Aneko: Hello again! Hee hee, reviews make me want to update faster!
Disclaimer: I do not own Princess Tutu.
Chapter 2- Surprises
Ahiru opened her eyes slowly.
Where…? She wondered as she looked around her.
Everywhere there was nothing but pure, untainted light. She didn't even seem to be standing on a proper surface.
Becoming more awake, Ahiru remembered in a flash: the strange light, calling Fakir's name, her last view of him—her panic reflected in his eyes.
"Ah…Fakir!" She cried, before gasping.
My voice…and my body!
Human. Arms, legs, hands, feet. She wiggled her toes and fingers, bending her elbow back and forth. Tears rose to her eyes. She had never in her wildest dreams thought that the day would come when she would be able to see her body like this again. A dress of light, satiny stuff was draped over her body, its edges blurring to disappear into the white mist surrounding her.
"Look, look, she's awake!"
Ahiru's head snapped around.
"Who's there?"
Another voice joined in, ignoring her question.
"Ah, I was wondering when she would wake up."
The voices sounded like children—boys—and seemed to come from the light itself.
"Ne, who are you? And where am I?" Ahiru tried again.
"Hmm, who are we indeed?" The first asked mysteriously. "Do you know? And who are you? Do you really even know that? Perhaps instead of 'where am I?' it should be 'who am I?' Don't you think?"
"Eh? Ah…" Ahiru said, confused.
"Or maybe, 'what?'"
"Yes, yes. What are you?" The second voice piped up.
"I'm—" Ahiru started, but couldn't finish. She thought of everything she had been—a princess, a girl, a duck…
"What's wrong? Don't you know?"
Ahiru looked down at her feet. "I don't really…" She felt a gentle but insistant tugging feeling on the skirt of her dress.
"Ne, are you a princess?" A little girl's voice asked shyly, but curiously.
Ahiru looked down to see some of the light had solidified, and was clutching at her skirt with white finer-like tendrils of mist. It reminded her of a child's hand.
Ahiru shook her head. "No. I'm just…"
"Just what?"
Ahiru's breath rushed out of her. "Edel-san?"
"Just a duck? Just Ahiru?"
"Edel-san?"
"There is happiness for those who accept their fate. There is glory for those who deny their fate."
That same sing-song voice. It had to be Edel.
"But is that true? Would it be more accurate to say that those who defy their fate gain glory and happiness? Or would it be true of those who accept it?"
"Um…" Ahiru puzzled over Edel's question. "Couldn't it be true both ways? Depending on your fate, both could be possible…I think."
There was soft laughter from all the childish voices. The light grew brighter and brighter, and Ahiru tried to shield her eyes, squinting uncomfortably.
Before she lost consciousness again, Ahiru faintly thought she heard Edel's voice speaking over her.
"Good luck, Ahiru. Do your best."
Fakir sat at his writing desk, the flickering light illuminating his fruitless efforts, the blank paper staring him defiantly in the face. His hand fisted on his forehead and he glared at the paper, as if that could somehow change the results of the empty hours he had spent sitting and thinking. The sky outside had gone dark hours ago, and dark bags were starting to appear under his eyes, but he stayed stubbornly at the desk, refusing to give up.
Charon walked up the stairs, a lamp in his hand the only source of light. He had worked very late tonight. The time had flown by, and before he had realized it, it was well past midnight.
He was just passing Fakir's room when he saw a light flickering under the door.
He's still up? The older man thought in surprise.
He opened the door quietly and looked in. Fakir was slumped over in his chair, his head resting on his left arm. Though his eyes were closed in sleep, he looked exhausted. He still held his quill firmly in his right hand, the dry point placed against the paper. There was a dark, distorted blotch on the paper where the ink had bled through ages ago, but it had long since dried.
Walking over, Charon placed a hand on his adopted son's shoulder, shaking him gently.
"Fakir? Fakir, you should get to bed," he murmured.
Fakir sat up groggily, blinking.
"Charon…"
"You've been working too hard. I don't know what you're writing, but you need to get some rest. A sleepless night won't help your concentration."
"Yeah. You're right Charon. Thanks."
Fakir rubbed his eyes and gave Charon a tired, not-quite happy smile.
Nodding, Charon turned to leave the room. As soon as he left, Fakir's expression turned to a scowl as he glared at the paper on his desk again, as though he hoped to set it on fire by doing so. With a sigh, though, he bent his head wearily and closed his eyes.
