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tutufans2011-04-13 08:48 am
val-tyr.livejournal.com) wrote in tutufans2011-04-13 08:48 am
A Dream of Spring, chapter 5
Going for a different blurb layout from now on, since the story is getting rather lengthy and at this point I feel potential new readers need the story summary as well as a the chapter summary.
I'd also like to take this opportunity to thank everyone who has read this and been patient with me. You guys are all right.
Title: A Dream of Spring, Ch. 5
Rating: PG-13, mostly for content later on in the fic
Characters: Fakir,Ahiru, Rue, Mytho, Autor
Story Summary: Fakir has stopped writing. Strange disappearances and troubling dreams precede the arrival of a letter from Siegfried calling him to the story world's aid. He must take up the role of the Knight once more, but he will not go alone.
Chapter Summary: With Fakir bedridden and their departure from the castle delayed until he can recover, Ahiru has little more to do than to catch up with Rue and get to know some of the people from the Prince's world. She winds up with more questions than answers.
You can read previous installments at Fanfiction.net.
Author's Note: This is perhaps my least favorite chapter so far. It was an experimental chapter to test how well I had Ahiru's internal voice down, and the answer was a resounding “Not very well at all, you tit.” It's also the shortest chapter thus far due to the trouble I had tapping into it. I hope you'll enjoy it regardless, but know that I do apologize for it not being up to standard.
On the sixth day since their arrival in Feeland, Ahiru woke with a start only to startle again when, for the briefest of moments, she panicked upon finding herself lying on an opulent feather mattress rather than on the familiar bank of her lake, or in the worn bed of the dormitory room that at this point had faded into a vague recollection of a brief period of her life. Still clutching at her chest, she glanced around the room with wide eyes, gradually calming. Her guest room at the prince's castle, its plastered walls crawling with painted ivy, was familiar enough that she could give a small sigh, smile, and throw her newly lengthened legs over the side of the bed. As far as she was concerned, a dream she couldn't remember upon waking was nothing to think about for too long, even if it had frightened her.
She stretched, yawning, in the wide patch of orange-tinged sunlight that streamed in through the large stained window beside her bed. Rue had said something about the glass being stained to preserve her privacy, but if that were the case Ahiru didn't really see the point of staining a window three stories from the ground. She didn't imagine the other birds – this is, the birds – would be all that interested in the view. She'd learned fairly quickly that most other birds, duck or not, did not share her unique interest in humans.
Glancing around the room, she clumsily unwound the loose braid she'd put her hair into before settling down to sleep, raking her fingers through the knots that formed regardless of her best efforts to keep it tidy. Even through the stained glass, sunlight flooded the room, glancing off its cream-colored walls and bathing the whole place in warm, yellow light. The deep green ivy painted around the door and windows flourished in it, and the pale wooden furniture, nearly white and upholstered in pale green, almost seemed to glow.
A beautiful place, yes, but one that had proven itself quite dangerous already. She fiddled nervously with the ribbon she'd used to tie her hair, twisting it in her hands, as she recalled their first night in Feeland. A rising chorus of screams, a strangled gasp, and Fakir lying motionless on the floor behind the bench. Her heart ached at the memory of the terror that had briefly flashed across Mytho's face as he looked down at his broken knight, then up to the balcony in search of their attacker. And, just like that, the fear disappeared, replaced by cold, purpose-driven anger as he ordered the murderer detained and doctors summoned. She had felt so lost and adrift in the sea of rushing, shouting, terrified people who shoved and bustled past her to reach Fakir and their prince that she barely noticed when Rue took her hand and led her away from the crowd. Supporting her, firmly but gently, even in such a small way.
Her breath hitched, and she shook her head. No, that was all over. Fakir would be all right. He'd be fine, even if he'd gotten sick. As it had been explained to her, the little arrow that had struck Fakir wasn't clean, and it was especially bad to have a dirty thing pierce your lung because any dirt in there can make you so sick you might die. It was as bad as being shot with something poisoned, sometimes. But Fakir was strong, and Mytho's doctors took good care of him. He'd only been very sick on the fourth day, when the doctors barred Ahiru from visiting him.
