A/N: And now it is time for what is effectively a transition/ interlude chapter. As I mentioned last time none of the events I am about to write took place in the show. They are purely the products of my imagination. I hope I can make it fit seamlessly into the rest of the sequence of events. I want it to feel natural. Like it could have been in the show, but was cut for time…or something. Things to be covered include getting Fakir back to the dorms, how Ahiru is able to ask Fakir about his injuries without making Mytho curious about how she knows that since only Tutu was there, when Fakir asked Charon to try to salvage something of Edel by making her remains into a new puppet, and Fakir finally telling Mytho why he had a problem with the prince getting his heart back. Nothing as intense as last chapter, really. Just little things that I either wondered about in the show and wanted to cover, or things I hinted at earlier that need to be resolved so it isn't a dangling plot thread. On the one hand I hate them because it is sloppy writing…on the other I love them because plot threads inspire me to write fanfic. Hooray for ambivalence. Let's get started then.

Disclaimer: I don't own Princess Tutu. I wish I did, but I have no money to buy it with. I am an unemployed 31 year old college student. Broke or almost broke is my natural state of being.

Chapter 14: Aftermath

The fire in the middle of the square was dying down by the time Mytho and Ahiru finished their pas de deux. Fakir sighed tiredly – and coughed when the action aggravated his water-logged lungs – as his two friends relaxed from the final pose of the dance. He stifled it as much as he could, but they still noticed and both headed over. "Fakir," the prince knelt by his injured friend, "You don't sound like you're doing too well." The wounded knight gave the other young man an annoyed look as he continued to cough before swallowing hard as some of the water still in his lungs came up. "It's nothing serious," he finally rasped, "My lungs are just a bit irritated." The red-haired ballerina's eyes widened and she gave the bloodied young man a worried look, "You were unconscious when you hit the water, weren't you?" Fakir looked away before he nodded shortly in response, but remained silent. Mytho frowned anxiously, "You were drowning." The injured young knight winced, but nodded a second time before he replied softly, "I was." The two uninjured teens shared a concerned look before they returned their focus to the battered teen. Ahiru suddenly knelt down and pressed her head up against the dark-haired young man's chest which, naturally, freaked him out a bit.

"W-what are you doing, moron," Fakir stammered as he leaned away. "Listening for water in your lungs," Ahiru replied before leaning in a second time. This time the wounded young man held still, though his face started to flush faintly. "How do you even know what to listen for," he asked quietly. "I don't really," the girl replied as she pulled back, "But I do know what breathing is supposed to sound like. Yours is a bit wheezy." The young knight gave a shallow sigh before he reluctantly admitted, "It's a little difficult to breathe right now. Water in my lungs would explain that." Mytho gave his friend a worried look, "Then why aren't you coughing more?" "Because I don't want to start bleeding again," Fakir replied tiredly, "Once I've bandaged all these damned cuts I'll stop suppressing my need to cough. Which means we should probably start heading back soon." The abdominal wound had stopped oozing blood mid-way through their dance, but he knew it could easily start again if he wasn't careful. The injured teen was almost certain that the walk back to the dorms would be enough to rip it open. However, there was no way he was going to accept being carried back or anything. That would just be humiliating. He was simply going to have to hope he could make it back without passing out on the way. Ahiru frowned uneasily but said nothing as Mytho helped the weakened knight to his feet. "Thank you again for saving me, Tutu," the prince offered, "Will you walk back with us?"

