Once upon a time there was a man whose love was so great, he considered his lover his most prized treasure. So ardently did he adore her that he strove to protect her from any and all perceived evils. In the end, was it really the world she needed protection from, or her lover himself?
Stormy blue eyes stared, unfocused, at the straw-covered floor of the stable. She had been standing there, leaning against Lohengrin for the past hour or so. Last winter she spent a lot of time alone with the horse, though she had been a duck at the time, and she felt like he was the closest thing she had to a friend outside of Fakir.
'If he even thinks of me as a friend still,' Ahiru thought bitterly.
She turned her head and buried it in Lohengrin's shoulder. It felt like he recognized her as the obstinate duck who intruded upon his personal space. At least, he didn't seem as wary of her as he did of other strangers. Ahiru was grateful either way; the horse had become a refuge for Ahiru when she wanted to avoid Fakir and the unsettling annoyance and frustration that rolled off of him. Lohengrin didn't judge her. He was happy to see her and the carrot she always brought him. Unlike Fakir, who pretty much avoided her. Or was she avoiding him? If only giving him a couple carrots would solve everything.
"My, little duck, how the mighty have fallen!"
Ahiru groaned, not wanting to deal with the deceased writer that was haunting her. She pressed her face harder against Lohengrin's shoulder. She was surprised he wasn't freaking out due to Drosselmeyer's presence, but the stiffness in his flesh answered that question. "Go away." She grumbled.
"Oh? Not interested in talking to your good friend, Drosselmeyer?"
Ahiru pulled away from the horse, her face completely unamused. Drosselmeyer had apparently chosen not to take form this time—or he was behind her and she just didn't care to check if he was. "Friend? Good friend? Hah!"
"Aw, come now. No need to be mean. I thought you could use someone to talk to."
"I'd rather talk to a wall."
"Troubled, are we? Things not going as planned?"
Ahiru sighed. She didn't have the patience to deal with him. "They're going fine. Now go away."
He chuckled. "Very well, little duck. We've just begun, after all. We'll have plenty of time to chat later."
Ahiru frowned as the world started moving again; Lohengrin's muscles rippled under her fingers. She knew very well that she wasn't doing too well at preventing any sort of tragedy. At the rate she was going, a year would go by before she and Fakir made up. She'd spend it lonely and miserable, just like she had been as a duck. And her death would be a pitiful tragedy. She shook her head. She couldn't let Drosselmeyer win. She just had to keep trying.
"Ahiru?" a deep, aged voice called out to her from the entrance of the stables. "What are you doing in there?"
She blinked in surprise before turning around, "Oh! Charon! I was just petting Lohengrin."
Charon smiled and walked over to her, placing a hand on Lohengrin's head. "He's a good horse. Real reliable."
Ahiru half-smiled and patted the horse's flank. "He seems sweet."
"Yup, that, too." Charon nodded. "I got him when Fakir was a little boy. He was always so gentle with Fakir. Never gave him any trouble when I was teaching him how to ride."
Ahiru watched as Charon massaged Lohengrin's ear. The horse appreciatively leaned into Charon's touch, making small noises of contentment.
"You know, Fakir was the one who named him Lohengrin. Named him after a knight in his favorite book as a kid. Said a valiant horse should have a valiant name."
Ahiru gave a soft chuckle. She wished she could've seen Fakir when he was a child. Every story she heard about him made always had him so full of wonder—the complete opposite of how he was today.
Charon hesitated before speaking again, "I… know you and Fakir had a fight."
Ahiru fiddled with the hems of her coat sleeves. "It's that obvious?"
"From the tension between you two? Yes." Charon sighed. "I know Fakir can be difficult at times—well. He can be difficult, period. But you should know, more than anything, he's worried about you. He's just really bad at showing it sometimes."
"I know," Ahiru admitted. She knew he was worried about her, and she also knew that this was all her fault. Her fault for taking Drosselmeyer's offer, and her fault for not telling him about it.
"All I know, is that Fakir is happier when you two are bantering—and I think you are, too. We both know he won't say sorry first," he paused for a second before adding, "even though he probably started it."
"You're right." Ahiru nodded solemnly. She thought for a second before shaking her head. "It was my fault though, I should be saying sorry, anyway." She glanced up at Charon before offering a weak smile. "Sorry for making things difficult."
