13.1
Scene, a lake in an underground cavern, separated from the gap by a narrow shore. In the center of the lake, there is something like a white branch, or a great ivory tusk, or the silhouette of a swan's neck. On it stands Princess Kraehe, in black tulle and satin
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"When our whispers are full of emotion," Kraehe says, tilting her head down so she can see Tutu better, "whose words will he be pulled to? If the prince chooses you, Tutu, I will return him and this piece," she uncrosses her arms, tilting the heartshard slightly so it catches the light, "to you."
She stops, and looks concerned, voice taking on the caring-mocking tone she has heard so often at Gold Crown Academy. "But...even if I would like to return it, you'd be nothing but a flash of light, would you?"
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Princess Tutu doesn't gulp. Duck would gulp. Princess Tutu is facing her destiny, and she does it with grace -
I'm going to vanish, really? That terrifies me . . .
Her eyes lower slightly, the only outward sign of uncertainty.
But -
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He isn't uncertain any more. That's past. His enemy stands before him, and very soon now she'll finish her villainous monologue and the battle will begin.
Tutu won't need to vanish, if all goes well. Fakir will defeat Kraehe first, and die in the moment when he kills her, so that Mytho and Tutu can ... can ...
(Live happily ever after, supplies a voice from nowhere.)
Live happily ever after, that's right.
(You always have such good plans, Fakir.)
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"If you truly love the prince, there is no reason to be confused...is there?"
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Should there be an observer in an armchair, somewhere behind the set, the observer might ask, "Why are those ravens en pointe? Why are they wearing tutus? Why do the raven armies even have human legs, anyhow?" The question doesn't interest Fakir, who is raising his sword in the first move of the Marozzi sequence--
No, Fakir isn't. He's spinning and pirouetting and swinging his sword in the old, familiar patterns of stage combat, and every time he slices at a raven, the raven vanishes in a spray of purple glitter.
Spoon would say, "You're dancing, son. Start over."
I can't start over.
Spin, turn, swing. Two ravens down, three.
I'm doing it all wrong, but it's working. Why can't I remember the moves?Fakir reaches backwards over his head, killing a fourth raven ( ... )
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(The princess doesn't rescue the knight, silly duck.
The princess doesn't even rescue the prince.
The princess is not an agent; she's a tragedy.)
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I will not fail at all.
A circle of ravens surrounds Fakir, slashing at him until the water is red with his blood. He strikes back, stepping forward with every strike, until at last Fakir reaches the island where Kraehe waits.
Fakir's bent over and can barely stand. His shirt's so torn that it hardly covers him. But he says, breathless, "Well..then. It looks like my body's still in one piece, huh?"
Fakir raises Lohengrin's sword for the last time.
Kraehe is saying something scornful, about how Fakir's too weak to be able to hurt her. Fakir only smiles, exhausted and triumphant. Oh, I have a better plan than that."Mytho," he gasps, "forgive me ( ... )
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