[fic] Princess Tutu ; It Can Go Both Ways
The girl toyed with the hem of her black dress as she sat before her father, the ominous atmosphere of a great abyss plastered with his face not quite affecting her as it used to. She feels him breathe, and grounds herself to prevent toppling over with the force of his simple action.
Kraehe-no, Rue-had found her prince at last. And she wanted nothing more than to continue spending time with him and asking him to love her-but that dark-haired boy kept getting in the way. Taking the prince away from her when she was demonstrating ballet, going around calling himself a knight, giving the prince a name…it was infuriating.
But it was confusing, as well.
“Mm…Father…?” the girl sheepishly looks up to the dark behemoth, the first hint of redness dotting along the edge of her irises. She feels the air shift, and understands that she has the Raven’s attention. “When one is around the person they love, they feel funny, right?”
“Yes.”
“…W-well…” She shifts uncomfortably on her feet. There was definitely a feeling whenever she was around her prince. But she was troubled by the fact that… “I feel something…sort of funny when I’m around someone…that’s not the prince,” she clarifies.
It is at her statement when the Raven shoots back, his words full of venom, “Foolish Kraehe, only I and the prince from the story, who loves everyone, can ever truly love a pitiful crow like you. And you say you feel love for one who is neither?”
“I-I-no!” The girl stumbles over her words, her eyes averting from his and inwardly coming to dislike the name he calls her. “I don’t…think it’s love, but…my heart beats faster like when I’m with the prince…and it’s hard to breathe…like when I’m with the prince,” she mumbles softly.
The Raven takes her words in, and releases a sigh that threatens to knock the girl off her feet. “Foolish Kraehe,” he repeats, “that is not love you feel for the other.”
“It’s not?”
“No. It is different. Make no mistake, daughter of mine. What you feel for the other being is nothing but pure hatred.”
“Hatred…” the word slides off her tongue with ease. And it was strange. Being around both the prince and the so-called ‘knight’ made her feel the same things, but her real feelings were actually opposite to them?
“Your heart beats faster when you are alert. You are alert when you are with the one you love, and the one you hate. Both make you feel similar. But do not make any confusion as to who your love belongs to. Remember-no one but I and the prince can ever feel love for you.”
“Y…yes, Father…”
xXx
“Mytho doesn’t belong to you.”
“Nor does he to you!”
The two dark-haired teens glare into each other ruthlessly, neither backing down. He may think he can intimidate her with his strength and size, but she will never allow it.
Rue hates Fakir. And she may not understand why the shadow of a black bird haunts the edge of her dreams, but she does understand the rage she feels when he’s near. Incessantly butting in where his nose doesn’t belong-even going so far as to never leave the prince’s side at the academy-just who gives him the right? His very face makes her blood boil. It does not even register that his presence has the same effect on her body as the prince’s.
But it’s when he takes a grip on her shoulders that something sparks up and down her spine, and for a moment Rue does not know how to react. She stands there, saturated red eyes widened, and watches his eyebrows furrow.
No one has ever touched her like so, not even the prince. But in the next moment he’s shoved her away, perhaps feeling smug and thinking that he’s succeeded in threatening her. But she will never give him that satisfaction, she thinks to herself as she watches him walk away. She feels nothing but seething hatred for that person.
The word has always slipped off her tongue easily.
xXx
“Believe me, Mytho, you do love me,” she says as she looms over his resting face, her gaze upside down over his own.
The prince does not respond to her words-he never does-but she never expects anything more as she tucks a lock of white hair behind his ear. “You love me,” she repeats, and leans down to kiss him.
His lips are always slightly colder than a human’s should be. Is it because there is no heart beating within him? No, it doesn’t matter, because those lips will always stay that way. Cold and unfeeling…unresponding…
But…suddenly, Rue frowns. And then kisses him again, with more intent. He still does not move.
He will never move-not on his own.
…She dimly wonders what it would feel like to have his hands over her own. If his hands would feel cold against her skin. Rue shouldn’t wonder about things like this, no. Because it will never change.