Fakir had regained enough of his strength by the next day that she and Mytho had visited him together. He was hoarse and pale, but in a good enough mood. His only complaint had been that his constant headache made reading to pass the time impossible, and Mytho's immediate solution was to take the book from Fakir's hands and read aloud to them both as he sat on the edge of Fakir's bed. He did this in spite of Fakir's subtle but insistent cues to his embarrassment at being read to like a toddler.
She smiled and let her freshly wound braid fall behind her. That was a good memory. She would remember that instead of...
She would remember that instead.
As usual, a fresh set of clothing had been set out for her sometimes before she finally woke up, draped lightly over the little table in the center of the room. She jumped up from the bed and threw off her nightgown, performing a silly sort of dance to the table. The dress that had been left for her was a sunny yellow, the same as the other two that had been delivered, cleaned, and delivered again before. She imagined it must be the only color that looked any good on her.
In changing into her new clothes, she encountered only one problem: The back of the bodice buttoned up, and to her annoyance she could only manage to button the bottom three, leaving what she imagined must be hundreds of the tiny things left unfastened. This, obviously, would not do.
Hesitantly, she approached the heavy wooden door to the hallway, knocking once before opening it just a crack. The guard beside the door peered in, one eyebrow raised in a silent question.
“Do you, uh, think you could help me with something?” Ahiru asked with an awkward laugh.
The man stood at attention, an almost comically serious expression on his face as he nodded his head in acknowledgement. “How may I assist you, my lady?”
She laughed again, waving her hand. His lady? Really? “No, no, no- I mean yes. Yes, please help. I don't have long enough arms to button up my dress.”
She got a blank look in return. “Excuse me?”
Deciding that a demonstration would be helpful, she turned around and pointed to her mostly bare back. “See? If I had longer arms, I'd do it myself, but...”
It occurred to her, belatedly, that this behavior might be considered a bit strange. No one just asked strangers to help them get dressed, and she was fairly certain no one had arms long enough to button that dress on their own. The guard's silence was far from comforting, but he finally cleared his throat and very speedily fastened the last eight buttons. Ahiru turned to him with a smile she hoped looked suitably apologetic.
“That was weird, wasn't it?” she said with an uneasy laugh.
The young man shook his head, his gaze set somewhere between the top of Ahiru's head and the ceiling. “No, no, not at all,” he said.
She suspected he was lying to spare her feelings, but somehow that was a little endearing. He reminded her a bit of Fakir, only with manners. With a curtsy and a smile, she closed the door again and pulled on her slippers before running out again. Her guard, having grown accustomed to her hasty morning departures, simply waved and wished her a good day.
Her skirt fell just above her knees, making her dash through the castle's corridors a good deal easier than they had been on her first morning, still dressed in the long cotton skirts Fakir had acquired for her. Even though she had grown a great deal, the borrowed clothes had been less than ideal. This dress, though, seemed made to run and frolic in, with its short, loose sleeves and skirt. Made for summer. A hopeful grin tugged at her lips as she thought of finally exploring the big gardens she had seen from the castle's windows. After breakfast, definitely. And after seeing Fakir, to make sure he was as all right as she had tried to convince herself he was. Well, maybe she could eat breakfast with him. That way she could see him again after going to the garden and tell him about it. Maybe she could even bring him a flower, but then she'd have to bring one for Mytho, too, and probably one for-
“Rue?”
Ahiru came to an abrupt stop, slippers scuffling on the stone floor as she watched a familiar figure disappear around a corner up ahead. Grinning, she bolted off in pursuit, having decided that a brief visit with Rue would be far, far better than breakfast.
Sunlight streamed down onto her shoulders as she rounded the corner onto the balcony overlooking the castle's garden. Rue stood at the stone railing with her back to Ahiru, seemingly unaware of her presence. Dressed in a slim lilac gown that reached the floor, her hair up in coiled braids, Rue looked the part of a queen, not a dainty princess in voluminous skirts and frills. For a brief moment, Ahiru felt her mind set adrift with a floaty and dizzying feeling that must have been envy.
