With a frayed cape and a tarnished crown they would call themselves princes.
Notes: Written for the LJ interest drabble challenge, this one was for my Utena interest. Done to death, I know, but this is my bit.
Her princes had always had a flair for the dramatic. A flashy entrance, an exagerrated gesture, or a nicely timed declaration. Anything that would draw attention to them, leaving no doubt in anyone's mind that They were There.
Anthy almost felt sorry for the poor little boys, because in the end they were just playing make believe even as they were slowly ground to dust. Their cloth armor ripping and their cardboard swords folding.
Utena was no different. She shouted and declared with the best of intentions. She arrived in a room at the exact moment needed to make a large impact. She waved her hands to emphasis a point and clenched her fists when a fight neared. She was exactly like the countless fallen princes that had been left shattered by the End of the World.
She was exactly like them but different.
Because when Utena shouted everyone listened. When Utena made her entrance everyone looked. When Utena gestured everyone heard the words more clearly. Utena drew attention just by being and few ever doubted her about anything.
Not even Anthy doubted her.
Utena didn't play games, she was a Prince. Throughout her life Anthy had known only one true Prince, and he died long ago. She had been presented with an endless parade of boys playing dress-up with the Prince's clothes, and smiled serenly as they shattered one by one. She'd nearly forgotten what a Prince looked like until a little girl showed up in the Prince's clothes and swore to save her.
And though everyone laughed and mocked Utena for it Anthy has never for a single second doubted it. For she remembered the promises of Princes are miracles in and of themselves, and Utena has always been a Prince.