At long last, after what seemed to be a week of merrymaking crammed all into one day, Prince Siegfried's Festival was nearly over. The parade through the streets, the crowning glory of which had been Rue and Mytho's smiles. The grand feast which had been paradise for Duck's eyes and stomach. And now, it was time for the one event to top them all:
The royal ball.
Fakir stood at the far east wall of the enormous ballroom, watching the other people in the room make conversation with each other in small groups. He held a glass in one hand filled with champagne; in the other was a small sandwich.
"Fakir!"
He jumped as Duck appeared at his elbow. She was dressed in a simple, pale green gown; her long hair tumbled down her back in waves, loosed from its customary braid.
"I finally found you, Fakir! I had a hard time getting away from those ladies-in-waiting; they wanted to do all this weird stuff to my hair, pile it up on top of my head and everything. I mean, look at me, do I look like the kind of person who could pull that off? I think that with all those hairpins stuck in, I'd look less like a lady and more like a pincushion."
Fakir looked at her, and kept looking, saying nothing. Duck started to fidget under his gaze.
"Uh… Oh! Is that sandwich for me? Thanks, you shouldn't have!" With one motion, she swiped the sandwich out of his hand and crammed it into her mouth.
That seemed to snap Fakir out of his daze. "Hey! Idiot, show some manners here at least; people are staring!"
She gulped down the sandwich and glowered back at him. "Well, that's something, hearing you talking about manners."
"Me? I—"
"Fakir, Duck." It was Mytho, his eyebrows slightly furrowed. "I'm sorry, Rue told me about how you don't like the spotlight, but… My advisors are getting very insistent that the Storyteller and Princess Tutu share the first dance together, since you two didn't want to have the positions of honor at the parade or feast."
Duck swallowed again. "Me, dance? Here? Now?"
"I'm sorry, Duck. It's just that my people have waited so long for my return, and—"
She felt a hand envelop hers; looking around, she saw that it was Fakir's. "We'll do it."
"We will?" She squeaked.
Fakir frowned at her. "Didn't you go to a dance school? Weren't you training and hoping for a chance to perform like this?"
"Well, yes, but I'm so out of practice… I haven't danced in weeks…"
He gripped her hand more firmly. "Just follow my lead. Mytho, could the music…?"
At a look from the prince, one of the footmen went scurrying to where the orchestra played a soft, lilting piece. A few moments later, the music gracefully died away. Mytho took Duck's other hand and led her and Fakir to the middle of the dance floor; people either bowed or curtsied as they passed.
At the center of the floor, Mytho turned to face the crowd. "My people," he spoke up in a clear, calm voice, "Princess Tutu and Fakir the Storyteller, as the heroes who restored my heart, will honor us with the first dance of the evening."
He drew away, nodding at the conductor, who turned and struck up the orchestra in the beginning of a waltz.
"Here we go," Fakir murmured to Duck, placing one hand on her waist, the other still holding her own hand. "Remember, just follow my lead. If it helps, there are no other people here. It's just us. Just a dance with the two of us."
And they were off.
Thanks to their training in dance, Fakir and Duck proved to be excellent representatives of the prince for the first dance of the ball. Duck tried to keep looking into Fakir's eyes, tried not to think of all those other eyes on her. But it was hard; not the fact that everyone was looking at her. No, that wasn't the biggest issue anymore.
Fakir… he was gazing back at her so intently that, if she didn't know better, Duck would have thought that he had stage fright, too. But since that couldn't possibly be the case… What was the reason for that look on his face?
Duck could feel her own face flushing, and desperately hoped that others would chalk her cheeks' redness up to the warmth in the room, or nervousness from being the guest of honor, or…
Why wouldn't Fakir look at anything else? And… was it just her, or did he just pull her closer to him?
"Ready?" He murmured almost in her ear.
Before she could reply, he had lifted her above his head. She raised her arms to the ceiling as he spun around once before lowering her to recline gracefully on the floor. The waltz drew to a close as he knelt beside her, leaning over her so that their faces were nearly touching.
