After class, the girls went to the locker room to change back into their uniforms. Clara was lost in thought, nervous about going to apologize to Theta. Rose, clearly noticing her friend's distraction, leaned down and waved her hand in front of Clara's face.
"Clara? You all right?"
Clara looked up at her anxiously as she pulled her hair out of the bun. "Do you think it's weird to suddenly show up?"
"Show up?" Rose echoed.
"I want to apologize to Theta for this morning," Clara explained. "I feel really bad about getting him hurt, but I don't want him to think I'm weird."
Amy put an arm around her shoulders and said, quite cheerfully, "Don't worry! Even if he does think you're weird, I'll comfort you!"
Clara pushed Amy's arm away, frowning, and bent to put on her shoes. "That doesn't help, Amy."
"I think you should go," Rose told her. "I mean, what's the worst that could happen?"
"Yeah, you're right," Clara agreed. She finished putting on her shoes and stood, straightening her back. "Well, I'm off. I'll see you guys later."
"Good luck, Clara!" her friends chorused.
Clara walked with a confidence she didn't quite feel as she headed for the boys' dormitory. She approached the large set of wooden doors, and though they looked identical to the ones at the entrance of the girls' dormitory, they somehow seemed far more intimidating.
Come on, Clara, you can do this, she told herself, standing in front of the door and staring at the doorknob. Technically she wasn't supposed to go in at all, but if it was just to apologize…
"Would you mind getting out of the middle of the road?" came a voice from behind her, and she spun around, eyes narrowed. Galen stood there, arms crossed, a scowl on his sharp face.
"Oh, um… Is Theta here?" Clara questioned.
Galen sighed, walking past her. "Why?"
"I wanted to apologize for getting him hurt," she explained quickly, hurrying after him.
He opened a door and stepped inside. "There's no need," he said, and though the words should have been kind, the older boy delivered them scathingly, his voice coated in ice.
"Is he okay, though?" she persisted, anxious.
Galen rolled his eyes. "He's fine. It's not serious," he said shortly.
"Are you like this to everyone you talk to?"
"Go home." And with that, he shut the heavy wooden door in her face.
She stood there for a moment, lips parted slightly in an expression of indignation. Realizing this, she shut her mouth with an audible click, whirling around and stalking down the pathway. "Who does he think he is?" she muttered angrily. Oh, she hated him right then, she absolutely hated him!
Galen entered the room he shared with Theta to see the floppy-haired boy sitting by the window, green eyes staring blankly out through the glass. "Theta, I told you to stay in bed," he said, exasperated.
Theta turned those empty eyes on Galen, blinking. "Sorry," he said.
"Does your foot hurt?" Galen asked coldly.
Theta shook his head. "Not really."
Galen ran his long fingers through his thick brown hair, closing his eyes for a moment and sighing. "So, how did that even happen? That girl said something about you trying to help her."
"She tripped, and I was just…"
"Listen to me." Galen leaned down toward Theta, making sure his roommate held his gaze. "Don't do pointless things like trying to play hero and save stupid, clumsy girls anymore. You don't need to do anything except what I tell you. Okay?"
"Okay," Theta replied. "I will do as you say, Galen."
Galen sighed again, straightening. "Good," he said, almost as if to himself. "As it should be."
That evening, Clara sat at the window in her little dorm room, hands on her chin as she stared out at the darkening town. In the courtyard between the boys' and girls' buildings, there was a fountain with a large sculpture of two people dancing on it, a male figure holding up a female one by the waist. Dreamily, Clara imagined that the figures might be her and Theta.
She hadn't ended up being able to apologize to Theta for his injury, since he hadn't returned to class. Her mind returned to that moment when he'd saved her, when she'd gotten to look into his beautiful, lonely hazel eyes closely for the first time. There had to be some reason why he seemed so sad, even when he was around other people. If only I could do something to help him…
For a split second, Clara thought she heard an echo, or maybe a memory, of a man's sadistically gleeful laughter. She frowned, snapping out of her daydream. Where had that come from? Was it just her imagination? She listened closely –– no, there it was again, definitely real this time.
