Prompt: #14 - Vivace (You're going too fast)
Ahiru was still bound and determined to continue her self-appointed mission the next morning. She had barely scarfed down breakfast before heading for the door and calling for Rue.
"If we hurry, maybe we can catch Autor before he leaves for school!" she said.
Fakir shook his head. "You could probably catch everyone before they leave for school," he commented with a glance at the clock.
Mytho smiled in gentle amusement. Yes, Ahiru's determination and innocence had not changed at all. It was refreshing, really. He would hate to see her lose either of those qualities.
"Are you still planning to go, Rue?" he asked, looking to his princess.
She nodded. "I told Ahiru I would," she said. But her reluctance and concern were clearly displayed in her red-violet eyes. Mytho, the only other person who knew of her history with Autor, would understand. Fakir would not, at least not beyond the general sense of discomfort that might be experienced when convinced to accompany Ahiru on one of her quests. And that was alright with her; she did not want Fakir to know of that experience.
"It will be alright," Mytho said, laying his hand over hers.
She managed a smile. "Who knows, maybe Ahiru will actually have some success," she said as she got up from the table.
Mytho agreed. "I don't think Autor would ever threaten to hurt either of you," he said.
Fakir clenched a fist. If Autor threatened Ahiru, that would be it, as far as Fakir was concerned. It would be next to impossible to convince him to give Autor any further chances.
"I'll see you at school, Fakir!" Ahiru called as she and Rue went out the door. It banged shut before he had a chance to reply.
He sighed, looking to Mytho. "What are you and Rue planning to do while you're here?" he said. "I mean . . . with your investigation."
Mytho sighed too. "It looks like we've found our culprit," he said. "I never once dreamed it would be anyone we knew. This really complicates everything. I don't want to bring harm to Autor, but he has to be stopped." He leaned forward, massaging his eyes.
"We were sort of wondering if we would be able to get into the academy again," he said, returning to Fakir's original question. "Then we would be able to keep a closer watch on Autor, at least some of the time. Of course, if Ahiru can get through to him now, then there won't be any need for that." He smiled. "But even then, it would be nice to be in the academy again anyway. All of us together, under better circumstances. . . ."
Fakir nodded. It would be nice, he reflected, to dance and to learn with Mytho once more. He had never really even had the chance to get to know the real Mytho. He and Rue had left so soon after the end of Drosselmeyer's Story, worrying about the people back in Mytho's land and being anxious to start their new life together.
"We should be able to arrange it," he said. "Actually, you never officially left the academy. And weird things have been happening. People have been remembering when we were under Drosselmeyer's control. They're remembering you and Rue. It's possible that your records are still around, or that they've magically reappeared, or something."
Mytho blinked. "That's strange," he said. "And this doesn't have any connection with Autor's music?"
"I don't think so," Fakir said. "I don't see any reason for him to do it."
Mytho leaned back. While this was certainly curious, it was not a high priority for him in comparison with the other problems. He would look into it later.
"What could have happened to Autor?" he said sadly.
"He always wanted power," Fakir said. "But getting it was too much for him." Bitterly he clenched a fist.
"You mentioned that last night," Mytho said. "But somehow I don't think it's that simple."
Fakir blinked. "What do you mean?" he said in surprise.
"I don't know," Mytho said with a shake of his head. "It's mostly a feeling I have. I'm not sure this is entirely Autor's fault."
"It couldn't be anyone else's fault," Fakir said. He started to get up from the table.
"Where are you going, Fakir?" Mytho asked, looking to him.
"I want to see what's going on at Autor's place," Fakir said flatly. "Don't tell me you're not wondering."
"Well, yes . . ." Mytho admitted.
"Then come on." Fakir grabbed his blazer and headed for the door. "We'll stay out of sight unless we're needed."
Still a bit surprised, Mytho got up to follow.
"You're worried about Ahiru, aren't you?" he surmised.
Fakir stiffened, his hand on the doorknob. "I saw Autor yesterday," he said. "You didn't. And after what I saw . . . yes, I am worried about Ahiru."
"Then we should hurry," Mytho said.
****
Autor had always tried to get as much of an early start to school as possible, hoping to avoid the crowds also journeying to school or to work. Associating with people had never been a favorite activity of his; in general he kept himself as far-removed and detached as possible.
He felt even more this way now that he had discovered his gift of composition. A typical day for him would be attending classes, practicing in the music room on whatever composers' pieces he was currently focused upon, and going home to work on his own music. He would not play any of it where it would be overheard. Not yet.