Ahiru hesitated as she gave Fakir an uncertain look. The wounded knight flicked his head to the side slightly indicating she should go on ahead and drop Tutu's transformation. She could meet up with them again at the dorms and pretend she had been waiting there the entire time. Hopefully, she could come up with a half decent excuse to explain why she was waiting. The red-haired ballerina nodded slightly with a faint smile before returning her attention to the prince and curtsied as she replied, "I'm afraid I can't. There is somewhere else I must be. I'll see you again sometime, my prince. Sir Fakir." The injured young man rolled his eyes slightly at the title, but bid her a polite farewell…much to Mytho's surprise, "Till then, Tutu. Take care." The blue-eyed ballerina beamed broadly at the young knight before she ran off into the mist. Fakir did his best to ignore the white-haired teen's startled stare as he sheathed his sword before giving his friend a look, "Let's go, Mytho." "Ah, right," the golden-eyed young man blinked and reached out to grab the taller teen's arm to help him walk. However, the injured youth pulled his arm away, "I can make it back on my own. I only passed out because I was tired." That wasn't entirely true. It had been a mix of exhaustion and losing a lot of blood in a very short period of time. But the wounded young man figured the other teen didn't need to know that. Besides, he was fairly sure he could make it back to the dorms without too much trouble. The two teens walked away from the dying embers of the fire and into the night.

Fakir was starting to realize he may have under-estimated just how badly injured he was. The two young men were almost back to the dorms, and the wounded teen was not doing very well. His vision kept going out of focus and was starting to go dark at the edges. He felt extremely light-headed, and to say that moving hurt was an understatement. Every step sent a jolt of agony shooting through his cut and battered body. Much as he'd suspected, the gash across his abdomen had started bleeding again shortly after they started walking and had not stopped once. It was all he could do to keep moving and remain conscious. The dark-haired teen was not willing to show just how much he was suffering, though. His pride wouldn't allow it. The only sign his friend had that he was having trouble was that he stumbled every so often and that he kept one hand firmly pressed against his stomach. Yet Fakir couldn't quite hold back the relieved sigh that escaped him as the gates finally faded into view. Mytho glanced worriedly at his injured friend, but didn't say anything. He may not have known exactly how bad his knight's condition was, but he did have a feeling that the last thing the taller teen needed was to waste energy on talking. Soon enough a familiar diminutive figure also came into view standing just inside the gates. 'Ahiru,' the wounded knight thought hazily as he recognized her silhouette, 'She made it back…'

"Ah," Ahiru called out shortly after the injured knight identified her, "Mytho! Fakir! You're safe! I was so worried!" "Ahiru," Mytho called back as he walked quickly over to the diminutive ballerina, "What are you doing out so late?" Fakir prayed fervently that the girl would have a believable excuse ready, and he was not disappointed. "Eh? Um… You didn't come back to the dorms after I saw you the other day," the red-head explained shyly, "I was worried and talked Fakir into letting me help look for you the next morning. We searched together for a while, but then he suggested we split up to cover more ground all of a sudden. He ran off before I could ask why. I tried searching on my own for a while, but when the sun started going down I came back here. Only neither of you were back yet, so I got even more worried… I went up to my room to grab my first-aid kit just in case either of you were hurt when you got back, and came back down to wait. I've been here ever since…" The prince smiled kindly at the blue-eyed girl, "I see. Thank you." The wounded young man smirked weakly as Ahiru blushed and stammered, "E-eh?! For what?!" "For caring," the white-haired young man explained, "And trying to help. You're a good friend." The girl blushed even more and it occurred to Fakir that she was really cute when she was embarrassed. Then again, she was always cute…regardless of her current shape. He could admit that now. As he drew near, the red-haired ballerina looked over at him and her eyes widened in horror as she noticed just how much worse he looked. He was almost as pale as he had been when he was freezing to death and visibly trembling with exhaustion.

"Fakir," the red-head inquired hesitantly. "Mm," Fakir responded faintly. "Are you all right," Ahiru asked with a worried frown. The injured knight had just opened his mouth to reply when his body suddenly gave out. He'd pushed himself too far. Instead of telling the girl he was fine as he had intended, a weak moan slipped out as his eyes fell shut and he started to collapse. Mytho's eyes widened in horror as his best friend's knees buckled and immediately moved to catch the wounded teen. "Fakir," the two uninjured teens cried out worriedly, but they got no response. The dark-haired young man had completely passed out and hung limply from his friend's arms. The only sign that he was even still alive was his shallow, raspy breathing. The prince carefully lowered them both to the ground and rested his injured knight's head against his shoulder as he shared a frightened look with Ahiru. "Fakir," the white-haired young man pleaded, "Hang on!" The red head knelt next to them and immediately started checking him for injuries. She gasped in horror as she uncovered the massive gash across his stomach and saw just how much blood was soaked into the fabric that had been concealing it…and that it was still bleeding sluggishly. "Mytho," she murmured insistently, "We need to get him inside. I can't treat his injuries out here." Mytho nodded as he paled slightly at the sight of the blood covering the diminutive ballerina's hands from just a brief search. Clearly, Fakir had been far more badly injured than he had let on.

