The Princess and the Rabbit

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or setting.

This fanfiction was made for fun, not profit.

Epic Mickey is owned by Disney.

Oswald the Lucky Rabbit is owned by Disney and Universal.

Princess Tutu is owned by GANSIS/TUTU and ADV Films

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Chapter 9

Duck sat snug on a cushion in the corner of the musty room, bathed in orange light from the setting sun. It was nice being able to see the boy's dormitory, but she did miss the time when she had more freedom to move about. She didn't like that when Fakir said they had to come back to the room early. Sometimes he would let her stay out until late, but other times, like today, he would insist they retire. She hated being stuck in this room all afternoon; when you're a duck, you're options for entertaining yourself are limited.

With a bored-sounding quack, she shifted her position on her cushion and looked over to Fakir, hunched over his desk. He had been that way ever since this morning. He had barely paid attention to her practice, only reprimanding her twice and all day he barely talked to her. She was starting to worry, since any time he acted like this usually meant he was hiding something. And when he hid something, it usually ended with him getting himself hurt.

The sound of a tapping quill grew her attention back to him. That was another thing that worried her; he was trying to write and failing. He hadn't written a single thing since he sat down at his desk at what must have been an hour ago. Every once in awhile he would get like this; just sit and not-write for an hour or two, but never had he been this angry about it.

Out of boredom and worry, two feelings she admitted to herself she didn't know could mix, she stood up and starched her wings, then flapped up onto the gray bed. The red sunlight gave some much needed color to the gray room, but this did little to placate her. Sunset was her favorite time of the day and she longed to be out on the lake, drifting as a cool breeze fanned her feathers.

She turned back to the dark haired boy still hunched over his unwritten story.

"Quack!" she said, but he did not answer.

She knew better then to speak again. She would quack all day and he wouldn't react.

Instead she settled on the bed and craned her neck up to stare at the ceiling.

When times got boring like today, she liked to look to the ceiling for comfort. It didn't look like anything new was happing today, though. The spider web in the corner looked like it had caught a few flies. Nothing like last Tuesday, where part of it came undone and the spider had to fix it. Now that was a good afternoon, watching a spider repair a web. They know what they are doing, you know, meticulously spinning the tread and...

"This is impossible!" Fakir shouted as he angrily stood from his chair. Duck had to flutter away quickly as he came stomping over to the bed and through himself on to it, barring his head with in pillow.

Duck looked toward the boy for a moment then slowly turned to the desk where lay the paper still blank. She looked back to Fakir one more time before waddling back to her cushion.

As she settled in again, she couldn't help but ask herself what he was trying to write.

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The sun had started to go down at the Academy, finally sending most students back into their dormitories. For most it had been a long day. For others, they would have rather stayed out, but all had to be in by curfew.

But their was one place that few knew about, few cared about and yet would not let the night calm it's occupants.

As the candle flickered, shadows moved around the room with the flames own light, almost as if the two were partners in a pas de deux. Out of the shadows stepped three cloaked figures. Each hood was pulled up hiding their identities to all who might have been watching. They slowly, almost in rhythm to the flame's shadowy dance, marched up to the table where the candle sat, encircling it as if in a great ceremony. The smallest among them raised his arms and the others followed.

"Tonight," the smallest said in a low voice, "we have come to discuss a matter of the most importance. Fakir, the one who writes, must be dealt with."

The flame flicked as if in response and the smallest grabbed the edge of the table and continued, "On this night of darkness, we gathered here to speak of dark deeds and dark intentions for dark reason... for its dark... and there is no light... except maybe the candle... because if it was completely dark, we couldn't see..."

"Okay, that's it," said one of the cloaked figures as she removed her hood to reveal herself as Piké, "why are we doing this again?"

"To be mysterious," said the smallest one, removing his hood to reveal the bulbous head of Oswald, "when ever you talk mysterious things, you have to be as mysterious as possible. Otherwise, what's the point?"

"Yeah, Piké," said the final hooded figure, "haven't you read any story?" She spoke in the distinctive childish giggle of Lilié.

"This is not a story," Piké said, "and I really don't want to get dressed up when all we're going to do is talk," she pulled off the cloak, dropping it unceremoniously on the ground, "and it will be much more bearable with a little more light."

Oswald gave a sigh as Piké picked up the kerosene lamp from under the table and lit it, the loft that once had been Duck's filling with light.

As Oswald struggled to pull his cloak over his large head, Piké glanced over to Lilié, who still had her hood up. "Well, aren't you going to take that thing off?"