“Are you going to stand there, Ahiru, or are you going to come over?”
Ahiru flinched, squawked, and obediently scuttled over to stand beside Rue. She gave a shallow little bow before folding her hands demurely on the railing in imitation of Rue's regal posture.
“ Are you not going to talk to me?” Rue asked after a long moment. “ We haven't had many chances to talk, given what's happened since you arrived.”
Ahiru looked over, blinking. She hadn't noticed the silence at all, which was strange since she had considered many times what she would tell Rue should they meet again. Now, though, she found her mind cavernously empty.
“ Have you, um, been having fun here?” she asked. Her face fell. No, no, of course Rue hadn't been having fun. At least not this week. Someone had tried to kill Mytho, for goodness' sake! She could feel her face growing ever redder as she struggled to come up with some statement that would save her.
“ Obviously not,” Rue said, dashing any hopes Ahiru had of saving face. She looked out into the empty air above the blooming garden, her pink lips pressed into a thin and bitter line. “Not for some time, at least.”
Ahiru nodded in sympathy, her heart twisting. “Sorry,” she said impulsively. “I mean, I'm sorry I asked like that. I know it's hard with what happened to Fakir. What almost happened...”
Rue fell unhappily quiet, her face fixed in a chilly, bitter expression. A passing breeze disturbed the forelocks of her hair, but otherwise she appeared as motionless as the stone beneath her feet. Gingerly, Ahiru reached over to lay a hand on her bare shoulder. She realized then, as Rue bristled at the contact, that after her growth spurt she nearly matched Rue in height.
“Rue. What's wrong?”
Flinching away, Rue looked behind them, over the railing, and from side to side, all with an alarmingly purposeful look on her face. Ahiru followed her line of sight, wondering just what she was looking for.
“I can't really tell you it's none of your business, can I?” Rue mumbled. “It's been made your business.”
“I would have made it my business anyway,” Ahiru said, making no effort to disguise the hurt in her voice. “You're my friend, Rue.”
Rue looked down at Ahiru with annoyance she hoped was feigned, then folded her arms over the railing to lay her head on them. She stared out at the garden for a long moment before speaking.
“ More is wrong than is right,” Rue murmured. “You know the biggest part of it.”
Ahiru nodded, brows furrowing as she moved to stand nearer to Rue. “Yeah, the curse,” she said. “ But we're all going to go and fix that as soon as Fakir's better, so you shouldn't just-”
“ I won't be going,” Rue interrupted sharply. She reached behind her head to unbind her braids and shake out her hair. Deep brown curls fell around her face, obscuring her expression. She affected a mockingly tender tone. “A princess can't be put into danger like that, after all.”
“Ah, well, you do have to stay and make sure things are running smoothly, right?” Ahiru offered. She nodded emphatically. Yes, that made sense. After all, Mytho wouldn't just leave Rue behind for no good reason. “It's not like you're too fragile to leave, you just need to stay and take care of things here!”
Rue snorted, shook her head, and tossed her hair back. Even freshly unbound and wind-tossed it fell in graceful waves over her back and shoulders. “ I'm not considered fit to rule, even as a last resort,” she said. For the fleetest of moment's, Ahiru feared she saw a ghost of Kraehe's angry bitterness in her friend's eyes. “Even if I'm asked to make decisions in his stead, it won't mean anything.”
“That's not true!” Ahiru said. “You haven't even tried yet.”
Turning her back to Ahiru, Rue replied as she strode away. “I don't have to try,” she said. “I'm not trusted. I never have been. The prince being away won't change that. If anything, his absence will make his courtiers' plans to discredit me all the more feasible.”
Ahiru darted forward to snap up Rue's hand, holding her in place. “Why?” she demanded. “You're a good person, Rue. If Mytho sees that, why can't they?”