The two uninjured teens carefully snuck into the boys' dorm and up to the young men's room with Mytho cradling his unconscious friend close to his chest. He was deeply worried for the injured teen was far too pale for his liking. The second Ahiru opened the door the white haired teen hurried over to Fakir's bed and gently laid his friend's battered body on the mattress. He was surprised when the diminutive ballerina pushed him to the side, set her first aid kid down next to the comatose young man, and started pulling off the tattered remains of his shirt to get at the injuries it covered. As the fabric came away both teens gasped and paled at just how many wounds covered their friend's torso. However, the red-haired girl did not hesitate and immediately set about cleaning and bandaging every last one of them. The blue-eyed ballerina was inwardly freaking out at the prospect that the taciturn young man might actually die just when they'd finally started getting along. She liked the real Fakir. He was a nice person once you got past his prickly exterior. She didn't want him to die!

Mytho was also freaking out, but mostly because he felt horribly guilty for the condition his best friend was in. The second he and Tutu had found the young knight lying unconscious he had been taken aback by the strong surge of relief he'd felt upon finding he was still alive. He'd been puzzling over that reaction for most of the walk back until it occurred to him that the other teen was like a brother to him. The dark-haired young man had always been there; had sworn an oath to protect him as his knight when he was but a child. He remembered that and the fierce devotion in the face of the boy his friend had once been. 'Fakir,' the prince realized with a twinge of pain, 'Is my dearest friend, and the truest and most loyal knight I could have ever asked for. And he may now be dying before my very eyes…because of me… Please, don't die! I can't lose you too!' He vaguely remembered losing someone he had been just as close to once before. It had hurt terribly. He didn't think he could bear to lose Fakir as he had this mysterious individual from his barely-recalled past. No. He knew he couldn't bear it.

Finally, Ahiru finished bandaging the wounded knight's injuries and heaved a heavy sigh. Fakir hadn't stirred once the entire time. Even when she had been working on the massive gut wound he didn't react in the slightest, and she had pressed down hard to get the bleeding to stop. That should have at least gotten a moan or a twitch, but he had remained completely unresponsive. Yet, in spite of that worrying fact, he hadn't grown any paler and his breathing had remained steady. "Will he be okay," Mytho asked as the red-head started packing away her kit. "I think so," she replied uncertainly, "I'm more used to treating injured birds, but he should be fine. You'll need to change his bandages every so often though and check to be sure none of his injuries get infected." The prince shot a look of mixed gratitude and admiration at the blue-eyed girl which made her blush furiously as she stammered, "W-What?! What is it?!" "I can never thank you enough for this," he told her earnestly, "I don't know anything about treating injuries or the like. At least, I don't recall knowing such things. It seems my memory has more holes in it than I realized" "Eh," Ahiru blinked in shock, "You mean like amnesia?" The white-haired teen shrugged, "Quite possibly. I remember some things, but most of what I do recall only seems to highlight that there is even more missing." The diminutive ballerina hesitated and almost asked him what he remembered, but decided against it. It would be rude to pry. "Well," she smiled shyly as she stood up, "I hope you get the rest of your memories back soon!" "So do I," Mytho smiled back. The red-head blushed again before stammering, "U-Um, I should…um…get back to my room! Class tomorrow! Bye!" She then bolted before the startled prince could even react.

