For the Love of a Duck
Chapter of Swan
Act 3- If I Can't Love Her
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Fakir blinked, a light mist surrounding him on all sides.
"Where…am I?"
The mist slowly cleared, finally revealing to him the lone figure out upon the lake.
At first, Fakir thought that it was just a duck swimming, but as he looked closer- he could see that the duck was dancing across the water's surface.
Her large blue eyes met with his green ones as she smiled.
Slowly moving her hands above her head, she gestured to him.
"Please- dance with me," The motion said. Her small wing left extended towards him.
He stood then, a pair of ballet shoes instantly on his feet as he made his way out to meet her.
A soft melody began, and slowly, they danced.
The small duck's movements told Fakir a story.
I am but little duck of yellow,
My heart as pure as gold,
Upon me now a curse is laid,
A spell this dream has foretold.
If I fall in love with you,
My heart devoted to only one.
And you can to love me in return,
Then this curse will come undone.
But the love must be pure and not misled,
Or misfortune shall play its part.
For the most beautiful thing in all the world,
Is the beauty of the heart.
And as she finished her story, she turned to him- her small wings gesturing to him once again.
"Fakir…" She touched a wing to her heart, "I…" then moved them down into a particular pose, "I love you."
He halted in his dance then, and knelt beside the small duck.
"Ahiru…" His mind thought back over the spell, his arms mimicking that pose to her in return.
And in a bright glowing light, the duck transformed. Her body changing back into that of a human and her feathers turning into a golden gown.
"Fakir," She said as he looked upon her with awe, "Your heart is noble and your love is pure- with that you can fight this curse on me. Show no hesitance and speak truthfully and the ending will be one of happiness."
And as suddenly as it began, it ended.
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Slowly, the layers of sleep withdrew like the mist about the lake. The fleeting memory of his dream solidified- making sure that Fakir retained each little detail of it.
"Fakir, I love you," Ahiru's voice echoed in his mind.
And that was all it took to completely snap Fakir awake.
Bolting upright, both his chair and Ahiru fell to the ground. Fakir clasped a hand over his mouth in shock and desperately hoped his face wasn't as red as he thought it was.
"Quack! Quack quack quack quack?! (Hey! What was that for?!)" The loud protest came from the floor, a certain small yellow duck not too pleased with how she'd been woken up.
"A-A-Ahiru…" He managed, feeling his face grow warmer.
Glancing about, Fakir finally realized that he was no longer in his bedroom.
"How did I…"
"Quack quack quack. (You were writing)"
Looking down at the desk, he spotted the parchment with the words written on it.
"No…I didn't…when did I…" Shakily, Fakir picked up the top page and began to read.
Flustered due to the content of the story, he found his embarrassment quickly dying as another thought entered his mind.
"Every story I've written about Ahiru- has come true…so if I…if I don't write an ending for this…"
Or misfortune shall play its part.
"Ahiru," He said slowly, kneeling beside her, "Sorry, I guess I woke you up, didn't I?"
Gently patting her head, he glanced up at the story once again, "But did you…well, did you see who wrote this?"
Tilting her head in confusion, Ahiru gestured out her reply, "Quack quack, quack. (You did, Fakir.)"
"Did…did Drosselmeyer come back to control me again…" He mumbled to himself.
Ahiru's eyes widened at that possibility, "Quack?!"
Lifting her into his arms, Fakir turned the pages of the story over so no one could see what was written on it.
"I'm not sure what happened, Ahiru. I guess… well, all I can do is see if Aotoa might have some idea."
"Qua…"
"I'll go to school early and talk with him. Don't worry, okay?" He said patting her head gently as he sat her down.
"Quack…(Fakir…)"
Not wanting to waste another moment in getting this resolved, Fakir quickly gathered up his things and got ready to head up to the school. And as he rushed out of the Antiques store, a small yellow duck watched sadly.
"Something's wrong…did Fakir- is what he was writing- a new story?"
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The school grounds were quiet as a light mist from the nearby waters cast a slight fog about the area. It seemed that it was almost deserted- the bell chiming just like it always had when Ahiru walked amongst the other students.