Silence reigned in the ballroom as Fakir and Duck remained in their last positions. Then applause erupted.
"Bravo! Bravo!"
"That was beautiful!"
"Marvelous!"
"As expected from the two who saved Prince Siegfried's heart!"
Fakir rose slowly; Duck sprang up a little too quickly, nearly knocking foreheads with him. He said nothing, but bowed to her.
He's still staring at me! Duck thought as she forced a smile and curtsied in return. But the show wasn't over just yet, as Fakir demonstrated by taking her arm in his and escorting her off the dance floor.
When they had left the floor, Duck snatched her arm out of Fakir's as if it were on fire. "Uh, say, it's really warm in here, isn't it? It's warm, right? I think I'm going to go get some air on the balcony. Okay? Be right back!"
As swiftly as she departed (tripping once over her skirts, Fakir noticed), Mytho was there.
"Can we talk?"
Fakir groaned inwardly; considering the path their previous conversation in town had taken, he was not exactly looking forward to this one.
"What is it, Mytho?"
"About Duck. You haven't told her yet, have you?"
Silence.
"I see. I would have thought you'd told her by the way you were looking at her throughout your dance."
Fakir's eyes widened. "I was…?"
"Staring like a love-struck loon," Rue quipped as she came up to stand next to Mytho.
Fakir shook his head, a hand over his eyes. "I really...? I didn't think, I just…" He let out a sigh, lowering his hand to his side. "She just looks so beautiful." His words were barely audible, but his friends heard and smiled.
"Then tell her," Rue said.
Mytho added on his own encouragement as his friend glared at his betrothed. "Tell her, Fakir. Is it really fair to keep your feelings from her when she's done so much for you already?"
"She's done…?"
Mytho sighed and shook his head. "She's softened your heart, for one. She's helped you find a place where you feel you belong, for another. Fakir, you are my closest friend in the world. You were even when I didn't really know what a friend was. But you only ever tried for me, I see that now. Fakir... it's obvious to anyone who knows you that you love Duck. Why not try for her like you once tried for me?"
The dark-haired young man lowered his eyes, not able to conceal his slight flush. Without a word, he turned and strode out of the room, head bowed.
Rue and Mytho watched him go. Taking Mytho's arm, Rue said, "He was always like that, wasn't he? Running away even from what's important to him… I used to despise him for it, but now I feel kind of sorry for him."
"You can't blame him for being afraid of rejection, Rue."
She sighed and leaned her head on his shoulder. "No. I know how he feels, all too well. And when it comes to Duck… I don't know if she's even thought about that possibility. She doesn't know how special she's become to us, does she?"
Mytho laughed, a little wryly. "Well, it's not really like her to stop and think about herself."
"No, it's not, is it?" Rue joined in with a laugh of her own, looking out to where her friend stood on the balcony. "She always thinks about others first… Well, that doesn't mean we can't think about her and her happiness, anyway."
"What are you planning, Rue?" Mytho looked down at her, smiling. Her lips curved up in reply.
"Nothing much. Just a little push, is all."
It wasn't long until Fakir found himself in the gardens below the grand ballroom. He finally let himself take a deep breath, feeling the cool evening air flood his lungs.
"Tell her?" He murmured to himself. Closing his eyes, he shook his head. What he and Duck had now—living together, she accompanying him in her bird form everywhere he went, listening and quacking encouragingly when he read her his stories—was incredibly precious to him.
He put a hand to his chest; it made his heart ache to think of changing that, of leaving those days behind. But… maybe Rue and Mytho were right. Could he be happy leaving things the way they were? Duck not knowing what was in his heart, and he unsure of what lay within hers?
He lifted his hand from his heart to gaze at his fingertips. No, he knew all too well who Duck dreamed about. It was Mytho. Not Fakir the Storyteller, but Prince Siegfried, his best friend. The friend he had tried to protect, and then free. The only one he'd thought about, before Duck came along and gradually turned his world upside down.