After Ahiru left, Mytho set about removing the rest of the injured teen's tattered clothing and replaced them with his sleeping shorts. The shirt he left off for fear of disturbing the bandages. He then pulled the sheets up to his friend's chest before settling himself on his own bed…and watched. Mytho spent the entire night watching his unconscious friend. As he focused on the slow rise and fall of the dark-haired young man's chest he reflected on everything that had happened. He could feel so much more now than he could before, and those feelings painted his memories in a very different light. He had finally realized just how seriously Fakir took his oath, and it worried him. The white-haired teen didn't remember much about his past, but he did vaguely recall that knights typically led hard lives. As he reflected on his memories, he realized that his best friend was no exception. Between the nightmares, constant worry, stress headaches, and now nearly dying…the young man had clearly been suffering for a long time. It made the prince feel guilty for the pain he'd caused his friend. Mytho sighed sadly as he realized he had taken his knight's devotion for granted. 'Never again,' he vowed firmly, 'I will never let Fakir suffer for my sake ever again!' It was his turn to watch over the young man who had given so much over the years to protect him.

Fakir didn't stir until late the following afternoon. Mytho had not left the room that entire time. The injured knight winced and groaned faintly as his awareness returned. "Fakir," the prince called softly as his friend's eyes slowly fluttered open, "How are you feeling?" Pain dulled green-eyes drifted over to the shorter teen and blinked slowly before their owner replied in a faint, hoarse whisper, "Sore….and tired." The weakened young man then coughed harshly as the water lingering in his lungs reminded him it was there. His white-haired friend rushed forward and helped the dark-haired teen roll over onto his side to make it easier for him to clear his lungs. Eventually the coughing fit ended and the wounded young knight swallowed hard with a pained wince. "Did you get it all out," the golden-eyed young man asked concernedly. Fakir nodded weakly before another faint groan slipped free. Mytho frowned in concern at how lethargic his friend was.

The taller young man had always been an active, intense, and fiercely independent person. Seeing him so weak and vulnerable…felt wrong. "Do you need me to get you anything," the prince asked softly. Fakir started to shake his head before he froze, and then murmured faintly, "Charon… I need to talk to him…" "Will you be fine on your own if I go look for him" the golden-eyed teen checked uneasily. "Yes," the dark-haired knight sighed before shooting the shorter young man a weak smile, "Shouldn't worry so much… That's my job…" The prince blinked in surprise as he realized the injured teen was making a joke at his own expense in an attempt to get him to relax. He never knew his friend had a sense of humor. Still, if he was able to tell jokes he should be fine on his own for a little while. "Okay," Mytho nodded, "I'll be back soon." He then left to fetch the smith.

The injured knight watched his friend leave before sighing tiredly and closing his eyes. He felt terrible. Hitting the water as hard as he had the other night had given him a nasty collection of bruises on top of all the cuts and gashes, so he really was sore. His back was one solid mass of ache. His lungs were also not happy from being water-logged for so long and Fakir was praying that he wouldn't get sick on top of everything else. Of course the universe hated him, so he wasn't getting his hopes up. A raging chest cold or something would just be par for the course. Saving Ahiru had definitely been worth it, though, and she had saved the prince on his behalf once he'd broken Kraehe's hold over her. The only thing he might have regretted was not charging for the Raven Princess the second he had cut down the last of her warriors. Maybe he could have made it to the island before she changed the lake surface back into water if he had. Then again, this was a maybe. It's possible the outcome would have been the same regardless which made regret somewhat pointless.

Fakir cracked his eyes back open and focused on the bandages around his forearms as he continued to reflect. Honestly, if he regretted anything it was that Edel had sacrificed her life to save his. Her advice had been helpful though he had not thought so at the time. It was only once he'd come to accept everything Ahiru was that he truly appreciated the puppet's words. She had been right all along and he wished he could have thanked her. Plus her death had clearly been devastating for the red-haired girl. He flinched as he recalled the ballerina's tears over the puppet woman's fate. It had hurt him to see the blue-eyed girl in pain, and he decided he would do what he could to make it up to her. That's why he wanted to talk to Charon. Hopefully, the man would be able to fulfill his request. An idea had occurred to the injured teen while on the way back to the dorms, but he'd passed out before he could do anything with it. It was a bit of a longshot as Fakir wasn't entirely sure the smith would be able to do what he had in mind, but he owed it to both Ahiru and Edel to try.