Rue's hand trembled in Ahiru's grasp as Rue turned to face her, the bitter pain so plain in her eyes that it made Ahiru's heart ache. Somehow that look spoke more of struggle and alienation, of utter disenchantment, than words ever could. For several moments, only the whistling wind broke the silence between them before Rue's expression hardened.
“Would you trust the daughter of your kingdom's greatest enemy?” she asked, withdrawing her hand from Ahiru's grasp.
“But you aren't the Raven's daughter,” Ahiru said, following close behind her. Her eyes stung. “You're a person. You're a good person.”
“That doesn't matter,” Rue replied simply as she ducked into the corridor beyond the balcony. “ And don't follow me. I'm in no mood to talk anymore.”
One hand still raised as if to stop her, Ahiru stopped in her tracks. Her arm fell limp at her side as she fought the urge to call out to Rue's retreating back. She only wanted to understand, to know why no one else could see the good in Rue that she and Mytho surely understood. She leaned heavily on the corridor's cool stone wall, arms folded over her chest as she pondered this. She pondered so deeply that several moments passed before she noticed an old man standing beside her, smiling almost expectantly.
“Qua-! Oh. Hello. I'm sorry, sir, I didn't notice you there. I mean, I didn't. I wasn't paying attention. I'm sorry.”
The old man's grin broadened as she went on, and Ahiru found herself wondering if he liked seeing her stumble over her words. He tapped his walking stick on the stones and cackled, a boisterous sound that hardly matched his frail frame. It did make sense, she supposed; he wore the same sort of long tunic-apron-thing she'd seen Fakir and the other knights wear. An old knight would sound different from any other old man, right?
“Oh, now, don't be sorry,” he said, leaning on the walking stick as he looked her up and down. “I'm completely unnoticeable unless I mean not to be, so I promise you saw me just in time.”
Ahiru couldn't keep from screwing her face up a bit at his appraising gaze. “O-oh. Well, that's good, I guess.” After a moment's thought, she decided this may not be so good. “Hey, wait a minute! Were you watching us? Watching other people talk is rude, you know! You ought to know better!”
The old man chortled. “Because I'm old? Oh, little princess, never underestimate how unwise people can be, no matter their age.”
“I'm no princess,” Ahiru said, fidgeting. “Just a... just a girl, is all, really.”
It wasn't as though he'd understand she was a duck.
“Oh, you aren't?” the old man wondered aloud. He lifted his stick and gestured to Ahiru's skirt. “What's this, then, hm? Nothing common about that, even if it's cut like a little girl's dress.”
Ahiru sputtered. “It is not! Besides, it was a gift. I don't always dress like this. It feels weird, actually...”
As she spoke, the old man nodded along, his expression thoughtful. “It should feel strange, absolutely,” he said. “You're too tall and lanky to be going around in something like that. You're all legs and arms, a very flattering shape for a young woman granted she wears the right clothes.”
Ahiru fidgeted, recalling the weird must-be-envy feeling she'd experienced seeing Rue in her ladylike clothes. But she didn't like clothes like that, not at all.
“I like this dress, thank you,” she said with a pout.
“I thought it was a gift.”
“It's a gift that I like!”
“Are you sure you aren't a princess?” the old man asked.
Ahiru had to wonder just how someone could be unsure of something like that. “Yeah, I'm sure. You know, you still haven't answered my question.”
The old man took a few confident steps down the corridor, his walking stick tap-tapping rhythmically on the stones as he went. “I don't answer pointless questions unless they interest me,” he said with another enigmatic chuckle. He went right on speaking as he walked on and eventually disappeared around a corner at the end of the hall. “You remind me of a princess I told Prince Siegfried about once. A sweet girl doomed to cease to exist if she ever spoke of her love. Of course, she's gone, now, hanging as motes of light over this withering kingdom. Good day, little not-princess.”
Ahiru stood stock still as the tap-tapping faded, totally at a loss. Some part of her wanted to pursue him, to ask how he knew – or even if he knew – but she reminded herself that there was no longer anything to know. She wasn't Tutu anymore, and it wasn't as though that would be a secret worth keeping in Mytho's world. Still...