He was aware that a few people wondered why he had not frequented the library much of late, but by and large most did not even notice. Of those who did, many did not care. Autor had never endeared himself to them, and it was just as well with them if he was not around. Only a scant number of people had ever gotten close enough to him to see beyond the arrogant exterior.
One of whom he had threatened yesterday.
He paused in his walk, frowning. It seemed a distant memory now. Had it really happened? Maybe it was only a dream. Why would he have treated Fakir that way? Just because Fakir did not agree with what he was doing? Well, Fakir might try to stop him. But there was no need for concern; he would not have any power over Autor when they were writing in different mediums. At least, Autor thought so. What would be the point of threatening him?
And completely aside from that, Autor did not want to hurt anyone. He was trying to better the world, wasn't he? Eliminating Fakir would not be a betterment.
"Autor!"
He started and looked up, his eyes widening in surprise to see Ahiru running towards him, one hand above her head in a wild wave. Her blue eyes were sparkling with excitement, and he allowed a slight, amused smile that most would be surprised to see from him. Always the same Ahiru.
"Autor, how are you?" Ahiru exclaimed as she stopped in front of him. "I was going to your place to see you!"
Autor raised an eyebrow. "You were?" he said.
She nodded. "You haven't been around much lately," she said. "We've been wondering if you're okay, that kind of thing."
"I'm fine," he said. "I've never been better, actually."
Ahiru looked like he had given an unexpected answer. "Really?" she said. "Fakir acted like you weren't doing too well."
He felt himself tense slightly. "Why would he say that?" he said. He resumed his pace, and now Ahiru scurried to keep up with him.
She shrugged, looking uncomfortable. "I think it was because of what you said to him yesterday," she said. Though she chose her words with care, it was clear that she really knew exactly why Fakir had said that.
"What I said?" Autor looked at her, a mixture of confusion and dread in his eyes. And something else was there as well, something dark lurking behind the prevalent emotions. "What did I say?"
Ahiru shifted. "Uh, well . . . you kinda said you were gonna kill him if he got in your way," she said, her words coming out rushed. "But I know you'd never say that if you were your normal self, so I also know something has to be wrong!"
Autor stopped walking, turning to look at her face-to-face. "I said that?" he said.
Ahiru was not sure she liked the way he was staring her down. "Yeah," she said.
"Only you didn't hear me say it," Autor said. "You just heard Fakir say I said it." And without warning he seized her by her upper arms, his grip tight and insistent. "Can you say without a doubt that I said it?!" His eyes flashed, dark and cold and dangerous.
Ahiru gasped, for the moment too startled to move. But that did not last. "Fakir wouldn't lie!" she cried, struggling to pull free.
He only held tighter. "You don't know I said that!" he said. The darker emotion she had seen at the back of his eyes was now creeping towards the forefront. He was infuriated. And yet somehow, something in his voice also sounded desperate.
Ahiru stared at him, focusing on that emotion. "You didn't want to say it, did you?" she said. Suddenly she felt like Princess Tutu again. But she was not; she was Ahiru, a normal girl without any special powers. And yet she was certain she had just discerned something about his current, true feelings.
He trembled. "I . . . didn't want to?" he repeated. Now the look in his eyes was far away.
"Of course you didn't want to!" Ahiru exclaimed. "You're not like that, Autor. You don't want to hurt Fakir. You never wanted to hurt anyone!"
He released her, still shaking. A look that could only be described as both bewildered and haunted flashed across his face. But then it was gone. He smirked, coolly pushing up his glasses with a finger.
"I'll do whatever I have to do to get control of this world," he said. "That includes ridding myself of all possible threats. If Fakir is a threat, then he'll have to go." He studied Ahiru, who was gaping at him now. "And you can tell him I said that. He sent you, didn't he?"
"No!" Ahiru retorted. "I came all on my own. It was my idea!"
Autor chuckled. "I should have guessed," he said. "That sounds like you, Ahiru."
"Autor. Stop!"
Both he and Ahiru turned as a new voice joined the conversation. A dark-haired girl was walking over to them, her deep red eyes determined and filled with emotion.
Autor paled. "Rue," he whispered. His eyes flickered again. There was a poignant longing within them as his cheeks flushed red.
"I heard you'd come back," he said. "Is it to stay?"
"For a while," Rue said. She stopped in front of him, searching his eyes and his face. This was the Autor she remembered. Still, a moment before, when she had observed from her concealed position, he had been a stranger. He was drowning in the darkness, but he was still alive. There was still hope.