But he makes her feel warm, oh so very warm. And she knows it is because she loves him. She loves him so much, but she will never say it.
Rue doesn’t think about the fact that there is one other person that she finds herself feeling warm around. She doesn’t think about it because something in her gut knows that it’s hatred. She doesn’t need to think about it-she hates him. It’s so easy to say that word.
It doesn’t even occur to her that the feelings are far too similar for comfort.
“Tell me you love me, Mytho.”
“I love you.”
She allows him to see her smile as she leans down over his face one more time.
As it should be.
xXx
He grabs the prince by the hair and shoves him before a mirror, golden eyes void of any reaction as they stare back into their owner.
“I hate this stupid face,” the knight hisses through gritted teeth, fingers twisting into Mytho’s scalp and yanking back. The prince has been spending far too much time with that irritating girl. Even after Fakir specifically told him not to.
He grabs Mytho’s chin and pushes him further against the mirror. The poor little prince takes it all in stride, eyes lacking any brightness and voice filled with a conditioned flatness. It’s far too simple to make his point through aggressive treatments.
Fakir dimly wonders what would happen if the prince ever reacted toward the things he did to him. If he ever felt pain enough to wince or release a noise from the hurt. Or turn back and shove him away. It would be problematic should that ever happen, but perhaps thrilling as well. One never knew with Mytho.
But he will never move. There will never be a reaction to Fakir’s harsh words and tight grip.
Mytho will never have his heart.
And the knight leans in, eyes blaring sharply in contrast to the other’s empty ones.
“All you need to do is listen to what I tell you.”
As it should be.
xXx
Rue’s not exactly sure what happened. And frankly, neither does Fakir.
But she does know that she feels strange and warm around him. And that when she’s suddenly kissing him he doesn’t lay there like a doll. There is movement against her, hot unlike Mytho’s cold skin and exploring with impatience. She can feel his hands roving over her, touching and scratching and God the reciprocation-!
And even in the moment, she hates him. She hates how he makes her feel so different and it’s only because the one she really loves would never touch her like this; she will never taste him the way she’s doing so to the knight. She will never feel his cold hand on her waist or sliding up the length of her back before he-
Fakir has never had a reaction to his gripping of hair. And it sends something reeling up and down his spine as he hears her choked gasp, startled by the fierce yank of her dark locks. But he is even more impressed with the way she simply doesn’t tolerate it, nails reaching up and driving into the sides of his face. Very unlike what he was used to. And he can’t help but release a noise the moment she-
Rue knows it is hatred she feels for him because only hatred can feel so hot and she’s never felt so heated when around Mytho-even if he would ever touch her like this-but he won’t. Surely this must be hatred. And to drive that point home she kicks him below the knee, pleased with the sound of a pained grunt. The victory is short lived though once she feels him-
The irritated noise she emits is music to his ears as the knight lifts her clean off the floor. She is light, and her retaliations are thrilling. Unlike where he can push around a certain someone, this girl was a challenge. She wouldn’t allow him to make his ministrations sitting down, and he smirks against her when he feels her continually kicking against him with an increasing vigor.
But he refuses to let her off that easy, so he takes her.
And in a way, she takes him as well.
xXx
His body is heavy over hers and the impact of it knocks her breath out. The image of the knight being driven over his peak was still fresh in her mind-still full of loathing and smugness amongst drowning in those sinful waves they rode together.
Rue hears a dark chuckle against her neck before he lifts himself up, green eyes boring into hers. Her own brow furrows-she can’t stand him, really-but flinches only slightly when he leans down to kiss her chin.
“I…” Fakir allows his lips to trail over the length over her jaw, and once he reaches her ears, whispers in a low voice, “…will never love you.”
And for a moment, Rue can hear the faint echo of an equally dark voice, telling her that she will never be loved by anyone but the prince of the storybook. She can’t quite place a name on it or why she has such a memory, but it’s there, incredibly slight.
What she feels for the knight is hatred, and she knows this. But she’s finding that her passion doesn’t quite know where to aim itself. In the end, she will always be flared up.