Looking out the window again, she noticed that the moon seemed much brighter, casting long, black shadows across the pale stones. Something seemed very wrong, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it.
She saw a figure, standing by the fountain, a man's figure swinging by a chain; no, he wasn't by the fountain, he was by the pathway to the boy's dormitory; or was he in the middle of the courtyard? Her eyes kept slipping away from him, almost like she didn't want to see him there, or maybe it was that he didn't want to be seen.
The uneasy feeling grew, until Clara could stand it no longer. She climbed off the window seat in a hurry, bare feet padding softly on the wood floors as she practically ran down the stairs and out to the fountain.
"Hello?" she called quietly as she halted beside the fountain, her breath coming in little gasps. Again, she felt that there was something strange going on, something she should know but couldn't pinpoint. "Is there somebody here?"
The man was nowhere to be seen, but once again she might have heard the echo of laughter.
A cloud drifted over the moon, softening the bright light and blurring the edges of the shadows, and Clara jumped as the loud, rushing-water sound of the fountain startled her out of her thoughts.
It wasn't until later, as she lay awake in bed, that she realized what had been wrong. Before the cloud had drifted in front of the moon, before she had been jolted back to reality, the water in the fountain had been absolutely still.
Somewhere far away, a man sat in a world that was seemingly made of hundreds of turning, clinking gears, and laughed as he watched the little girl walk back to her room.
"The water has begun to flow. The time has begun to pass. Now, tell me a story…"
The next morning, Galen commanded Theta to stay in bed to rest. "Well, I'm off to class," he announced, books tucked under one arm. "On my way back, I'll stop by the library for you, Theta."
"Thank you, Galen."
"Don't give me cause to worry," Galen added, trying to sound light as he left the room.
Once Galen had gone, Theta slid out from under the covers, walking with a slight limp over to the window. He looked down at the students streaming through the courtyard on their way to the academy and, seeing Galen among those students, headed back to bed.
Outside, Clara stood at the end of the pathway to the girls' dormitory, looking up at Theta's window. "Okay," she said aloud, taking a deep breath.
"What's okay?" Rose asked, materializing on Clara's left.
Amy appeared on her right, eyes twinkling mischievously as she laid a hand on Clara's shoulder. "You're going to do something, aren't you? I can tell."
"Nothing really," Clara said quickly, hoping she wasn't blushing.
Rose leaned in to whisper conspiratorially in the shorter girl's ear. "Are you, by any chance, going to try to sneak in and see Theta?"
Amy grinned wider. "And if things go well, strike up a friendship?" she added excitedly.
"Yes, but… I hadn't thought that far yet," Clara admitted, sure she was blushing now.
"Don't worry, you'll do fine," Rose said cheerfully. "We'll find a way to cover you being late, okay?"
Clara nodded, grateful she had such good friends. "Thank you."
"I wonder if it'll work out for her," Rose mused as she and Amy headed toward the academy.
"Oh, she'll be fine," Amy replied optimistically.
Clara swallowed hard, looking up at the window. I have to do it for real this time, she told herself, determined to succeed. I can do it. There's nothing to be nervous about. Just go in and apologize. If I hurry, I might even not be late for school. This thought encouraged her, and she took a step toward the door.
A flash of yellow near the window caught her eye, and she looked to see a row of small birds –– canaries, maybe –– perched on the edge of the gutter. The biggest of the birds spread its wings and took flight, and the little ones watched intently. Clara realized that the smaller birds must be chicks, leaving the nest for the first time. Aware that she was stalling, she watched as one, then two of the chicks flapped their shaky little wings and became airborne.
One chick, though, seemed reluctant to fly, tottering on the edge of the gutter. Clara frowned, knowing it wouldn't be able to remain there for long without falling, and silently hoped that it would gain the courage to fly.
Then Theta's window opened. Clara's eyes flitted over to the window to see Theta himself standing there, clad in a half-unbuttoned white shirt and baggy grey sweatpants. To her horror, the boy climbed onto the windowsill and stood, leaning half-out of the window with his eyes fixed on the little chick that still refused to fly.
"Be careful!" she found herself crying out, but Theta didn't seem to hear her.
