The Heart of Everything. A Princess Tutu AU fic. (check out this post to learn more!)
Rating: PG-13/T
Chapter Three ~ 7113 words. [Prologue] [Chapter One] [Chapter Two]
Summary: The day of the ball, Ahiru has some interesting encounters, and prepares herself for disappointment.
The ball was tonight.
It was still early in the day, but the ballroom was already filled to the brim with the footsteps of countless servants. Men and women hurried to and fro, carrying decorations, maneuvering tables, placing plates and bowls. Some were even constructing a stand for the musicians at the front of the vast room.
It was fun to watch, Ahiru had to admit, clicking her heels together as she stood at the edge of the marble floor. Almost like she was seeing a beautiful transformation of sorts, the room becoming more and more lovely with each elegant piece added. She imagined it would look even more wonderful later that evening, when all the people and music and dancing were added to the setting.
When she would not be there.
No. She refused to wallow, to be sad over something that couldn’t be helped. She would think of something else! Anything, like the weather, or what would she would be having for lunch, or the night before --
The night before. Oh, Edel had been so upset by her sudden appearance, and she had asked to know at once just where she had been, why she hadn’t realized the time, just when she’d become so careless with her curse. Of course, Ahiru hadn’t been able to answer with anything more than a pitiful quack, but this hadn’t seemed to bother her caretaker, who’d then delved into all the colorful ways she could have been hurt, or trampled, or killed, or thrown outside, or eaten...and the list had gone on and on and on until the candle’s wax finally ran thin and Uzura was yawning every few seconds, blue eyes drooping. Still, the little girl had demanded that “ducky Ahiru-zura” sleep with her and the rest of her toys -- and so “ducky Ahiru-zura” had, uncomfortably pressed between a sharp-edged drum and a handful of wooden figurines.
It hadn’t been the best of evenings, that was for sure.
A woman hurried past, startling Ahiru. A long gown, red with gathered strands of lace around the skirt, was clutched in her arms, and she hurried towards the nearest exit after a breathless moment, seeming in an obvious hurry. Probably sent out to fetch something to wear for one of the nobles within the castle.
Her own dress -- the one she had planned to wear and had picked out herself weeks beforehand -- was the softest of blues.
Stop it!
She stomped her foot hard on the floor. Why did she have to keep doing that? It was just one night. She’d spent an entire lifetime of nights alone, eating cold meals, resting her beak along the pages of books, waddling under the windowsill and watching the stars until she finally fell asleep. The curse had always been hard, yes, but she’d grown used to it, even learned to find it silly, in a way, as though someone was playing an enormous, lifelong joke on her.
To be human by day, but bird by night...
“Your highness?”
She turned. One of the servants stood there, crookedly smiling, a glass bowl clutched in his arms.
“Are you in need of assistance? I would be glad to --”
“Oh, no, no!” Ahiru laughed, waving a flippant hand, suddenly feeling very exposed there on the fringes of the great room. “I’m just watching. I wanted to see how the room looked before tonight!”
The servant nodded, bowing to the best of his ability. He hurried off to a nearby table, then, where a handful of others were unraveling a golden tablecloth. Were they all wondering what she was doing here? Did she really look that silly?
Probably.
That was one of the good things about not being able to go tonight, she accepted, coaxing her lips into a smile. This way, she wouldn’t have a chance to look silly in front of everyone. She wouldn’t accidentally spill food on her dress, or knock something breakable off a table, or trip over her own two feet. She wouldn’t have to show everyone just how terrible she was at dancing, and she wouldn’t accidentally tread across Mytho’s feet when he twirled her around.
Still...
Ahiru sighed and gathered up her skirt.
Some princess she was turning out to be.
She turned to leave, then, but stopped when she noticed a familiar figure making his way across the length of the ballroom to her.
“M-Mytho!” she managed to squeak. He smiled at her, stepping in a slow circle as he took a look around.
“I came to see how it was coming along,” he commented, turning back to face her. “I didn’t expect to run into you here.”
She prayed he wouldn’t notice her trembling hands, hidden in the curves of her gown. “I wanted to see too,” she said at once, and found herself rambling quite easily. “Balls are just so beautiful, and I really wanted to see all the decorations! After all, this is really my only chance because surely they’ll take it all down first thing in the morning, and I won’t be...”
Ahiru trailed off. A twinge of guilt struck her, and she found herself unable to look Mytho in the eye, so she fixed her gaze on his white shoes instead.
“I’m...I’m really sorry about not being able to come tonight. I want to so much, I even had a dress and everything, but it’s just, it’s this awful problem I have, and I wish I didn’t and I’m just so sorry..."
She worked up the nerve to look back up. He was still smiling, golden eyes warm, and his hand reached out to take a gentle hold on her arm.
“If you say you cannot, then I believe you,” he said. “I don’t think any worse of you for it, if that’s what you’re afraid of. Don‘t worry.”
All she could do was nod, a genuine smile finally coming forth. Her braid flopped over her shoulder, trailed down the length of her arm, and her fingers found the end before gripping at in nervousness.
“Surely some of the guests will arrive before the sun has completely set,” Mytho continued. “Perhaps you -- we -- could greet them. Then you could wear your dress, and they would be able to see how lovely you were for themselves.”
She could just feel the blood rushing to her face already. “O-Of course!”
The tables were finished. Smooth, golden tablecloths adorned each. Countless empty dishes and ornaments were poised along the lengths, waiting to be used. Both prince and princess turned to watch as a smiling woman skirted around the room, depositing vases of colorful flowers. The ballroom was full, save for the stretch of smooth stone beneath their feet. It would be filled with people instead, sweeping, swaying, twirling.
Mytho’s hand left her arm and clutched at her stiffening hand instead.
“Let us dance now,” he said. “If not later.”
What!?
She aimed to protest, but he was already leading her out into the center, already taking her by the waist, guiding her hand to his shoulder, gripping the other close to his own and holding both high.
“B-But there’s no music,” she stammered, unprepared for the moment. She hadn’t had a chance to practice yet that day! What if she forgot all the steps, what if --
“There’s no need for it,” he said, and the rest of her words died away as they moved, slowly at first, then faster, the vast room tilting and twirling in her gaze.
It was quite a different feeling to have a real partner rather than an imaginary one, Ahiru realized -- and not in a bad way. It was more solid, more real. She didn’t have to jerk herself around or pretend to be twirled a certain way: someone was leading her, and it was a wonderful feeling. The steps were whirring in her mind, a frantic murmuring -- one, two, three, step, step, was that right? -- but it felt like her feet were shifting all on their own, following the silent, soft rhythm of Mytho’s own movements. She felt dizzy, almost sick, tables and bowls and windows and people swimming in and out of view, but then she found Mytho’s face in all the chaos, his smile, his eyes, watching her, and when he raised his arm to twirl her around, happiness swelled so fervently in her heart that she believed it might burst. It was meant to be this way, wasn’t it? She and her prince, dancing together, like a scene right out of a storybook, and it was perfect, so --
-- and then Ahiru stumbled mid-twirl, legs tangling against one another. Mytho stiffened and pulled hard on her arm in an attempt to keep her from falling. She managed to straighten against his grip, but one foot still trembled in the air, and she spun herself around, desperate to regain her balance, to place it back on solid ground -- that was, until the sole of her shoe firmly met something that was not the floor.
Horrified, she broke away.
“It’s fine, I’m fine,” Mytho insisted, but his face twisted in a wince, both hands cupped around the front of his shoe, and oh, Ahiru wanted nothing more than to vanish at that moment. How could she have been so clumsy? They hadn’t even danced the length of a full song yet, not even half, and already, she’d treaded across his foot like some sort of graceless animal. What was the matter with her!?
Mytho must have noticed her crushed expression, because he removed his hands at once and attempted to stand straight. His face betrayed the pain to her, though, and she nearly burst into tears.
“No, no, you’re not, you’re hurt and it’s all my fault,” she stuttered, taking a step away. There were still a few servants milling around near the edge of the room, checking small details, imperfections, and she called to them at once, beckoned them over. Distance, she thought. He just needed to stay away from her.
“Yes, please help the prince back to his room,” she asked of them, despite Mytho’s bewildered look. “His foot, it’s hurt, and he can’t walk by himself, I’m sure. Please,” she added, and although both looked confused, they acquiesced, each moving to one of Mytho’s arms, silently waiting for his approval.
“Ahiru, it’s nothing serious, I promise,” he insisted, but she was already hurrying away, heels clattering on the stone as she slipped out the nearest entryway, desperate to escape.
- - -
It was official. She was the worst princess ever.