Looking back up, he saw that he was gazing at a statue of none other than Princess Tutu. It was small, but of undeniable craftsmanship; the centerpiece of a fountain. Fakir couldn't help letting out a heavy sigh as he continued looking at its features. There was her angelic smile that was so cute even when turned down into a frown. Cold, hard marble could do no justice to the true, brilliant blue of her eyes. But even so, the craftsman had caught the slight wave in her thick, soft hair, and the graceful tilt of her head and one hand that was uplifted as if to touch the stars.
"Fakir?"
The statue was so lifelike, he swore he could even hear it speak his name…
"Fakir, hey! Are you okay?"
Flinching, he turned to see the real Duck staring at him quizzically.
"Duck? What are you… It's nothing, I'm fine. I thought you were getting some air."
She began walking towards him, the hem of her gown trailing slightly on the ground behind her. "Well, I was, but then Rue came along and said that you looked tired after that dance of ours. So I got you some water!" She held it out to him with a grin. "Boy, Fakir, you must be even more out of practice than me if you got tired from that!"
"Uh, yeah. Maybe." Internally, he cursed Rue for meddling.
Duck's head tilted to the side. "Huh? Is something wrong, Fakir?"
"What? No, I told you I'm okay."
Still, she continued to look at him worriedly before finally shrugging; he could read in her eyes that she didn't believe him. "Well, if you say so."
Fakir knew as well as she that he would normally react to her teasing, most likely with a returning jibe of his own. Right now, though, he wasn't himself and he knew it. Trying to clear his head, he reached out to take the glass of water she held out to him; as his hand closed around the glass, his fingers happened to brush her own.
Duck turned pink.
Fakir's hand jerked as he saw her blush, dropping the glass.
"Oh, no!" Duck cried out, falling to her knees to try and pick up the shards on the ground.
"Duck, wait, you'll cut yourself!"
"OW!"
Too late.
Fakir sighed as he knelt in front of her. "Honestly, you're such a clutz sometimes."
Before Duck could stop him, he'd ripped a piece of cloth from his silk jabot and begun to wrap it around her finger.
"Fakir, I'm fine! Your outfit…"
"Hold still, idiot, I'm trying to tie this." After doing so, however, he didn't let go of her hand, but continued to look at it as if it held the answer to living.
She began to fidget. "Uhh…"
He finally let out a sigh; she caught her breath as he raised his gaze to meet hers. "Duck, I…"
"Yes?" She yelped.
Ack! Duck, you sound like an idiot! Even more like a clutz than normal! Aaagh! Wait, what do I care if Fakir thinks I'm a clutz? He already thinks I am…
"…You look really nice in that dress."
Argh, Fakir you idiot! Now's the perfect time, right? You're alone with Duck. You're holding her hand. Were Rue and Mytho right? Should I just tell her? Now?
Duck looked away, flushing, an awkward grin on her face. "Oh, uh, thanks."
He shook his head hard. "No, that's not what I meant to say… I mean, you do look nice. You look beautiful. It's just…"
Silence fell. Duck began to squirm slightly once more.
He's still holding my hand! And… wait, he's looking at me like that again?
"Duck, I didn't turn you back into a girl just for the festival and ceremony."
She blinked. "Huh? What do you mean, Fakir?"
"Didn't I say that I would stay by your side forever? I meant it, and I'll mean it even if you go back to being a duck. But… I miss you." He continued looking into her eyes even as he slowly flushed red. "I miss hearing your voice, seeing your smile. We can always be together, and that's how I want it. But it's not the same."
Duck's eyes widened. "F-Fakir?"
"When you're a duck, I can speak to you. But not like this. I know you so well by now that I can almost tell what you're thinking with just a look. But it's not enough…"
His gaze softened somewhat; leaning towards her, he gently pulled her into his embrace. She was so surprised that she didn't make a sound.
"I've held you in my arms so many times as a duck, but only a few times as a girl. And Duck… none of those times were like right now."
Fakir's arms tightened around her, just enough to drive the point home.
"I love you, Duck." His breath was soft against her ear. "I know you love Mytho, but… I need to know. Have you ever thought that you could love me, too?"