The hallway echoed with muted whispering, indistinct sounds wafting far from the ballroom as Siegfried sought to leave it behind. He braced his hands against his back, walking with the speed of purpose, though his frown spoke of more halting contemplation. He almost missed the corridor that led to the palace's private rooms, and knocked against the wall in a sudden turn. He stumbled, his own rare clumsiness shocking a stunted laugh out of him, and continued on his way without further pause. The princess's rooms were the furthest back, set separately to ensure privacy and quiet away from any troublesome bustle. He entered without knocking, but he waited by the door when he did not immediately see her there. “Rue?”

The front room was well-lit, with the torches still burning when the hour called for nothing more than candlelight, but he could see darkness under the door to where she slept. He did not want to wake her. His fathomless eyes quested as he paused for a moment before leaving, taking in the surroundings. Rue's surroundings, really; as sparse as satin-padded chairs and cushions could be, all in proud purples and golds. He had been there before, of course, but it only occurred to him then that he could not taste anything of Rue's own flavoring in the ceremonial royal colors. He skimmed the lifeless fabric with a finger and sighed. It felt as though he was staring from afar at an impulse to burst into Rue's room and return to her, but before he could act on it or deny it, she came in silently. Her ballgown was still on, playing with the light in its folds as she moved.

“Yes, my Prince?” She approached him thoughtlessly, not seeming to be entirely sure of what she was doing. She never met his eyes, instead keeping her own under a half-lidded veil, and declined to speak further. She did not have anything else to say to him, or rather, she doubted that she could say anything good enough for him. She told herself it was her confusion at the situation, which matched his, that kept her from offering something more, and not fresh fear. A selfish fear, when Duck deserved her concern: that if Princess Tutu was back, Siegfried might recall the perfection of the love that had been destined for him.

His mouth opened without any of the words he might have intended, and his hand curled out, obviously wanting to hold hers. She could tell that he held back out of a desire to avoid intruding against her wishes. It was difficult not to be relieved by the nervousness he had for her sake. She took his hand, and pressed gently.

He glanced down and lingered on their connection, but for some reason, that was harder than trying to look her in the eye. “Well... I thought it would be best to ask for your thoughts on the matter, before I offer anything.”

“To Princess Tutu, you mean? What are you thinking?”

Siegfried did not answer, but said, “Walk with me, please.” He led her out, once again going quickly along the corridor while Rue kept pace smoothly beside him. The prince slipped down the servant's side path, and did not speak again until they had traversed much of it. “Tutu does not... have anything, it seems. Her own home is uncertain to her. I thought it might be best if we were to give her one, if only for a time.”

He had to wait for a reply, and he did so willingly. Rue had been upset by Tutu's appearance, in how many ways he could not say, but he thought she might know more of Tutu than he did. She had called Tutu the name of a girl he remembered, but emptily, a face that had evoked nothing in him for most of the time had known her. Duck, the girl, and the bird, who had brought him together. He rested a hand on his chest, feeling the moments counted out under it as they walked. His patience did not have to last him as long as he thought it would have, however.

“I still don't really believe it is Tutu. Something isn't right.” She stopped, and tugged lightly on him; he allowed himself to slowly be turned to face her. She whispered forcefully, “You know that.”

“Yes,” he admitted, carefully laying out the word. That affirmation had been at the back of his mind since Tutu first appeared, and yet he could not have told himself as much without Rue's refusal to waver on the matter. He bowed his head, closing his eyes serenely. “If for no other reason, then, she must stay so that we can right this.”

She agreed, with such confidence that it seemed to close the matter. “That's right. It isn't so difficult to figure out, now is it?” She plucked the hem of her skirt off the ground and, with that out of the way, sped off as well as one could at a walking pace. It did not make things any less melancholy, but Siegfried couldn't stop himself from smiling after her.

*************************************************

The hallway looped through all the areas the servants might need to access for work, eventually ending at the courtyard. Snatched rays of moonlight traced the flowers, seeming to reflect from the young woman standing in their midst. She rested, arms at her sides and one foot pointed while the other held all her weight, as though she prepared to spring forward. She stayed motionless, however, as Siegfried and Rue picked their way over petals in unison. He inclined his head respectfully, but the enfolding silence was Tutu's. She would break it in her own course.

