Once upon a time, there were a pair of shepherds who reenacted a story in which two friends, consumed by greed and hatred, became enemies and eventually killed each other. All in a dangerous game of make-believe.
They were characters playing other characters in a play within a play. Ultimately, they were powerless to escape from the story, a tale in which close relationships were driven to ruin.1
The warm rays slipped through the canopy of leaves to create an intricate pattern of shadows on the ground. A gentle breeze stirred the blades of grass and scattered dandelion seeds throughout the air. On a bench sat white goose with a parasol, the large red stone on the tip of her wing sparkling in the sunlight. a white goose who sat with a parasol on the bench, the large red stone on the tip of her wing sparkling in the sunlight.
"Ah, madam, that ring is quite lovely," spoke a gravelly voice.
A man stopped beside the goose. Despite the heat and humidity, the man wore a heavy black cloak with the hood pulled over his face. Only his mouth was visible.
"Why thank you, kind sir!" The goose beamed.
"If you would allow me to, may I please have it?" The man presented a bulging bag of money. "I would like to buy it from you."
The goose's eyes widened when he revealed glittering gold coins. Her mouth dropped open. Inadvertently, she leaned closer. Oh, there were so many of them! All that money for a single ring she'd found on her doorstep. She slipped it off and dropped it in the man's palm despite the nagging voice in the back of her head that begged her not to. His fingers closed around it like a claw snapping shut. He turned around and walked away without another word.
The goose watched him leave. A knot formed in her stomach. Why did the man pay so much for a mere ring? But she figured it was best not to look a gift horse in the mouth, so she opened the bag to count her money. But when she pulled out the coins, their sheen dimmed and color darkened. The goose who once had a lovely ring now had no ring and a bag of sleek black feathers.
Drosselmeyer laughed when her satisfied look turned to one of horror. He rocked back and forth while he watched the story unfold from the large gear spinning before him. The goose let out a loud squawk and fluttered away, dropping the bag. A gust of wind came and carried the feathers high into the air. The bright blue sky was dotted with bits of black. Another breeze scattered the crow feathers across town, and they fell down onto the buildings and people. It was no longer a perfect summer day; now the clouds began to darken.
"What a wonderfully wretched fate! A beautifully imperfect character and a horrid end to a lovely day!"
The old man cackled and rubbed his palms together. White, puffy clouds became black and ominous. Thunder alerted the townspeople of the storm's arrival and was followed by a bolt of lightning. White-hot flashes appeared against the dismal gray. The feathers grew into a murder of crows that swept across the sky and infiltrated the little town, landing on rooftops and settling into trees.
"Yes, you hideous little creatures, spread your misery throughout the town, for this is my tragedy, a cataclysm of tears in which no one shall receive a happy ending! Eh, eh, eh." His gleeful voice faded to a strained wheeze. Drosselmeyer heaved over in a coughing fit. "Oh dear, now this won't do. The dead don't get sick."
He snapped his fingers. A larger gear dropped down in front of the first, and a new scene unfolded. In the middle of colorful gardens and pristine evergreen grass stood an impressive building that reached up to the sky. In the highest tower of the academy, isolated from the rest of the school, occupying a small dusty room, was a small freckled girl with bright red hair. She laid on the top bunk of her bed and stared up at the ceiling while clutching a duck pillow. At the window was her only source of light: a small red lamp.
Ahiru was lost in a dream, once more at the pond at the outskirts of town. She smiled up at the boy before her. His face was handsome, with sharp angular features that were softened by the gentleness in his eyes. Her prince? No, her knight. Her gallant knight dressed in black and blue. He smiled in return, a beautiful one that made her heart skip a beat, and held out a hand to her. A blush spread across her cheeks as she stepped toward him.
Yet before she could reach him, his expression changed. His face twisted into a grimace and all the color faded from him. Gashes appeared along his body with scarlet blood seeping into his clothes. His eyes were hollow, empty and despairing, pools of blackness that swallowed all light. His arms were outstretched, fists crossed.