"Bah!" Charon waved his hand as if he were physically batting the idea away. "Don't be ridiculous, I haven't been so entertained in my life. Goodness, I was just worried that this argument was forestalling my grandchildren!"
Ahiru cocked her head to the side in question, "Grandchildren?"
With a gawky laugh, the blacksmith scratched the back of his head, not sure whether to be amused or disappointed that she didn't understand his teasing. "Never mind that, I need to feed Lohengrin before I head to work for the day." Charon went back to the door to pick up the bucket of oats he brought before pouring some into the horse's feed bowl. "Fakir is in his room." Charon added before saying his goodbye.
Ahiru bit her lip as she watched Lohengrin nibble away at his oats. "I should just explain myself, shouldn't I, Lohengrin? He's just worried about me, but what do I say?" She made a cutesy face. "Fakir, I can't go back to school 'cause I made a deal with Drosselmeyer that'll make me die in a year, and it seems unfair to re-befriend Pique and Lilie only to die in a year—Why yes! I am doing that exact thing to you!" She made a face she imagined to look like Fakir's and mimicked his voice, "Idiot."
She sighed. Yeah, that would go about as well as trying to take a steak from a hungry dog. Regardless, she had to do something. She made this mess, and she wasn't about to let Drosselmeyer win. Gathering up all her courage, she wrapped her arms around Lohengrin. "Wish me luck." He paid her no mind. She left the stable and headed back into the house. With a deep breath, she clenched her eyes shut and drew her first firmly to the door.
A grunt was heard from behind the door along with the scrape of a chair on the floor. "Charon, I told you I will not apologize to her!"
So much for her courage. Ahiru worried her lip again and pressed her forefingers together. This would be an awkward conversation. After many seconds of silence she considered making a dash for it and hiding in her bedroom for the day; however, her plans never came to fruition when a door opened and interrupted her plotting.
"Charon would you dro—" Fakir stopped short when his eyes landed on Ahiru. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but quickly closed it.
The quiet soon became too crushing for Ahiru and she piped up, "I… er… Well…" she swallowed and began rocking on her feet, "…sorry…"
Fakir raised an eyebrow, before shaking his head and running his hand through his hair. "I don't want an apology, Ahiru."
Her cheeks puffed up as she glared at him, her remorse slowly boiling into anger. "Excuse me?! I came here to apologize to you, and you refuse to accept my attempts at peacemaking?!"
"Hey!" Fakir shot back, "I'm not refusing anything! All I want is an explanation as to why you don't want to go to the Academy anymore!"
She huffed, "I just don't, okay?!"
"You're going to have to do better than that."
"I don't really see how it's any of your business." She folded her arms in front of her in annoyance.
"It is my business!" He shouted, "God damn it, Ahiru! Why can't you see that?! You always have to do things on your own! Ever since you came back you've been acting like it's no big deal, it is! We don't know who or what brought you back, or what their intentions are! I need to know why you're suddenly vehemently opposed to going to Goldkrone Academy when not even ten hours before that you were dancing around in glee! No matter how many times I think it through, I get one answer: you're not telling me something—how can I help you when you won't talk to me?!"
Ahiru jerked back from him as if he had struck her, though his words had done quite well to that effect. Her eyes watered at the fair accusation as she clenched her fists, refusing to look at him. Despite the searing truth to his words, Ahiru couldn't make herself back down as she fought to keep her voice from cracking.
"Why can't you just be happy that I'm human again? Why do the 'whys' and 'hows' have to be so important to you? I'm a girl again, right?" She cursed herself as the tears began spilling over her cheeks; she hated being such a crybaby. "It could be worse: I could still be a miserable duck, with no friends, floating alone on that God forsaken lake!" Afraid of what he might say, she spun on her heel and fled.
"Ahiru!" she could distantly hear his calling after her, even though she was barely down the staircase. Her brain was too focused on her shortcomings—where had 'not letting Drosselmeyer win' go? She wasn't sure where she was going, but her feet kept moving.