"Are you happy, Rue?" he asked.
"Yes," she said. "I'm very happy."
Ahiru stepped back, glancing back and forth between them. Something had definitely happened to Autor when Rue had come out. He looked almost sweet, a side of him Ahiru had rarely seen. The few times he had dropped the prideful mask, she had gotten the feeling that he let hardly anyone see him like that.
"I . . . I'm glad," Autor stammered now. Pain flickered in his eyes.
Abruptly he turned, walking past them both. "I was just saying Goodbye to Ahiru," he said, his tone smooth again. "I don't want to be late getting to class. I anticipate it to be a busy day."
"Well, I'm going to school too," Ahiru said. "We could all walk together!"
"No thank you." Autor looked back over his shoulder. "But remember what I said, Ahiru. I meant it." And he walked on calmly, as if he had not said anything of grave concern.
Ahiru did not want to give up. "Autor!" she called in desperation.
He did not so much as slow his pace.
Ahiru stared after him helplessly. "He acted so weird," she said to Rue. "It's like he's switching between two personalities or something!" She shuddered. "It's creepy. It . . . it reminds me of when Mytho . . ." But she trailed off. That was not something she wanted to bring up around Rue, especially when it had been Rue, as Princess Kraehe, who had misguidedly caused Mytho's descent into madness.
Rue, however, just nodded, her expression grim. "We found out something important," she said. "Fakir judged him mistakenly. Autor's still in there, so maybe there is hope."
"Of course there's hope, Rue!" Ahiru exclaimed. "I knew he couldn't be gone." She clenched a fist. "So now we just have to figure out how to get through to the real him!"
"That might be hard," Rue said, her voice quiet as she gazed after the departing boy. But she would not give up either. Now that she had seen him and witnessed what he was going through, she was determined to find a way to save him.
"Hey! What are you two doing standing in the street like this?"
Again they turned, their eyes widening in surprise to see Fakir and Mytho approaching from a side road. Fakir looked tense, but relaxed a bit to see that they seemed to be alright. Mytho looked more at ease, albeit puzzled.
"We found Autor!" Ahiru babbled. "He'd already left for school, but we met him here. Well, I met him and Rue waited, but then she came out and Autor acted nice to her before going all creepy again!" She cringed. "He was doing the same thing when I first went to say Hi!" She clenched her fists. "He's not all gone yet, Fakir! We both saw the old Autor. So we need to save him!"
Fakir listened as she talked on, her voice getting higher and more hysterical the more she said. "Wait a minute," he finally managed to interrupt. "You saw the old Autor?"
Rue nodded. "He's still there, but something else kept trying to get control of him," she said. "I couldn't tell whether he was aware of that or not. The transition always happened so smoothly it was like he didn't even notice."
Mytho's eyes widened. "Then . . . is that what I've been sensing?" he breathed. "It really wouldn't be entirely Autor's fault if something else is responsible for the cruel and selfish things he's been saying."
Fakir frowned. "But what is it then?" he said. "Power doesn't have a mind of its own. It just poisons yours, if you let it."
Ahiru glowered at the road stretching in front of them as she stood, immersed in thought. When the next idea came to her, it hit so fast and hard that she rocked back.
"Fakir!" she burst out.
He jumped a mile. "What is it?!" he said. "I'm standing right here; you don't have to yell my ear off."
She shook her head. "You said that when you were Writing, you didn't have any control over it," she said. "It just kept flowing with people's feelings and the stuff going on and . . ."
"But I had control over my mind," Fakir said. "I knew what I was doing." Subconsciously he ran his fingers over the scar on the back of his right hand, where he had stabbed himself to make the Story stop when Drosselmeyer had forced him to write Ahiru's descent into the Lake of Despair.
"Yeah, but what if the music-writing power is different?" Ahiru persisted. "What if it's getting hold of Autor so much that he really doesn't know what he's doing?"
Fakir's scowl deepened. "Or maybe the music-writing isn't different, but it's clouding his mind so much that he thinks he's doing what he wants," he mused. "He would still be responsible for inviting the power in." But if the Story was actually controlling him in whatever possible way, then Ahiru was right—Autor could not be held completely accountable for his mad behavior.
"We need to find out," Mytho said in concern. "Fakir, you don't think Drosselmeyer could be controlling him, do you?"
Fakir stiffened. "I broke his machine," he said. "He shouldn't be able to keep writing stories in this town. And even if he could, completely taking over someone was never his style. He seemed to prefer nudging us along, casually manipulating us without us knowing we were being manipulated."