Then a giant slash swung down over the knight, cleaving him in half. His features contorted in agony with twisted brows and bulging eyes, his mouth gaping open in a silent scream. Like glass, his body splintered into crimson pieces before vanishing into a speck of light.
Ahiru charged toward him, hands outstretched as though to catch the broken shards. Yet there was nothing left where he formerly stood. The steady tick tock of a clock filled the air, humming like a heartbeat. She scrambled back to the pond, but to her horror, blood seeped out from the center of the water.
"Quack!" Ahiru screeched, her arms flailing wildly.
Her head slammed against the ceiling and momentum sent her tumbling over the railing of her bunk bed. She winced and sat up, trying to ignore the throbbing pain as she willed her racing heart to steady.
"Just a nightmare," she whispered, fighting the faint tremor in her voice.
Ahiru rubbed her arms where goosebumps had formed. The knight's mime with his fists crossed—what could it mean? She tried to shake off the icy dread coiled around her. What an awful dream!
Ahiru rubbed the gleaming crimson pendant between her fingers, the tension seeping from her shoulders. It was smooth except for the chip near the bottom. Absently, she ran her thumb over it. The stone glowed and heated up, making her gasp. Then the light faded, and the shard fell back against her neck, lifeless once more.
Ahiru looked around but saw no one. Like always, she was alone in the tiny room. Walls met a haphazardly sloping angles, and the ceiling slanted sharply. Cobwebs hanging from the dark corners collected bits of dust and dead black bugs. The school had run out of space and had assigned her makeshift dorm to the attic. Her bed was sparse with only a threadbare blanket and worn duck pillow. In the corner was a simple desk with a red lamp and creaky wooden chair. The windowsill presented a vase of wilting pink flowers, ones she'd picked in the gardens to liven up the plain area.
"That's right. I'm in the dorm again," Ahiru murmured.
She rubbed her eyes. Her back was sore, and her muscles ached. She climbed out of the bunk bed and stretched, her joints popping. Ahiru's unsteady betrayed her and caught on one of the ladder rings, sending her tumbling to the ground.
She sighed. "Nothing's changed. I'm still a klutz."
Ahiru fumbled with her white uniform top, which was wrinkled from being left on the ground. The pitter-patter of the raindrops against the window made her look up.
"Oh, it's raining."
Frowning, she struggled to put on her jacket. It was stiff and scratchy. Ahiru had grown too used to having feathers. Once more, she felt as though she didn't belong. She shouldn't be wearing the drab gray uniform and attending ballet class. She should be swimming in her pond, hidden behind trees where no one knew of her existence. Ahiru was just a duck. A duck, and nothing more. Once she returned Fakir's heart to him, she would go back to being a bird and stop troubling him.
The Gold Crown clock tower rang, signaling the start of a new hour. Oh no, class!
Ahiru dived for her shoe and yanked it on. She hopped around on one foot to search for the other. She tripped and tumbled headfirst into the ground. Without a moment's pause, she dashed into the halls and searched for the dance studio.
The ballet students were mainly divided into three different categories: beginner, intermediate, and advanced. There was one class, an extension of the advanced class, with only five spaces and composed of especially skilled female dancers.
There was also probation class for the extremely troublesome students. Ahiru had found herself in the probation class too many times due to being late so often. Missing a lot of class time was one of the reasons why she was a terrible dancer. No doubt would she be put into probation again in her very first week.
Despite her guilt, Ahiru couldn't help but feel an extreme happiness at being a girl again. She hadn't realized how much she missed being human. But there was that thought that worked its way into her mind—she was never meant to be human.
When she turned the corner, a flash of red caught her eye, making her head snap to the side. Gasping, she checked her pendant to see that it was indeed glowing. Ahiru paused for a closer look. The red faded—the heart shard was moving farther away. Oh no! She had to catch up with it.
Ahiru crashed into something hard and moving. She gasped when she and the mysterious thing both tumbled to the ground. Her elbow dug into soft fur while her chin smacked into the hard tile floor. A strained meow echoed throughout the school. Ahiru looked up.