Ahiru sighed, hugging her knees to her chest. Her nose twitched as the sun washed over, finally sliding out from behind a stubborn cloud. Normally, she’d be thrilled to be where she was, sitting on the open steps leading down to the dirt path, not technically away from the castle, but still in a place where she was able to feel every cool breath of wind, to watch clouds wonder by at a snail’s pace, fat and fluffy. One of the guards patrolling the premises had said it would be all right, that he’d keep an eye out for danger.
A small part of her had hoped a change of setting might brighten her mood, but no luck. She curled her legs up further into the folds of her dress and grasped the satin tips of her toes. She imagined becoming round like a wheel and rolling down the path, through the town, far away.
She felt a small weight on her shoulder, then, little claws pressing to her skin, and briefly struck with panic, she turned her head -- but it was only a familiar bluebird.
She smiled. “Hi, Teal.”
It answered with a hearty chirp, jumping down to the swell of her knee.
“How are Indigo and Cerulean? Have they left the nest yet?”
The bird cocked its head to side, answering in its usual way.
“Not yet, huh? Well, I’m sure they’ll be ready soon! You have to be sure not to rush them, I’m sure flying for the first time is awfully scary --”
A few stern chirps.
“They were? I’m sorry! I didn’t stay in my room last night. I’ll have twice as much seed tomorrow morning, I promise.”
A sweeter chirp.
“I look sad? Aww, are you worrying about me?”
The little bird nestled against her curled hand, and Ahiru couldn’t help but giggle.
“I’m fine. It’s just -- it’s hard to be a princess sometimes. The prince wanted to dance with me, and do you know what I did? I stepped on his foot. So now, I’m sure he’s in lots of pain and thinking about what an awful klutz I am and how embarrassed he’ll be when he’s married to me.” The laughter in her voice stilled; her gaze dropped to the ugly wrinkles in her skirt. “He deserves someone better than me.”
She took a deep breath and smiled at her little friend once more, running a careful fingertip along its feathers. “Do you ever worry about things like that?”
The bluebird blinked, and without any sort of warning, flew away. Ahiru managed another laugh, watching as its little form easily melted into the blue sky. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t,” she whispered, and lifted her hand in a weak farewell.
The patrolling guard passed by, marching in perfect rhythm.
“Everything all right, your highness?”
“Perfect,” she answered, offering him the brightest smile she could muster up. He nodded, and she watched his retreating form until he disappeared around the corner once more.
Nothing else to do but watch the sky, she thought, and leaned back on the palms of her hands. She studied the clouds, searching for shapes, eager to stop thinking about everything that was wrong, if only for a moment. That one looked like a flower…
The faint sound of footsteps in the grass brought her upright once more. The guard wouldn’t complete his round for another fifteen minutes or so. Who was--?
She glanced around. There -- a figure a few yards away, hurrying across the field. It seemed as though they were on their way to the stable -- either that, or the knights’ quarters. His clothes were of the usual thread, but his hair made him instantly recognizable to her. Fakir.
He didn’t notice her, eyes trained forward as he ventured down the length of the field, sheath and sword swinging at his side. She wondered if he ever went anywhere without it.
She wondered if his arm was okay.
I’ll only say this once more. Stay inside. Next time, I won’t bother.
He hadn’t even given her a chance to apologize. He hadn’t given her a chance to say much of anything, really, what with his rude comments and annoying habit of running off before she could get a word out edgewise.
Still...
She stood, absently smoothing out the wrinkles gathered in her skirt. The guard wouldn’t make a complete circle for a little while longer. She had some time to spare.
It just couldn’t be helped. The truth remained that he had jumped in to save her and he had gotten hurt because she’d ignored what he said. She wasn’t going to be able to feel anything but uneasy about the entire incident until she managed to get an apology out -- no matter how much Fakir didn’t want to hear one.
He’d disappeared down the incline, and she hurried after without another thought.
- - -
It took a little searching. Fakir was faster than she thought, and he had vanished by the time Ahiru stumbled down the dip in the grass herself, glimpsing the knights’ quarters and a haphazard row of gray cottages -- but eventually, she came upon him in the stables. She wandered past countless horses with long faces drooping down to meet her own, round eyes as reflective as muddy water, and she did her best to avoid stepping on strewn oats or pieces of stray hay. Briefly, she wondered if he’d come in to mount, but then she heard a distinct ’thwack’ sound, once, twice, three times. The gate on the last stall was swinging on its hinges and she caught it with both hands, bringing it to a careful stop, peering around its edge to see just what was going on inside.
Fakir had his sword drawn, hilt held firmly in both hands. It looked as though he’d been frozen in place with legs spread and bent, eyes closed, and weapon poised high above him. A second passed, then two, and all at once, he came alive. Both arms collapsed to his chest, his feet moving quickly, pulling the rest of his body into a new stance, then another, spinning, ducking, kneeling -- like some sort of wild dance, Ahiru thought, unable to look away.
His eyes opened, then narrowed at once. His arms folded and straightened just as easily, the blade bent back to the skin of his temple. Another sharp breath, and he moved. The sword sliced through an imaginary victim an extraordinary number of times, so many Ahiru couldn’t have counted them if she tried.
He came to rest, the gleaming tip of his sword pressed gently to the wall.
Ahiru almost felt out of breath herself at such a display. He really was quite good. Should she interrupt him in the middle of his practice?
The question quickly answered itself as the gate she’d been leaning against gave into her weight and swung to a swift, creaking close. With a panicked yelp, she was thrown into the room by the motion; found herself staring at her own distorted reflection in the long blade as it was brought but an inch from her face. Fakir stared at her with wide eyes, obviously startled by the interruption.
“S-Sorry,” she managed to stammer after a moment, focused on the weapon. A little closer, and it would have been against her neck. “I didn’t mean to scare you!”
He pulled back at once, sheathing the weapon in one fluid movement.
“What are you doing?”
In only a moment, he’d advanced on her a few quick steps, and despite all of her determination, she still found herself stumbling backwards to keep a breath of distance between them.
“Do you not hear what I tell you?” He muttered, voice little more than a growl. “Or are you just too stupid to understand what the words stay inside mean?”
His anger was startling -- she’d forgotten, still focused on his actions during their last meeting -- and all the words in her head skirted just out of reach as if they themselves were frightened. Unwilling to meet his glare, she looked down at her hands, twisting against one another. He seemed to be waiting for her to say something, but made a curt ‘humph’ sound when she did not.
“Of course,“ he grunted, and she glanced up once more just in time to watch him turn his back on her, stride across the room to remove both sheath and sword from his side and lay them to rest in a small bale of hay.
“I -- I wanted to apologize.” she managed to find her voice once more and was determined to get everything out in open before he could say anything else mean. Fakir didn’t turn to face her, but she saw the way his back stiffened and she knew he’d heard it. “I just wanted to say that, that you were right and I was wrong, and I should have listened to you about the ravens, but I didn’t, and then you got hurt and it was my fault and I felt really bad, so I just wanted to...to say I was sorry.”
Silence.
“Your arm,” she said, a little softer. “Is it --”
“It’s fine,” he cut her off, still refusing to look at her. “Are you finished?”
“U-Um, no,” she stuttered. “I just -- thank you, for saving me. It was kind of you.”
More silence.
“That’s all,” she hastily added.
A horse’s frantic clomping echoed from somewhere in the building. Fakir bent over his weapon once more, shifted the blade in its case, and the brief screech of metal twitched in her ears.
“There was nothing kind about it,” he said. “I did it because it’s my duty, that’s all. Don’t get any other idiotic ideas in your head.”
The words rattled around her, cold. Ahiru drew a short breath in, anger beginning to swell deep in her chest. Why couldn‘t he just accept it? Why did he have to be so difficult? “But I ---”
“If you’re through babbling,“ he started to say, already turning -- probably to make another quick exit -- but Ahiru stood in his way this time, having closed the distance between them, her arms crossed.
“Are you like this to everyone you talk to?”
“What?”
“Are you this rude to everyone, or just to me? Because, you know, all the other knights, they treat me with respect, they bow and say, ‘yes, your highness,’ and ‘no, your highness,’ and lots of other really wonderful, kind things!” Once Ahiru got started, it was difficult to stop. She even found herself leaning up on her tiptoes, jabbing an angry finger in his face for added effect. “but you, you act like I’m nobody at all, like you can just say whatever you wish to me! Well, you can‘t, because I’m the princess, and you’re -- you have to listen to me!”
“Do I?” His face didn’t offer any emotion, but the tone was easily a mocking one.
