Disclaimer: I don't own Princess Tutu. If I did, I would have made season 3. And I also don't own the name Chan'gagriel, which I got them, 'kay? Understandwas a name I borrowed from a computer game. :) I loved that game. All the moles and witches and stickmen I can coo at, be scared the hell out of at, and laugh as I roll my eyes at.
-X-
Royal Affairs
Alma's Theme
The knight strode through the vast hallway, passing portraits of former rulers and pillars along the way to his Majesty's chamber. He passed the former king's portrait, a tall man with a broad jaw and donned in his royal robes of royal red and purple, named King Luke IV. As the previous ruler before the golden-eyed prince, his reign over the kingdom brought prosperity that had not been seen since the War of Chan'gagriel, a disagreement among several neighboring kingdoms in a fight for territorial rights on the same continent. The war had lasted for 15 years, and ended 8 years ago. When the war had been worn and no kingdom made victorious, many cities caught in the tide of the raging battles were nearly destroyed, and it took another 4 years for the townspeople to help rebuild them, but miraculously, Golden Crown continued to stand firmly on its foundation without a scratch on any of its walls. By this time, Luke IV came to the throne after the king of Golden Crown, Kaiser the Valiant, perished as he surrendered to his wounds in the war he came to cooperate with, and the man promised to reestablish Golden Crown's economy and help in the repairs in any way he could for the sake of those who never wished for another war to rise.
A man of his word, King Luke IV established trade routes towards the kingdoms he'd managed to make alliances with, making contributions to the cities who were still undergoing repairs, and offered at least three quarters of his land to his allies. Earning respect from so many and from so far, King Luke IV became known as Luke of the Westlands, and reigned for over 3 years until he contracted a heart disease and died, leaving behind his young nephew and the prince of Golden Crown. Mythos.
King. the knight thought to himself.
That was what the prince would be soon. It was almost time for him to become prime ruler over Golden Crown, and the beginning of his soon-to-be-prosperous reign.
And everyone was already making way for the event.
Over a week had passed already, and the entire kingdom was hustling and bustling in preparations for the annual royal ball that the castle was holding, inviting many and other royal figures from the other kingdoms. The castle cooks had been running around in the kitchens, testing and experimenting on new dishes they've concocted, and rejecting or throwing out the ones that had turned a nasty color or developed a foul smell. The royal servants did their best to make the chambers and corridors as clean as possible, dusting every corner, every curtain, and every piece of furniture down till beneath the carpet, scrubbing at even the tiniest speck. The guards doubled their shifts on watch and guarded the areas carefully, making sure no outsider had a chance to get into the castle without permission. This was under the knight Fakir's orders. Tightening security was a must, to him at least. What with such an event taking place, so many of the people getting caught up in the preparations and important visitors coming from distant foreign lands, it was only wise to tighten security measures and keep a lookout for any suspicious activity. After all, this wasn't just any annual royal ball. This was a gala in celebration of the crowning of the soon-to-be King Mythos, which was only a few weeks away. What if a spy from an enemy kingdom was sent in to assassinate the young prince, and he opted to poison his drink during dinner, or drug him and kidnap him, bringing His Majesty back to the other kingdom and hold him for ransom, or worse, kill him?
No way in the Tundra Bay was Fakir letting that happen. Not as long as he, head knight to Prince Mythos, was there to protect and serve the prince, the last living member of the royal family, and the only hope of Golden Crown.
But the knight couldn't help but feel proud for the young prince too, earning the great crown hereditably as a true member of the royal family. Mythos was fully ready to become a monarch, and Fakir would see to it that he would become one.
But not before a few words with him.
At last, the knight reached the tall, double oak doors, and pushed them open to meet a scene.
"Your Highness! I must insist that you wear silver on your ball robes!" squeaked a little old woman as she dangled a measuring tape in front of her, looking up to the beautiful face of the prince, who at the moment, seemed perturbed by the woman's persistence in flashy robe colors.
"No, really. I don't want—" he began.
The old woman tapped her foot impatiently on the ground. "Nonsense! It just won't do for His Majesty to look so drab in the ball! What would the people think if you'd come looking like an undignified landlord? Take my word for it; you'll be wanting your robes to shine once our neighbors from the other kingdoms see you."