Her blue eyes widened upon seeing Mr. Cat, her former anthropomorphic ballet instructor who had an obsession with love. When Drosselmeyer's story had ended, he had become a regular cat with a litter of kittens and white cat as a wife. The feline's tail flicked back and forth like a metronome. His return further indicated that Drosselmeyer was beginning to stir up trouble. For the duration of the writer's stories, animals had walked the halls like people while no one batted an eye.
"Running through the halls is not tolerated!" the feline screeched. "If I wasn't already married, as punishment, I would have you marry—"
Ahiru scrambled to her feet and leapt away from the animal. She ran in the other direction as quickly as her legs could carry her. She looked around only to find that the red light had faded. There was no way she could find the heart shard. It was just her luck to run into Mr. Cat again. Sighing, Ahiru trudged to ballet class. There was no point in searching now.
A gust of wind made her head snap up. The whirl of papers lazily spun in circles before they landed at her feet. Biting her lip, Ahiru picked them up and smoothed them out. The edges were rough; the papers had been torn from a book. Looping cursive in blood-red ink filled the yellowed pages.
Her eyes widened as her breaths grew ragged and harsh. Ahiru's trembling hands clapped over her mouth to stifle a scream. Regaining her composure, she tightened her grip on the papers. When she flipped through the pages, a lone feather, sleek and glossy and black, slipped out. She flinched as though it had burned her.
"What is this?" she gasped and looked around the hall, only to catch a glimpse of a murder of crows taking off from the school roof outside the window.
Ahiru shoved the papers into her bag and ran to the practice rooms. She ducked her head into each of them and only found the rooms empty. She groaned, wishing she'd asked Fakir which room he'd be in earlier. After finding yet another room empty, Ahiru rested her head against the door.
"What are you doing here?"
Ahiru turned around just when Fakir shut the door behind him to the one room she had yet to check. If she had just opened it earlier, she would've found him. Oh, why did she waste time moping?
He folded his arms. "You better have a good reason for being here."
Ahiru all but flung the papers at him, earning herself an annoyed look. Upon seeing the pages, his expression changed to one of surprise: mouth falling open, eyebrows shooting up. "This is like from before..."
"B-Before? What do you mean?" she spluttered.
Fakir hadn't never told her anything. A twinge of hurt and anger bloomed at his secrecy. Her hands curled into fists. Ahiru was embroiled in this mess as much as he was; he had no right to be keeping things hidden!
"Before I turned you back, Autor found music sheets for Lohengrin."
"Lohengrin?"
"It's a opera that was written... Never mind."
In 1850.
Somehow Ahiru knew the answer. She frowned. The date sounded so unfamiliar, the way an unprecedented year might. Was the opera really from the future? She tried to recall the current year, but her mind remained blank. What was the date? Had the gears of time in the town remained motionless, suspended in the depths of nothingness, because of Drosselmeyer's stories? Or was it that Ahiru hadn't noticed simply because she was a duck?
Ahiru wanted to ask Fakir, but didn't press him. Instead, she told him about the heart shard and how she found the story.
"You should've searched later after class."
"B-But you need your heart back as soon as possible."
"I can manage without all of it. Don't trouble yourself too much."
"Ugh, you're always like that!" Ahiru pouted, twisting her head to look up at him. "You're always so mean to everyone, especially yourself!"
If she knew anything about Fakir, it was that he wore guilt like battle armor. It encased his body and prevented anything from reaching his heart.
Ahiru sighed. Fakir was acting so pessimistic because he'd lost the part of his heart that hoped. No matter. She had enough hope for the both of them, and because the heart shard resonated with the other pieces, she would use it to return the rest of his heart.
Ahiru closed her eyes. The thought of the mysterious papers still harbored in the back of her mind, a weed of curiosity that threatened to wreck the thriving garden. But, oh! So curious was she even went to the library after class. It was like a fish hook had tangled in her mind and pulled her closer and closer to the ambiguous source.