He had been trying until he fell asleep from exhaustion, and yet he still couldn't write about Ahiru. He had tried so many different stories, all of which ended up as wadded up pieces of trash that overflowed from the trash can beside him. It hadn't worked. Nothing had worked.
Rubbing his eyes again, Fakir collapsed in bed. Charon was right, he needed sleep.
Perhaps he would be able to concentrate better with some sleep. He could go and see Aotoa tomorrow, too. The musician might have some idea of what he could do.
"Disappeared?" Aotoa questioned, pausing to look down at Fakir.
"Yeah," Fakir confirmed, leaning back against the bookshelves, his arms crossed.
"Well…" Aotoa came down from the ladder he was on. "From what you said, it sounds like she was transported somewhere."
"Transported?"
"Yes," Aotoa adjusted his glasses. "While you did rewrite Drosselmeyer's story, odds are there are still some little pieces remaining."
"What do you mean?"
Aotoa shrugged. "I'm only speculating here, but Drosselmeyer's stories pulled this town into a state of half-reality, which it stayed in for years. In order to pull it back, as you did, you would have had to basically tear it away from the seams. This inevitably leaves behind holes in the new reality, which are harder to fix. Why do you think that duck still acts like a girl? Or, why does the town feel like there's something missing?"
"What does that have to do with Ahiru disappearing?"
"Another story could have leaked through the holes. She may have gotten dragged into it, being so in tune with Drosselmeyer's magic as she was."
Fakir's eyes widened. That's it! He thought, running from the room.
"O-oi, Fakir!" Aotoa called, before frowning in exasperation, and going back to organizing his books.
Ahiru opened her eyes. The sunlight coming through a window dazzled them and she rolled over.
Ah, I see, she though, half-asleep. It was all a dream. It's morning…Fakir probably already went to school…but I don't have to get up yet. I think I'll just sleep a while longer…
No sooner had she thought this than she began to get cold. She snuggled down further under her blankets.
Ahiru's eyes flew open. She was cold? She was a duck! She had feathers for crying out loud! She—
Ahiru noticed a hand on her bed. She flexed her arm. The hand moved. She tightened her muscles. The hand gripped the sheet.
Ahiru sat up and looked down at herself. A white sleeveless dress.
It wasn't a dream!
Ahiru looked up. She wasn't in Charon's house after all.
She was in a huge room. The bed she sat on was a king-sized four-poster with white silk sheets. It sat in a little alcove so that only one side was accessible. White curtains could be drawn across for warmth and privacy.
A thick white rug covered a floor of gray marble. The walls were made of stone, but were covered in colorful tapestries with every color. Across a large area of empty floor space to her left, two arched French doors stood open to reveal a large balcony. Thin, semi-transparent curtains, also white, fluttered in a light breeze. The sky outside was a royal blue, and a few fluffy clouds floated in it.
To her right was a large wooden door with a gilded doorframe. Directly across from her a smaller door led to another room. Beside this was a large vanity table made of rosewood. A giant mirror affixed to the top reflected her shocked face.
Th-this can't be…
"Fakir…?" Ahiru called out tentatively. How she wished the dark-haired writer was here.
Hearing the door creak, Ahiru looked to the right. Could it be…?
Her hopes came crashing onto the hard marble floor and all the way through it as a woman entered.
It was not Fakir. She was alone.
Hearing her gasp of despair, the woman looked up.
Her eyes widened when she saw Ahiru and she dropped the towel she had been holding. Ahiru looked back nervously, until the woman turned tail and ran.
"Ah—wait!" Ahiru called, raising a hand as if to pull her back.
What happened? Did I scare her? Ahiru wondered in bewilderment, until she heard the woman's voice in the hall outside, shrill and loud in the large quiet.
"Your Majesties! Your Majesties, she's back! The Princess has awakened!"
Aneko: CLIFFIE! I'm starting to get evil with the cliffhangers, huh? Mwahaha! Mwahahahahahaha…haha..ha-oh forget it. I can't pull off the evil laughing thing. But seriously? I'm sorry, but there was just no better place to end it. I'll try to update fast, but as things stand, I'm about to go brave another week of school, and chapter three isn't even finished yet. So you probably can't expect another chapter until next weekend.
Ja, Sayonara!