she couldn't return any more heart shards. That would cause the story to stall out once more. At least long enough for him to come up with a more permanent solution.
'So that's it then,' Fakir decided, 'I learn Tutu's true identity and keep the pendant out of her hands either way. Without it she's just another student and the story will come to a halt. Mytho can keep those shards he already has since he really does seem to be happier, and it is making my life a little easier to not have to deal with his chronic death wish all the time. I can live with this outcome.' The young knight's eyes narrowed coldly as he glared at the pendant hanging from his fingers and challenged mentally, 'Just try to come and take it, Princess Tutu!' Abruptly, his mind flashed back to recall the surge of fear he'd felt when Mytho informed his knight he wanted his heart back regardless of the risks. A slight gasp escaped him as his eyes widened at the recollection before he mentally shook his fear away once more. He lowered the pendant to rest on his lap as he wondered, 'Is the only reason I'm even choosing this option because I'm still afraid to accept my fate?' He scoffed lightly and turned to look across the dorm lawn and murmured self-derisively, "Don't be ridiculous." He wasn't going to deny that he was still scared, but it wasn't why he was doing this. Fakir simply didn't want anyone to die if he could prevent it; even Tutu if he were being honest. As much as he disliked her he could still admit that she meant well. She was a naïve idiot, but she didn't deserve to die. Stalling the story was as much for her sake as it was for his and Mytho's.
Once the white-haired teen left the bathroom, Fakir popped in long enough to rinse the glass out of his hair and dry it off. Both teens got ready for bed after that and relaxed for a few minutes. It had been a long day. "Fakir," Mytho asked after a while. "What," the young knight replied drowsily. After going so long without enough sleep his body was demanding it, and he was actually feeling marginally hopeful that he might have a decent night's sleep. "Why are you so against me getting my heart back," the golden-eyed teen demanded softly. A soft noise of surprise escaped the dark-haired young man as his eyes flew open. That…was not a question he wanted answer right now. "It's…complicated," he replied hesitantly, "You might not understand." "Tell me anyways. I want to know," the prince stated firmly. "…Is that an order," Fakir asked hesitantly.
The white-haired teen blinked in surprise, "A request." The malachite-eyed young man hesitated again as he debated the pros and cons of telling his friend everything right then and there. "I'm really tired," the young knight sighed, "Too tired to cover everything. Can you just accept that I have my reasons for now?" Mytho's eyes widened before he apologized, "Ah, I'm sorry. Sure. Just so long as you promise to tell me later." 'Much later,' the exhausted teen confirmed in his head before he replied, "All right. I promise. Good night, Mytho." "Good night, Fakir," the golden-eyed young man smiled at his friend as he lay down himself, "Pleasant dreams." "You too," the taller teen murmured sleepily. He was out cold seconds later. Mercifully, his sleep that night was undisturbed by dreams good or bad. He was simply too burned out to dream.
Fakir woke up the next morning to find Mytho had already left for classes. A quick glance at the clock showed him that he had slept in a bit; not enough to be at risk of being late, but definitely later than normal. Unlike the other times in the past when his friend left without him, the young man did not freak out at finding his friend absent. Mostly because of the note resting on the table next to his bed; the white-haired teen had taken to leaving notes when he left the room before the his room-mate was awake. Of all the changes his friend had experienced since his heart started to return this was one the dark-haired young man had absolutely no issues with. The young knight hummed softly as he picked up the note and read it. The only unusual thing about it was an addition on the end where the prince promised to keep an eye out for ravens and stick close to crowds as much as possible. "Good," Fakir muttered softly as he set the note back down, "He's taking steps to keep himself as safe as possible. That's very good."
He groaned softly as he sat up and swung his legs out of bed. He wasn't exactly sore, but he was still a bit tired. Getting a full night's rest had certainly helped, but it wasn't enough to make up for all the sleep he'd missed. Still, he was functional. The green-eyed teen walked over to his uniform jacket and pulled out Tutu's pendant again. He was determined to keep it nearby at all times, but his practice outfit did not have pockets. That meant he'd have to wear it which ultimately meant he needed to fix the chain. Fakir studied the break intently and was relieved to find it was an easy repair. One of the links in the chain had torn free, but was still mostly intact. All he had to do was slide the adjacent link back into the ring and twist the open end shut. The result wasn't exactly sturdy and it would always be a weak link in the chain, but he could perform a more permanent fix at a later date. It just needed to hold long enough to get through classes until Sunday. With a full day free he'd have more than enough time to slip into the shop when Charon was away to grab some actual tools; yet another advantage of being raised by a smith.
The malachite-eyed teen quickly got dressed in a clean uniform, stuffed the pendant in the pocket of his jacket, grabbed his books, and headed in to campus the second he was finished with his repairs. The trip was completely uneventful aside from a close encounter with fangirls, but that was more irritating than anything. He hated the way they stared at him and giggled. He had still arrived early enough that there was some time before classes started, so he decided to wander around campus with the pendant in his hand. He paused before one of the buildings and looked around as he wondered, 'Where are you, Princess Tutu?' However, as he was looking he happened to notice a small yellow duck sleeping in the middle of one of the paths.