“Sir? Sir, wait!” she called, belatedly dashing off down the hall. She rounded the corner and bolted down the stairs, but after a few minutes of searching found no sign of the old knight.
I'd also like to take this opportunity to thank everyone who has read this and been patient with me. You guys are all right.
Title: A Dream of Spring, Ch. 5
Rating: PG-13, mostly for content later on in the fic
Characters: Fakir,Ahiru, Rue, Mytho, Autor
Story Summary: Fakir has stopped writing. Strange disappearances and troubling dreams precede the arrival of a letter from Siegfried calling him to the story world's aid. He must take up the role of the Knight once more, but he will not go alone.
Chapter Summary: With Fakir bedridden and their departure from the castle delayed until he can recover, Ahiru has little more to do than to catch up with Rue and get to know some of the people from the Prince's world. She winds up with more questions than answers.
You can read previous installments at Fanfiction.net.
Author's Note: This is perhaps my least favorite chapter so far. It was an experimental chapter to test how well I had Ahiru's internal voice down, and the answer was a resounding “Not very well at all, you tit.” It's also the shortest chapter thus far due to the trouble I had tapping into it. I hope you'll enjoy it regardless, but know that I do apologize for it not being up to standard.
On the sixth day since their arrival in Feeland, Ahiru woke with a start only to startle again when, for the briefest of moments, she panicked upon finding herself lying on an opulent feather mattress rather than on the familiar bank of her lake, or in the worn bed of the dormitory room that at this point had faded into a vague recollection of a brief period of her life. Still clutching at her chest, she glanced around the room with wide eyes, gradually calming. Her guest room at the prince's castle, its plastered walls crawling with painted ivy, was familiar enough that she could give a small sigh, smile, and throw her newly lengthened legs over the side of the bed. As far as she was concerned, a dream she couldn't remember upon waking was nothing to think about for too long, even if it had frightened her.
She stretched, yawning, in the wide patch of orange-tinged sunlight that streamed in through the large stained window beside her bed. Rue had said something about the glass being stained to preserve her privacy, but if that were the case Ahiru didn't really see the point of staining a window three stories from the ground. She didn't imagine the other birds – this is, the birds – would be all that interested in the view. She'd learned fairly quickly that most other birds, duck or not, did not share her unique interest in humans.
Glancing around the room, she clumsily unwound the loose braid she'd put her hair into before settling down to sleep, raking her fingers through the knots that formed regardless of her best efforts to keep it tidy. Even through the stained glass, sunlight flooded the room, glancing off its cream-colored walls and bathing the whole place in warm, yellow light. The deep green ivy painted around the door and windows flourished in it, and the pale wooden furniture, nearly white and upholstered in pale green, almost seemed to glow.
A beautiful place, yes, but one that had proven itself quite dangerous already. She fiddled nervously with the ribbon she'd used to tie her hair, twisting it in her hands, as she recalled their first night in Feeland. A rising chorus of screams, a strangled gasp, and Fakir lying motionless on the floor behind the bench. Her heart ached at the memory of the terror that had briefly flashed across Mytho's face as he looked down at his broken knight, then up to the balcony in search of their attacker. And, just like that, the fear disappeared, replaced by cold, purpose-driven anger as he ordered the murderer detained and doctors summoned. She had felt so lost and adrift in the sea of rushing, shouting, terrified people who shoved and bustled past her to reach Fakir and their prince that she barely noticed when Rue took her hand and led her away from the crowd. Supporting her, firmly but gently, even in such a small way.
Her breath hitched, and she shook her head. No, that was all over. Fakir would be all right. He'd be fine, even if he'd gotten sick. As it had been explained to her, the little arrow that had struck Fakir wasn't clean, and it was especially bad to have a dirty thing pierce your lung because any dirt in there can make you so sick you might die. It was as bad as being shot with something poisoned, sometimes. But Fakir was strong, and Mytho's doctors took good care of him. He'd only been very sick on the fourth day, when the doctors barred Ahiru from visiting him.