“Y-Yes, you do! If I told the Council about this, that you were calling your princess terrible things like moron and stupid, they’d, they’d...well, they would do something awfully bad, I’m sure!”
She was out of breath; steadied herself on her knees for a moment. Fakir didn’t even blink, but met her gaze when she finally looked back up.
“Go ahead,” he said, and the shadow of a smirk appeared along his lips. “I only say those things because they’re true.”
“It is not!” She could just feel her face turning red, her arms trembling with unbidden anger. “Not in the least! I just think -- I think -- I think you’re a big jerk!”
She raised a hand, then, meaning to shove him, but Fakir easily stepped out of the way, grabbing a hold of her splayed fingers and holding them tight.
Ahiru made a few weak attempts to pull away, but his grip didn‘t loosen. She wanted to yell again but couldn’t find the voice for it, her brief burst of fury already fading away. For a moment, he just stared, expression unreadable to her: his lips set in a straight, stiff line, his eyes narrowed, so focused that she had to look away.
Finally, he let go. Her arm fell limp to her side.
“Fine,” he said, unmoving. “If you want to hit me, then go ahead.”
Ahiru blinked. She curled her hand into a loose fist, then released it just as easily. “N-No, I don’t want to…I just…I just wish you’d be a little nicer, is all...”
For a quiet moment, she thought she may have finally gotten through to him -- only to watch his expression harden just as it had countless times before. “Pathetic,” he muttered with a stiff shake of his head, and the word cut right through her, painful, absolute.
He turned away, then, and gathered up sheath and sword at once, hanging both against his side. “Go back to your castle,” he said, and brushed past her on his way out the gate. “You’ve wasted enough of my time.”
“W-Wait!”
She stepped out into the hay-strewn corridor, yelling after him. “I didn’t waste -- you’re just -- I’m not -- you didn’t even,” she stuttered on for a few moments, then settled on one last defiant cry of, “you’re awful!”
He was gone, and she found herself alone with the horses; stamped her foot on the ground with a shrill sigh.
At least there was one good thing about the exchange, she told herself. She had gotten out her apologies -- no matter how much he hadn’t deserved it -- and now there was no reason to speak to him ever again.
A few minutes later, cries of “your highness, your highness!” echoed through the building, and the guard from the castle, face pale, weapon poised, came upon her, certain she’d been abducted or killed on his watch. After a quick, familiar discussion of, “you aren’t supposed to leave the castle walls, it could be dangerous. I am sorry, my lady, but that is the way it must be,” -- though it was much nicer than certain parties had been on the subject -- he led her back, pretending not to notice the way she slammed her foot down on every stone step leading up to the castle walls.
- - -
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
Mytho laughed and lifted his foot off the ground, wiggling it for confirmation. “Not even a bruise. Seems like I’ll live to see another day.”
Ahiru flushed, aiming to throw in one more apology for good measure, but then another couple approached the two, smiles wide, arms splayed open, and they found themselves drawn into yet another brief conversation of ‘hello’, ‘lovely ball, yes’, ‘so exciting to finally meet you!’. The woman swept her enormous red gown to the ground as she curtsied, and managed to compliment Ahiru’s hair, eyes, and dress all in one shrill, laughing breath. The man bowed, his tunic crinkling against his chest, and shared a few friendly words with Mytho before bending to kiss Ahiru’s hand. The two swept away into the vast ballroom, then, leaving the prince and princess still poised at the opening, waving them off.
Yes, Ahiru thought with a soft sigh: this had been a good idea. Countless guests, ornately dressed, had arrived early, just like Mytho said, and she and he had been there to greet them without fail, standing against the slope of the vast entryway. She’d already received more glowing compliments than she’d ever thought possible; found herself so filled up with all the merriment that it was impossible to keep her face from flushing red at the slightest warm word. Her blue dress -- the one she’d been saving for so long -- she’d even gotten to wear it and watch it twirl in soft, swaying folds as she turned. Even though it would all only be for a little while longer, she found herself unconcerned with the curse for once in her life, too filled up with genuine cheer to care.
“You look happy,” Mytho commented, looking to her. “Enjoying this?”
“Yes,” she answered without even a breath of hesitation. “Just, look at everything! The lights and the decorations and all the people! It’s so nice, and everyone’s been so friendly!”
“So I take it this was a good idea?”
“Of course!”
She offered him a smile, and he took her white-gloved hand in his own, holding it in the breath of space between them. Through the windows, she could still see the sun, a blinding rim against the sturdy shapes of the trees. Still plenty of time.
A few more bright faces swept through. The conversations were beginning to melt together in Ahiru’s mind, little more than loud, happy blurs, but she always found herself able to remember each face that stopped to greet them. An older couple, arms interlocked, hair just beginning to bleed grey. One of the knights, escorting a shy-smiling woman with the brightest eyes Ahiru had ever seen. A girl no older than seven whose little body was swallowed up by frills and ribbons, who blushed when Mytho bent down to greet her. She’d even seen Lillie and Pique, dressed in their finest gowns, eyes wide and bright as they hurried over to say hello. Pique had nudged her shoulder, gesturing to Mytho with a sly look in her eyes. “What did I tell you?” She’d said with a knowing smile. Lillie, always helpful, had clutched Ahiru’s arm fiercely. “Don’t fret,” she’d whispered in her ear. “I’ll dance as dreadfully as possible so you’ll look better by comparison!”
Ahiru hadn’t the heart to reveal that she wouldn’t be joining them in the ballroom, but offered the both of them warm smiles instead as they hurried off in a flurry of flowing skirts, cheerful laughter to make way for the next guests.
“I hadn’t heard much of the princess,” she heard one women comment to another near her. “I can’t understand why, she’s lovely!”
“The two make such a good match,” the other offered. “What a beautiful marriage it will be.”
Ahiru felt awfully proud at that moment, and she wondered to the high heavens why she’d allowed herself to be caught up in so many trivial matters as of late. This was what mattered, her being here with Mytho, revealing herself to the land she‘d soon sit at the head of-- and she was making a pretty great first impression, it seemed!
Beside her, she noticed Mytho shift his weight from foot to foot, and wondered with a twitch of old guilt finding its way into all her happiness, if he was just trying to be nice about his injury.
“Are you absolutely, positively sure you’re all right?” She repeated.
His face was colored with amusement, and he squeezed her hand. “I could take off my shoe and show you, if you’d like.”
She managed a little laugh at that. “Are you going to be able to dance?”
He blinked. “Dance? Who am I going to dance with? You won’t be there.”
“Oh no, no,” she said at once, a little louder than she meant to. “You have to! Please don’t worry about me. You should have fun tonight!”
He seemed to study her face for a long moment. “If that’s what you want --”
“It is,” she said, an end to the genuine thought, and the two took to watching the growing crowd within the ballroom, colorful forms shifting and mingling around the tables, calling out to one another from across the open floor. A few blunt notes of music floated through the air from time to time: the musicians were preparing, heads bent studiously over their instruments.
She felt Mytho brush against her as he turned to glance down the hallway once more. “Look,” he said, and she didn’t hear him for a minute, too fascinated by the wooden, stringed item one of the musicians held, plucked at quite fervently. “Here comes Fakir.”
She turned, already frowning at the mere mention of the knight’s name. Sure enough, there he was, clad in a dark blue tunic, walking alongside an older gentleman Ahiru had never seen before. Mytho must have noticed her darkened expression, because he nudged her and offered her a smile when she looked to him.
“What’s the face for?” He asked, voice teasing. “I told you, he’s not that bad…”
Ahiru “humph’d” at once, crossing her arms. “If by ‘not that bad’, you actually mean ‘the most horrible person to have ever lived‘, then yes, you would be right.”
Mytho laughed. “I take it your paths have crossed since yesterday.”
Ahiru gave a curt nod, but straightened and forced herself to smile as the two men finally reached them at the doorway. Both bowed in silent unison. Once risen, Mytho took each of their hands in a firm, friendly shake.
“Ahiru, this is Charon,” he said, gesturing to the older gentleman, who nodded to her with a kind smile, traces of wrinkles crinkling around his dark eyes. “He’s the castle’s blacksmith and very generously supplies the weapons for all the knights and guards. Why, he even taught me how to use a sword when I was younger.”
“It is my greatest pleasure to meet you, your highness,” Charon said, voice so friendly that Ahiru’s fake smile fluttered into a genuine one. “I must say, no one prepared me for how lovely you would be.”
She flushed a pleasant red, as she was wont to do at such nice compliments. “Thank you! It’s nice to meet you too,” she responded in kind, curtsying.