It was a very familiar duck. He was almost positive it was the same one he'd found in his locker a few days back. 'It's still hanging around,' Fakir gave an amused smile as he walked over. It really was a cute little duck with that odd feather sticking up from the top of its head. "Hey," he called softly as he walked over and knelt next to it with the pendant hanging down from his hand, "Hey!" The duck slowly opened its eyes and looked over at him before promptly panicking. The silly little thing ran around in circles quacking frantically as he watched with a slight grin. Even its panicking was cute. "You're the duck I saw the other day, aren't you," he asked lightly.
The little bird paused and froze as it caught a glimpse of the light reflecting off of the red crystal dangling from his hand. It immediately ran over and grabbed the chain in its beak before it started tugging at it. "What, have you taken a liking to this," he wondered curiously. He didn't realize ducks were attracted to shiny objects. It paused and looked up at him with wide blue eyes for a moment before it started tugging at the chain again. There was something oddly endearing about its single-minded fixation. It knew nothing of the burden of duty, the pain of guilt, the fear of failure, or any of the other thoughts that troubled humanity. Such a simple, carefree existence… He almost wished he could be like that. Fakir smiled lightly as he murmured, "I envy your innocence…"
The duck looked up at him again and released the chain as he reached out to rub it lightly on its head. It really was surprisingly tame to allow him to do this, but it had also allowed him to carry it out of the changing room without freaking out and biting him. It was a strange little duck…but he found he was quite fond of it even after only two encounters. The dark-haired teen stood and walked away with another slight smile back at the little duck. Maybe he'd see it around again sometime. He hoped so. For whatever reason, seeing that simple little bird again cheered him up considerably. The bell started to chime signaling that classes would be starting soon, and Fakir sighed softly. The young knight headed for the main lecture hall as he stuffed the red stone back into his pocket. He may not have found Tutu yet, but he had time. So long as he held her pendant he had all the time in the world. He could wait.
Before the start of the first class, Mr. Katze took Fakir aside, "Mr. Fakir." "Sir," the young knight acknowledged. "Is everything all right between you and Mytho," the feline teacher asked bluntly. "Of course," the teen replied with a hint of annoyance, "Why wouldn't it be?" "Several students have told me that the two of you got into a fight a few days ago, and that you struck him," the anthropomorphic feline explained with a calculating gaze, "And then the following day you didn't show up at all." The dark-haired young man flinched slightly from the reminder of his outburst. "I lost my temper," he replied quietly, "I wish I had done anything other than strike my best friend, but…" "You have a hard time controlling your temper, don't you," the cat man gave his student an understanding look. "Yes," the green-eyed teen admitted softly as he looked away. It wasn't as though the fact that he had a short temper was a big secret. Nor was the fact that he had a hard time controlling it sometimes. "And the missed day of classes," Mr. Katze pressed inquisitively. "I didn't get any sleep the night before," Fakir confessed, "I was in no condition to attend classes. My temper is even worse when I'm sleep deprived. I felt it was for the best if I just took the day off." This wasn't entirely a lie. Everything he'd said was the truth, but it wasn't the full truth. "Well," the feline instructor mused, "I suppose it is for the best. I will excuse your absence this time. Just try to not let it happen again." "Yes sir," the young man nodded.
Morning classes passed uneventfully up until Mr. Katze announced he would be having the advanced class be performing demonstrations of solo dancing for the beginning class. That annoyed Fakir slightly, but he acknowledged that it was a good way to draw Tutu out; particularly if he was wearing the pendant around his neck the entire time. The young man quickly got changed into his practice clothes, slipped the chain over his head before stuffing the pendant under the skin-tight fabric of his shirt, and headed for the main lesson room. The beginner students were all sitting on the floor in front of the large windows that overlooked the main campus lawn and watching the advanced students with wide eyes.
"Today I have a rare treat for you girls," the anthropomorphic feline announced as Fakir and his classmates lined up against the opposite wall, "The advanced class will be demonstrating their technique for you all. They have all put in hours of practice to hone their skills to their current level of expertise and you can achieve the same if you put in enough effort. Let them inspire you to push your own grasp of the art of ballet to greater heights." The young knight sighed quietly in exasperation as he realized they were basically being used as examples to demonstrate the benefits of regular practice sessions. "Mr. Mytho," Mr. Katze gestured towards the prince, "Will be going first. What piece would you care to perform?" "Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy," Mytho replied automatically. It was his default routine. The feline instructor nodded and got the music set up as the other students looked on. Once the player was set, the white-haired teen took up position in the middle of the room and waited for it to start.
"And begin," Mr. Katze stated as he turned on the player. Mytho promptly moved into his routine which Fakir mostly ignored. He was busy observing the students lined up against the opposite wall. 'Could Princess Tutu be one of the girls here,' he wondered as he swept his gaze down the line of girls staring intently at his friend. One of the girls at the end of the line, an alligator of all things, was sniffing the air and suddenly burst out, "I smell a tasty duck, Mr. Katze!" The anthropomorphic feline adopted a look of long suffering on his face as he scolded, "Please be quiet, Miss Ethelinda." That little exchange drove a spike of doubt through the possibility of Tutu being one of these girls. 'Maybe I'm just imagining things,' he shrugged mentally as he swept his eyes back down the line, 'Tutu may be a naïve fool, but she at least has the ability to focus. These girls don't seem to have much of that.' That particular thought was reinforced as he noticed two girls at the other end of the line talking quietly to each other while his friend danced. An amused smirked threatened to creep across his face when Mr. Katze noticed their inattention and tore into them with his normal threat of marriage. 'Tutu definitely isn't one of these girls,' Fakir concluded as he turned his attention to Mytho's dancing at last, 'And the only girl to even notice the pendant in the advanced class so far has been Rue. I know she isn't Tutu. That leaves the intermediate students. I'm finally making some progress for once.'
