Fakir Did Nothing Wrong.

***

The pendant weighed like a noose on Duck’s neck. She could hardly form a coherent thought, far too distracted by the cold metal of the chain against her skin.

She was dreaming. Duck was near certain of that. She seemed to materialize from place to place, pushed and pulled by an endless parade of servants. Faces blurred together, and noise bombarded her from all sides. It was too much. It was all too much.

Duck lasted until about noon.

Another monotonous corridor–she wondered if the castle was giant or if she’d been retracting her steps without realizing all morning. Something about the endless polished marble tiles and whitewashed walls made her feel as though she were losing her mind, and she couldn’t take it anymore.

Glancing around furtively, she turned tail, and took off in the opposite direction, not caring to see if her handmaiden had noticed.

She was too frightened to take a chance on any random door lining the seemingly infinite corridors, still she scanned each door lining the halls, looking for somewhere, anywhere, she might hide. Just as desperation willed her to take the risk, she stumbled upon a door with a hand-carved sign labeling it as a cleaning closet.

Trying the handle, it was unlocked. 

Duck squeezed into the tight space, knocking over a row of brooms in the process. She cringed. Surely some servant was on their way to come and take her back to the rush of activity. After a few moments of waiting, it appeared that no one was coming for her.

She shut the closet door–sighing in relief as she did–and relished in the sudden darkness.

Duck was in the story, that was the only explanation. The Prince and the Raven… Drosselmeyer’s world. 

What was it she had said? “I wish Mytho had chosen me instead?” The last word rang through her ears. Then she was here in Rue’s place. She hadn’t wanted to think about it, to confront the truth, but that was the only explanation that made sense, wasn’t it?

But if she was here… where was Rue? Duck slid to the ground, sending a bucket clattering onto its side. What had become of her friend?

“If I’m here…” she whispered to herself, “Then Rue has to be back in reality, where I’m supposed to be.”

Duck’s heart sank. Rue had no family, no friends. Maybe Fakir—

Fakir.

She’d been so busy trying not to think about Rue, she hadn’t stopped to consider the fate of her best friend. He had stayed behind in Goldkrone, content to live out the rest of his days by Duck’s side. Only, Duck had abandoned him. Where was he now? Did he miss her? Did he know about the catastrophic mistake she had just made?

Duck’s breaths came faster and shorter, until she felt as though she couldn’t breathe at all. She drew her knees to her chest and hid her face. Her lungs screamed for air, and she knew she was still drowning in that well. This was a dream. She was dying and she had conjured up this world in her last moments. She dropped to the ground, curling into a ball, and waited for the end to take her.