Try as she might, Ahiru couldn't escape it. The only thing she could do was play the role like a marionette. But as she drew closer to the library, the feeling only grew stronger. Ahiru found no relief.
"Ah, Fakir's duck friend. I assume you two have come to the same conclusion I have?"
Startled, Ahiru turned to see Autor seated at a long table piled high with books. He almost seemed to be expecting her arrival. He closed his book and walked over to her. His smirk only seemed to widen.
"Fakir said that the music sheets from earlier, well, they were for a opera that..." Her voice trailed off and she chewed her lip.
"You don't think it has been created yet." Autor pushed up his glasses. "I figured as much. Due to my superior research, I've concluded that since the town has been trapped in stories for so long, time has failed to pass properly. Now you can't recall the correct year, can you?"
Ahiru shook her head. His suspicions confirmed, Autor unrolled a yellowed scroll. He set books on the ends to keep it flat on the desk.
"Stories are timeless. As a result of being in one, the town is trapped in limbo. Gold Crown doesn't move like the rest of the world."
Ahiru's face scrunched in thought. This wasn't the first time Autor had researched Drosselmeyer. No, he'd done so for years and even knew obscure bits of trivia, like the old man's favorite blend of tea. Though, knowing time didn't pass properly in the town didn't help matters. While extensive, Autor's knowledge was rarely useful.
When Ahiru opened her mouth to speak, she found that Autor was gone. She peeked behind every shelf and table in the little room; he was nowhere to be found.
"Where did he go?" she mused out loud.
"Who?" asked a faint voice.
Ahiru jumped. The stubborn lock of hair that always stuck straight up twitched with her fitful movements. Her pendant flashed red, and she gasped.
"Who's there?"
The voice replied, "Who's who?" It was teasing, lilting.
"You! The voice."
"Why?"
Her forehead creased. Ahiru toyed with the edge of her uniform sleeve. "What do you mean 'why'?"
"Why do you want to know?"
Ahiru's nervous laughter filled the room with shrill, forced giggles. "B-Because it's really creepy to hear a voice coming out of nowhere, don't you think? Tell me where you are."
"Why?"
Frowning, she ducked her head beneath the table. The space underneath was empty save for a few cobwebs and dust bunnies. The room was empty. Nothing had changed, so where was the voice coming from? The pendant continued to glow, and its light brightened when she neared the corner of the room.
"Hello? Who are you?" she questioned.
"Who are you?"
Ahiru stared at the bookshelf. The far end emitted a faint red glow that matched that of her pendant. "I'm Ahiru. I'm Fakir's friend. Maybe I'm friends with Autor too, but I'm not sure." She stepped forward. The light intensified.
A book shook then jerked forward and tumbled to the floor, falling open to the middle of the story. A small red shard rose from the pages and was suspended in the air, its glow beckoning her to come closer.
Ahiru touched her pendant and closed her eyes while the transformation took over. It was akin to being submerged in water as the magic encased her. Her hair twisted up into a braided up-do while papers and dark green vines swirled around her body to form black pointe shoes and a silver tutu.
Taking a dainty step forward, Ahiru beckoned to the heart shard. "Please come out now. This is not where you belong."
A faint red projection of Fakir materialized in front of her. Like the real Fakir, the heart shard's image had thick eyebrows that gave it a permanent look of seriousness. Dark hair pulled back in a ponytail framed its angular face and covered part of the eyes.
"Where do I go then, Princess Ritter?" the heart shard asked.
"Back to Fakir so he can have all the pieces of his heart."
The image faded, replaced by the tiny red shard that slowly lowered before her. Gasping, Ahiru reached out with open palms then closed her fingers around the gem. The ribbons around her ankles loosened while her dress dulled. No longer needed, Princess Ritter's transformation came undone.
"Another piece of Fakir's heart," she whispered with wide eyes. "The desire for knowledge."
Hands wrapped tightly around the heart shard, Ahiru walked through the library. She checked the shard every couple minutes to make sure she hadn't lost it. It was Fakir's heart! Unlike the Prince who had no heart for so long that he'd forgotten how it felt, Fakir vividly remembered the lost emotions.