But this time, it was Fakir who was up early and running down the pathways with a panicked gleam in his eyes. His, not from the fear of being late and possibly being wed-off to a cat, but from the confusion behind this new story and the horrid consequences that could befall Ahiru and the town if he didn't make some sense of it.
Quickly rushing into the music building, he felt relief wash over him. The sound of piano notes echoing down the hallway told him that the person he sought was indeed already there.
"Then again, that Aotoa always seemed to know when any inklings of Drosselmeyer's twisted plot were at play…" Fakir thought bitterly to himself as he flung open the door; his eyes narrowing on the one creating the beautiful melody that danced about in the silence of the school.
"Well well, what a surprise to see you again," Aotoa remarked, his eyes never leaving the piano, "I hope you're not causing trouble and making the Drosselmeyer family-line look bad."
"I think Drosselmeyer did quite well at that himself," Fakir shot back, closing the door behind him.
Aotoa just smirked, "I would expect such a reply from you. So, what brings you here for a visit?" He asked; pushing his glasses up after he finished the piano piece he was playing.
"A story…"
His eyes widened- half in excitement, half in pensive shock, "You…you began to spin another story?"
Fakir nodded, "At least…I think so…"
"What do you mean by 'you think so'?"
"I woke up this morning asleep at my desk. Part of story was written out on the paper there…" He paused, thinking over all the other possible evidence, "And the ink- was still slightly damp. It was freshly written."
Aotoa scooted back on the piano bench, his dark eyes narrowing, "So you fell asleep writing?"
"Both Charon and Ahiru said I fell asleep in my bed…then I…mysteriously got up to write," He explained, his hand nervously clutching at the parchment he held, "But I don't remember doing anything."
Trying to hide his underlying motive, Aotoa stood, "Did you bring it with you?"
"Well…" Fakir forced down a blush on thinking over the contents of it, "Yes…but I was wondering if it was possible for Drosselmeyer to try and control me again."
Aotoa nodded sagely, "Drosselmeyer has finally been put to rest since you wrote the ending to his final story. But- it is possible that you wrote out a dream you were having."
"A…dream?"
"Some people walk while they're asleep, what's to say that you didn't write while you were asleep? Did you have any strange dreams last night?"
Fakir frowned, a blush creeping onto his face despite his protests, "I guess…but I don't see what that has to do with this. All I know is somehow I started another story about Ahiru."
"The one person, or should I say- duck, that you can write about to make the stories real."
"That's the problem here!" He shouted, his temper finally snapping, "I need to know- if I destroy this and never think of it again- will it be safe?"
Aotoa shrugged, "I'd have to see what it is you wrote first before I could tell you that."
"No," Fakir said firmly.
"I can't tell you if you don't let me inspect it," He pressed, walking forward.
"It's personal," The emerald-haired boy retorted.
Aotoa smirked, the light reflecting off his glasses, "A love story…" He stated plainly.
Fakir faltered, his arm loosening his grip on the parchment as he stared at Aotoa.
"I take it that I'm right?"
He just glared in reply.
"It would be quite a pity if it turned tragic then…." Aotoa continued, his mission to see this newly spun story wouldn't be thwarted so easily, "I'm sure Drosselmeyer would be proud- someone of his own lineage spinning a tragic tale of lov-"
"Hey!" Fakir shouted forcefully as he grabbed the older boy by his collar, "I'm not that crazy old man and I never will be. Now tell me how to fix this!"
"A story without an ending is tragic…" He murmured cryptically.
Fakir slowly lowered Aotoa back to the ground and released his hold on him, "So I have to write an ending?"
Stepping back quickly, Aotoa reached out and snatched the parchment from Fakir's hands.
"I'll have to see what you've written yourself into…"
"Aotoa!" Fakir made to grab the story back, but Aotoa dodged, his eyes quickly skimming the text written there.
"A spell of love to change a duck into a princess. Quite the romantic approach, eh Fakir-kun?"
Grabbing the parchment back, the emerald-haired boy glanced about the room hastily until he spotted a quill lying beside the piano.
"What are you doing now?"