“I’m sure you’ll be very happy with your prince here,” Charon went on to say, patting Mytho on the shoulder in such an easy way that Ahiru could tell their relationship was a friendlier one than mere prince and subject. “Now, if only he would let me craft him a new sword for a wedding present…”
“And I told you, Charon,” Mytho said, half-laughing, “that the one you first made is still perfectly fine. Don’t waste more metal on me. How is Raetsel?”
“Not very well, actually. She wanted to come tonight, even had a dress picked out, but she was coughing up a storm, so...”
Mytho and Charon continued to chat, of people and places Ahiru knew nothing of, and she had no choice but to fall quiet. In time, she found herself awkwardly facing Fakir, who hadn’t said so much as a word yet. He seemed determined not to look at her, gaze focused instead on the filling ballroom. Eventually, he tossed a glance towards Charon, looking annoyed that he and the prince were still in the midst of a conversation. She hadn’t even realized she was staring, but he must have felt it, because then he turned his head to finally meet her eyes.
She made a face and quickly looked away herself. That would teach him.
“-- so next time, hopefully,” Charon finished his train of thought with a sigh, turning back towards the group. He glanced to Fakir, then to Ahiru, and his eyes widened, as though he’d made some sort of mistake.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and Ahiru realized he was speaking to her. She watched as the older man looked towards Fakir. “I should have introduced --”
“We’ve met,” Fakir interrupted, so sharply that no one said anything more for a moment, the only sound around them the broken, lilting pieces of music from the band as they prepared for their first song.
“Fakir,” Charon spoke up, his voice stern. “That doesn’t mean you don’t show your respects.”
The man made a subtle gesture towards what Ahiru first thought was her dress. Glancing down, she realized he meant her gloved hand, hanging at her side, and she felt herself stiffen at the implication.
“Oh no, that’s all right,” she said at once, but the knight was already taking a step closer. In one firm motion, he took up her fingers against his own, touched his lips to the lace just above her knuckles in a brief kiss.
“My apologies, your highness,” he said, voice thick with something she couldn’t quite decipher, too busy berating herself for the blush that had sprung up unannounced along her face.
“We’ll see you within,” Charon said, and then with one last smile and nod to both Mytho and Ahiru, he and Fakir took their leave into the ballroom, quickly disappearing from view amidst all the other forms strewn along the open floor.
In fact, the room looked almost full to the brim, with chatting men and women gathered around each table. Hands raised in countless apologies as people mistakenly ran into others, shoulders pushing against backs, skirts brushing knees. The musicians had even begun to play a few simple, happy tunes, couples rising to the occasion as they swept together along the length of the floor, laughing with each easy step, each gentle twirl.
Maybe there was time.
The thought rose up into Ahiru’s head unbidden, and she clung to it, thrilled. The dancing was already beginning, it seemed, and if they hurried, maybe she could --
A reluctant glance towards the windows silenced the hope. The sky was already a deepening purple, the sun little more than a sliver of weak light beneath the trees.
She touched a few fingers to Mytho’s shoulder. “I--I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, but...I have to go.”
She attempted a smile, but could feel her lips faltering, twisting into something that resembled more of a grimace. He seemed to notice and offered her a warm smile, one last squeeze of her hand.
“No more apologies,” he said, voice nearly drowned out by a swell in the music. “It was wonderful enough to spend this time with you now.”
He turned to face the bright ballroom, then, and sighed. “Now to tell them all of it.”
Ahiru waved him off and watched as the crowd greeted him with admiring smiles, parted to create a clean path. Some glanced back to her, still standing in the entryway, eyes wide with innocent confusion. For a moment, she stayed still, fingers intertwined within the folds of her beautiful gown, and took in for one last time the warm lights, the dazzling outfits, the spinning, swaying couples as they danced.
Ahiru turned back to the entryway and faced the stairwell in the corner, dark and unwelcoming; with one last sigh, took her leave.
- - -
As Charon wandered across the vast room, holding a few warm slices of bread he‘d gathered from one of the tables, he caught a glimpse of Mytho, little more than a flash of white hair as he shifted through the folding crowd. Why was he going alone? Surely Ahiru was supposed to be with him, after all, weren’t they were planning on taking part in one of the first dances? The thought settled in the back of his head as he rejoined Fakir, who had strayed from the noisy crowd and was leaning against the far wall.
Charon offered him the bread, and he took it with a nod, but did not eat. There she was, Charon noted, seeing Ahiru’s thin form still in the darkened entryway, little more than a blur of blue and red. She stood still and seemed to be watching, as though planning on being little more than a bystander for the event. Strange, he thought.
In truth, he’d found the princess both perfectly kind and lovely. Why would she not take part? A smile hadn’t even left her face throughout their entire exchange, except for when the two were first approaching, he remembered --- and at that, looked to Fakir.
“She seemed angry with you,” he commented, moving to stand beside the young knight. “You shouldn’t leave such an impression on her, in the least.”
Fakir grunted, not even glancing at him. Charon was used to such behavior, though, and offered the boy a gentle smile. “A little kindness never hurt anyone, Fakir.”
“She’s a nuisance, Charon,” he suddenly spoke up, voice angrier than usual. “She refuses to listen, she --”
He trailed off, and Charon noted, with a touch of clarity, how Fakir raised his head to look at Ahiru himself, only to turn away just as quickly. He took up the bread in his hands and tore off a chunk, sticking it in his mouth as though to stop anything else he might have said, given the chance.
Charon patted his shoulder, hesitating, unsure of what the right thing to say would be. “I understand why you’re doing this, Fakir,” were the words he finally settled on. “But please, remember your place.”
He said nothing more.
Still, Charon couldn’t help but notice that as Ahiru turned and began to walk away, Fakir’s narrowed gaze followed her all the way down the length of the hallway and didn’t waver until she’d disappeared up the stairwell and out of sight.
- - -
Another handful of candles were lit. Edel set them along the length of the armoire with the utmost care before returning to her nearby chair. Uzura stood on her tiptoes before the open window, clapping when the music swelled. “They’re playing another song-zura,” she announced before scrambling back to the rug where she’d left her drum and sticks. “I can play with them-zura!”
“Quaaaack.”
Edel smiled and gathered up the droopy-eyed duck in the folds of her skirt as Uzura banged along with the tune.
“They won’t think any less of you,” she murmured, running her palm along each yellow feather.
Ahiru merely turned both bright eyes towards the curved moon in her window, but buried them in her wings not a moment later with one last sighing quack.
- - -
Poised at the beginning of the path leading to town, two guards stood straight, weapons poised. The windows of the great ballroom towered behind them, filled to the brim with light, while the buildings below them were dark, empty of their residents for one night. One was just beginning to nod off when both men were startled by the sound of flapping wings.
With identical cries, they turned in all directions, searching for the ragged feathers and glowing red eyes of ravens -- only for one guard to suddenly calm, gaze settling on the pond a yard or so behind them.
“Look,” he said, nudging his panicked friend, and they both watched as a familiar dark swan, elegant wings splayed wide, came to rest on the water‘s surface, the glow of the crescent moon like a halo of light around its form. “Just that swan again,” the same man commented.
“Pretty thing,” the other said, and both turned back to face the empty path.
They didn’t notice as the swan’s curved body sunk down into the shallow water, wings crumpling, dragging it down until the pond appeared empty once more with nothing but a perfect reflection of the moon left on its surface.
The water rippled. First, a head emerged, then two shoulders, the low of a pale back, and a pair of thin legs. Black feathers gathered at the tips of her new toes and sunk over her body, taking the fluid form of a gown. A red jewel appeared along the curve of her breast, so heavy that her long nails fell against it, settling along the rigid pattern.
With a soft, human sigh, she looked to the moon, crimson eyes glinting, and gathered her feathered skirt in both hands.
The castle towered overhead. The windows were large and warm with countless shadows sweeping in and out of view, hopelessly distracted by their own merriment. Much too distracted to see anything wrong with a lovely young newcomer dressed in black.
A smirk formed along her red-lipped mouth.
Perfect.
- - -
A/N: That's it for today~! I'll be the first to admit that this chapter was not all that exciting. It was basically meant to serve as a transition into the big ball. (And as you all will no doubt notice as this story progresses, I love me some character and relationship development, so there was lots of that in here as well. <3) Nonetheless, I hope it proved enjoyable!
Also, only an incredibly brief mention of this was made, and most of you probably didn't notice, but just in case, I'd thought I'd point out -- Charon and Raetsel are married in my story. This is mostly to SUIT MY SELFISH NEEDS. XD; Also, I always thought they were cute. But yes, it will become important later on. Just a heads-up. :DD
As always, comments are much appreciated~!