So she closes her eyes while shifting her face away from him, pointing her nose in the air and giving a huff as if his words are the most obvious thing in the world.
“As it should be.”
end
Kraehe-no, Rue-had found her prince at last. And she wanted nothing more than to continue spending time with him and asking him to love her-but that dark-haired boy kept getting in the way. Taking the prince away from her when she was demonstrating ballet, going around calling himself a knight, giving the prince a name…it was infuriating.
But it was confusing, as well.
“Mm…Father…?” the girl sheepishly looks up to the dark behemoth, the first hint of redness dotting along the edge of her irises. She feels the air shift, and understands that she has the Raven’s attention. “When one is around the person they love, they feel funny, right?”
“Yes.”
“…W-well…” She shifts uncomfortably on her feet. There was definitely a feeling whenever she was around her prince. But she was troubled by the fact that… “I feel something…sort of funny when I’m around someone…that’s not the prince,” she clarifies.
It is at her statement when the Raven shoots back, his words full of venom, “Foolish Kraehe, only I and the prince from the story, who loves everyone, can ever truly love a pitiful crow like you. And you say you feel love for one who is neither?”
“I-I-no!” The girl stumbles over her words, her eyes averting from his and inwardly coming to dislike the name he calls her. “I don’t…think it’s love, but…my heart beats faster like when I’m with the prince…and it’s hard to breathe…like when I’m with the prince,” she mumbles softly.
The Raven takes her words in, and releases a sigh that threatens to knock the girl off her feet. “Foolish Kraehe,” he repeats, “that is not love you feel for the other.”
“It’s not?”
“No. It is different. Make no mistake, daughter of mine. What you feel for the other being is nothing but pure hatred.”
“Hatred…” the word slides off her tongue with ease. And it was strange. Being around both the prince and the so-called ‘knight’ made her feel the same things, but her real feelings were actually opposite to them?
“Your heart beats faster when you are alert. You are alert when you are with the one you love, and the one you hate. Both make you feel similar. But do not make any confusion as to who your love belongs to. Remember-no one but I and the prince can ever feel love for you.”
“Y…yes, Father…”
xXx
“Mytho doesn’t belong to you.”
“Nor does he to you!”
The two dark-haired teens glare into each other ruthlessly, neither backing down. He may think he can intimidate her with his strength and size, but she will never allow it.
Rue hates Fakir. And she may not understand why the shadow of a black bird haunts the edge of her dreams, but she does understand the rage she feels when he’s near. Incessantly butting in where his nose doesn’t belong-even going so far as to never leave the prince’s side at the academy-just who gives him the right? His very face makes her blood boil. It does not even register that his presence has the same effect on her body as the prince’s.
But it’s when he takes a grip on her shoulders that something sparks up and down her spine, and for a moment Rue does not know how to react. She stands there, saturated red eyes widened, and watches his eyebrows furrow.
No one has ever touched her like so, not even the prince. But in the next moment he’s shoved her away, perhaps feeling smug and thinking that he’s succeeded in threatening her. But she will never give him that satisfaction, she thinks to herself as she watches him walk away. She feels nothing but seething hatred for that person.
The word has always slipped off her tongue easily.
xXx
“Believe me, Mytho, you do love me,” she says as she looms over his resting face, her gaze upside down over his own.
The prince does not respond to her words-he never does-but she never expects anything more as she tucks a lock of white hair behind his ear. “You love me,” she repeats, and leans down to kiss him.
His lips are always slightly colder than a human’s should be. Is it because there is no heart beating within him? No, it doesn’t matter, because those lips will always stay that way. Cold and unfeeling…unresponding…
But…suddenly, Rue frowns. And then kisses him again, with more intent. He still does not move.
He will never move-not on his own.
…She dimly wonders what it would feel like to have his hands over her own. If his hands would feel cold against her skin. Rue shouldn’t wonder about things like this, no. Because it will never change.
But he makes her feel warm, oh so very warm. And she knows it is because she loves him. She loves him so much, but she will never say it.