Fakir had regained enough of his strength by the next day that she and Mytho had visited him together. He was hoarse and pale, but in a good enough mood. His only complaint had been that his constant headache made reading to pass the time impossible, and Mytho's immediate solution was to take the book from Fakir's hands and read aloud to them both as he sat on the edge of Fakir's bed. He did this in spite of Fakir's subtle but insistent cues to his embarrassment at being read to like a toddler.
She smiled and let her freshly wound braid fall behind her. That was a good memory. She would remember that instead of...
She would remember that instead.
As usual, a fresh set of clothing had been set out for her sometimes before she finally woke up, draped lightly over the little table in the center of the room. She jumped up from the bed and threw off her nightgown, performing a silly sort of dance to the table. The dress that had been left for her was a sunny yellow, the same as the other two that had been delivered, cleaned, and delivered again before. She imagined it must be the only color that looked any good on her.
In changing into her new clothes, she encountered only one problem: The back of the bodice buttoned up, and to her annoyance she could only manage to button the bottom three, leaving what she imagined must be hundreds of the tiny things left unfastened. This, obviously, would not do.
Hesitantly, she approached the heavy wooden door to the hallway, knocking once before opening it just a crack. The guard beside the door peered in, one eyebrow raised in a silent question.
“Do you, uh, think you could help me with something?” Ahiru asked with an awkward laugh.
The man stood at attention, an almost comically serious expression on his face as he nodded his head in acknowledgement. “How may I assist you, my lady?”
She laughed again, waving her hand. His lady? Really? “No, no, no- I mean yes. Yes, please help. I don't have long enough arms to button up my dress.”
She got a blank look in return. “Excuse me?”
Deciding that a demonstration would be helpful, she turned around and pointed to her mostly bare back. “See? If I had longer arms, I'd do it myself, but...”
It occurred to her, belatedly, that this behavior might be considered a bit strange. No one just asked strangers to help them get dressed, and she was fairly certain no one had arms long enough to button that dress on their own. The guard's silence was far from comforting, but he finally cleared his throat and very speedily fastened the last eight buttons. Ahiru turned to him with a smile she hoped looked suitably apologetic.
“That was weird, wasn't it?” she said with an uneasy laugh.
The young man shook his head, his gaze set somewhere between the top of Ahiru's head and the ceiling. “No, no, not at all,” he said.
She suspected he was lying to spare her feelings, but somehow that was a little endearing. He reminded her a bit of Fakir, only with manners. With a curtsy and a smile, she closed the door again and pulled on her slippers before running out again. Her guard, having grown accustomed to her hasty morning departures, simply waved and wished her a good day.
Her skirt fell just above her knees, making her dash through the castle's corridors a good deal easier than they had been on her first morning, still dressed in the long cotton skirts Fakir had acquired for her. Even though she had grown a great deal, the borrowed clothes had been less than ideal. This dress, though, seemed made to run and frolic in, with its short, loose sleeves and skirt. Made for summer. A hopeful grin tugged at her lips as she thought of finally exploring the big gardens she had seen from the castle's windows. After breakfast, definitely. And after seeing Fakir, to make sure he was as all right as she had tried to convince herself he was. Well, maybe she could eat breakfast with him. That way she could see him again after going to the garden and tell him about it. Maybe she could even bring him a flower, but then she'd have to bring one for Mytho, too, and probably one for-
“Rue?”
Ahiru came to an abrupt stop, slippers scuffling on the stone floor as she watched a familiar figure disappear around a corner up ahead. Grinning, she bolted off in pursuit, having decided that a brief visit with Rue would be far, far better than breakfast.
Sunlight streamed down onto her shoulders as she rounded the corner onto the balcony overlooking the castle's garden. Rue stood at the stone railing with her back to Ahiru, seemingly unaware of her presence. Dressed in a slim lilac gown that reached the floor, her hair up in coiled braids, Rue looked the part of a queen, not a dainty princess in voluminous skirts and frills. For a brief moment, Ahiru felt her mind set adrift with a floaty and dizzying feeling that must have been envy.
