For the Love of a Duck

Rumours flew around the town that a wedding would be held at the Drosselmeyer Chapel, and while many of the townsfolk knew little about that meddler with fate, the misgivings of the very old were heard and spread. The idea of such an event taking place in that cursed church was abhorrent to those who remembered and the discontent flavoured the gossip appetizingly.

Fakir and Ahiru spent the next day in solitude at their pond, undisturbed by the uproar that gripped the town. If he felt any misgivings with continuing the story, Fakir never showed them. It was another issue that worried him. He had been concerned that if his plan was made public he would be locked away, separated forever from her, but it seemed the old priest had remained silent.

Still, Ahiru danced alone that night, her heart full of hope and excitement. She twirled and spun gracefully around the clearing, while Fakir sat in his chair, watching.

He saw her long, elegant legs, ending in delicate feet, perfectly pointed to finish each movement. He saw her lithe arms, deposed gracefully as an extension of her exuberance. He hadn't realised before now but she'd aged just as he had; a discovery he was extremely grateful for. As her height had remained in proportion to his, he'd previously overlooked the change. It surprised him, at the back of his mind, that her duck form hadn't changed from small and yellow.

She spun round the chair, her fingers grazing along his shoulder and down his arm, rousing him from his thoughts. She flashed him a smile and he returned it briefly before worrying his lip as his mind turned back to his doubts once more.

The priest had said it would have to be done properly, which concerned him. Three days was a long time, and there was still a possibility that obstacles could crop up: from the church, from the towns' folk, from the mayoral officials, the book men. Even Carl could cause issue.

He would not regret his choice; Ahiru was more important than his pride and social standing. She was his happy ending.

But would that help him in the face of objectors?

As he worried about the bureaucratic process and the social and political forces that may stand against him, doubt crept in. Yes, she was his happy ending, but was he hers? Was it selfish of him to grant her humanity just to chain her to him in marriage? Was he any better than the Raven he'd written; he offered the same terms for the same outcome…

The town clock struck the hour, breaking him from his vexing thoughts and he searched the clearing for her.

She stood, bathed in moonlight by the pond, her arms raised in the mime for "I love you", a sad smile on her face.

He was shaken, breathless, watching the ethereal display as her human form faded like a shower of stars twinkling out and his shirt fell to the ground in a heap.

Ahiru gave a ruffled quack from within the material and he sighed. He'd missed their hour, concerned with their future when he should have been enjoying their present.

He gathered up his shirt, unwrapping it to free her and smiled. She settled contently in his arms and they returned to his home.

They returned to the pond the next day, settling in to their old habits, seeking the calm of their past. It was quite different now and the remembrance of the last few years was a soothing balm. Fakir leafed through his book of the day, reading random passages before moving on. Occasionally, he'd look up to watch Ahiru swimming around the pond. She was so calm; it relaxed him to simply observe her.

But their peace didn't last uninterrupted. Halfway through the day, a changing breeze carried a hushed conversation across the clearing as trio of school girls arranged themselves under the trees to enjoy their lunch.

His ears perked up and he straightened. Ahiru stilled, in the water, the breadcrumbs she'd been eating from his hands going untouched as they both concentrated on the barely audible words.

"Amazing that they'd choose there though…"

"I think…" The girl's voice faded as the wind dropped then picked up again, "Haunted."

"The names are supposed to be secret but…"

Fakir tensed, and shifted in their direction.

"No one knows?"

He relaxed momentarily when the answer came as a negative, though no mention had been made as to the subject of the conversation. Then the word 'wedding' floated along the breeze and he jerked.

Moving quietly, he crept towards the girls, deliberately eavesdropping on their conversation, his anxiety drawing Ahiru along as well.

"I heard it was a forbidden love," Announced one girl with a knowing smile, "And the groom almost destroyed the church when the priest refused to marry them straight away."

"How romantic!" Another girl sighed and Fakir rolled his eyes at their dramatics.

"I heard it was a runaway princess." The first girl continued, but she was interrupted by the third.

"Well, I heard that a man with a duck was seen leaving the church." The girl's tone was somewhat bored with a twist of malicious glee at ruining their ideal romantic scenarios. Fakir turned worried eyes to Ahiru, who had waddled after him and she hid behind him.

"With a duck?" The other two girls exclaimed, "That's nonsense."

Fakir held his breath, his fingers gripping the bark of the tree that shielded him so hard he risked breaking it. Ahiru peeked out from behind him, worry etched on her feathered face.

"Maybe the duck is a pet? Or a token from the princess?" The second girl ventured uncertainly, unable to create a reason for the duck's presence.

"Or maybe it's the princess!" The first girl announced dramatically, "And she's under a terrible curse!"

There was a pause before all three girls broke into giggles.

"That's silly." The second girl laughed while the third muttered, "Those sorts of things only happen in stories."

Fakir backed away, his face creased in a frown as Ahiru scrambled to avoid his feet. She could tell he was worried as he returned to his chair for his book, lost in thought. He picked it up and stared at it intensely, a wild look entering his eyes.

The story he had written had been simple: Ahiru returned, they married, then the story ended. He was prepared to step away from a written future after that. But something wasn't right, the story was becoming complicated.

"Ahiru, we need to go." He said urgently. The story was changing, it was already different. He needed to find his manuscript.

Ahiru waddled after him as he headed away from the pond, growing increasingly worried at the change in the atmosphere. She'd never seen the stories he'd written. The previous one had ended with her as a duck and ducks don't need to read. She didn't know what was happening but she could tell he was troubled. She quacked a little as the gap between them lengthened; she was unable to keep up.

The sound startled him out of his thoughts and he glanced back. To her surprise, instead of waiting for her to reach him, he turned back and scooped her up, hugging her to his chest.

"The story has changed, Ahiru." He said, quickening his pace, "I think something's wrong."

For Fakir, the rest of the day passed in a haze of confusion and anxiety. He was right; the story had altered from its written course but he could find no reason for it.

Ahiru was his character. When he'd failed to write for Mytho, he'd continued the story through her. She's been wrested from Drosselmeyer's clutches through their combined efforts, supported by their denial of his chosen fate for them both. He would not die in vain and she would not turn into a speck of light.

Yet, the pages of his manuscript told a different story to the one he'd written. His own handwriting chronicled dramatic twists, which he'd deliberately avoided. He read through their story again, eyes widening as he realised the truth.

He should have seen it before. When Ahiru didn't change that first night, the story had already been altered. When the priest refused to perform the service, the story had diverted from its course. Panic gripped him as the consequences of his discovery sank in.

Would their story become alive, like the Prince and the Raven, with the characters changing their roles? Had he come too close to the original by involving that dreaded bird? Who was making the changes now?

The world seemed to grow darker, a strong wind came up around the house and the shutters banged against the windows. A bolt of lightning flashed across the sky and the thunder boomed, sending Ahiru flying into him. Rain sheeted down over Goldcrown Town, a sudden, dramatic deluge as the story shifted and Fakir and Ahiru stood together, man and duck, as the door to their house was flung open and the lightning illuminated a dark hunched figure in the doorway.