Rue doesn’t think about the fact that there is one other person that she finds herself feeling warm around. She doesn’t think about it because something in her gut knows that it’s hatred. She doesn’t need to think about it-she hates him. It’s so easy to say that word.
It doesn’t even occur to her that the feelings are far too similar for comfort.
“Tell me you love me, Mytho.”
“I love you.”
She allows him to see her smile as she leans down over his face one more time.
As it should be.
xXx
He grabs the prince by the hair and shoves him before a mirror, golden eyes void of any reaction as they stare back into their owner.
“I hate this stupid face,” the knight hisses through gritted teeth, fingers twisting into Mytho’s scalp and yanking back. The prince has been spending far too much time with that irritating girl. Even after Fakir specifically told him not to.
He grabs Mytho’s chin and pushes him further against the mirror. The poor little prince takes it all in stride, eyes lacking any brightness and voice filled with a conditioned flatness. It’s far too simple to make his point through aggressive treatments.
Fakir dimly wonders what would happen if the prince ever reacted toward the things he did to him. If he ever felt pain enough to wince or release a noise from the hurt. Or turn back and shove him away. It would be problematic should that ever happen, but perhaps thrilling as well. One never knew with Mytho.
But he will never move. There will never be a reaction to Fakir’s harsh words and tight grip.
Mytho will never have his heart.
And the knight leans in, eyes blaring sharply in contrast to the other’s empty ones.
“All you need to do is listen to what I tell you.”
As it should be.
xXx
Rue’s not exactly sure what happened. And frankly, neither does Fakir.
But she does know that she feels strange and warm around him. And that when she’s suddenly kissing him he doesn’t lay there like a doll. There is movement against her, hot unlike Mytho’s cold skin and exploring with impatience. She can feel his hands roving over her, touching and scratching and God the reciprocation-!
And even in the moment, she hates him. She hates how he makes her feel so different and it’s only because the one she really loves would never touch her like this; she will never taste him the way she’s doing so to the knight. She will never feel his cold hand on her waist or sliding up the length of her back before he-
Fakir has never had a reaction to his gripping of hair. And it sends something reeling up and down his spine as he hears her choked gasp, startled by the fierce yank of her dark locks. But he is even more impressed with the way she simply doesn’t tolerate it, nails reaching up and driving into the sides of his face. Very unlike what he was used to. And he can’t help but release a noise the moment she-
Rue knows it is hatred she feels for him because only hatred can feel so hot and she’s never felt so heated when around Mytho-even if he would ever touch her like this-but he won’t. Surely this must be hatred. And to drive that point home she kicks him below the knee, pleased with the sound of a pained grunt. The victory is short lived though once she feels him-
The irritated noise she emits is music to his ears as the knight lifts her clean off the floor. She is light, and her retaliations are thrilling. Unlike where he can push around a certain someone, this girl was a challenge. She wouldn’t allow him to make his ministrations sitting down, and he smirks against her when he feels her continually kicking against him with an increasing vigor.
But he refuses to let her off that easy, so he takes her.
And in a way, she takes him as well.
xXx
His body is heavy over hers and the impact of it knocks her breath out. The image of the knight being driven over his peak was still fresh in her mind-still full of loathing and smugness amongst drowning in those sinful waves they rode together.
Rue hears a dark chuckle against her neck before he lifts himself up, green eyes boring into hers. Her own brow furrows-she can’t stand him, really-but flinches only slightly when he leans down to kiss her chin.
“I…” Fakir allows his lips to trail over the length over her jaw, and once he reaches her ears, whispers in a low voice, “…will never love you.”
And for a moment, Rue can hear the faint echo of an equally dark voice, telling her that she will never be loved by anyone but the prince of the storybook. She can’t quite place a name on it or why she has such a memory, but it’s there, incredibly slight.
What she feels for the knight is hatred, and she knows this. But she’s finding that her passion doesn’t quite know where to aim itself. In the end, she will always be flared up.
So she closes her eyes while shifting her face away from him, pointing her nose in the air and giving a huff as if his words are the most obvious thing in the world.
“As it should be.”
end