“Are you going to stand there, Ahiru, or are you going to come over?”
Ahiru flinched, squawked, and obediently scuttled over to stand beside Rue. She gave a shallow little bow before folding her hands demurely on the railing in imitation of Rue's regal posture.
“ Are you not going to talk to me?” Rue asked after a long moment. “ We haven't had many chances to talk, given what's happened since you arrived.”
Ahiru looked over, blinking. She hadn't noticed the silence at all, which was strange since she had considered many times what she would tell Rue should they meet again. Now, though, she found her mind cavernously empty.
“ Have you, um, been having fun here?” she asked. Her face fell. No, no, of course Rue hadn't been having fun. At least not this week. Someone had tried to kill Mytho, for goodness' sake! She could feel her face growing ever redder as she struggled to come up with some statement that would save her.
“ Obviously not,” Rue said, dashing any hopes Ahiru had of saving face. She looked out into the empty air above the blooming garden, her pink lips pressed into a thin and bitter line. “Not for some time, at least.”
Ahiru nodded in sympathy, her heart twisting. “Sorry,” she said impulsively. “I mean, I'm sorry I asked like that. I know it's hard with what happened to Fakir. What almost happened...”
Rue fell unhappily quiet, her face fixed in a chilly, bitter expression. A passing breeze disturbed the forelocks of her hair, but otherwise she appeared as motionless as the stone beneath her feet. Gingerly, Ahiru reached over to lay a hand on her bare shoulder. She realized then, as Rue bristled at the contact, that after her growth spurt she nearly matched Rue in height.
“Rue. What's wrong?”
Flinching away, Rue looked behind them, over the railing, and from side to side, all with an alarmingly purposeful look on her face. Ahiru followed her line of sight, wondering just what she was looking for.
“I can't really tell you it's none of your business, can I?” Rue mumbled. “It's been made your business.”
“I would have made it my business anyway,” Ahiru said, making no effort to disguise the hurt in her voice. “You're my friend, Rue.”
Rue looked down at Ahiru with annoyance she hoped was feigned, then folded her arms over the railing to lay her head on them. She stared out at the garden for a long moment before speaking.
“ More is wrong than is right,” Rue murmured. “You know the biggest part of it.”
Ahiru nodded, brows furrowing as she moved to stand nearer to Rue. “Yeah, the curse,” she said. “ But we're all going to go and fix that as soon as Fakir's better, so you shouldn't just-”
“ I won't be going,” Rue interrupted sharply. She reached behind her head to unbind her braids and shake out her hair. Deep brown curls fell around her face, obscuring her expression. She affected a mockingly tender tone. “A princess can't be put into danger like that, after all.”
“Ah, well, you do have to stay and make sure things are running smoothly, right?” Ahiru offered. She nodded emphatically. Yes, that made sense. After all, Mytho wouldn't just leave Rue behind for no good reason. “It's not like you're too fragile to leave, you just need to stay and take care of things here!”
Rue snorted, shook her head, and tossed her hair back. Even freshly unbound and wind-tossed it fell in graceful waves over her back and shoulders. “ I'm not considered fit to rule, even as a last resort,” she said. For the fleetest of moment's, Ahiru feared she saw a ghost of Kraehe's angry bitterness in her friend's eyes. “Even if I'm asked to make decisions in his stead, it won't mean anything.”
“That's not true!” Ahiru said. “You haven't even tried yet.”
Turning her back to Ahiru, Rue replied as she strode away. “I don't have to try,” she said. “I'm not trusted. I never have been. The prince being away won't change that. If anything, his absence will make his courtiers' plans to discredit me all the more feasible.”
Ahiru darted forward to snap up Rue's hand, holding her in place. “Why?” she demanded. “You're a good person, Rue. If Mytho sees that, why can't they?”
Rue's hand trembled in Ahiru's grasp as Rue turned to face her, the bitter pain so plain in her eyes that it made Ahiru's heart ache. Somehow that look spoke more of struggle and alienation, of utter disenchantment, than words ever could. For several moments, only the whistling wind broke the silence between them before Rue's expression hardened.