"No way!" Lilié said sweetly "I'm all spooky!"

"Fine," said Piké dismissively, "You can stand there and be spooky while me and Oswald talk like adults."

"Right!" Oswald said as he moved an old boot around in swooping motions, pretending it was a spaceship, "The mighty Captain Oswald, Defender of the Galaxy! To infantry and beyo- Hay!"

Piké suddenly grabbed the boot out from his hand and tossed it away.

"Come on! This is serious!"

"Right, right!" Oswald apologized, "No play time. Something must be done about Fakir."

Piké hesitated. "I don't know Oswald… Are you sure he has something to do with this?"

"He has everything to do with this," the rabbit king insisted, "he was ordering Duck around, telling her to forget about you two. Then I find him making her dance in the middle of a lake at dusk. Whatever was happening, it started when he began writing and ended when he stopped. And then you had your dream, which just confirmed it."

Piké crossed her arms in annoyance. "That dream did not prove he was behind anything."

"Oh, really," Oswald shot back, eyebrow raised, "what about that conversation where he basically told you the same thing he told Duck. He and Duck and two other students disappear from class at around the same time and when you confront Fakir about it, he's evasive. And then all Blot breaks loose..."

"There is no evidence that he had anything to do with turning us into crows," Piké insisted, slamming her hand on the table.

"Well, he is suspect NO. 1!" Oswald said, leaping on top of the table so he could meet Piké eye to eye.

Piké looked over to Lilié. "Lilié, tell me you don't believe Fakir could ever do anything wrong!"

"Oh, Fakir is never wrong in my eyes..." Lilié said.

Piké gave Oswald a smug smile. "See..."

"...even if Fakir really is a horrible monster raven that turns people into crows! That's so romantic," she said, her eyes lighting up from under the hood.

Piké gave a sigh, but then remembered what Lilié just said. "Hay, yeah, that's right. While I was a crow, I had to follow orders from a giant raven. He was the one that rained blood all over us and turned the entire town into crows in order to steal a prince's heart," she tilted her head in thought, "that sound's familiar for some reason."

Lilié gave a little giggle. "Of course, it does," from the fold of her clock, she produced a large tome and handed it to Piké, "it's just like the final scene from 'The Prince and the Raven'."

Piké took the book and looked over the page Lilié had opened to before reading:

"And thus the Raven

laughed to the poor prince in triumph

'Don't you see, my liege, your love

corrupted your subjects so much that

it was easy to eat at their hearts

until there was nothing left.

But now I still hunger and wish

for more, so I have to wonder

how must a pure heart, untouched

by hate and jealousy, taste like?

I must find out!"

And the bird raised its black wing and

tore its beak into its own breast. As it

flew over the crowd of towns people,

all there to receive the prince's blessing,

blood pouring out of its dripping wound

and rained down onto people, who

jumped and leaped in shock as the

blood hit them. Soon they had wigs

instead of arms, beaks instead of mouths,

and feathers instead of skin. Soon the whole

town square were dancing and squawking like

a festival of crows, for that is what

they had turned into.

"Your precious subjects are now mine,

my prince. And now I think I want

that heart of yours. Give it to me."

"Give us your heart! Give us your heart!

Give us your heart!" The crows sang as they

encircled the Prince and made to

peck for his heart. But the Prince was to fast

and leap over his former subjects

toward the Raven, sword drawn.

"Coward! You send innocent people in

your place when this is our fight?

Face me, Raven!"

"And that's it," Piké said. And it really was all there was. Those were the last words of the story.

"Sheesh, that was dark!" Oswald said with a look of disgust, "Are we sure that is for kids? I'm definitely not reading that one to mine."

Piké was not listening.

"I Remember now. That was from 'the Prince and the Raven', but I don't get it why...?

"Isn't it obvious?"Oswald said as he grabbed the book from her and flipped throw it, "There is only one logical explanation! Only one conclusion that makes sense: Fakir is the Raven from the story come to make Duck his slave!"

There was silence for a moment. Piké spent this time giving the rabbit king a look that said "you're insane," while Lilié spent this time taking off and putting back on her hood, humming a little tune.

"Oswald," Piké finally said, "are you even listening to yourself?"

"I haven't done so yet, so why start now?" The rabbit said plainly.

"Okay, first, the Raven is a character from a story..."

"And I'm a cartoon character," Oswald continued.

"So..."