"How right you are, Fakir, my boy," Drosselmeyer sneered. "And how fascinating, that little Ahiru is starting to understand what's happening. But no matter how hard you try to struggle, you will never be able to break free of this tragedy! Your friend is far too ambitious and foolish. When he falls, he will surely drag all of you down with him!"
Ahiru began to pace. "There has to be something we can do for Autor!" she said. "Maybe there's some books at the library that would help us!"
"I doubt it," Fakir growled. "I went through everything I could find when I was researching my own powers. I never saw anything about being able to write Stories into reality through music. And there's no way I'm going to ask around where the Bookmen might hear. If they find out about this, they'll try to stop Autor, even if music is not something they're involved with."
"Then we'll have to discover the answer on our own," Mytho said. "After school, Fakir, maybe you should try Writing."
Fakir did not have much hope, but he nodded. He would try anything he could. Whether Autor was grateful or not, Fakir would not abandon him to whatever force might be responsible for this.
He could not, anyway, for the world's sake.
He turned away, gripping his arms.
Ahiru blinked, walking around to face him. "Fakir?" she asked. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Fakir retorted.
"It's something," Mytho said in concern.
Fakir shook his head. "It's like you said, Mytho. I just never expected that if we were in danger again, it would be because of someone who fought with us in the past," he said.
Ahiru's eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Fakir. . . ." She embraced him from the side, resting her head on his shoulder.
For a moment he stiffened in surprise. Then in silence he brought an arm around her. He knew Ahiru thought of Autor as a friend.
His pride would not allow him to admit aloud that he felt the same.
"Pride goes before a downfall," Drosselmeyer said. "But whose, I wonder? Your own or Autor's? Or both!" He grinned. "The more the tragedy deepens, the more delicious it becomes."
****
Autor sank onto the piano bench in the music room where he spent so much of his time between classes. His reflection in the smooth varnish was chalk-white. His hands were still shaking, but he placed them over the black-and-white keys, willing them to be steady.
Even having known Rue had returned, he had been completely unprepared for their meeting. She was still just as beautiful, just as magnificent as he had thought her to be on that day so long ago.
But she didn't love you, the voice in his head told him. Why should you even care?
He slammed his hands on the piano keys in chords of noise. Why should he care? Why hadn't he been able to fully move on? Nothing would ever happen between them. He was not sure if a formal wedding ceremony had taken place yet between Rue and the Prince, but even if they were not married, they certainly intended to be. Rue did not love Autor.
He still did not know why she had taken him into the basement of that abandoned building. The most important factor, however, was that she had not been interested in any kind of relationship with him. The memory of her disbelieving and ridiculing laughter was still echoing through his mind.
Part of him had longed to meet her once more, to see if he would still feel so deeply for her or if the experience would bring a sense of closure. But now, after seeing her with Ahiru, he was just as confused as before. Perhaps moreso.
And Ahiru. . . . Ahiru had told him what he had not wanted to face, something that he was still trying to believe. He actually had threatened Fakir, as he thought and feared he had done. At least, Fakir had reported that to Ahiru, and Fakir would not have told a falsehood.
But why? Why would he have said that?
He leaned forward, running a hand into his hair. "What's happening to me?" he whispered.
Nothing is happening to you, the voice returned. Except that you're becoming greater and more powerful with each passing day. Fakir sees that and is jealous of you. He doesn't trust you. He's trying to hold you back.
Autor frowned, straightening up on the bench. Whether or not that was true, maybe he should start doing something about Kinkan Town right away. Yes, that was it. He would start composing a piece that would begin bringing the residents under his control, as he had done for other towns and lands. Then Fakir would see that this was right. This was what was meant to be.
He laid his fingers over the keys again, testing out opening notes. There, he liked that chord. He would start with that one.
A wicked smirk came over his features as he wrote one measure, then the next. This would just be a short piece, but just right to start exerting his power over Kinkan Town. Once he controlled Kinkan, he would branch out to more far-reaching places.
Fakir would not be able to stop him. No one would.
"Oh, this is the first time you've composed one of your pieces in the music room, isn't it?" Drosselmeyer said. "What makes the difference this time? Do you want people to hear you writing it, Autor, my boy? Well, if you're alright with it, you're either planning something even more devious or you don't quite know what you're planning at all! Either way, this is going to be fun. No, it will be terrible. Poor little Ahiru and the others."