"Ahiru!" Fakir growled in frustration. "Idiot," he mumbled to himself. Chasing after her, he leapt down the stairs two at a time. Despite his efforts, he wasn't quick enough and met face to face with the mahogany front door. With a groan he debated chasing her out into town. Opening the door, he found she was already out of sight. He looked up at the sky. It was grayer than the past few days, but it was only lightly snowing. He chewed on the inside of his cheek with an aggravated anxiousness. A big part of him was worried she'd catch a cold, but at least she had her coat, hat, and scarf on. She likely just needed some space before they'd be able to really talk, anyway. Right now, he doubted chasing after her would make things any better. She was always insisting he trust her to take care of herself, maybe it was time he did that. He sighed and closed the door back up. He was doing a fine job of keeping her safe, that was for sure.
'I'll apologize when she gets back…'
Ahiru wasn't sure how long she ran before her legs began throbbing in protest, forcing her to slow down to a trot. She rubbed at her eyes, though they hardly needed it. Somehow her fatigue stopped her tears for her. "Why do I always have to act so childish," she complained under her breath, "Fakir's always telling me to grow up, and I can't even do that."
Inspecting her surroundings, Ahiru realized she had no idea where she was. "Great. Now I'm lost." She sighed. "Who'd think such a small town could change so much within two years?" It wasn't unthinkable, she decided. Afterall, it was during those two years that Goldkrone Town regained control of itself. With free will, people are likely to change and do new things. Open new stores, close old ones, move, renovate… Listlessly, Ahiru wandered around, trying to find her way. Finally, she came upon a familiar area.
"Oh!" Ahiru clapped her hands together, relieved at the familiar sight. "This is where the remains of the Oak Tree are." The wind apparently spent some time blowing this direction, as the clearing had many a snow drift and looked a bit like a desert. She must've circled the town and back, as the Oak Tree wasn't that far from Fakir's house, and she had been running for some time.
Crunching through the snow, she approached the tall rock she remembered Fakir crouching in front of. It wasn't that long ago that Fakir had been embedded within the Oak's magical cambium, slowly becoming one with the entity. She remembered the terror that struck her heart when she thought she was going to lose him.
'And yet, here I am, forcing him to go through the same thing soon…' She bitterly reprimanded herself.
Softly, she ran the pads of her finger tips along the smooth slate, wincing only slightly from how cold its exterior was. Tracing the crevices of its surface, she sighed. "I wonder what it had said to him…"
Exhaustion soon took over her and she slid to the ground, ignoring the cold from the snow seeping through her pants. She closed her eyes and leaned her back against the rock. To help combat the cold, she tucked her fingers inside the sleeves of her coat. She wished she had had the mind to grab her mittens before she ran out of the house.
"This is stupid," she murmured after a while, "I'm stupid. Why do I keep on turning everything into a fight?" She absentmindedly rubbed some of the fluffy lining of her coat sleeve between her fingers and thumb in an unconscious effort to comfort herself. "What was I supposed to say though? I can't tell him the real reason I don't want to go, he'll be furious." Tiredly, her thick black lashes rose, and she stared at the drifts of snow across from her. "What would Fakir say if I told him…that I'm going to die in one year?"
A flash of light drew her attention down to her pendant. It was glowing a bright white. "Another one?" She cupped the stone in her hand and looked around the clearing. There was no one else around her. Just rocks, snow drifts, and… She paused before looking over her shoulder at the rock behind her. "It can't be, can it?" Placing a hand on the rock, she tried to hear something, anything, from the oak tree. Her hand tingled in a way she could not explain away with the numbing cold in her fingers.
Determined, Ahiru stood. She wasn't sure exactly what she was removing from people, or to what ends Drosselmeyer was working towards, but she knew that Autor seemed relieved when she helped him, and Ahiru wanted to be able to do that for anyone who hurt. Clutching the gem at her breast, she welcomed the comforting warmth that enveloped her.
Her limbs moved of their own volition as she transformed. Once the soft warmth dripped from her as if it were liquid heat, she was left standing en pointe amongst the drifts and falling snow. A gust of wind picked up, creating a whorl of snow around her.
"Oak Tree," she whispered as she gestured toward the rock to join her in dance, "what pains you so?" As she spun, a sprout launched itself from the ground, growing until its trunk was thick and its leaves—tenaciously staying green and attached despite the weather—touched the stormy clouds.
"I am unneeded," replied the Oak in its rich, dulcet tones. "I once gave guidance yet now I am forgotten."