The wounded young man had dropped off into a light doze after a while, and startled awake when the door suddenly opened. "Fakir," Charon cried out in concern as he rushed to his son's bedside, "Are you all right?! What happened to you?!" "Charon," the young knight greeted with a slight wince as he rolled onto his back, "Calm down… I'm fine." Mytho shook his head as he shut the door behind him after walking in, "You most certainly are not 'fine'. You've been unconscious for over twelve hours and were completely unresponsive that entire time." "I'm not dead," Fakir clarified with a tired glare at his friend, "Or dying. I've been better…but I'll heal." "That still doesn't tell me what happened," the smith pointed out as he started to relax a bit. "The Raven's avatar…doesn't believe in…fair fights," the wounded knight replied softly, "She launched a…sneak attack after I…defeated her minions. I survived, but…" The young man trailed off as he looked down at the bandages covering his wounds and sighed softly without continuing further. The outcome was pretty obvious. Charon frowned, "I see. I take it the Raven wants you dead then." "Yes," the young knight murmured before smirking weakly, "I keep getting in her way." Mytho and the teen's parental figure both sighed in exasperation at how the dark-haired young man clearly took pride in that.

Mytho then turned to look at his friend, "I'm going to go grab us some food. Do you want anything in particular?" Fakir blinked in surprise then shook his head slightly, "Not really." The prince nodded and left leaving the young man and his father figure behind. "Feels weird being the…one looked after," the wounded knight admitted quietly. "I'm not surprised," Charon chuckled, "Considering you've been the one looking after him for so many years." The man then gave his son an inquisitive look as he continued, "So what is it you wanted to talk to me about? I imagine telling me about your injuries wasn't it." "It wasn't," the green-eyed teen confirmed before he looked down and away slightly, "I need your help…with something." "What is it," the smith inquired gently. The young knight sighed before he started to tell his adoptive father about Edel, the advice she had given him the past few months, and her death while doing his best to leave out just how close he had come to actually dying. He didn't want the man to worry. It took a while because talking strained his lungs. He had to stop for coughing fits and wait to catch his breath after they ended.

Finally, Fakir got to his actual request, "I want to give her a…second chance at life…so I was wondering if you…could use the unburned wood…to make her a new body." "I'm not much of a wood-carver," Charon pointed out, "You realize that even if I make a puppet out of the wood that it may not even animate. Let alone carry Edel's spirit if it does." "I know," the young man admitted, "It might not even work, but…" "I'm willing to try," the smith assured his son, "It'll be an interesting challenge either way. So the wood is in the main square, correct?" "Yes," the dark-haired teen nodded, "If no one's moved it." "I'll swing by on my way back home," the older man promised. Fakir smiled weakly in thanks before yawning. He was still very tired. "Get some rest," Charon told his son gently. The young knight nodded and allowed his eyes to fall shut as he drifted off once more. The smith kept watch as the injured teen caught up on some much needed sleep until Mytho returned, and then left to carry out the young man's request. He grabbed the Lohengrin Sword from where it rested against the wounded teen's bed as well. Swords weren't allowed on campus, after all, and the last thing the older man wanted was for his son to get in trouble for having a forbidden weapon in his room.