As the young snow-haired prince tried to give reason while avoiding a debate with his royal tailor, Fakir watched all this impassively, as if he didn't care whether or not Mythos' robes should be made out of swan feathers. Neither of the two seemed to have noticed him enter, so he sighed to himself and wandered off to a corner to sit down, waiting quite patiently for the old woman to be done and leave, taking her 3'2 inches elsewhere.
"But I—" was all the helpless Mythos could muster before he was cut off yet again.
"Your Majesty, it truly shocks me to think that you are refusing this grand offer." the old woman shook her head as she said this. "No nobleman or lord has ever received such trifle from me, and that was only because all of them, and I do mean all of them, had all the intentions to look so…outranking, so to speak." she paused to gesture to him dramatically before continuing. "But you, your Majesty, already had all the distinct qualities of a proper king since the time you were born as a prince. And I'm quite sure that your mother and father would agree with me when I say so. Being made king only helps you climb a step higher in rank, but nothing can ever change your rule or what the people of the kingdom may think of you. True that you are the rightful heir to the throne and are expected to abide by your duties as ruler, but even long before that, you've done so much for all of us; protecting the people and protecting Golden Crown. There will be nothing that would make everyone happy more than seeing you ascend to the royal throne come your crowning day. That is why, your well-deserved luxury and comfort in the ball," the old woman bowed low in a curtsey to him, "is what we all want to guarantee. What I want to guarantee. So I shall take none of your humility. The prince and soon-to-be-king's robes shall be made in the way I envision them."
The young prince watched silently as the old woman turned on her heel and headed for the chamber doors, knowing well that it was futile to try and argue with her again; she was always one to put up a hard fight and win at the end with the last word. But he was also listening to every word of the old woman's speech, the warmth in his gentle heart now. He hadn't forgotten his parents, King Leon and the Lady Catherine. Both were endearing and precious in his development. He remembered how he'd wept that night as a child of no older than 8, when the dear departed couple fell to the plague that had spread into their kingdom, and how he'd been sent away before he, too, fell ill, only to be left in the hands of his uncle Luke IV. His days with his remaining relative were glad and happy; his uncle had loved him so dearly. And then, the man became king after the old ruler Kaiser died, and it wasn't until 4 years ago that Luke IV, having remained unmarried and heirless, left everything he had and owned to his only nephew just before his death. It was the hardest thing for the young prince to have everyone in his family leave him, leave him with nothing else but a kingdom which his uncle left to him to rule, but he knew then, ever since he'd gazed upon the hopeful and anxious faces of the people of Golden Crown, that he would do his best to keep it upright and protected by himself. If for his family he couldn't do anything, then for the kingdom of Golden Crown he would.
And by far, Prince Mythos won the hearts of all in the kingdom, won over the other kingdoms with his impressive rule, and earned a great many respectful worshippers from all over. He assumed that it may have been his good fortune to have made Golden Crown this strong and safe. Not to mention having a devoted partner by his side at every moment.
"Your Majesty."
Speaking of which. the prince thought as he turned to see his knight walk in strides across the room towards him.
"Fakir." Mythos greeted him. He didn't want to say it, but the knight's presence made him somewhat nervous. The prince had a feeling that Fakir was going to bring up a certain topic that he didn't feel like discussing at the moment, nor at any other time for the rest of the week. And he'd been avoiding it ever since he'd returned to Golden Crown, focusing more on the peril rather than the solution.
Forest-green eyes scanned the young prince's face before speaking once more. "We need to talk."
Those four words were all Mythos needed to confirm his guesses on the knight's intentions. Letting out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, he nodded once in acceptance, and said, "Perhaps we should sit down."
Algus
The pair seated themselves at a small round table, a small, white, delicate-looking vase holding an array of red and white roses sat in the middle. They sat opposite of each other so that they were face-to-face. Unease creeping in, Mythos decided that averting his gaze from the knight's would probably help stop the butterflies in his stomach. There was a pause, neither saying a word at first. Or at least, it was the knight that was pausing in what he intended to say, as he watched the prince's expression, which seemed almost worried and anxious, even concentrated with the affair. The truth was, the golden-eyed wonder was concentrating on not making eye contact with him, while staring at the little red rose bud peeking out of the small yet glorious bouquet, and he was finding it quite fascinating to look at than Fakir.
