Written for twinenigma, my LJ Secret Santa recipient, who suggested a version of the "Swan Maiden" tale for a prompt, and may be getting a lot more words than expected. It's a very good prompt; see Author's Notes at the end of Chapter 8 for more information.

The tale was true long before the Kingdom existed. Fifteen years ago, the Prince returned, having defeated the Raven and won the hand of his daughter. Now the King and Queen and their family confront a far older power than Drosselmeyer's hand in their story, while others are drawn in just as unwillingly

Always a Price-ch.6

The moon on the second night saw three swans rise from the lake. Instead of flying directly for the castle atop the Swan's Rock, they stayed in the air. Circling, climbing, flying away and back; never out of sight, but a hunter might have wondered at the display.

The juvenile was obviously trying out her wings. There was no vocabulary yet, here, for the aerobatics she was attempting. Finally the black adult, tired of calling for her, caught up with her and snaked her head around, nipping hard.

The white one stayed in the air for some time after they had landed atop the tower, politely out of earshot; but obviously the younger of the two, both now human, was on the wrong end of a tongue- lashing.

"Didn't you hear either of us? It can be bad enough to fall in practice from the ground, you know that. Do you have any idea what could happen if you strain a wing and fall from hundreds of feet? We'd be scraping you off the ground! I know Duck warned you, I was listening! I know how badly you want to fly, but if this is all the sense you can show, you will not!"

With that Rue turned and went down to the room they all shared, doing nothing so cliche'd as slamming the door.

Elsa did not cry, but she knew she wouldn't be able to talk. Thank goodness Frau Schmidt was staying aloft; sympathy right now would have been unbearable– although, at a guess, Duck would ignore the incident if she could until Elsa apologized.

Which Elsa would do, as soon as she could speak, of course. The anger was nearly past. The shame and embarrassment would linger far longer. But honestly, she hadn't heard. She had been too caught up in her new dance to listen...

... which was one of the things Frau Schmidt had warned them about, that first evening.

Not even Sigmund at his bratty worst would have asked how Mother was to keep a swan on the ground. That nip had been hard. It would hurt for days, she was sure.

The light had been growing as Elsa brooded, unnoticed. Quiet noises indicated that Duck had had to land.

"Fit for society yet?" she inquired softly.

"No," said Elsa honestly. "I'm sorry, Frau Schmidt. You warned me about getting too involved in what I was doing, and I forgot. I heard you both calling, I think, but it didn't sink in."

"Well, that is why I said that," said Duck. "You don't have the strength or experience, yet, to pull the kinds of stunts you were trying. And the more you get wrapped up in these things– so to speak, I mean–" she nodded toward Elsa's swan- skin– "the less human you are. It's different from what I used to do. I can feel it."

"But you don't have one of these," said Elsa, puzzlement becoming more interesting than her shame.

"I think maybe I'm drawing on the other one, the first one you found, even at this distance. Something we learned about stories, a long time ago, is that all the miles from there to here are only the space of a few words somewhere else."

"If today's the third day, said Elsa, half to herself, "it won't matter. When the curse is broken these things will lose their power."

"We don't know what will happen to them," said Duck. "All we know so far is that whoever controls them says we have to be swans after dark, until the moon sets. Otherwise you can take them off. But now we know we're really stuck here, even as swans. I think that was maybe two miles away we were able to go, before getting turned around."

"We haven't tried to use them during daylight, not since Mother and I came here. Maybe we'd be able to go further then."

"True," said Duck. "We're waiting for tomorrow morning. Rue says the earliest your father could have gotten here was the morning you came. So the earliest he could succeed is sometime today or tonight. Sometime after tomorrow, if nothing changes, we'll have to assume he failed."

"Don't say that! Please!"

"Until we know," Duck said gently, "anything can happen, or might have already. You're old enough to know that too."

And Elsa did. It was frustrating enough to be held back from things because she wasn't old enough, and watched over while doing the things she was allowed to do; but to have failed to act her age twice in one night was intolerable, doing no more than proving the adults right.

"I'm sorry, Frau Schmidt. Please excuse me. There's something I have to do."

"What?" asked Duck automatically.

"Something I should have tried from the beginning." She escaped down the stairs.

Duck followed at her own leisure, as quietly as she could. Upon seeing what it was, she left Elsa to it.

"How is she?" asked Rue as Duck entered.

"Getting over it. I didn't let her off the hook. She apologized, of course."

"Thank you," said Rue. "Where'd she go?"

"She's trying to pick the lock on the door downstairs. I'm a little surprised she brought tools on this expedition."

"What?"

"Er. Sorry. Shouldn't have said that, I guess."

"Iron? We could have made a fire? And she never said?"

"I doubt it," replied Duck. "Fakir tried that once and had to get Charon to show him how. It really needs a different kind of rock than in here. It's a lot harder than it looks unless you know how, and I don't, just like we've been trying to rub sticks together and not getting anything."

"And the door won't open for her, of course. Something's holding us here, it won't be just by a door- latch."