Mytho finally finished his routine and relaxed with a pleased smile on his face. The young knight wasn't surprised that his friend had been smiling for most of his routine. Ever since the return of his first heart shard the shorter teen had begun to truly enjoy dancing. It was part of the reason Fakir preferred his current plan. Removing the prince's ability to enjoy ballet was just plain cruel, and for all his harsh words and actions the dark-haired young man was not a cruel person. "That was some spectacular dancing, Mr. Mytho," Mr. Katze addressed his friend with a pleased smile, "You've begun to express your feelings more than your technique, haven't you?" "Yes," the white-haired teen replied promptly. The anthropomorphic feline then fixed a considering gaze on the prince, "You're in love, are you not?" That surprised both young men. "What," Mytho asked with a wide eyed look.
'Not possible,' the green-eyed teen scoffed mentally as teacher and student continued their exchange, 'The story won't let him fall for just one person because that would be selfish and the prince's role has always demanded absolute selflessness. That's yet another reason why I don't want him getting his emotions back entirely. He'd never forgive himself if his heart were restored and the Raven escaped just because he was too oblivious to realize his actions were hurting people.' The conversation concluded with Mr. Katze offering to give the white-haired teen a lesson on love which his friend eagerly accepted. Fakir wasn't surprised. His friend had grown increasingly curious over all sorts of emotions including the ones he had yet to have restored. As Mytho stepped back to rejoin the other advanced students the feline teacher turned his attention to the young knight, "Mr. Fakir, you are up next. What piece will you be performing?" "Custom routine," the dark-haired young man replied as he walked forward, "For Wagner's Ride of the Valkyrie."
It was common knowledge in the advanced class that Fakir made up his own dance routines when he practiced, but this was the first time he'd actually offered to demonstrate one. The other advanced students looked on curiously as the malachite-eyed teen took first position in the middle of the room as he waited for the music to start. Mr. Katze finished getting the music cylinder set up and turned to look at his student as he turned it on, "And begin." The young knight burst into the motion the second the music started to play. This particular routine was one of his more challenging ones, but it was also one he had practiced so many times he barely had to think about what he was doing. It also showcased the power and grace of his form without being too frightening.
The main reason the dark-haired teen had chosen it, though, was that it was also one of his shortest practice routines. The less time he spent with the underclassmen gawking at him the better as far as he was concerned. Fakir steadily worked his way through the routine until, finally, he took the final pose with his feet in first position once more, one arm crossed across his chest, the other reaching skywards, and his head tilted downwards slightly. As the last note faded away, he relaxed and stood casually with his arms crossed. "Most impressive, Mr. Fakir," Mr. Katze exclaimed as he walked over, "I'm surprised you were so willing to perform one of your custom practice routines, though. You normally go to great lengths to keep them private." "It was short," the young knight shrugged dismissively. "Hm," the anthropomorphic feline gave him a considering look before he waved the young man off, "Fair enough. Thank you for sharing, anyways." "You're welcome," Fakir replied and walked back to his position against the wall.
Eventually, the rest of the advanced students performed their own routines and class finally came to an end. Fakir opted out of putting in extra practice time after the end of the school day and simply returned to the room he shared with his best friend. Mytho would be fine on campus with Mr. Katze keeping an eye on him, and the other teen had promised to head straight back to the dorms as soon as his 'special' lesson was finished. Besides, as short as it was, the dance the young knight had performed in class was still intense enough to work up a sweat. He needed a shower. A soft sigh escaped him as he walked through the door of the room he shared with his best – not to mention only – friend. He still had no idea how to explain his reasoning to the prince as to why he was so against the other young man's heart being restored. Mostly because there was no way he could do so without bringing up the fates that awaited both of them if the Raven were to awaken. He wasn't entirely willing to do that, but…he may not have a choice.
As he walked into the bathroom to take a quick shower his mind drifted to the progress he'd made in his search for Princess Tutu. The pendant caught the light from where he'd set it on the counter prompting him to scowl at it as he turned on the water. In spite of narrowing things down in his Tutu hunt, he still had a ways to go. There was also the fact that he was starting to suspect he hadn't given the girl behind the magical ballerina enough credit if she had managed to resist attempting to reclaim her pendant. Whoever she was, she must have a fair amount of natural caution which didn't entirely mesh with the rest of what he'd observed in their two encounters. She had been impulsive and emotional the first time, and that tended to fly in the face of cautious behavior. The second encounter she had been nervous, but hadn't actually fled until the prince told her too which again was not something a cautious person would do. Hell, she had completely frozen in the face of his aggression. Not to mention the fact that she hadn't even noticed when her pendant fell off in the first place. Then again, if she'd been badly frightened she probably wouldn't notice. 'Maybe she's hiding from me,' he wondered as he finished his quick shower and grabbed a towel to dry his himself off, 'Because she's afraid I'll attack her again.' He had no intentions to do such a thing, of course, but she had no way on knowing that. It was a possibility.