The rabbit raised his eyebrow, "You really don't know what a cartoon is, do you."

Piké gave a huff. "Fine. So stories can just hop off the page whenever they want, so why does the Raven need Duck as his slave?"

"Because he's evil," Oswald preached, "there's no telling what evil people will do. Who can tell why they do half of the things they do."

"Sounds right to me!" Lilié cheered.

"That's enough," Piké said angrily, her volume rising, "There is no way the wonderful Fakir would do something like that."

"'Wonderful' Fakir? What, is he a trapeze artist now?" Oswald huffed, raising his voice, "I think your schoolgirl crush is getting in the way of the facts!"

"I don't have a crush," she said, almost shouting now, her face red, "and you don't have any proof to support your 'facts'."

"Well," Oswald flailed his arms, "I will just have to find some."

"You do that, Mr. Rabbit. Meanwhile, I'll figure out how to save Duck all on my own!" she said hotly as she made way to the door.

"Well, how do you like that," came Oswald's bitter replay, "I try to help you people and... well, fine!" he slammed the book down onto the table, "do what you want. It wouldn't be the first time everyone abandoned me!"

He only got the sound of a slamming door in reply.

The cartoon rabbit stood there for a couple minutes, his face literally beat read. Then a loud pounding erupted from the door.

"What's going on in there?" Madame Verrückt's voice shouted, "This room should be empty! What's with all the noise?"

Oswald panicked. They had been too loud; they must have woke half the dormitory. Frantically, he darted around the room looking for a hiding place.

"Okay, I've sent someone to fetch the spare key," Verrückt's voice said, "open this door now and I might go easy on you."

It was no use. The whole room was so bare that nothing was a suitable place to hide, not even under the bed, which was a good four feet above the ground.

"Okay," Verrückt's voice said triumphantly, "It's here. I'm coming in."

The knob began to rattle.

Oswald glanced around one last, desperate time and saw Lilié, still standing in the middle of the room. She looked down at him with a friendly smile and lift up her cloak, gesturing toward it.

At this point, Oswald had no choice and dove under the garment, ducking between Lilié's legs. Lilié reached over to the lamp and dimmed the light just as the teacher opened the door.

Verrückt froze in the doorway, met with the image of Lilié in an old gray cloak, hood pulled up over her face, standing in a dark, empty room with no light but candle light flickering violently.

Lilié gave her teacher her nicest smile, then put a finger to her lips in a mysterious manner.

"Ssshhh..."

Verrückt watched the strange scene for a moment, her eyes wide and her mouth half open. Then, without saying a word, she slowly backed through the door, softly closing it. After the door had been shut, Oswald crawled out from under Lilié's cloak and stared surprise-ridden at the door.

"How'd you do that?" he asked.

"I'm creepy!"

"No foolin'?"

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The night drew on as nights tend to do and soon the sun had risen. A thick morning fog covered the dormitory ground, making the background fade way in its early hazy.

Oswald sat by the open window unbothered by the morning chill as he watched the building across the courtyard through the haze. He did not move, not when a brisk morning breeze swayed his ears lightly, nor as a flock of different birds perched all over him and the windowsill. He stayed still, eyes focused on the front door.

Oswald was not one to usually be patient. In fact his patience was famously low. But if he had to wait, really wait for something that must be obtained only by truly waiting for it, then he could sit at that windowsill forever. He would not let his target slip away,even if he had to wait all morning.

But he wouldn't have to. The door slowly opened and the little dots that were Oswald's eyes widened. Out stepped the dark haired student, a small yellow bundle in his arms.

The rabbit watched carefully as he lightly closed the door and walked briskly over to the courtyard gate.

Oswald stayed in the loft as the boy reached the iron gates, left open through the night probably just out of habit, but the moment Fakir had turned the corner past the wrought iron fence and out of sight, the little black rabbit hopped down from the window and sprinted out the gate, stopping outside the courtyard. Fakir was well ahead of him, his slender form could just be made out in the fog.

Rooftops would be too risky this morning, so he made after the boy, running to close the distance then slowing down to a brisk pace to not be noticed.

And not being noticed was not as easy as it sounded. Fakir was remarkably attentive to his surroundings then you'd expect an angry teenage boy to be. A few times his back would stiffen, a cue to Oswald that he had to jump into the safety of a bush or behind the corner of a building before the Dark haired boy spun around, searching the cobblestone street to see if he was being followed. It become quite the chore for Oswald to stay close enough so he wouldn't lose Fakir in the fog, but far enough so that the boy wouldn't spot him. It was a tricky balance to maintain. Fortunately, they had soon crossed the bridge which lead through the Academy main building and into the courtyard, where it was easy to duck behind each bush and topiary as he continued to fallow. The boy kept his fast pace as he walked though the well kept courtyard and made his way toward two gray buildings near the back of the grounds.