Out of nowhere, a massive black raven came, swooping with talons outstretched at the mother canary. When the yellow bird darted away, the crow turned to the little chick, seeking to snatch it away.
The chick fell, and Theta leaned out, reaching, his long-fingered hands cupping around the little bird. Even as he himself began to plummet toward the ground, he held the chick to his heart, protecting it from harm as much as he could.
"No!" Clara shrieked, and with that one yell time seemed to slow down. She was running, running, and Theta was falling toward the cobblestone ground, and he was going to ––
Oh, my, what have we here? The prince is going to die.
It was a man's voice, one Clara almost recognized, a voice she must have heard in her dreams. She didn't hear it aloud, either; it was solely in her head. She didn't have time to worry about going crazy now, though. There were far more pressing matters at hand.
"Prince?" Did he mean Theta?
The hero meets his death, the voice continued, sounding positively gleeful about that fact.
"Death?! No!"
What's going to happen to him? the man asked. Is he going to make it? Is someone going to save him? Please, Clara, you have to tell me what happens in this story.
Who, indeed, would save him? Clara desperately wanted to save him herself. She couldn't just let Theta die!
Do you care for him, little duck? He sounded amused, as if it were funny that a mere bird might love a prince. Do you want to be of help to the poor young prince?
"Of course!"
Are you saying that you're going to tell me this story? Very well… The red pendant around Clara's neck caught the sunlight, gleaming and glittering.
That's right! Clara felt like she had been electrified.
Now do you remember who you are, Princess Oswin?
As the man's words echoed in her head, Clara knew something was changing. Her hair lifted off her neck, twisting into a bun at the back of her head. She felt a light weight settle on the top of her head. A crown, surely. Her standard school uniform was replaced by a full-skirted red tutu with off-the-shoulder, elbow-length sleeves and a dark maroon ribbon tied around her waist, white tights, and red pointe shoes. Her simple red pendant became more elaborate, three smaller red stones in the middle of a pair of pale blue fluttering wings. She also felt taller, more confident, and now instead of simply running it was like she danced toward the still-falling Theta.
Princess Oswin –– for that was who she was now –– took an enormous leap off the ground, gliding toward Theta and crying, "My prince, quickly, take my hand!"
Theta looked up at her, looking almost surprised at her sudden appearance. He reached out one hand to her, keeping his other carefully cupped around the small bird. Their hands fit together perfectly.
Oswin carefully landed, and Theta landed safely beside her. She turned to him with a brilliant smile, and he responded by holding out his free hand. There the chick sat, unharmed. It spread its little wings and shakily took flight, and Oswin's eyes followed it.
"I saved you," she murmured after a moment, turning back to the boy who still held her hand lightly. "I saved you, Theta."
He tilted his head slightly, regarding her. "How do you know my name? And who are you?"
"I am…" She trailed off, suddenly unsure.
Well now, it looks as if you don't know who you are, doesn't it, little duck? Yes, that's right, you are a duck… the voice in her head sneered mockingly.
"Quack!" she burst out, then slapped her hands over her mouth, horrified. Theta looked at her, seeming only vaguely confused as her face burned red with embarrassment.
And what was happening to her body? She felt like something was changing, something drastic and awful, and she turned without another thought and ran as fast as she could run in toe shoes. Away from the prince, away from the dorms, she seemed practically to fly as she ran out to the woods by the lake.
Oswin's form shrank, her clothes disappearing entirely even as yellow feathers sprouted to replace them. Her arms changed to wings, her toes to webbed feet.
I am a duck, she thought miserably, stumbling forward and falling ungracefully. The red pendant around her neck slipped off, landing in the grass beside her. As she lay there, she realized that the shock of the day, of her body changing not once, but twice, and of being able to save Theta had exhausted her. Tired eyes slipping closed, the little duck succumbed to sleep.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Hello! Just wanted to give a quick thanks to june reader for following this story and tell you that, if you hadn't guessed yet, Theta is Eleven and Galen is Ten.
But who is Drosselmeyer?
That, my lovely readers, will all be revealed in time.
Later!
-Han