~
Rating: PG-13/T
Chapter Three ~ 7113 words. [Prologue] [Chapter One] [Chapter Two]
Summary: The day of the ball, Ahiru has some interesting encounters, and prepares herself for disappointment.
The ball was tonight.
It was still early in the day, but the ballroom was already filled to the brim with the footsteps of countless servants. Men and women hurried to and fro, carrying decorations, maneuvering tables, placing plates and bowls. Some were even constructing a stand for the musicians at the front of the vast room.
It was fun to watch, Ahiru had to admit, clicking her heels together as she stood at the edge of the marble floor. Almost like she was seeing a beautiful transformation of sorts, the room becoming more and more lovely with each elegant piece added. She imagined it would look even more wonderful later that evening, when all the people and music and dancing were added to the setting.
When she would not be there.
No. She refused to wallow, to be sad over something that couldn’t be helped. She would think of something else! Anything, like the weather, or what would she would be having for lunch, or the night before --
The night before. Oh, Edel had been so upset by her sudden appearance, and she had asked to know at once just where she had been, why she hadn’t realized the time, just when she’d become so careless with her curse. Of course, Ahiru hadn’t been able to answer with anything more than a pitiful quack, but this hadn’t seemed to bother her caretaker, who’d then delved into all the colorful ways she could have been hurt, or trampled, or killed, or thrown outside, or eaten...and the list had gone on and on and on until the candle’s wax finally ran thin and Uzura was yawning every few seconds, blue eyes drooping. Still, the little girl had demanded that “ducky Ahiru-zura” sleep with her and the rest of her toys -- and so “ducky Ahiru-zura” had, uncomfortably pressed between a sharp-edged drum and a handful of wooden figurines.
It hadn’t been the best of evenings, that was for sure.
A woman hurried past, startling Ahiru. A long gown, red with gathered strands of lace around the skirt, was clutched in her arms, and she hurried towards the nearest exit after a breathless moment, seeming in an obvious hurry. Probably sent out to fetch something to wear for one of the nobles within the castle.
Her own dress -- the one she had planned to wear and had picked out herself weeks beforehand -- was the softest of blues.
Stop it!
She stomped her foot hard on the floor. Why did she have to keep doing that? It was just one night. She’d spent an entire lifetime of nights alone, eating cold meals, resting her beak along the pages of books, waddling under the windowsill and watching the stars until she finally fell asleep. The curse had always been hard, yes, but she’d grown used to it, even learned to find it silly, in a way, as though someone was playing an enormous, lifelong joke on her.
To be human by day, but bird by night...
“Your highness?”
She turned. One of the servants stood there, crookedly smiling, a glass bowl clutched in his arms.
“Are you in need of assistance? I would be glad to --”
“Oh, no, no!” Ahiru laughed, waving a flippant hand, suddenly feeling very exposed there on the fringes of the great room. “I’m just watching. I wanted to see how the room looked before tonight!”
The servant nodded, bowing to the best of his ability. He hurried off to a nearby table, then, where a handful of others were unraveling a golden tablecloth. Were they all wondering what she was doing here? Did she really look that silly?
Probably.
That was one of the good things about not being able to go tonight, she accepted, coaxing her lips into a smile. This way, she wouldn’t have a chance to look silly in front of everyone. She wouldn’t accidentally spill food on her dress, or knock something breakable off a table, or trip over her own two feet. She wouldn’t have to show everyone just how terrible she was at dancing, and she wouldn’t accidentally tread across Mytho’s feet when he twirled her around.
Still...
Ahiru sighed and gathered up her skirt.
Some princess she was turning out to be.
She turned to leave, then, but stopped when she noticed a familiar figure making his way across the length of the ballroom to her.
“M-Mytho!” she managed to squeak. He smiled at her, stepping in a slow circle as he took a look around.
“I came to see how it was coming along,” he commented, turning back to face her. “I didn’t expect to run into you here.”
She prayed he wouldn’t notice her trembling hands, hidden in the curves of her gown. “I wanted to see too,” she said at once, and found herself rambling quite easily. “Balls are just so beautiful, and I really wanted to see all the decorations! After all, this is really my only chance because surely they’ll take it all down first thing in the morning, and I won’t be...”
Ahiru trailed off. A twinge of guilt struck her, and she found herself unable to look Mytho in the eye, so she fixed her gaze on his white shoes instead.
“I’m...I’m really sorry about not being able to come tonight. I want to so much, I even had a dress and everything, but it’s just, it’s this awful problem I have, and I wish I didn’t and I’m just so sorry..."
She worked up the nerve to look back up. He was still smiling, golden eyes warm, and his hand reached out to take a gentle hold on her arm.
“If you say you cannot, then I believe you,” he said. “I don’t think any worse of you for it, if that’s what you’re afraid of. Don‘t worry.”
All she could do was nod, a genuine smile finally coming forth. Her braid flopped over her shoulder, trailed down the length of her arm, and her fingers found the end before gripping at in nervousness.
“Surely some of the guests will arrive before the sun has completely set,” Mytho continued. “Perhaps you -- we -- could greet them. Then you could wear your dress, and they would be able to see how lovely you were for themselves.”
She could just feel the blood rushing to her face already. “O-Of course!”
The tables were finished. Smooth, golden tablecloths adorned each. Countless empty dishes and ornaments were poised along the lengths, waiting to be used. Both prince and princess turned to watch as a smiling woman skirted around the room, depositing vases of colorful flowers. The ballroom was full, save for the stretch of smooth stone beneath their feet. It would be filled with people instead, sweeping, swaying, twirling.
Mytho’s hand left her arm and clutched at her stiffening hand instead.
“Let us dance now,” he said. “If not later.”
What!?
She aimed to protest, but he was already leading her out into the center, already taking her by the waist, guiding her hand to his shoulder, gripping the other close to his own and holding both high.
“B-But there’s no music,” she stammered, unprepared for the moment. She hadn’t had a chance to practice yet that day! What if she forgot all the steps, what if --
“There’s no need for it,” he said, and the rest of her words died away as they moved, slowly at first, then faster, the vast room tilting and twirling in her gaze.
It was quite a different feeling to have a real partner rather than an imaginary one, Ahiru realized -- and not in a bad way. It was more solid, more real. She didn’t have to jerk herself around or pretend to be twirled a certain way: someone was leading her, and it was a wonderful feeling. The steps were whirring in her mind, a frantic murmuring -- one, two, three, step, step, was that right? -- but it felt like her feet were shifting all on their own, following the silent, soft rhythm of Mytho’s own movements. She felt dizzy, almost sick, tables and bowls and windows and people swimming in and out of view, but then she found Mytho’s face in all the chaos, his smile, his eyes, watching her, and when he raised his arm to twirl her around, happiness swelled so fervently in her heart that she believed it might burst. It was meant to be this way, wasn’t it? She and her prince, dancing together, like a scene right out of a storybook, and it was perfect, so --
-- and then Ahiru stumbled mid-twirl, legs tangling against one another. Mytho stiffened and pulled hard on her arm in an attempt to keep her from falling. She managed to straighten against his grip, but one foot still trembled in the air, and she spun herself around, desperate to regain her balance, to place it back on solid ground -- that was, until the sole of her shoe firmly met something that was not the floor.
Horrified, she broke away.
“It’s fine, I’m fine,” Mytho insisted, but his face twisted in a wince, both hands cupped around the front of his shoe, and oh, Ahiru wanted nothing more than to vanish at that moment. How could she have been so clumsy? They hadn’t even danced the length of a full song yet, not even half, and already, she’d treaded across his foot like some sort of graceless animal. What was the matter with her!?
Mytho must have noticed her crushed expression, because he removed his hands at once and attempted to stand straight. His face betrayed the pain to her, though, and she nearly burst into tears.
“No, no, you’re not, you’re hurt and it’s all my fault,” she stuttered, taking a step away. There were still a few servants milling around near the edge of the room, checking small details, imperfections, and she called to them at once, beckoned them over. Distance, she thought. He just needed to stay away from her.
“Yes, please help the prince back to his room,” she asked of them, despite Mytho’s bewildered look. “His foot, it’s hurt, and he can’t walk by himself, I’m sure. Please,” she added, and although both looked confused, they acquiesced, each moving to one of Mytho’s arms, silently waiting for his approval.
“Ahiru, it’s nothing serious, I promise,” he insisted, but she was already hurrying away, heels clattering on the stone as she slipped out the nearest entryway, desperate to escape.
- - -
It was official. She was the worst princess ever.