He then stopped to scan the area for anyone following him, the signal for Oswald to stay put behind the tree he had ducked behind. Having seen no one, Fakir walked to the space between the two buildings, a narrow pathway barley wide enough for him to squeeze in. He let the duck down and allowed her to go first (For the tiny little thing, it was no problem) then slowly squeezed himself into the space. Despite what looked like a tight fit, the thin teenager did not seem to have any trouble, nimbly walking sideways into the narrow path.

Oswald waited a bit before hopping over and inspecting the narrow pathway. It seemed to be free of garbage and over growth, which meant Fakir must have walked it often. The rabbit took a brave step forward, his small body easily fitting into the tight corridor.

His head, on the other hand, snagged tightly between the two buildings, squeezing like a ripe tomato. His attempt to walk forward thwarted by his trapped head and only back against the buildings with all his might did he mange to jar it lose.

Oswald gave the narrow gap an angry growl. He did not have time to be playing games as his quarry got away. Weighing his options, he decided there was only one course he had before him. He didn't like it, always made his ears pop, but he was in a hurry. Oswald gabbed his nose suddenly then pulled the oval shaped appendage off. Air started to escape from the hole it left behind and his whole head deflated like a balloon. Once it was completely flat, Oswald walked forward, his rubber-like head hanging down his front like a bib.

He crossed the narrow path easily, and after making use of a bicycle pump that he kept in his shorts for just such an occasion, the now fully air-headed Oswald got a good look at his surroundings. It was a very secluded part of the school, surrounded by several buildings and shaded by several trees. In fact, the entire area was covered in tall grass and the trees and buildings were coved in vines, a clear sign that no one really visited this out-of-the-way section of the grounds.

Well, almost no one.

For smack dab in the middle of this over grown little garden was a small shed, particularly covered in vines. And from the shed came a soft melody. Oswald recognized it as the "Nutcracker Suite" and moved closer to the shed just to listen to it. There was no need to hurry now, as the shed was the only place Fakir could have gone, so if he was going to relax to some music, Oswald could take his time in getting there.

Hopping behind the shed, he was lucky enough to find a small window half cracked open. Hopping up and grabbing on, he peered inside. What he saw was not a surprise, but it still worried him.

The small space had been converted into a ballet studio. One wall was covered with a full length mirror and across this ran a barre, very low to the ground. In fact, the metal bar was far too low for any person to use. But Oswald realized it wasn't for a person, it was for a duck.

He realized this because Duck was there, stretching her legs on the barre. At the other end of the room Fakir, his arms crossed, stood next to an antique phonograph. The two of them said nothing to each other as the little water fowl concentrated on her exercises; first legs, then her mid-body. It was very strange watching a duck attempt these kinds of acrobatics, but she seemed to be doing fine.

"Okay, that's enough," Fakir said as he moved over to the record player. Duck leaped to the center of the room just as the music stared.

"Okay, begin," came Fakir's order, and the duck began to dance very clumsily. She started by extending her leg forward, not very high, but Oswald had to admit she had good balance. She then leaped and twirled over to the other side of the room, made a quick pose with her arms extended above her head, then made a grand leap across the room... at least that what it probably meant to be, but she only made it a quarter of the way across before tumbling to the floor.

Fakir removed the needle from the record, halting the music. "Wrong! Do it from the beginning!"

Duck pulled herself off from the floor and moved back over to the middle of the room as Fakir placed the phonograph needle back at the edge of the recorded.

The duck began to dance again as the music flared to life, just like before she lifted her leg, a little higher this time, then leaped and twirled, then attempted her leap. She did much better this time: now she only reached halfway across the room.

"Do it again!" Fakir barked and the duck got up and marched back to the room's center.

The music started and the duck repeated the routine, first rising her leg, then the twirls then a leap. This time the leap made it across the room only for Duck to trip on landing and fall on her beak, which Oswald could only imagine is like falling on your face, but worse.

"Again!" Fakir shouted, this time not even waiting for Duck to get up before starting the music. Oswald watched this go on over and over as the fog began to fad around him and the morning sun started to shine.