Fakir spent most of the next four days asleep and only awoke long enough to eat the food his friend brought back before dropping back off. Mytho realized his injured friend needed the rest, but the more time that passed the more he impatient he felt. He'd realized he really needed to talk to the taller teen. Eventually, though, the dark-haired young man recovered enough to remain awake long enough to have a decent conversation. "We need to talk," the prince stated flatly after his knight finished eating. "About what," the malachite-eyed youth asked as he leaned back into his pillows. "I almost lost you," the white-haired teen frowned. "Come again," the young knight blinked in confusion. "You nearly died, Fakir," the golden-eyed teen's voice shook as he elaborated, "I have never seen you look so weak and broken before, and it scared me. I can't lose you! Please promise me you won't ever put yourself at risk that way again!" Fakir's expression softened before a sorrowful one spread across his face as he realized he wouldn't be able to do as his friend asked. "I can't promise that," he admitted regretfully, "My oath requires that I put my life on the line for your sake sometimes. It's a consequence of being a knight and one I've come to accept." "Why," Mytho demanded desperately as tears beaded in the corner of his eyes, "Why do you have to sacrifice yourself for me?!"

"Because I swore to protect you at all costs," the injured young man replied solemnly, "Even if it cost me my life I will do what I must to keep you safe. Because I am your knight, my prince, and I am also your friend. Fealty binds me to keep my word, and so do my feelings of friendship. I would rather die than see you or anyone else I care for suffer. Because this is the life I chose." "Are you saying you want to die," the prince nearly panicked. "Hardly," the green-eyed youth scoffed, "I'd rather live, but I am willing to risk death if it becomes necessary." "Fakir," the white-haired young man murmured sadly before he shook his head in amazement, "You are more of a knight than I am a prince… I only recall bits and pieces of who I was before…" The young knight blinked in surprise at his friend's words. He hadn't realized his memories were being restored along with his heart. "What have you remembered so far," he asked curiously. "Feelings mostly," Mytho replied sheepishly, "Impressions. About the only concrete memories I've gotten back are of locations. I vaguely recall individuals I had known, but I don't remember what they looked like or their names. Just how I felt about them." Fakir hummed thoughtfully, "I suppose it's better than nothing at all." "Yeah," the prince frowned uneasily, "Only…"

"What's wrong," Fakir shot his friend a concerned look. "Some of the impressions I'm getting," the other teen admitted slowly, "Feel really bad. Something terrible happened in my past. A lot of terrible somethings. I want to remember what they were, but at the same time I don't. Does that make sense?" "In a way it does," the knight replied thoughtfully, "Our past shapes who we are. Nobody wants to remember the bad things, but they are still important. Are you afraid to remember what you have forgotten?" "Not really," Mytho smiled softly, "I want to know who I was. Both the good and bad parts. I just feel a little anxious is all." "That's normal," the malachite-eyed teen assured his friend, "Besides you aren't the only one with holes in your memory." The golden-eyed young man gave his wounded friend a startled look, "What?!" "There are parts of my childhood from before I met you that are completely blank," Fakir explained as he lightly tapped the side of his head, "No impressions. Nothing. The memories simply aren't there. I don't know why I don't remember, and I don't really feel a need to find out. They'll either come back eventually or they won't. I'm not going to waste the effort fretting over it." "But you just said feeling anxiety was normal," the prince pointed out with a puzzled frown. "Normal for other people," the knight confessed awkwardly, "I worry more over you than I ever have over myself."

Mytho frowned at this admission, "That's not healthy." "I know," the wounded young man replied with a resigned smile, "But I've been like this for years now. Choosing to set my own needs aside is one of the few decisions I've made in my life that I feel no regret for." "You regret your decisions," the prince asked curiously. "Some of them," Fakir admitted, "The ones that never felt right to begin with certainly." "Like what," the white-haired teen inquired. "Allowing Rue near you in the first place, locking you in that closet, leaving you in the mill alone the day Kraehe first appeared," the young knight ticked off on his fingers one by one then hesitated on the last one before softly confessing, "Interfering in the return of your heart shards for as long as I did…" The golden-eyed gaped at his friend, "You…want me to get my heart back now?"