There was a pause.

"Duck," said Rue, "if you were going to shut three people in a tower for days at a time, what would you leave for them to eat?"

"Well, like this? Biscuits and crackers rather than fresh bread, at least for after the first day. Root vegetables would keep for a few days. Anything pickled, dried, canned, maybe candied. Nuts, any kind of nuts. I'm making myself hungry here," stated Duck, as they picked over what overripe fruit remained. "With a fire and fresh water and something to cook in, and some spices, you could have all the porridge and beans and noodles you wanted, and stews and soups. And tea and coffee."

"And we get a carefully- rationed three days' worth of what's in season, picked four days ago and a bit bruised; bread that we had to finish yesterday; rather cheap wine which we have avoided; and water that will run out today unless we want to chance the cistern."

"We don't. Better to drink as birds from a spring."

"Whoever planned this has a lot to answer for. It's almost like we got what the work crews could spare one day, or an extra hamper tossed onto that cart we've seen. Maybe we did."

"Somehow that sounds likely. Um. Rue?"

"What?" said Rue, still depressed. She hated disciplining her daughter, who was hard enough on herself and would take that scolding to heart.

"What becomes of Elsa? I mean, here, in a fairytale Kingdom."

Rue lost interest in what she was doing entirely. She looked away.

"Traditionally, girls have a coming- of- age party, usually at sixteen," said the Queen. "After that she can attend any gathering as an adult. That's usually when the father determines her dowry. To do it the old- fashioned way, as we'll be expected to do, he'll announce at least part of the amount. It's the equivalent of the boys getting knighted after their years of training, or a first solo. Except–"

"But that's almost like putting her on an auction block!"

"Mytho and I... She doesn't know, so don't tell her, but there have already been two offers for her hand when she comes of age, from men older than Mytho or me. Needless to say, they were turned down.

"We don't know how we're going to handle it. It's not just our little girl growing up. I mean, I made my choice when I was maybe five years old– but I chose Mytho. And then Mytho chose me. But we both know that isn't what usually happens," said Rue. "Elsa seems to have chosen ballet, for the moment, like any normal girl–"

"Um..."

"Oh, all right. I know, no normal girl would want to dance at a professional level. But being a princess isn't something she wants to do full- time, as it were. It all bores her. And the way they handle marriage here– it's all about the money, and the property, and the rank, and if the girl looks good enough or has enough money and property and rank to make her look good. It's easier for the boys, of course; by the time they're interested they pretty much know who they'd like to court, or their parents still decide for them. But it's still easier for a Prince to marry below his station than for a Princess.

"It really is a fairytale place. Mytho and I just barged ahead and he got his way, of course, being the King; but there'd be no reason for a story like ours to be remembered if it wasn't unusual, just like anywhere else. We've been trying to think of how to get around it all, and at least give Elsa a choice about whether to keep dancing. We have the school, of course, but having her there years from now will smack of, well, keeping a Princess locked up in a palace. It's ironic– we can offer an education and maybe an opportunity for some independence to anyone in the realm except our own daughter."

"Ah." There was a pause.

Rue's head was propped in her hand, her eyes shut. "Wipe that grin off your face. I can hear it."

"Figured it out?"

"It's not like it hasn't been staring me in the face, is it?"

It was an exercise in frustration and patience.

It should have been simple. She should have had this door open dozens of times over. The lock wasn't even resisting her; it just refused to open. She was fairly certain there was no bar or bolt on the other side; but of course that was where the hinges were, so she couldn't even examine them. After a very short while it was just a way to pass time.

She took a break for lunch, going up the stairs to find Mother asleep. What was left of the food was enough for another meal this evening, and they had no means to preserve it even for another day. As they had been busy finding out last night– at least Mother and Frau Schmidt had found out– they could go no more than a few miles from the castle, in a circle. A dome, rather, though there would have been no escape going straight up either.

She went up to the battlement to find Frau Schmidt looking out over the lake. Just looking. What does she see, wondered the Princess, coming from a place that's in a story, thinking the same thing of here? Before she could move away though, Duck noticed her.

"It's quiet here, too quiet," she remarked. "There should be birds, and the workmen, and insects, and everything. Even more wind. Church bells– is that a monastery we could see last night?"

"An abbey. They have a really good choir and a carillon. Father says it was a wonderful way to wake up when the wind was right, hearing the early services."

Somehow none of them had ever gotten around to sorting out protocol; but if Frau Schmidt had been Princess Tutu, Elsa was fairly certain that she herself should be the one to curtsey. As it was–

"May I ask you something? Yesterday you only said that you weren't always sure that it was you who played Princess Tutu, or Princess Tutu taking you over. What happened? Why was a duck involved at all?"

They were the right questions, as it turned out. Obviously there were more things Duck wanted to say than they'd spoken of yesterday, and to Elsa, for some reason: how long it had been before she had found out why everyone shunned the role, how sympathy and curiosity had been transformed into an all- pervasive love that she had never doubted until she had had to give up the last piece of the Prince's heart, and found in the end that her feelings might not have been wholly hers; unlike Rue, who had known that much about herself all along...