The knight finally decided to break the silence, and started quietly yet smoothly. "The entire castle staff is busy with the preparations, including my knights. Everyone in Golden Crown is looking forward to your annual ball, Your Majesty. And," he added, "royal families from all over the neighboring kingdoms are willing to come attend this grand event."
Fakir stopped to watch the prince's face, which remained indifferent since he'd spoken before continuing. "So then. It's been arranged that the dancing commences with you taking the lead. But it won't start before dinner, so His Highness has the time to make his way around with the daughters that the kings and queens have brought along, in order for you to properly meet their acquaintances."
Sharp, green eyes watched as golden ones narrowed in concentration at the rose bud, and the knight went on. "Get to know them, watch them, and listen to them. Anything they may say, do, or know might be what we're looking for. And once you find it, you will ask that princess to dance. Then we'll see for ourselves if there would be a response. And if there is, you'll know what to do."
Fakir, having finished, stared at Mythos, who still had not said a word throughout the talk. Then…
"Your Majesty."
The golden-eyed prince slowly brought his head up from his fixation on the rose to the determined, stony face of his protector and partner, who continued, "You know how important this is to us, and the kingdom. We have a lead, and we have to use it. And it's not just a warning, but also a direct order. If you back out now—"
"I run away from nothing, Fakir." Mythos finally spoke, cutting the knight's words short with his own. The prince fully met the other's somewhat surprised gaze, adding, "I know this is crucial. Crucial for the safety of everyone in Golden Crown, as well as yours and mine. But I don't want to force an innocent into getting involved with such a dangerous quest. Especially a princess. Besides that, what if she doesn't want to?"
"She can't refuse you. Not as a king." the knight answered.
"I am not yet a king, Fakir."
"You soon will be, which is all the more the reason for the princess to accept it and come with you, otherwise in the end, there will be nothing left for you to rule." the knight went on firmly, sharp, forest-green eyes looking intently into the other pair of golden ones sitting across from him. "If she is truly the one we're looking for, then she has to understand the situation and the value of her presence. She cannot be selfish, or doubtful. We need her. You need her, your Highness."
The prince listened half-heartedly to Fakir's words, worrying more for what was to come. He never wanted anyone else involved, let alone a princess. Each person's welfare was important to him, and should anything happen during that time…
"Her parents will not accept this."
"They need to know nothing." the knight replied flatly. "Not until the princess is away with you. As for everyone else at the ball, I'll make an announcement of an illness you'd suddenly come over with. And I will be the one to deliver the news to the king and queen soon after."
"But why must I sneak away with her under such pretensions during the ball and without the king and queen's permission? Granted, it could wait, Fakir. There's no need to rush into things."
The knight glowered in annoyance at the prince and his hesitance, and with an edge in his soft tones, spoke. "You cannot stall for time, Mythos. That abomination is coming this way, and we have to act quickly. You can't tell me that you're going to risk the life of the townspeople and ourselves, all for the unworthy concern of a kidnapped princess whose blood is needed."
"Kidnapped? That sounds rather harsh," said the prince in a low voice, "even though that is what we're going to do."
"Yes." Fakir nodded solemnly. "That's what we're going to do. And I know it would make a stain in your reputation. But be as it may, this has to be done, or there's no hope for any of us."
Prince Mythos looked to the floor, watching the sunbeams catch sight of the dust in the air.
So much to do, so little time. And he, the prince of Golden Crown, was going to be part of a scheme concocted not by him but by the dark-haired man sitting opposite himself. A plan that would surely upset the parents of their precious daughter. And by the time they'd found out, he and the princess would have stolen away on horseback, into the night.
Still, for once, he could get out of the castle without his protector being with him all the time. And the truth was, he could get annoyingly overprotective, thinking even the ground posed a great hazard to His Majesty.
Or else the prince was exaggerating.
Turning away from the floor to meet the knight's forest-green gaze once more, Mythos inhaled and exhaled quietly. "I can only but wait till the following night."
-X-
A/N: I don't know why, but I feel unfulfilled.