“I am sorry... for my earlier manner, Your Highness,” she murmured. Her eyes were kept from any light by her lowered gaze, making them the same shade as the night sky. The clumsy blush over her cheeks gave her the look of a younger, more awkward girl. Rue couldn't help but notice it, as she tried to determine whether she was looking at Tutu, or if she had caught a glimpse of Duck at last. That hope lent her an accepting smile with surprising ease.

“It's alright,” she said graciously, only to recoil slightly when Tutu turned to her directly. She was too quiet, the softness in her face somehow unbreakable for all its delicacy, but Rue found it a poorly fitting mask.

“I thank you, Princess.” Once again, Tutu's acknowledgment was politely sincere, but she remained nervous for the prince's answer. She was trembling, in fact, though she was sure the prince would forgive her. He was so kind, endlessly kind.

“You needn't worry,” He replied. He regarded her kindly, and spoke as if to reassure her. “I would only like for you to be comfortable. You are a guest, and may stay as long as you wish.”

Her mouth shaped a startled circle, facing a gift that she did not know quite what to do with. She pressed her fingertips over the graceless expression, but it was only a reflexive courtesy over uneasiness.  He said stay with “us”, not stay with “me,” she thought, and then blinked, as though that would banish such ideas. She had assumed she would return to her own castle, but both the prince and the princess seemed to desire her presence. She swallowed, and tried rather poorly to disguise an inclination to fidget by smoothing her skirt. Her smile was strong, but almost more unexpectedly raw strength than happiness. “That is most generous, Prince... Thank you, I will be glad to remain.”

“Excellent.” Rue seemed to be talking more to Siegfried than to Tutu, though she watched the other princess steadily, and with something that might have been described as longing. Whatever she was waiting for did not appear, however, and she turned away, releasing a breath too small to be called a sigh. “I hope that we can become well-acquainted.”

Siegfried did not reach out to comfort her, though she must have been pulled thin to speak with such a taut tone. He promised himself that he would walk back with her, though, and stay with her longer if she seemed to need it. Whether she acknowledged the need or not, he told himself privately. Outwardly,  he addressed the other ballerina.

“It is an honor...”  “Princess Tutu.”

**************************************************

Each twitch of Drosselmeyer's gaze rested on a different gear, but despite the number of parts, there was only a shell of a complete contraption. Pieces popped into being far from others and spun alone, and just a few of those that ran together had a steady rhythm, while the rest were jammed with tangible reluctance. The author wondered quietly at the sorry state of it all, “Isn't this just terrible? I know the boy is a bit green behind the ears, but really.” He shook his head. Presumably, it was meant to have been a despairing gesture, but his grin threw off the intent.

He trotted forward, into the main interlocking sections, always managing to duck his head at the right moment to avoid losing it when something sharp stuck out. The motion of one gear ripped a feather that had been unfortunate enough to become tangled from his hat. He blinked owlishly, and shrugged, if anything being further amused by the loss, and bent backward at a wild angle to inspect the gears above him.

“Ah, but this is tiresome.” He pivoted upright, brushing nothingness off himself, and twirling on the tips of his toes to sigh at the machinery. “Perhaps...” He blinked rapidly, as though unable to stand flashes of his own brilliance.

“I promised the boy that I wouldn't interfere, so I will not.” He chuckled, “But he can do all the manipulating he wants, and to... whomever he choose, of course.” He whipped around, prancing forward just fast enough to avoid having his cloak caught in the gears. A crank had obligingly appeared in front of him, though it did not have anything supporting it, much less connected to it. This world paid attention to gravity only for the sake of convenience, if at all. Drosselmeyer took advantage of the strange freedom, bringing the crank around with a neat flip. His entire body stretched, the tips of his toes marking out the circumference of a circle, part of which extended past the apparent ground he had been standing on. After landing noiselessly on that same ground, he gave it one or two extra turns, simply for good measure and certainty. The gears that could spin spun faster, and what existed of the story accelerated along with them.

Drosselmeyer settled back, confident pleasure rising in him. “Now, of all the stories I've told, I'll see where this one takes me...”

****************************************