And why she was unsure of what would happen, when she and Mytho should finally meet. She groped for the words.

"You see, for all these years, I've missed your mother more than I missed Mytho. I can honestly call him my friend, but beyond ballet, and what happened to us, and Fakir, what is there? We knew he belonged here. Rue was the one I worried about and wanted to talk to, and we'd barely known each other without fighting over your father for all that time. But it's your father's heart that called me here. We found out what had happened to you and Rue because of how he felt."

"Because, when you were Princess Tutu, it was you who gave it back to him," said Elsa, working it out.

"Yes," said Duck. "It's almost the last bit of her with me, I think, but still– No wonder no one wanted to play her. Princess Tutu took me over until I had thoughts and feelings that weren't all mine, no matter what form I was in, all the time, and I didn't even know she had swallowed me up like that. And even now there's the last bit that doesn't let go."

For the second time Elsa felt something. There was an unsettling feeling, as if someone had eavesdropped and heard what was wanted. Or like all the tumblers aligning and the lock finally disengaging.

They had told her what they knew of the story. The third trial had been something about being eaten...

How did a chance conversation enter into it? But Frau Schmidt was continuing.

"... and we, Fakir and I, we've always had to live with it. We kind of hope Mytho doesn't have the same thing happen to him."

"You haven't said much about him. Herr Schmidt, that is."

"Well, I have, but most of it was to your mother. I hope you meet him someday, so you can judge for yourself. I'm afraid he and Rue never really got along. They'd fight over your father, ever since they were little."

"Best enemies?"

"That's about right."

There was a pause. A rain shower was pulling cloud fluff downwards to the lake surface, miles away.

"The third trial," said Elsa. "What was it again?"

"If I'm thinking of the right story, it was being swallowed whole, but it was sort of an illusion," said Duck. "It might not be. I heard too much before I came to keep it all straight, and when I left Fakir and Autor they still hadn't quite decided which would be the right version."

"If it is," mused the Princess, "the first one was not being able to move his feet, and the second was something spitting fire at him. And all the time he can't say anything."

"Yes."

"Just like you couldn't tell him anything when you were Princess Tutu."

Duck stared at the girl. Duck herself had never been a great reader or good at classwork, but years in the company of a writer had taught her a great deal. And here she was, in the midst of a story; doing nothing for over two days, as far as she could see, other than visiting a friend and making up a number. One of the corps in a way, not a soloist. It was what she would often do in a school production, what she was used to doing now.

"I remember Rue saying that when she came here she was afraid of getting in Mytho's way, of hindering him," Duck said, just as slowly. "Where is this going?"

Elsa was thinking hard. "This castle had been a ruin for years. No one said anything about it being haunted until this tower was rebuilt. Father thought that was backwards, that it was supposed to be ruins that have ghosts. Tell me– In this version, or any of the ones like this, does it ever say how the curse starts? Who traps girls with swan skins?"

"I can't think of any except Swan Lake, and that's recent," said Duck after a moment's recollection. "They just say that the swan's form is a spell and then break it or live with it. Some of them treat it kind of like an obsession, and in one the wife keeps the skin to go visiting her sisters with, at the end."

"So why," asked Elsa fiercely, "are we thinking there's a person behind all this?"

"Come on," decided Duck. "We're getting your mother in on this."

Disclaimer: Princess Tutu and all related characters and elements are the property, copyright and trademark of HAL– GANSIS/TUTU and Ikukoh Itoh and no ownership or claim on said property, copyright or trademark is made or implied by their use in the work(s) of fan fiction presented here. This fan fiction constitutes a personal comment on the aforesaid properties pursuant to doctrines of fair use and fair comment. This fan fiction is non-commercial, not for sale or profit, and may not be sold or reproduced for commercial purposes.

Author's Notes: A few things that should probably have been mentioned before: I have Fakir using 'Schmidt' as a last name, although if his line traces back to Drosselmeyer through a direct male line (I couldn't tell for sure from the genealogical chart Autor drew) his own parents should have been named Drosselmeyer as well. Unless it was changed somewhere along the way, Fakir would surely change it himself.

A study of medieval or Renaissance literature will highlight certain differences in attitudes toward (ma-ma-Ma) Marriage and its Function in Society. I don't think the custom I've suggested is too far off, having read, f'rinstance, The Taming of the Shrew, and not just watched the Moonlighting version. And considering (say) the works of Jane Austen, and the modern "deb."

I'm not sure just what they have to eat, either. If it's too early in the summer, the apples might not be ready yet, nor the pears; strawberries, peaches, blackberries maybe, maybe some of the grapes...

Still working on some music. But Dvorak's "New world Symphony" offers some possibilities.

More detailed author's notes at the end of Chapter 8.

FFN does not allow the quotation of web addresses, but the first result of a Google search of " D. L. Ashliman swan maidens" will lead to a page with several stories, including the one from Germany used throughout this story, and several others.