Fakir quickly pulled his hair back into a slightly damp ponytail and threw on a clean pair of boxers before picking up the pendant again. He was rolling it between his fingers as he walked back out still lost in thought. The young knight idly tossed the rest of his uniform on his bed before turning and walking over to the small table in the middle of the room. 'Mytho and Princess Tutu…,' he mused tiredly as he set the pendant down on the table, 'Neither of them is making matters easier when I get right down to it.' The stressed-out young man sat heavily on the chair next to the surface he had set Tutu's necklace on and let out a soft groan of exhaustion. He really was tired. 'Tutu believes it is for the best that Mytho regain his heart,' he reflected in resignation, 'And now Mytho agrees with her. Am I truly the only one who has any idea just how dangerous this course of action is?' Fakir opened his eyes and reached out to grab the pendant before staring at it bleakly. "Mytho," he murmured softly, "You don't understand anything. What returning your heart would really mean…" 'The Monster Raven would be freed from its imprisonment. If it is unleashed…and neither of them are prepared to face it… I know if that were to happen I would fight to my last breath to keep everyone safe,' the young man's gaze was haunted, 'And if I should fall…that will be it. My nightmares will become reality.' The sound of fluttering wings from the window startled the troubled young knight out of his thoughts and he surged to his feet as he spun to face the sound. A raven was fluttering its wings as it came in for a landing and fixed him with a ruby-eyed gaze the second its perch was secure.
The young knight gasped softly as the raven's form melted into a black envelope resting against the window pane. Cautiously, he walked over and retrieved the envelope before opening it. His eyes narrowed sharply as he read the message within and started to shake with barely repressed fury as he reached the end. Invitation to the wedding of Mr. Mytho and Miss Kraehe. Witness is Mr. Fakir. The wedding will be celebrated at midnight at the church. "Damn you, Kraehe," he hissed angrily, "Are you trying to say I'm not a threat?!" The furious young man threw the invitation to the ground as he spun and stalked over to his dresser to throw his uniform back on. She was going to learn just how wrong she was, but he needed a weapon first. Unfortunately for him, that mean he was going to have to do the one thing he had been putting off for years now. He'd have to talk to Charon. It was the only way he could retrieve the weapon he needed. 'The Lohengrin Sword,' Fakir thought as he stalked out the door, 'A blade that may only be wielded by a true knight. By taking up that sword I will have to fully accept my position as Mytho's, no, the Prince's knight. There will be no going back. If my fate has not been sealed before now…it will be then.' He clenched his fists as he narrowed his eyes grimly, 'As if it matters what happens to me. I swore an oath, damn it! I will keep it one way or the other! If taking up the Lohengrin Sword and accepting my fate is the only way then I will do so regardless of whether I am afraid or not!'
The dark-haired teen made his way determinedly across town towards Charon's shop. Considering every time he'd stopped by the house the past few months the place had been abandoned, the shop was his best chance of finding the smith. Fakir was honestly not expecting the conversation to go well in the slightest. His father had not taken the realization that the story of 'The Prince and The Raven' was in the process of playing out very well all those years ago, and it had driven him to try and shield his son from the events. Of course, by that point it was far too late. His younger self had already gotten inextricably tangled up in matters. Charon never seemed to understand that, though, and kept trying to convince the young knight to abandon his friend which just plain wasn't going to happen…ever.
For his part, the young man felt betrayed by this lack of trust from the smith and lashed out. They simply could not communicate anymore without that conflict being dragged back up again. The fact that the older man knew Fakir better than anyone, however, meant that when they did argue he always nailed the teen's most vulnerable points. This never ended well. Chances were pretty good that this conversation was going to go about as well as every other one over the last four years. Still, he had to at least try. It was well after dark by the time the young knight arrived at the smith's shop. He hesitated, briefly, outside the door before he growled quietly under his breath and opened it. It was time to get this over with.
The front room had its normal assortment of suits of armor and weapons scattered around collecting dust. Most of them were collector's pieces Charon was in the process of fixing up for wealthy patrons, but a few were original works he'd put together himself as commissions. The stock changed pretty regularly because of this. Fakir looked around curiously as he walked towards the back room where the forge lay; there was a light coming from under the door. Most likely that's where his father would be. The dark-haired teen hesitated for a split second before he took a deep breath and opened the door, "Charon." The smith was sitting at his work table with an ornamental battle-axe in his hands, and turned to look back at his son in surprise, "Fakir…" The young man ignored the stunned greeting and proceeded to jump right into matters as he asked, "Where is the sword?" Charon frowned disapprovingly, "I haven't seen you in ages, and I don't even merit a greeting? There are many swords in my shop." The young knight knew the older man knew exactly which sword he was talking about.
"No," he stated patiently yet firmly, "that sword. The Lohengrin Sword." The smith stiffened and a strangled gasp escaped him as the dark-haired teen walked over to stand next to the table. "I need it," he continued, "I have to protect Mytho from the ravens." The sandy haired man closed his eyes and frowned, "I can't give it to you." "What," Fakir gasped in disbelief. "That sword should only be wielded by a knight," the older man elaborated. "You promised that you would let me have it," the dark-haired young man protested. "That was when you were a child," Charon shot his son a disapproving look. The green-eyed teen clenched his fists as he glared at the man who raised him, "Mytho is getting his heart back. Princess Tutu has appeared. The ravens are returning as well. The legend you told me about is all becoming reality! If that is the case, then I am the knight in the story reborn." The smith stiffened as his son spoke and the disapproving look on his face only grew as he continued, yet the young man persisted. Fakir placed his hands on the table and leaned forward as he concluded, "If I am the knight, then I should be able to use the Lohengrin Sword."