Princess Tutu closed her eyes as she went from battement développé to a graceful brisé, "You are not forgotten," she murmured as she lightly caressed the bark. "If it were not for your help, the story controlling the town would not have ended. You should be proud."
"But if the story had not ended, I would still be necessary," the Oak cried.
"No," the prima ballerina shook her head and folded her arms in bras croisé, "there are always those who wish to write beautiful stories, and though they may not be able to hear you, it is your powers that inspire them."
"How can I inspire them if they do not hear me?"
"You are of legend," the Princess replied, "it is the Great Oak that writers look for, search for. Without you, they would be lost. They need you. And one day, another who can hear your voice will come. They will seek your advice and need your inspiration."
"I am needed?"
Princess Tutu nodded as she leaned toward the trunk, "Yes."
An aura of relief seemed to seep from the tree, "I am needed. Without me, many great stories would not exist, and as such I will continue to inspire others. Thank you."
"No," she shook her head, "It is you that should be—" A similar black light to the one that had left Autor escaped from the slowly shrinking tree. The pull of its darkness was so intense, it felt as if it was blinding. Its presence was short lived; however, as it quickly slammed into her pendant, causing her to stagger back. With a strangled gasp, the ballerina fell to her knees as she struggled to hold onto her consciousness.
The bitter cold of the wind whipped around her, and thick snowflakes smashed into her skin. While she had been dancing, the snow and wind had picked up. Telltale rumblings in the sky forewarned of the incoming storm. Slowly, her vision blurred into blindness as she collapsed onto the snowy ground. Pinpricks of pain from the biting cold was the last thing she felt before everything went black.
Charon kicked off his boots at the front door before shrugging off his coat and hanging it up. "It really started storming out there," he sighed. He pulled his hat off to hang it next to his coat. Both still had snow on them from this short trek from the smithy to the door. "Maybe I ought to clean this up…" he mused while staring at the melting ice.
"Finally! I was rea—Charon?" Fakir poked his head out from inside the kitchen, clearly disappointed with who was at the door.
"Were you expecting someone else?" he smirked slyly, "Perhaps a smaller, prettier, more female someone."
Fakir glowered at his adoptive father before returning to the kitchen. "She ran out in a huff."
With a heavy sigh, Charon ran his hand through his hair as he went to retrieve some rags. After satisfied with his cleaning job, he sought out the wicker basket his new ward used for laundry. He quickly found it in the backroom where she did the laundry every day.
"You had another fight," it was a statement, not a question—a statement that made Fakir look at Charon as he entered the room.
"I guess," Fakir relented as he drummed his fingers against the table.
"And she ran out of the house in her fury," Charon continued. Fakir briefly flicked his glare up at the man before looking back at the wall, confirming his suspicions. He let out a loud breath as he sat and rested his forehead on his hand. "Fakir, I swear."
He ignored his father as he continued to stare at the wood-paneled wall, his ears straining to hear the door creak open over Charon's mutterings and his own fingers' thrumming. He wasn't sure how long ago she had run out of the house, but his nerves were on edge and dread hardened in the pit of his stomach with every passing minute. He was certain it had been at least two hours, most likely more.
"Well, at this point she's probably staying at a friend's house—it's awful out there." Charon shook his head, tired of the snow already.
"What?" Fakir's stomach dropped. Was it really that bad out?
Charon looked at Fakir quizzically. "She does have other friends here, right? It's blizzarding out there."
Fakir's mind was running a million miles a minute. He didn't realize how bad the weather had gotten since she left. To be honest, he had been pacing his room until he couldn't handle it any longer and opted to wait in the kitchen. 'Where would she go?' She hadn't established a repertoire with her friends from school yet—at least, not that she had told him, and it did seem like she was hiding things from him lately… Though reconnecting with old friends hardly seemed like something she would hide from him. 'The pond, maybe…?'
"Fakir?" Charon asked. His son's silence was starting to worry him.
Fakir stood abruptly. "I'm going to go find her."
Charon nodded grimly. "Alright, I'll stay here incase she shows up. Be careful out there, it really is bad."
Fakir barely registered Charon had said anything, as he was already by the door putting on his coat. He haphazardly threw his scarf around his neck, jammed on his hat, and pulled on his gloves. As an afterthought, he grabbed Charon's coat and tucked it under arm just in case before rushing out.