Ahiru sighed, hugging her knees to her chest. Her nose twitched as the sun washed over, finally sliding out from behind a stubborn cloud. Normally, she’d be thrilled to be where she was, sitting on the open steps leading down to the dirt path, not technically away from the castle, but still in a place where she was able to feel every cool breath of wind, to watch clouds wonder by at a snail’s pace, fat and fluffy. One of the guards patrolling the premises had said it would be all right, that he’d keep an eye out for danger.
A small part of her had hoped a change of setting might brighten her mood, but no luck. She curled her legs up further into the folds of her dress and grasped the satin tips of her toes. She imagined becoming round like a wheel and rolling down the path, through the town, far away.
She felt a small weight on her shoulder, then, little claws pressing to her skin, and briefly struck with panic, she turned her head -- but it was only a familiar bluebird.
She smiled. “Hi, Teal.”
It answered with a hearty chirp, jumping down to the swell of her knee.
“How are Indigo and Cerulean? Have they left the nest yet?”
The bird cocked its head to side, answering in its usual way.
“Not yet, huh? Well, I’m sure they’ll be ready soon! You have to be sure not to rush them, I’m sure flying for the first time is awfully scary --”
A few stern chirps.
“They were? I’m sorry! I didn’t stay in my room last night. I’ll have twice as much seed tomorrow morning, I promise.”
A sweeter chirp.
“I look sad? Aww, are you worrying about me?”
The little bird nestled against her curled hand, and Ahiru couldn’t help but giggle.
“I’m fine. It’s just -- it’s hard to be a princess sometimes. The prince wanted to dance with me, and do you know what I did? I stepped on his foot. So now, I’m sure he’s in lots of pain and thinking about what an awful klutz I am and how embarrassed he’ll be when he’s married to me.” The laughter in her voice stilled; her gaze dropped to the ugly wrinkles in her skirt. “He deserves someone better than me.”
She took a deep breath and smiled at her little friend once more, running a careful fingertip along its feathers. “Do you ever worry about things like that?”
The bluebird blinked, and without any sort of warning, flew away. Ahiru managed another laugh, watching as its little form easily melted into the blue sky. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t,” she whispered, and lifted her hand in a weak farewell.
The patrolling guard passed by, marching in perfect rhythm.
“Everything all right, your highness?”
“Perfect,” she answered, offering him the brightest smile she could muster up. He nodded, and she watched his retreating form until he disappeared around the corner once more.
Nothing else to do but watch the sky, she thought, and leaned back on the palms of her hands. She studied the clouds, searching for shapes, eager to stop thinking about everything that was wrong, if only for a moment. That one looked like a flower…
The faint sound of footsteps in the grass brought her upright once more. The guard wouldn’t complete his round for another fifteen minutes or so. Who was--?
She glanced around. There -- a figure a few yards away, hurrying across the field. It seemed as though they were on their way to the stable -- either that, or the knights’ quarters. His clothes were of the usual thread, but his hair made him instantly recognizable to her. Fakir.
He didn’t notice her, eyes trained forward as he ventured down the length of the field, sheath and sword swinging at his side. She wondered if he ever went anywhere without it.
She wondered if his arm was okay.
I’ll only say this once more. Stay inside. Next time, I won’t bother.
He hadn’t even given her a chance to apologize. He hadn’t given her a chance to say much of anything, really, what with his rude comments and annoying habit of running off before she could get a word out edgewise.
Still...
She stood, absently smoothing out the wrinkles gathered in her skirt. The guard wouldn’t make a complete circle for a little while longer. She had some time to spare.
It just couldn’t be helped. The truth remained that he had jumped in to save her and he had gotten hurt because she’d ignored what he said. She wasn’t going to be able to feel anything but uneasy about the entire incident until she managed to get an apology out -- no matter how much Fakir didn’t want to hear one.
He’d disappeared down the incline, and she hurried after without another thought.
- - -
It took a little searching. Fakir was faster than she thought, and he had vanished by the time Ahiru stumbled down the dip in the grass herself, glimpsing the knights’ quarters and a haphazard row of gray cottages -- but eventually, she came upon him in the stables. She wandered past countless horses with long faces drooping down to meet her own, round eyes as reflective as muddy water, and she did her best to avoid stepping on strewn oats or pieces of stray hay. Briefly, she wondered if he’d come in to mount, but then she heard a distinct ’thwack’ sound, once, twice, three times. The gate on the last stall was swinging on its hinges and she caught it with both hands, bringing it to a careful stop, peering around its edge to see just what was going on inside.
Fakir had his sword drawn, hilt held firmly in both hands. It looked as though he’d been frozen in place with legs spread and bent, eyes closed, and weapon poised high above him. A second passed, then two, and all at once, he came alive. Both arms collapsed to his chest, his feet moving quickly, pulling the rest of his body into a new stance, then another, spinning, ducking, kneeling -- like some sort of wild dance, Ahiru thought, unable to look away.
His eyes opened, then narrowed at once. His arms folded and straightened just as easily, the blade bent back to the skin of his temple. Another sharp breath, and he moved. The sword sliced through an imaginary victim an extraordinary number of times, so many Ahiru couldn’t have counted them if she tried.
He came to rest, the gleaming tip of his sword pressed gently to the wall.
Ahiru almost felt out of breath herself at such a display. He really was quite good. Should she interrupt him in the middle of his practice?
The question quickly answered itself as the gate she’d been leaning against gave into her weight and swung to a swift, creaking close. With a panicked yelp, she was thrown into the room by the motion; found herself staring at her own distorted reflection in the long blade as it was brought but an inch from her face. Fakir stared at her with wide eyes, obviously startled by the interruption.
“S-Sorry,” she managed to stammer after a moment, focused on the weapon. A little closer, and it would have been against her neck. “I didn’t mean to scare you!”
He pulled back at once, sheathing the weapon in one fluid movement.
“What are you doing?”
In only a moment, he’d advanced on her a few quick steps, and despite all of her determination, she still found herself stumbling backwards to keep a breath of distance between them.
“Do you not hear what I tell you?” He muttered, voice little more than a growl. “Or are you just too stupid to understand what the words stay inside mean?”
His anger was startling -- she’d forgotten, still focused on his actions during their last meeting -- and all the words in her head skirted just out of reach as if they themselves were frightened. Unwilling to meet his glare, she looked down at her hands, twisting against one another. He seemed to be waiting for her to say something, but made a curt ‘humph’ sound when she did not.
“Of course,“ he grunted, and she glanced up once more just in time to watch him turn his back on her, stride across the room to remove both sheath and sword from his side and lay them to rest in a small bale of hay.
“I -- I wanted to apologize.” she managed to find her voice once more and was determined to get everything out in open before he could say anything else mean. Fakir didn’t turn to face her, but she saw the way his back stiffened and she knew he’d heard it. “I just wanted to say that, that you were right and I was wrong, and I should have listened to you about the ravens, but I didn’t, and then you got hurt and it was my fault and I felt really bad, so I just wanted to...to say I was sorry.”
Silence.
“Your arm,” she said, a little softer. “Is it --”
“It’s fine,” he cut her off, still refusing to look at her. “Are you finished?”
“U-Um, no,” she stuttered. “I just -- thank you, for saving me. It was kind of you.”
More silence.
“That’s all,” she hastily added.
A horse’s frantic clomping echoed from somewhere in the building. Fakir bent over his weapon once more, shifted the blade in its case, and the brief screech of metal twitched in her ears.
“There was nothing kind about it,” he said. “I did it because it’s my duty, that’s all. Don’t get any other idiotic ideas in your head.”
The words rattled around her, cold. Ahiru drew a short breath in, anger beginning to swell deep in her chest. Why couldn‘t he just accept it? Why did he have to be so difficult? “But I ---”
“If you’re through babbling,“ he started to say, already turning -- probably to make another quick exit -- but Ahiru stood in his way this time, having closed the distance between them, her arms crossed.
“Are you like this to everyone you talk to?”
“What?”
“Are you this rude to everyone, or just to me? Because, you know, all the other knights, they treat me with respect, they bow and say, ‘yes, your highness,’ and ‘no, your highness,’ and lots of other really wonderful, kind things!” Once Ahiru got started, it was difficult to stop. She even found herself leaning up on her tiptoes, jabbing an angry finger in his face for added effect. “but you, you act like I’m nobody at all, like you can just say whatever you wish to me! Well, you can‘t, because I’m the princess, and you’re -- you have to listen to me!”
“Do I?” His face didn’t offer any emotion, but the tone was easily a mocking one.