Charon raised his eyes to meet those of the youth he raised and intoned sternly, "Fakir, leave Mytho be from now on." The young knight's eyes widened in disbelief, "What did you say?!" How could he even say that to him? Yet the older man was not finished. "You shouldn't get involved in this accursed tale any more than you are already," he stated firmly. It took all of the dark-haired teen's self-control to not yell that it was already too late for him. His fate was as good as sealed. "Why are you saying that now," the young man snarled angrily before he calmed slightly, "The day you took me in after my parents had died, you told me, remember? You told me about how my birthmark resembled one that was passed down in local legends. That you were sure I would become strong because it was proof that I was the reincarnation of a brave knight who always stood by his prince. I had just lost everything, Charon. How else could you expect me to take that other than to conclude that if I became strong enough I might never have to lose anyone I cared for ever again? It meant more to me than anything. Before I knew it, it became a source of pride for me. I started looking into those old legends and found an old copy of 'The Prince and The Raven'. I can't even remember how many times I read that old book, yet it was not the knight who I was drawn to but the figure of the Prince. He who was not afraid to put himself into harm's way if it meant he could protect others. I admired him more than anything. I would have given anything to meet someone like that in real life."
Fakir paused to take a quick breath before he continued, "Then, fate suddenly began to move. I found Mytho lying unconscious in the street and ran to grab you because he wasn't moving. You remember how strange it was that his heart wasn't beating yet he was somehow still alive. You addressed him as the prince who lost his heart! I'm not an idiot! I was able to connect him to the Prince from the story easily enough! I was elated, and started spending all of my free time in his company. I even gave him the name Mytho not long afterwards. Maybe it was a mistake for me to spend so much time around him, but I don't regret it. He was the first friend I ever had…even if he could feel nothing for me. Mytho had no emotions. Yet when he saw those who were weak suffering, then, no matter the danger, he would try to protect them without hesitation. He even ran into a burning building to save a bird in a cage hanging outside the third story window…which he then fell from… He was out cold for a week after that and I spent the entire time terrified that he would never wake up. I couldn't let him continue like that! He'd end up getting himself killed! So I made him a promise as soon as he woke up that I have no intention of breaking. I will protect Mytho, because that was the promise I made." 'In fact, I went a step further and swore a full oath to serve as his knight which he accepted,' Fakir admitted internally, 'Which I am still bound by. Charon would be even more upset if I told him about that…best if I keep that to myself.'
Charon stood abruptly and glared back at his son shortly after the young man finished speaking as he challenged harshly, "What you're trying to do isn't for Mytho's sake! It's for your own sake, isn't it, Fakir?!" Fakir stiffened as he whispered hoarsely, "What?" The smith turned to face the teen as he continued tearing into him, "Now that the time to fight has finally arrived, are you sure you aren't afraid you'll follow the same fate as the knight in the story?" A frightened gasp slipped out of the young knightas the page detailing the knight's fate flashed across his mind. Yet still he denied it, "That's not it!" The older man started to walk closer causing the dark-haired teen to back away in response with a stern glare on his face as he persisted in deconstructing his son's motivations, "You kept calling him a good-for-nothing so the prince's heart wouldn't be restored, and you enrolled him at Goldkrone Academy so he could dance as he liked, but that's because you were scared of fighting!"
The green-eyed teen was not afraid of fighting! "You're wrong," he snarled defiantly as his adoptive father continued his advance. "You can't protect Mytho the way you are now," Charon snapped angrily and those words sent a stab of pain through Fakir's chest as they struck home. "Stop it," the young man hissed hoarsely. "Just forget about all this," the smith ordered. "That's enough," the young knight retorted in a slightly pained tone as he reached out to grab a sword leaning on the table before he started to run out of the shop, "Any sword will do!" However, the old smith reacted faster and intercepted him before striking the young man hard across his face. In shock, the dark-haired teen fell backwards against the wall and slid to the ground while holding a hand to his sore cheek. "You're going to stop doing this now," the older man ordered sternly as he gazed down at his son's stunned form, "Do you understand?"
Fakir stared up at the old smith for a few moments before he lowered his gaze and spoke quietly in a thick voice, "Yes… I may be afraid, just as you say, but I want to protect him!" The young knight hunched over his bent knee as fond memories of his friendship with Mytho flashed through his head before he continued brokenly, "That pure, self-sacrificing Mytho…" His heart was clenching in absolute agony and it was all the young man could do to hold his tears back. He refused to let anyone see him cry. Soon, though, he couldn't take it anymore and surged to his feet before sprinting out of the store as fast as he could. He ignored Charon crying his name as he fled. All he cared about was getting away before he couldn't hold back his tears any longer. He made it to a small park nearby that was really little more than a tiny pond and the few trees and shrubs surrounding it. Yet it was isolated and abandoned at this late hour which was really all that mattered to Fakir. He leaned back against a tree right next to the pond as tears started to flow down his face. The heartbroken young man cried quietly as he tilted his head back and his doubts surged through him once more.
