Disclaimer: Rue et al belong to the brilliant Ikuko Itoh. Some of the dialogue in Part Two is taken directly from Episode 13.

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I.

She thought he'd put up more of a fight. Pathetic, really; he'd been her enemy for so long, it had stopped occurring to her that he could be defeated. But there he was, the great knight, huddled and broken in the dust. Pathetic. So much for an "adversary."

It would have been so easy to simply leave him there, let her ravens peck at him but not do any real damage. It wasn't as if he was a real threat to her, and perhaps it was only the last traces of her weak human heritage, but she'd never liked unnecessary bloodshed. But he might become an annoyance in the future, and it was probably best to remove any obstacles, however insignificant.

And if it was easy to torment him but not truly harm him, it was even easier to relax the restraints she'd put on her ravens and let them peck harder, let them aim for the eyes, the heart, the throat. So very easy to watch as the twitching black form finally stopped twitching, and was still.

II.

"All right," Ahiru finally said. "But in exchange, once I've vanished, please don't do any more mean things to Mytho."

For an instant she was shocked, but then started to laugh. Was it really going to be that easy? "And here I was wondering what you might ask for."

"Please, Kraehe!" Was the little twit actually tearing up?

"Fine," Kraehe said and, because she couldn't quite resist a final dig, "I'll love him even more than I have in the past. So much so that he'll forget all about you."

Ahiru's sad little smile didn't even waver. "Okay." Hmph. Well, she'd be disappearing soon, and good riddance. "Mytho, I… I love you." Was it a trick of the light, or was her form growing fuzzier already? "I've wanted you to be happy since the first time I saw you. Please, after I'm gone, please smile!" She was barely more than an outline now, little more than a spot of brightness on the opposite shore. "Goodbye!" And with a final blinding smile, she was gone.

There was nothing, now, that stood between Kraehe and her prince: No black-clad nanny hovering like a disapproving storm cloud, no chirpy little duck princess who thought that she could make everything all right with a wave of her hand. Mytho was hers now, and that was all that mattered.

So what if he'd never smile at her again like he did on the night of the Fire Festival?

III.

"Stand up," she said, and he instantly obeyed.

She'd thought him passive before; now, he barely breathed without her consent. At first she'd reveled in having such complete control over him, but as the days wore on and she found herself having to command him to do every little thing, she began to loathe his utter pliancy.

It occurred to her – as so many other unpleasant thoughts were occurring to her these days – that perhaps killing Fakir had not been such a good idea after all. She'd always resented not having unrestricted access to her prince, but now she found herself longing for a return to the days when someone else had been in charge of making sure that Mytho ate, bathed, and dressed himself.

For a time, she tried to convince herself that it was all Fakir's fault for being so easy to kill, but she couldn't quite manage it. It wasn't as if he'd been trying to get himself killed, after all. And she… she'd gotten what she wanted.

Everything she wanted.

Or perhaps not everything, because Father was displeased with her. In her haste to remove her enemy, she'd forgotten that it was the shards of the prince's heart that had sealed the raven away; without a Princess Tutu to restore Mytho's heart, there was no way to unseal her father. She'd tried to restore the feeling of love herself, but had been unsuccessful. Whatever magic had been granted to Princess Tutu to find and return heart shards had not been granted to Princess Kraehe.

She'd made a mess of it. All of it. She'd won possession of the prince only to become his nursemaid rather than his princess; she'd destroyed her enemies only to find that they were more useful alive than dead; she'd tried to please Father and only found that he would have been happier if she had done nothing at all.

Better to end it now. Father might still eat her heart, but at least Mytho would be free of her idiotic selfishness.

He made no move as she put her hands on both sides of his head. Made no sound as she jerked his head sharply to one side, and waited until the lack of air did its work. He died, as ever, without protest.

IV.

The air was cold on the roof, but that was only to be expected. Stupid of her, coming out here without a jacket or even shoes.

Then again, it wasn't as if she'd be out here long. Holding up a finger, she tested the air. Calm today. Cold, with next to no wind resistance. Good.

She wondered, poised on the edge, if she would have done anything differently if she'd known what would come of her brilliant plans. Would she have turned back? Or would she still have done it simply to have those few days before reality set in, when Mytho was hers, all hers?

It doesn't matter, she thought, and jumped.