Without a word, Fakir grabbed up the waylaid quill and ink and began to quickly write out a few lines, paying no heed to the other boy's questions.
It was true that a dream did indeed foretell the knight of this spell. And so, curious as to how to handle the situation, he sought out someone for assistance. The one he sought was named Aotoa. He was quite the pretentious brat, but his knowledge did prove useful at times; his strange obsession with Drosselmeyer making him a walking encyclopedia on the man.
On speaking with him, the knight began to see that he wasn't being taken seriously. His anger flared up and he took up a nearby quill and spun Aotoa's name into the story. Turning smugly to the other young man, the knight smirked in triumph as he spoke,
"There you're in it now too. So you either help me fix this- or you're coming down with us."
"Th-That's insane!" Aotoa exclaimed as Fakir's quill jotted down a few more lines, making sure to write Aotoa's whining into the tale.
"I do have Drosselmeyer's blood in me and if you somehow cause me to harm Ahiru or anyone else- I will write you the most painful tragic story ever told," He threatened, holding the quill menacingly.
Aotoa glared back, casually pushing his glasses back up on the bridge of his nose.
"Very amusing, Fakir. For a moment there I would have sworn you'd gone mad. But there's really no need for a fuss. It's your own problem that you're writing a love story…."
Frustration hitting it's boiling point- Fakir dipped the quill into the ink again and wrote out his plan.
Apparently, Aotoa was blinded by his own issues so much that he couldn't take the knight and his quest with any ounce of sincerity. So, as a threat and warning to him, the knight looked on as the boy's glasses shattered and the pieces of it fell to the ground.
Ah!" He jumped back as indeed the glasses did shatter and the pieces littered the floor.
"Don't test me, Aotoa. I was chosen, remember? I'm taking this seriously and you'd better as well. I am not writing a tragedy!"
Aotoa squinted, his blurred vision making out the figure of Fakir before him. Knowing now that this was indeed a very- intense matter, he finally resigned.
"All right. With careful planning and wording we can make it through this. But first, we need to find a way to break that curse before writing in an ending."
Finally calming himself down somewhat, Fakir slumped down on the nearby bench.
"So you really think I did write it?"
"Subconsciously, yes. It seems to be very much a product of hidden emotions and thoughts."
"Aotoa…" He warned.
"Well it is. And when you destroyed my glasses- the words became reality, right? Therefore- whatever you write on that parchment will become real. So, all you have to do is what you yourself wrote."
"Like?"
Clearing his throat, he repeated the verse, "'If the duck was to fall in love, her heart devoted to only one. And that boy could come to love her in return, then this curse will come undone.' If you tell her and she reciprocates- the curse is broken and the story can be ended happily."
Fakir frowned, realizing that whatever came of this- he was going to continually be embarrassed over writing his feelings so freely.
"And…what if…what if…" He glanced down at the floor, his mind flooding with the many problems that could arise and turn the story tragic.
"If she doesn't feel the same?"
The younger boy nodded quietly.
"I hate to be blunt, Fakir- but you won't know until you ask her."
Leaning forward to rest his elbow on the piano, Fakir frowned, "It's times like this I wish Edel was still around."
"Edel?" Aotoa questioned, the name not sounding familiar.
"A puppet of Drosselmeyer's who broke free from her role. She sacrificed herself to save me and the others."
"And what good would a puppet do us now?"
Thinking back to when he met her, his mind recalled her strange words.
"There is happiness for those who accept their fate.
There is glory for those who fight against their fate.
The story is continuing.
The story is living."
With a solemn sigh, Fakir replied, "She was very wise. She always seemed to have the answers."
"But who's to say that wasn't Drosselmeyer's doing?" Aotoa noted skeptically.
"Edel was Edel," He snapped back firmly, "Just the same as Uzura was Uzura. They were their own selves."
The room fell silent for a moment, and Fakir's hand absently stroked the feather atop the quill, "I just…have a feeling she'd know what to do."
"Then why don't you ask her?"
"I told you- she's…"
Aotoa gently took the quill from Fakir and held it out to him, "The story and characters are yours now, Fakir."
Reaching out hesitantly, he took it, "Let's just hope I can keep it that way."
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