"Is Charon right about me," he whispered brokenly, "Can I truly not protect Mytho even if I try my hardest? Am I useless as a knight?" He clenched his eyes shut tightly as he choked back a sob. 'Oh God, what if he's right,' he moaned internally, 'Please no… I can't accept that! I just can't! Mytho needs me!' Yet this was something he had honestly been insecure about for a long time, and Charon's words had amplified that insecurity to the point that it was tearing him apart from the inside. A splash from the nearby pond made drew the heartbroken young man's attention away from his internal torment and pricked his curiosity just enough that he looked down to see what it was. His eyes widened slightly as he recognized the same little yellow duck he'd seen earlier floating in the water in front of him. "You…," he murmured quietly before a weak self-deprecating laugh slipped out of him, "You're seeing me in a pretty disgraceful state here…" The little duck fluttered out of the water and onto the ground before him. It let out a soft, sympathetic sounding quack as it looked up at him with tears, of all things, welling up in its bright blue eyes. A weak smile crossed Fakir's face as he murmured, "Are you crying for my sake?" If so he was deeply touched by the little bird's concern. It was nice that someone cared enough to cry for his sake.
Fakir wondered if maybe, just maybe, this little duck would be willing to tolerate being held. The dark-haired teen honestly needed the comfort, and decided to take a chance. The worst it could do was fly away. He pushed away from the tree and knelt before the small duck before picking it up and cradling it lightly against his chest. To his surprise and unspeakable relief, the little duck not only didn't struggle but cuddled up to him and leaned its head on his shoulder. A shuddering sigh escaped him as he held the duck closer. The warmth of its small, soft, feathery body was soothing as was the flutter of its little heart-beat. This small, helpless, simple creature had, in this one moment, shown him compassion when he needed it the most and he was truly grateful for the little creature. 'Perhaps it is a bit pathetic of me to feel this way,' Fakir admitted to himself as his emotions gradually settled, 'But I think I'm actually starting to see this duck as a friend. Well, so what if it is. It's not like I have that many anyways. If this duck is willing to be my friend then I am willing to return the favor.'
Eventually, the dark-haired young man calmed down and set the duck back down. He reached up to wipe away the residual tears from his eyes before he reached into his pocket to pull out Tutu's pendant. The little duck had been interested in it earlier, and it was as good a present as any. Besides, he'd like to see Princess Tutu try to get her little necklace back from a bird. Birds could fly. People couldn't. Giving the pendant to his little friend would serve his interests just as well as keeping it on his person did. With that thought in mind Fakir tossed the red-stone necklace onto the ground in front of the duck which looked up at him curiously for his actions with a soft quack. "You can have that," he told it kindly, "You wanted it, right?" He started to turn away as his thoughts drifted back towards the magical ballerina and his eyes narrowed in annoyance, 'Princess Tutu. I do not accept you.' The young knight would not let his doubts or fears get in his way. His resolve had returned after the hit it took from Charon's words, but there was one last thing he needed to try before he did anything else. 'I have to overcome my fear,' the dark-haired teen admitted as he walked away from the small pond and his new friend, 'I need to face it at least once more and push passed it if I am to continue.' That meant he had to make yet another trip to the bookstore and revisit the knight's death once more.
The old shopkeeper was reluctant to let Fakir enter the store so late at night as he had been about to close. However, the young man eventually persuaded the balding store owner to leave him in the store and lock him in. The dark-haired teen could let himself out when he was done, and re-lock the door behind him with the spare key he knew the old man kept under the welcome mat. The young knight didn't waste any time in heading up to the second floor and pulling down the book he needed. He didn't bother reading through it, but instead opened the book and flipped through it until he reached the page immediately before the one with the panel depicting the death of the knight. "Don't be afraid," he told himself quietly, "Turn this page with your own hand."
He gripped the corner of the page, hesitated for a moment as his breath caught in his throat, and then…turned it over. The second Fakir's eyes landed on the picture, though, his fear returned with a vengeance and a frightened gasp escaped him as his eyes widened. He could see it happening in his head! His own body being rent in two by the raven's claws as one last agonized scream escaped him… Desperately, he struggled to fight his fear back down as he squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth tightly. "I…I…I will not succumb to such a miserable fate," he hissed as he opened his eyes once more, "I will change it. I'll change my fate and Mytho's as well!" He had made up his mind. Whether the story continued or not no longer mattered. He would not accept his fate passively, but fight to change it till the bitter end. 'Besides,' he admitted reluctantly, 'I doubt events can be stopped any longer. Fighting is all I can do now one way or the other.'
The young knight left the bookstore and made his way back to Charon's. He had to try at least once more to obtain a weapon as he couldn't exactly fight without one. Even if it wasn't the Lohengrin Sword he needed a blade. However, when he opened the door to the forge in the back of the shop he was surprised to find the smith in a much different mood. One far more like the man he remembered from his childhood. "I've been waiting for you, Fakir," the old smith greeted calmly without turning around. A soft noise of surprise escaped the dark-haired teen as he realized his father had laid out the Lohengrin Sword on the table with a black outfit folded underneath it. "Do what you must, and have no regrets," the older man told him firmly as he turned to meet his gaze. "Charon…," Fakir murmured quietly in confusion as he watched the man who raised him stand and walk over.