Or so Ahiru hoped. He kept telling her not to "waste time on trifles." Why, the lost of feelings was far from a trifle—it was a tragedy! Fakir thought that he had a right to tell her what to do. But Ahiru refused to listen. She saw firsthand how the Prince suffered without a heart, and she refused to let Fakir undergo the same for too long.
Ahiru stumbled into something hard. The force of the collision caused her to fall backwards. Wincing, she braced herself for the impact, but hands set themselves on her shoulders to steady her. She looked up, gasping when she met Fakir's deep green eyes. Even now their dullness did not cease to startle her. So empty, so dead, a withered forest where nothing could bloom.
"What are you doing, idiot?" There was no malice behind his words, but the usual teasing affection was gone.
"F-Fakir! I'm not surprised. I should've expected to see you here. You like books, and the library has books. So you must like the library!" Ahiru covered her mouth with one hand to stop the overflow of words. Of course the library had books. No wonder Fakir always called her an idiot; she really was one. Sometimes.
He sighed. "Get to the point."
"I wanted to talk to Autor about what happened earlier. Since he's involved in this story, I figured I should let him know when stuff like that happens. But I also happened to find another piece of your heart." Unfolding her other hand, she held it out to him. The heart shard lifted up into the air and sank into Fakir's chest. His eyes widened. He raised his hands to his heart.
"This feeling, is it curiosity?"
Ahiru nodded. "The heart shard kept asking me questions. Even if I answered, it wouldn't stop."
"If doing so is too troubling, then—"
"Fakir, stop! You're always running around doing things alone and worrying about everyone. It's not fair! Let someone else worry about you."
He rolled his eyes and walked past her. "How pointless. If you want to bother yourself with such useless things, go ahead. I won't try to stop you."
Ahiru pouted and grabbed Fakir's sleeve. "It's not useless! You saw how the Prince was when he lost his heart."
"I know firsthand, but there is no need for me to have an entire heart. I'd rather not be a burden."
She tightened her grip and stepped closer. Her hands trembled. Ahiru touched the pendant for support and took a deep breath. "It's no trouble at all! Please, Fakir, don't do this alone. We have to work together."
Silence. Minutes passed. Ahiru released him and dropped her arm.
Fakir finally scoffed. "Idiot, tangling yourself in my mess. Don't you have any concern for yourself?"
Ahiru recalled a faint memory: two hearts, one white and one red. The gem of courage. She needed to work with someone. Courage required two people, two hearts. Back then, she thought the second person was the Prince. Now Ahiru realized that she needed Fakir all along.
"What is it?"
"Nothing." Ahiru's cheeks flushed red.
"Idiot."
Confidence renewed, she balled her hands into fists, head snapping up. "You promised to stay by my side forever, so it's only fair that I do the same."
Fakir's gaze softened. His usually harsh expression didn't look so cold. The ghost of a smile played at his lips. Ahiru couldn't help but stare while she tried to remember what how he would've looked when he had all his heart. A smile from Fakir was rare, even a Fakir with an entire heart. Considering the dire circumstances, that wasn't too surprising.
Ahiru remembered a time when she'd walked home with him after another encounter with the Raven. They'd talked about something—she couldn't recall—and then, he smiled for her. A small genuine smile. It had sent a warm tingly feeling throughout her body. Even the mere thought of it still did.
Her glanced back at up at Fakir. The curve of his nose, how his jaw tightened, how his eyebrows knitted together. He had enough emotions to be worried. Rightfully so.
Ahiru couldn't do anything. She couldn't rewrite reality or fight like Fakir could, but she could restore his heart. Once he had all of his heart, he'd have his full power back and be able to properly resist Drosselmeyer. Yes, even if she couldn't do much else, Ahiru would definitely return the rest of his heart.
1 - Based off Aria da Capo: A Play in One Act by Edna St. Vincent Millay. It was originally published around 1920.