"I do," the dark-haired youth nodded firmly, "At this point it's safer if your heart is returned and the Raven defeated once and for all than it is for your heart to remain incomplete." "Why were you so against it in the first place," Mytho frowned. "I did promise to tell you at some point," Fakir mused, "May as well be now. I guess I should start by saying that I really did believe it was the safest option for all of us. Your heart's restoration carries heavy consequences, and I didn't feel I could handle them on my own." "I'm listening," the prince stated as he leaned forward and rested his arms on his knees with a look of eager curiosity. The injured knight laughed softly at his friend's enthusiasm before his expression turned serious, "First off, I've known since the day I met you who you were and what you had sacrificed to seal away the Monster Raven. When you both came to Goldkrone, and you were unable to defeat it, you took out your heart and shattered it to seal the Raven away. The shards of your heart are what are keeping the seal intact, and if your heart should return to you in full that seal will break and the Raven will be completely unleashed."

"I thought Kraehe was the Raven reborn," Mytho pointed out. "In a sense, she is," Fakir explained, "She inherited the Raven's power and some of its will, but I don't think she was faking her feelings for you before she awakened. From what the story described, the original Monster Raven loathed you and wanted to devour your heart. Kraehe, on the other hand, seems to actually care about you, but her ways of showing it are twisted. Her powers would indicate that she is still connected to the Raven in some way, but is not a direct reincarnation as I had originally feared. Anyways, the Raven's release was only part of the problem." "What was the other part," the prince asked. "Parts," the young knight clarified before he continued, "One of the others was the consequences that you would face as a result. You'd be forced to fight and suffer again if the Raven was released. I treasured your innocence and peaceful existence so much that I wasn't willing to see you lose it. Being emotionless meant you were free of the negative emotions along with the positive ones. I had figured keeping you free of misery was worth sacrificing your ability to be happy as well. Next there was the potential threat posed to the citizens of Goldkrone. If you were unable to defeat the Raven, and it killed you before you could seal it away again, then they would be at the Raven's mercy. And mercy is foreign concept to the creature according to the original story. I've had recurring nightmares of such outcomes for years…" "But you wouldn't let the Raven kill me," the white-haired teen protested, "I know you!"

"And so we come to the final part," Fakir sighed, "My fate, according to the story, is to perish in a futile attempt to defeat the Raven before it goes on to challenge you. If I fight it I could die and I basically grew up being terrified of that happening. Needless to say, I've had nightmares about that as well." The prince stared at his friend in shocked horror, "You're going to die?!" "Not if I can help it," the young knight smirked, "So far I've managed to avoid dying the way the story entails. I'm sure you remember what happened to the knight from all times I've read it to you over the years." Mytho nodded silently with a ill look on his face, "I'm starting to wish I didn't…" The dark-haired teen's smirk turned bitter, "You and me both. It wasn't the thought of my death that scared me, though… It was failing to protect you. I felt the best way to keep you safe and avoid the risk of failure was if the Raven's seal was never broken. To that end, I would do whatever it took to prevent your heart from being restored because, so long as you remained heartless, all of us would remain safe. If your heart hadn't started to return, the story would have remained stalled and we would have all lived out our lives in peace. That's how I used to see it, at least. I realize now that it was extremely unfair of me to expect you to live out the rest of your days as a hollow shell. Besides, you haven't aged a day since you lost your heart, so you might have ended up spending the rest of eternity that way. It wasn't fair to you. You deserve the chance to be happy the same as anyone else, and I would be a lousy friend if I continued to deny you that chance just because I was afraid."

"That's…far too much for anyone to handle on their own! Why did you take all of this responsibility on yourself," Mytho asked. "Up until recently, I was the only one to know anything about this whole mess we're in and also be willing to do something about it," Fakir sighed tiredly, "Rue knew, but had her own ambitions. Tutu was oblivious and only recently learned the basics of what we're up against. Thankfully, even that little bit is enough for me to be willing to accept her assistance in some matters." "I thought you hated Tutu," the prince frowned in confusion. "I resented her for starting the story up again," the young knight clarified, "I never actually hated her." "But you said you were willing to raise your sword against her," the white-haired youth pointed out. "Because I wasn't sure I could trust her," the taller teen explained, "If she became a threat to your safety my oath would demand I act to stop her before you were hurt. I didn't want to harm her, and I still don't. Yet if I have no other choice I will. She understands that about me. Working together to save you did a lot to help us learn to trust each other." "So you trust her now," Mytho asked. "Enough to consider her a firm ally," Fakir nodded. He wasn't about to tell his prince that he actually considered the girl to be his friend. That would be far harder to explain without skirting dangerously close to revealing Ahiru's secret. He wasn't risking that.