He took a single step forward before he was suddenly drawn into a tight embrace by his father figure. "My son…," Charon murmured fondly as he hugged the young man he had raised. A soft smile spread across the young knight's face as he realized that whatever had changed the man to make him so bitter had finally left him. He had his father back and he slowly raised his own arms to return the embrace. "I missed this," the green-eyed teen whispered, "I missed you." "I missed you too," the smith admitted, "But I was so paralyzed by regret and indecision I lashed out when you did not deserve it." "Believe me," the dark-haired young man's grin turned slightly bitter, "I know what that's like. It's a miserable existence."
Charon released his son and led him over to the table where he indicated the clothes, "I bought these for you a while ago, yet I was afraid to give them to you. Some part of me always knew you would become the Prince's knight even though I denied it as hard as I could." "These are…," Fakir murmured quietly as he lifted the shirt free. "Clothes I felt suited the knight you were becoming," the smith clarified, "They should be loose enough for you to fight in without restricting your movements. There are leather pads sewn into the shoulders, chest, elbows, and knees so the whole set can function as rudimentary armor." "Perfect," the young knight nodded with a satisfied grin, "That'll be extremely useful. Thank you, Charon." "Just promise me one thing," the older man asked with a worried frown. "Name it," the dark-haired young man replied as he reached out to pick up the pants as well. "Don't get yourself killed," Charon pleaded.
"I don't intend to," Fakir reassured the smith with a soft smile before he frowned seriously, "I'm going to fight to change my fate and Mytho's as well. I'll find a way. I won't let anyone die." The smith smiled proudly at the young man he'd raised, "You really have become strong, Fakir." The young knight's eyes widened as a surprised gasp slipped out of him before his smile returned. He could not even begin to describe how good it felt to hear his father figure say that. However, he couldn't afford to linger and he swiftly gathered up the rest of the outfit Charon had bought for him and the sword. "I have to leave. I'll have to take Parsival if I'm to make it to the church in time as it is," he admitted, "I'll come back to visit you some other time, all right?" "I'd like that," the old smith smiled before giving his son a serious look, "Now go. Mytho needs you, right?" Fakir nodded back firmly and hurried out the door. He had a wedding to crash.
Fakir changed into his new clothes in the stable before saddling up Parsival and leading him outside. The last thing he did before mounting the docile gelding was fasten the sheathe of the Lohengrin Sword to his belt. That completed, he swung himself up onto his horse's back and signaled him into a canter. The faithful equine responded with a will and together they raced through the dark streets for the church. It was just after midnight when he finally arrived, but he did not stop as he and his mount approached the doors. Instead he leaned forward and encouraged the gelding onwards. Parsival trusted his rider implicitly and charged straight for the solid oak doors. Moments before they'd crash into them, the young knight signaled his horse to jump and the equine obeyed instantly. His mount crashed into the doors and threw them wide open.
The horse walked steadily forwards upon landing on the floor inside as the young knight swept his gaze over the scene he'd burst into. Tutu was there, much to his surprise, and trapped within a cage of what looked like black vines. Yet he dismissed her presence as his attention focused on Kraehe dancing with a clearly unwilling Mytho. His eyes narrowed as he shouted, "Stand down, you filthy raven!" The prince's eyes were wide in surprise as he looked upon his friend, "Fakir…" He looked like a knight… The black-clad ballerina smirked up at him mockingly, "The incompetent fool finally shows up!" Fakir smoothly drew the Lohengrin Sword free of its sheathe as he leapt down from his mount's back. "I won't allow you to get near Mytho," he snarled as he charged towards the Raven Princess. He thrust his blade forward with every intent to run her through, but she did something he did not expect from her. She spun Mytho into the path of his blade as a human shield.
The young knight gasped in surprise and immediately lowered his sword before it could pierce his friend's back. Yet at the same time a horrified scream sounded from where Tutu was trapped, "Kraehe, stop!" Unexpectedly, the Raven Princess responded to the scream and loosened her hold on Mytho with a pained look. The prince couldn't help but notice and looked up at her curiously as he asked, "What's wrong? What is causing you pain?" Kraehe did not respond, but instead vanished once more into her black whirlwind. Fakir slowly walked forward to stand next to his prince with a concerned frown as the raven's vanished. At least the other teen seemed to be unhurt. That was a relief. However, there was still Princess Tutu to be considered and the young knight turned to look back at her. The light glinted off of the pendant around her neck and he felt a twinge of concern for his avian friend. 'She has…the stone back…,' he wondered, 'How did…? Doesn't matter.' "What are you doing," the dark-haired young man challenged harshly, "Hurry up and get out of here! Or do you want to settle this here and now?" To his surprise the white-clad ballerina smiled back at him gently as she stated, "I don't wish to fight you." His eyes widened in amazement at that. He could have sworn she hated him, yet she only smiled kindly at him as she curtsied, turned, and ran out of the church.