“Y-Yes, you do! If I told the Council about this, that you were calling your princess terrible things like moron and stupid, they’d, they’d...well, they would do something awfully bad, I’m sure!”
She was out of breath; steadied herself on her knees for a moment. Fakir didn’t even blink, but met her gaze when she finally looked back up.
“Go ahead,” he said, and the shadow of a smirk appeared along his lips. “I only say those things because they’re true.”
“It is not!” She could just feel her face turning red, her arms trembling with unbidden anger. “Not in the least! I just think -- I think -- I think you’re a big jerk!”
She raised a hand, then, meaning to shove him, but Fakir easily stepped out of the way, grabbing a hold of her splayed fingers and holding them tight.
Ahiru made a few weak attempts to pull away, but his grip didn‘t loosen. She wanted to yell again but couldn’t find the voice for it, her brief burst of fury already fading away. For a moment, he just stared, expression unreadable to her: his lips set in a straight, stiff line, his eyes narrowed, so focused that she had to look away.
Finally, he let go. Her arm fell limp to her side.
“Fine,” he said, unmoving. “If you want to hit me, then go ahead.”
Ahiru blinked. She curled her hand into a loose fist, then released it just as easily. “N-No, I don’t want to…I just…I just wish you’d be a little nicer, is all...”
For a quiet moment, she thought she may have finally gotten through to him -- only to watch his expression harden just as it had countless times before. “Pathetic,” he muttered with a stiff shake of his head, and the word cut right through her, painful, absolute.
He turned away, then, and gathered up sheath and sword at once, hanging both against his side. “Go back to your castle,” he said, and brushed past her on his way out the gate. “You’ve wasted enough of my time.”
“W-Wait!”
She stepped out into the hay-strewn corridor, yelling after him. “I didn’t waste -- you’re just -- I’m not -- you didn’t even,” she stuttered on for a few moments, then settled on one last defiant cry of, “you’re awful!”
He was gone, and she found herself alone with the horses; stamped her foot on the ground with a shrill sigh.
At least there was one good thing about the exchange, she told herself. She had gotten out her apologies -- no matter how much he hadn’t deserved it -- and now there was no reason to speak to him ever again.
A few minutes later, cries of “your highness, your highness!” echoed through the building, and the guard from the castle, face pale, weapon poised, came upon her, certain she’d been abducted or killed on his watch. After a quick, familiar discussion of, “you aren’t supposed to leave the castle walls, it could be dangerous. I am sorry, my lady, but that is the way it must be,” -- though it was much nicer than certain parties had been on the subject -- he led her back, pretending not to notice the way she slammed her foot down on every stone step leading up to the castle walls.
- - -
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
Mytho laughed and lifted his foot off the ground, wiggling it for confirmation. “Not even a bruise. Seems like I’ll live to see another day.”
Ahiru flushed, aiming to throw in one more apology for good measure, but then another couple approached the two, smiles wide, arms splayed open, and they found themselves drawn into yet another brief conversation of ‘hello’, ‘lovely ball, yes’, ‘so exciting to finally meet you!’. The woman swept her enormous red gown to the ground as she curtsied, and managed to compliment Ahiru’s hair, eyes, and dress all in one shrill, laughing breath. The man bowed, his tunic crinkling against his chest, and shared a few friendly words with Mytho before bending to kiss Ahiru’s hand. The two swept away into the vast ballroom, then, leaving the prince and princess still poised at the opening, waving them off.
Yes, Ahiru thought with a soft sigh: this had been a good idea. Countless guests, ornately dressed, had arrived early, just like Mytho said, and she and he had been there to greet them without fail, standing against the slope of the vast entryway. She’d already received more glowing compliments than she’d ever thought possible; found herself so filled up with all the merriment that it was impossible to keep her face from flushing red at the slightest warm word. Her blue dress -- the one she’d been saving for so long -- she’d even gotten to wear it and watch it twirl in soft, swaying folds as she turned. Even though it would all only be for a little while longer, she found herself unconcerned with the curse for once in her life, too filled up with genuine cheer to care.
“You look happy,” Mytho commented, looking to her. “Enjoying this?”
“Yes,” she answered without even a breath of hesitation. “Just, look at everything! The lights and the decorations and all the people! It’s so nice, and everyone’s been so friendly!”
“So I take it this was a good idea?”
“Of course!”
She offered him a smile, and he took her white-gloved hand in his own, holding it in the breath of space between them. Through the windows, she could still see the sun, a blinding rim against the sturdy shapes of the trees. Still plenty of time.
A few more bright faces swept through. The conversations were beginning to melt together in Ahiru’s mind, little more than loud, happy blurs, but she always found herself able to remember each face that stopped to greet them. An older couple, arms interlocked, hair just beginning to bleed grey. One of the knights, escorting a shy-smiling woman with the brightest eyes Ahiru had ever seen. A girl no older than seven whose little body was swallowed up by frills and ribbons, who blushed when Mytho bent down to greet her. She’d even seen Lillie and Pique, dressed in their finest gowns, eyes wide and bright as they hurried over to say hello. Pique had nudged her shoulder, gesturing to Mytho with a sly look in her eyes. “What did I tell you?” She’d said with a knowing smile. Lillie, always helpful, had clutched Ahiru’s arm fiercely. “Don’t fret,” she’d whispered in her ear. “I’ll dance as dreadfully as possible so you’ll look better by comparison!”
Ahiru hadn’t the heart to reveal that she wouldn’t be joining them in the ballroom, but offered the both of them warm smiles instead as they hurried off in a flurry of flowing skirts, cheerful laughter to make way for the next guests.
“I hadn’t heard much of the princess,” she heard one women comment to another near her. “I can’t understand why, she’s lovely!”
“The two make such a good match,” the other offered. “What a beautiful marriage it will be.”
Ahiru felt awfully proud at that moment, and she wondered to the high heavens why she’d allowed herself to be caught up in so many trivial matters as of late. This was what mattered, her being here with Mytho, revealing herself to the land she‘d soon sit at the head of-- and she was making a pretty great first impression, it seemed!
Beside her, she noticed Mytho shift his weight from foot to foot, and wondered with a twitch of old guilt finding its way into all her happiness, if he was just trying to be nice about his injury.
“Are you absolutely, positively sure you’re all right?” She repeated.
His face was colored with amusement, and he squeezed her hand. “I could take off my shoe and show you, if you’d like.”
She managed a little laugh at that. “Are you going to be able to dance?”
He blinked. “Dance? Who am I going to dance with? You won’t be there.”
“Oh no, no,” she said at once, a little louder than she meant to. “You have to! Please don’t worry about me. You should have fun tonight!”
He seemed to study her face for a long moment. “If that’s what you want --”
“It is,” she said, an end to the genuine thought, and the two took to watching the growing crowd within the ballroom, colorful forms shifting and mingling around the tables, calling out to one another from across the open floor. A few blunt notes of music floated through the air from time to time: the musicians were preparing, heads bent studiously over their instruments.
She felt Mytho brush against her as he turned to glance down the hallway once more. “Look,” he said, and she didn’t hear him for a minute, too fascinated by the wooden, stringed item one of the musicians held, plucked at quite fervently. “Here comes Fakir.”
She turned, already frowning at the mere mention of the knight’s name. Sure enough, there he was, clad in a dark blue tunic, walking alongside an older gentleman Ahiru had never seen before. Mytho must have noticed her darkened expression, because he nudged her and offered her a smile when she looked to him.
“What’s the face for?” He asked, voice teasing. “I told you, he’s not that bad…”
Ahiru “humph’d” at once, crossing her arms. “If by ‘not that bad’, you actually mean ‘the most horrible person to have ever lived‘, then yes, you would be right.”
Mytho laughed. “I take it your paths have crossed since yesterday.”
Ahiru gave a curt nod, but straightened and forced herself to smile as the two men finally reached them at the doorway. Both bowed in silent unison. Once risen, Mytho took each of their hands in a firm, friendly shake.
“Ahiru, this is Charon,” he said, gesturing to the older gentleman, who nodded to her with a kind smile, traces of wrinkles crinkling around his dark eyes. “He’s the castle’s blacksmith and very generously supplies the weapons for all the knights and guards. Why, he even taught me how to use a sword when I was younger.”
“It is my greatest pleasure to meet you, your highness,” Charon said, voice so friendly that Ahiru’s fake smile fluttered into a genuine one. “I must say, no one prepared me for how lovely you would be.”
She flushed a pleasant red, as she was wont to do at such nice compliments. “Thank you! It’s nice to meet you too,” she responded in kind, curtsying.