“Would you trust the daughter of your kingdom's greatest enemy?” she asked, withdrawing her hand from Ahiru's grasp.
“But you aren't the Raven's daughter,” Ahiru said, following close behind her. Her eyes stung. “You're a person. You're a good person.”
“That doesn't matter,” Rue replied simply as she ducked into the corridor beyond the balcony. “ And don't follow me. I'm in no mood to talk anymore.”
One hand still raised as if to stop her, Ahiru stopped in her tracks. Her arm fell limp at her side as she fought the urge to call out to Rue's retreating back. She only wanted to understand, to know why no one else could see the good in Rue that she and Mytho surely understood. She leaned heavily on the corridor's cool stone wall, arms folded over her chest as she pondered this. She pondered so deeply that several moments passed before she noticed an old man standing beside her, smiling almost expectantly.
“Qua-! Oh. Hello. I'm sorry, sir, I didn't notice you there. I mean, I didn't. I wasn't paying attention. I'm sorry.”
The old man's grin broadened as she went on, and Ahiru found herself wondering if he liked seeing her stumble over her words. He tapped his walking stick on the stones and cackled, a boisterous sound that hardly matched his frail frame. It did make sense, she supposed; he wore the same sort of long tunic-apron-thing she'd seen Fakir and the other knights wear. An old knight would sound different from any other old man, right?
“Oh, now, don't be sorry,” he said, leaning on the walking stick as he looked her up and down. “I'm completely unnoticeable unless I mean not to be, so I promise you saw me just in time.”
Ahiru couldn't keep from screwing her face up a bit at his appraising gaze. “O-oh. Well, that's good, I guess.” After a moment's thought, she decided this may not be so good. “Hey, wait a minute! Were you watching us? Watching other people talk is rude, you know! You ought to know better!”
The old man chortled. “Because I'm old? Oh, little princess, never underestimate how unwise people can be, no matter their age.”
“I'm no princess,” Ahiru said, fidgeting. “Just a... just a girl, is all, really.”
It wasn't as though he'd understand she was a duck.
“Oh, you aren't?” the old man wondered aloud. He lifted his stick and gestured to Ahiru's skirt. “What's this, then, hm? Nothing common about that, even if it's cut like a little girl's dress.”
Ahiru sputtered. “It is not! Besides, it was a gift. I don't always dress like this. It feels weird, actually...”
As she spoke, the old man nodded along, his expression thoughtful. “It should feel strange, absolutely,” he said. “You're too tall and lanky to be going around in something like that. You're all legs and arms, a very flattering shape for a young woman granted she wears the right clothes.”
Ahiru fidgeted, recalling the weird must-be-envy feeling she'd experienced seeing Rue in her ladylike clothes. But she didn't like clothes like that, not at all.
“I like this dress, thank you,” she said with a pout.
“I thought it was a gift.”
“It's a gift that I like!”
“Are you sure you aren't a princess?” the old man asked.
Ahiru had to wonder just how someone could be unsure of something like that. “Yeah, I'm sure. You know, you still haven't answered my question.”
The old man took a few confident steps down the corridor, his walking stick tap-tapping rhythmically on the stones as he went. “I don't answer pointless questions unless they interest me,” he said with another enigmatic chuckle. He went right on speaking as he walked on and eventually disappeared around a corner at the end of the hall. “You remind me of a princess I told Prince Siegfried about once. A sweet girl doomed to cease to exist if she ever spoke of her love. Of course, she's gone, now, hanging as motes of light over this withering kingdom. Good day, little not-princess.”
Ahiru stood stock still as the tap-tapping faded, totally at a loss. Some part of her wanted to pursue him, to ask how he knew – or even if he knew – but she reminded herself that there was no longer anything to know. She wasn't Tutu anymore, and it wasn't as though that would be a secret worth keeping in Mytho's world. Still...
“Sir? Sir, wait!” she called, belatedly dashing off down the hall. She rounded the corner and bolted down the stairs, but after a few minutes of searching found no sign of the old knight.