Fakir shook his head as he returned his sword to its sheathe and turned to look at Mytho. "Kraehe didn't hurt you, did she," he asked. The prince shook his head, "No, I'm fine." The young knight relaxed slightly, "Good. I know it's inconvenient, but I need to stop by Charon's to get Parsival settled for the night and retrieve my uniform before we head back to the dorms." "I don't mind," the white-haired teen smiled, "I haven't seen Charon in a while. I'd like the chance to say 'hi'." The dark-haired young man led his friend over to his where his horse was patiently waiting and helped him climb up before mounting up himself. "Hang on," the taller teen directed his friend before he wheeled his horse around and gave a flick of the reins as he clicked his tongue. The equine immediately sprung into a brisk walk before accelerating to a canter on that signal and raced back towards his stable. Mytho held on as he considered his friend thoughtfully.
"You seem different," the golden-eyed young man observed when they were almost back. "How so," Fakir inquired distractedly. He was paying more attention to guiding Parsival than anything right then. "You're happier," the prince concluded. "Is that so," the young knight mused thoughtfully, "I guess I am. A little at least." "I'm glad," the white-haired teen smiled, "I like it better when you're happy. It makes me feel happy too." The dark-haired young man blinked in surprise at that, but didn't respond as they had just arrived at his home. The two teens dismounted and the shorter of the two followed his friend as he led his mount back into the stable. He watched curiously as his taller friend removed the gelding's tack and rubbed him down before giving him some hay with a fond pat on the neck. "I didn't know you liked animals," Mytho admitted. "To be fair I never really demonstrated it," the green-eyed young man shrugged as he pulled down his uniform, "So you had no way of knowing." He then gave his friend an annoyed look before stating flatly, "I'd rather you not watch me change, so if you could just turn around?" "Okay," the other teen agreed before turning away.
Fakir swiftly got changed back into his uniform and stashed his knight outfit on a nearby shelf with his new sword before walking over and patting his friend lightly on the shoulder. "We can go now," he informed the other calmly. Charon, unfortunately for Mytho, had already turned in for the night while Kraehe was being dealt with. The two young men made their way back across town to the dorms in companionable silence. However, the entire way the prince kept giving his taller friend puzzled looks as though he kept being reminded of something yet wasn't entirely sure what that something was. It was a bit irritating, but the taller young man wasn't in the mood to call attention to his friend's strange behavior. The dark-haired teen was slightly ahead when they made it back to the dorms and opened the gate for his prince to walk through as he stood off to the side. When the golden-eyed teen gave him a curious look, Fakir merely rolled his eyes and gestured for the shorter young man to go ahead of him. Mytho smiled and nodded before walking through with the young knight following behind.
However, as he turned to close the gate behind him he noticed a familiar light-red cowlick sticking up from behind the low hedges next to the walkway. He sighed in annoyance as he looked down and saw Ahiru on the ground crawling along slowly. He closed his eyes in exasperation before he snapped, "Hey!" The red-head gasped and looked up at him sheepishly, "Eep…" "Don't give me that," he countered coldly as he opened his eyes, "What are you doing out this late?" The duck-like girl started to babble, "What am I doing? There's only one thing that I could be doing here this late. That." "That," Fakir repeated in confusion. What the hell was that supposed to mean? "Yes, that! Well, see you," the blue-eyed girl replied before she shot to her feet and absolutely failed in her attempt at the world's most nonchalant walk.
"Hey," The dark haired teen demanded, "What do you mean by 'that'?" Yet before he could question her further his eyes caught the gleam of a familiar red stone resting on her chest. "What," he breathed in disbelief as his eyes widened. 'It couldn't be,' his thoughts raced, 'There's no way it could be her, but… Damn it, there is no mistaking that stone!' "Wait," he called out as Ahiru walked away and she hesitated for a split second. "That pendant…," he started to ask but she immediately raced away the second the words left his mouth. "Good night," she yelled back as she fled. Fakir was absolutely stunned as he stared after her. The last person he expected to be the magical ballerina was that red-head. Yet here was no denying it. Ahiru, of all people, was… "Princess Tutu," he breathed in disbelief.
A/N: And that is chapter ten done. In case you haven't already worked it out, yes I am working off of the translated version of the original Japanese dialogue. Specifically two of them: a fan-sub I found and liked, and my new copy of the DVDs that I got for Christmas with the official translation. Sometimes I go with one version, sometimes I go with the other, and sometimes I patch them together. I also have a Japanese/English dictionary that I use as a reference, so every time I come across a section that doesn't look right I check it. Which means sometimes I don't use either version and make my own translation; that's why the dialogue doesn't always match up, but I'm not going to apologize for it. This would be boring for you all to read if everything matched up perfectly. This chapter was fun. It was very fun. Then next chapter will also be fun. I am also realizing, the more that I write, that I am sticking in a lot of friendship fluff between Fakir and Mytho. I like friendship fluff. I like the friendship between those two characters about as much as I like the pairing of Fakir and Ahiru. Which is saying something. So you can expect more of this as I try to squeeze as much in as I can before season 2 hits… which is when the plot says I have to stop. But that's okay because then I get to enjoy Fakir's misery and write it! Yay for canon character torture! Even if it is all emotional it is still torture. No wonder he keeps trying to kill me… I am pure evil to this guy… Meh. It's how I show affection. I'm messed up like that. See you all next time. Present day edit: Removed the bit about Emotionless!Mytho not getting the whole thing where birds can fly while he can't thing. It didn't make sense to bring that up this late in the story. Also fixed an error I could have sworn I'd corrected the first time I edited this…apparently I just made the same mistake twice. Stupid 'q' key…