Mytho shook his head in disbelief, "I can't believe you've been keeping all of that to yourself for so long." "If there's one thing I'm good at its keeping secrets," Fakir quipped dryly. He then yawned and rubbed his eyes. "Do you need to sleep some more," the prince inquired concernedly. "Probably," the young knight admitted, "It's not just the blood loss I'm recovering from. I've been extremely sleep deprived these past few weeks, and my body is apparently taking this chance to catch up on what it lost." "Just how little sleep have you been getting," the shorter teen demanded worriedly. His taller friend hesitated a few moments as he calculated before slowly admitting, "The week we were at the mill I was lucky to get 3 hours per night if I slept at all. The night Kraehe first appeared I didn't sleep at all and I wasn't able to sleep the following night because of guilt. I slept pretty well the night after that, but the one following I may as well have been awake all night for all the rest I got out of it. Damned nightmares… The next night was another peaceful one, but it still wasn't enough to compensate for all the sleep I'd lost up till then. Finally, you had been abducted the night after that, so I didn't really get any sleep with all the searching I was doing. I…wasn't doing very well even before I was injured." Mytho frowned and pointed at his friend, "Sleep. Now. That's an order." Fakir laughed softly as he slid down under his covers and readjusted his pillows, "As you command, my prince. I hear and obey." The prince gave his friend a look before rolling his eyes in exasperated amusement. The dark-haired teen's sense of humor was an odd one, but it was a welcome change of attitude as far as the shorter young man was concerned. It was nice to see his friend lighten up a bit.

Fakir's recovery was steady over the rest of the week. When he wasn't sleeping or chatting with Mytho, he was doing his best to finish the rest of the paper he had been assigned. The white haired young man had managed to gain his injured friend an extension on the assignment after explaining to Mr. Katze how the taller young man had collapsed from exhaustion and been very ill the past few days. It wasn't a complete lie as exhaustion had been part of the reason, and he had been very weak from blood-loss which sort of counted as being ill. The prince had refused to lie flat out, so the young knight had been forced to come up with the excuse they had gone with. Still, it had worked. His absence from class had been fully excused and he had just enough time to finish that blasted assignment. The second it was finished, and he'd edited it to his satisfaction, the dark-haired teen handed the paper off to his friend to be turned in. The two young men's friendship had grown much stronger since the taller of the two had been injured. Mytho had learned a great deal about his best friend from their conversations. Fakir had held very little back. About the only thing he hadn't spoken of was his newfound friendship with Ahiru and how it connected to his changed perspective on Tutu. It had been a good week…pity the peaceful times were not to last…

A/N: And that is the interlude chapter done. I did give a little character development for Mytho even though this fic isn't from his point-of-view. There is a reason for that. Basically, it's a teaser. I am thinking about doing multiple versions of this perspective shift format. Meaning I am considering writing another version of the story from Rue's perspective, and yet another from Mytho's. Let me know if you'd be interested in reading either. Now before I leave you I want you to consider the things Fakir told Mytho. Now I want you to think about all the things the Raven Prince says to Fakir in the coming episodes. You can just see the daggers being thrown at the poor guy's weak points, can't you? These next chapters are going to suck for Fakir. Not because he gets injured again, but because his best friend is about to effectively betray him. Not by choice, of course. Yet…it is still going to hurt. A lot. Poor Fakir. Well, I will see you all next chapter. We get back to canon then! Later all! Present day edit: …Well, I clearly did a good job on this chapter first time around. I only had to fix one thing. Nice!