“I’m sure you’ll be very happy with your prince here,” Charon went on to say, patting Mytho on the shoulder in such an easy way that Ahiru could tell their relationship was a friendlier one than mere prince and subject. “Now, if only he would let me craft him a new sword for a wedding present…”
“And I told you, Charon,” Mytho said, half-laughing, “that the one you first made is still perfectly fine. Don’t waste more metal on me. How is Raetsel?”
“Not very well, actually. She wanted to come tonight, even had a dress picked out, but she was coughing up a storm, so...”
Mytho and Charon continued to chat, of people and places Ahiru knew nothing of, and she had no choice but to fall quiet. In time, she found herself awkwardly facing Fakir, who hadn’t said so much as a word yet. He seemed determined not to look at her, gaze focused instead on the filling ballroom. Eventually, he tossed a glance towards Charon, looking annoyed that he and the prince were still in the midst of a conversation. She hadn’t even realized she was staring, but he must have felt it, because then he turned his head to finally meet her eyes.
She made a face and quickly looked away herself. That would teach him.
“-- so next time, hopefully,” Charon finished his train of thought with a sigh, turning back towards the group. He glanced to Fakir, then to Ahiru, and his eyes widened, as though he’d made some sort of mistake.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and Ahiru realized he was speaking to her. She watched as the older man looked towards Fakir. “I should have introduced --”
“We’ve met,” Fakir interrupted, so sharply that no one said anything more for a moment, the only sound around them the broken, lilting pieces of music from the band as they prepared for their first song.
“Fakir,” Charon spoke up, his voice stern. “That doesn’t mean you don’t show your respects.”
The man made a subtle gesture towards what Ahiru first thought was her dress. Glancing down, she realized he meant her gloved hand, hanging at her side, and she felt herself stiffen at the implication.
“Oh no, that’s all right,” she said at once, but the knight was already taking a step closer. In one firm motion, he took up her fingers against his own, touched his lips to the lace just above her knuckles in a brief kiss.
“My apologies, your highness,” he said, voice thick with something she couldn’t quite decipher, too busy berating herself for the blush that had sprung up unannounced along her face.
“We’ll see you within,” Charon said, and then with one last smile and nod to both Mytho and Ahiru, he and Fakir took their leave into the ballroom, quickly disappearing from view amidst all the other forms strewn along the open floor.
In fact, the room looked almost full to the brim, with chatting men and women gathered around each table. Hands raised in countless apologies as people mistakenly ran into others, shoulders pushing against backs, skirts brushing knees. The musicians had even begun to play a few simple, happy tunes, couples rising to the occasion as they swept together along the length of the floor, laughing with each easy step, each gentle twirl.
Maybe there was time.
The thought rose up into Ahiru’s head unbidden, and she clung to it, thrilled. The dancing was already beginning, it seemed, and if they hurried, maybe she could --
A reluctant glance towards the windows silenced the hope. The sky was already a deepening purple, the sun little more than a sliver of weak light beneath the trees.
She touched a few fingers to Mytho’s shoulder. “I--I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, but...I have to go.”
She attempted a smile, but could feel her lips faltering, twisting into something that resembled more of a grimace. He seemed to notice and offered her a warm smile, one last squeeze of her hand.
“No more apologies,” he said, voice nearly drowned out by a swell in the music. “It was wonderful enough to spend this time with you now.”
He turned to face the bright ballroom, then, and sighed. “Now to tell them all of it.”
Ahiru waved him off and watched as the crowd greeted him with admiring smiles, parted to create a clean path. Some glanced back to her, still standing in the entryway, eyes wide with innocent confusion. For a moment, she stayed still, fingers intertwined within the folds of her beautiful gown, and took in for one last time the warm lights, the dazzling outfits, the spinning, swaying couples as they danced.
Ahiru turned back to the entryway and faced the stairwell in the corner, dark and unwelcoming; with one last sigh, took her leave.
- - -
As Charon wandered across the vast room, holding a few warm slices of bread he‘d gathered from one of the tables, he caught a glimpse of Mytho, little more than a flash of white hair as he shifted through the folding crowd. Why was he going alone? Surely Ahiru was supposed to be with him, after all, weren’t they were planning on taking part in one of the first dances? The thought settled in the back of his head as he rejoined Fakir, who had strayed from the noisy crowd and was leaning against the far wall.
Charon offered him the bread, and he took it with a nod, but did not eat. There she was, Charon noted, seeing Ahiru’s thin form still in the darkened entryway, little more than a blur of blue and red. She stood still and seemed to be watching, as though planning on being little more than a bystander for the event. Strange, he thought.
In truth, he’d found the princess both perfectly kind and lovely. Why would she not take part? A smile hadn’t even left her face throughout their entire exchange, except for when the two were first approaching, he remembered --- and at that, looked to Fakir.
“She seemed angry with you,” he commented, moving to stand beside the young knight. “You shouldn’t leave such an impression on her, in the least.”
Fakir grunted, not even glancing at him. Charon was used to such behavior, though, and offered the boy a gentle smile. “A little kindness never hurt anyone, Fakir.”
“She’s a nuisance, Charon,” he suddenly spoke up, voice angrier than usual. “She refuses to listen, she --”
He trailed off, and Charon noted, with a touch of clarity, how Fakir raised his head to look at Ahiru himself, only to turn away just as quickly. He took up the bread in his hands and tore off a chunk, sticking it in his mouth as though to stop anything else he might have said, given the chance.
Charon patted his shoulder, hesitating, unsure of what the right thing to say would be. “I understand why you’re doing this, Fakir,” were the words he finally settled on. “But please, remember your place.”
He said nothing more.
Still, Charon couldn’t help but notice that as Ahiru turned and began to walk away, Fakir’s narrowed gaze followed her all the way down the length of the hallway and didn’t waver until she’d disappeared up the stairwell and out of sight.
- - -
Another handful of candles were lit. Edel set them along the length of the armoire with the utmost care before returning to her nearby chair. Uzura stood on her tiptoes before the open window, clapping when the music swelled. “They’re playing another song-zura,” she announced before scrambling back to the rug where she’d left her drum and sticks. “I can play with them-zura!”
“Quaaaack.”
Edel smiled and gathered up the droopy-eyed duck in the folds of her skirt as Uzura banged along with the tune.
“They won’t think any less of you,” she murmured, running her palm along each yellow feather.
Ahiru merely turned both bright eyes towards the curved moon in her window, but buried them in her wings not a moment later with one last sighing quack.
- - -
Poised at the beginning of the path leading to town, two guards stood straight, weapons poised. The windows of the great ballroom towered behind them, filled to the brim with light, while the buildings below them were dark, empty of their residents for one night. One was just beginning to nod off when both men were startled by the sound of flapping wings.
With identical cries, they turned in all directions, searching for the ragged feathers and glowing red eyes of ravens -- only for one guard to suddenly calm, gaze settling on the pond a yard or so behind them.
“Look,” he said, nudging his panicked friend, and they both watched as a familiar dark swan, elegant wings splayed wide, came to rest on the water‘s surface, the glow of the crescent moon like a halo of light around its form. “Just that swan again,” the same man commented.
“Pretty thing,” the other said, and both turned back to face the empty path.
They didn’t notice as the swan’s curved body sunk down into the shallow water, wings crumpling, dragging it down until the pond appeared empty once more with nothing but a perfect reflection of the moon left on its surface.
The water rippled. First, a head emerged, then two shoulders, the low of a pale back, and a pair of thin legs. Black feathers gathered at the tips of her new toes and sunk over her body, taking the fluid form of a gown. A red jewel appeared along the curve of her breast, so heavy that her long nails fell against it, settling along the rigid pattern.
With a soft, human sigh, she looked to the moon, crimson eyes glinting, and gathered her feathered skirt in both hands.
The castle towered overhead. The windows were large and warm with countless shadows sweeping in and out of view, hopelessly distracted by their own merriment. Much too distracted to see anything wrong with a lovely young newcomer dressed in black.
A smirk formed along her red-lipped mouth.
Perfect.
- - -
A/N: That's it for today~! I'll be the first to admit that this chapter was not all that exciting. It was basically meant to serve as a transition into the big ball. (And as you all will no doubt notice as this story progresses, I love me some character and relationship development, so there was lots of that in here as well. <3) Nonetheless, I hope it proved enjoyable!
Also, only an incredibly brief mention of this was made, and most of you probably didn't notice, but just in case, I'd thought I'd point out -- Charon and Raetsel are married in my story. This is mostly to SUIT MY SELFISH NEEDS. XD; Also, I always thought they were cute. But yes, it will become important later on. Just a heads-up. :DD
As always, comments are much appreciated~!
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