Cold
A Princess Tutu fanfic by Klondike Aura
The hospital was buzzing with activity, as to be expected after the brutal blizzard that hit Gold Crown. Many had been stranded in their homes, illnesses and hunger setting in. But while the staff expected some injuries, this was still a strange case.
"How did you get this wound on the back of your shoulder?" the doctor asks while writing out a prescription.
"My son stabbed me," Charon says.
"Your son? The boy we brought in with you?"
The blacksmith somberly nods, his hand going to rub at his upper arm. The slowly healing injury sits just on the other side.
"What...happened...?"
Charon sighs, his eyes closed, and goes, "We were snowed in for weeks. It was taking its toll on both of us and I guess Fakir was getting stir crazy. I can't exactly remember when we ran out of food, but sometime after that I suggested eating the duck."
"He got into a fight with you over a duck?"
"Yeah. And it was unlike anything I'd ever seen before. I never even knew he liked that duck so much. He didn't even name her; he just called her Duck. Though now that I think about it, he was probably spoiling her with bread rather than fattening her up.
"When I suggested eating the hen, Fakir was automatically against it. But as the days went on and I argued that it was our only option for survival, his protests became more and more unhinged. In a short while, she went from his pet duck to...well, have you ever read The Prince and the Raven?"
"Yes, when I was younger."
"Fakir was saying the duck was Princess Tutu from that story. Can you imagine that?"
The doctor shakes his head, incredulous.
"So there we were in the kitchen, Fakir sobbing and begging at my feet not to kill his beloved Duck. I tried telling him the duck was only a duck and the only food we had in the house. Then, of all things, he began begging her to show some sign of intelligence or comprehension to convince me. But the duck only sat there, unaware of her significance in our fight. I was at my wit's end and picked the duck up. I tried telling him I'd make it quick so she wouldn't suffer. He was howling like he was the one dying."
Charon pauses, putting a hand over his face as he remembered that night.
"No! You can't! You CAN'T! I won't let you!"
"And then...?" the doctor prompts.
The blacksmith pinches the bridge of his nose and says, "It was starting to get to me, I think. I could almost swear, right as I brought the cleaver down, that I could see clarity in the hen's eyes. But thankfully it was over quickly. And as soon as it was, that's when this-" He gestures to his shoulder injury. "-happened. Fakir must have grabbed a knife while I was occupied with the duck. When I turned to face him, he had stopped making any sort of noise and the way he looked at me..."
That was colder than the winter weather trapping them.
"I disarmed him before he could stab me again and locked him in his room. I told him to eat, but I knew he was going to refuse. When I checked on him later, he was passed out on his desk. There were papers everywhere, all of them writings about him trying to save his duck."
The doctor shakes his head, "We can have a psychiatrist analyze him when he's got his strength back. Hopefully that madness will fade now that the blizzard has finally passed."
There's a knock at the examination room door and the doctor mimes one moment to Charon before cracking it open. A brief, whispered exchange later and he opens the door to a nurse.
"Excuse me, but do you have a wife or a daughter living with you?" she asks Charon.
Charon shakes his head, "No. Why do you ask?"
"Your son's awake and he keeps asking us, 'Where is she?' and, 'Why aren't you helping her?' Who is 'her'?"
fin
Author's Notes: Um, I don't even know where this one came from. But once the plot bunny hopped into my brain, I couldn't let it go. So have some sadness and crazy!