Charon had been right. The wind was biting and quick. Rather than blowing in gusts, it seemed to be just be a continuous stream of force pushing against him. Fakir squinted and shielded his face with his arm. Thankfully, the trees in the forest offered some respite.
The pond was nearly a complete sheet of ice when he had gotten there and was quickly being buried in snow. By Fakir's estimation, maybe a good five centimeters had fallen since he last checked a few hours ago, if not more. He looked for any sign of the girl—a yellow hat, a blue coat, maybe a lump in the snow. The dark of the night and the low visibility in the snow made it difficult to see much of anything.
Cupping his hands around his mouth, he shouted, "Ahiru!"
She wasn't there. There was no indication anyone had been to the pond in a while, let alone in the past day. He scanned the area again to be sure. For good measure, he called her name again. A moment passed as he scanned the area silently. No, she wasn't there. 'Maybe… she went to the Academy?' It seemed unlikely since she had been so adamantly against reenrolling, but he had no idea where she might have gone.
Fighting against the current of the gales, Fakir made his way to the courtyard of Goldkrone Academy. The campus was entirely empty, most likely because no one was stupid enough to go out in a blizzard. With deft eyes he assessed the area, affirming she wasn't there, either. He gripped Charon's coat as he stared across the way to the window of the main practice room. Ahiru was nothing if not resourceful. Perhaps she sought refuge inside the building.
It didn't take him long to make his way into the ballet wing, despite a few slips from the ice buildup on his boots mixed with his rapid gait—leaving him thankful the halls of the Academy were as empty as its courtyard. His search was fruitless, however, as he couldn't find her in any of the many rooms in the ballet wing. His trek to the library was just as vain, as the library had closed early so the librarians could get home safely.
"Damn it," he cursed, kicking the library door out of frustration. "Where is she?!" He pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to think of any other place she'd possibly go. Nothing came to mind. Opening his eyes, he glared stonily at the closure notice posted there. Suddenly, he remembered Autor's annoying newfound interest in Ahiru. Perhaps she had run into him…? The thought bothered him more than he cared to admit, but any lead would be helpful at this point.
The snowfall was steadily growing heavier with every passing moment, making it harder to see as Fakir struggled his way off campus, past his house, and over to Autor's house.
"Ahiru!" he called, hoping if she was out there somewhere, she'd hear him. "Where are you?!"
He stopped when he heard what he swore was a something of a strangled moan, though it was hard to tell with the rushing wind blowing in his ears.
"Ahiru?" he called again. His eyes desperately searched for some sign she was there.
Then he saw it.
Half covered in a pile of snow was a shock of baby blue. As he scrambled over to it, the rest of the figure became clearer. It was Ahiru. A shaky gasp escaped his lips as he fell to his knees beside her and began brushing away the snow.
"Ahiru!" He propped her up and began shaking her shoulders. "Come on, idiot, open your eyes!"
"Fa… kir?" A small voice responded, so soft he almost didn't hear it.
Relief flooded his senses and he pulled her tightly to him. "Oh, thank god."
"It's… c-cold…" Ahiru mumbled into his chest.
"Idiot, why don't you ever think before you do something?!" Despite his biting words, his voice was full of relief.
"S-sorry." She was shivering.
Fakir pulled back and looked for the coat he brought to serve as extra insulation. He dropped it not far from where they were in his dash to Ahiru.
"Hold on." Fakir hurriedly grabbed the coat and came back. Gently, he wrapped her in Charon's coat before picking her up and heading back home.
Ahiru allowed him to carry her, her body too exhausted and her brain too foggy for her to even consider complaining.
"Why would you stay out here in this? I was worried about you." Fakir pulled her tighter to him, hoping his body heat would help quell her shivers and protect her even a little bit from the gusts billowing past them.
Her body moved of its own volition as it sought heat and pressed her face into the crook of his neck. "I d-don't…" she mumbled. She remembered the oak tree, and its feelings of needlessness dancing in her chest. Her brain might still be hazy, but it wasn't hazy enough for her to lose her senses and tell Fakir all of that.
Fakir sighed. "Never mind. Just… we're almost there."
Ahiru nodded against him. Any excuse not to explain herself was well accepted. It was too cold to think of a cover story, anyway. Too cold to think about anything, really. She chose to instead focus on the sound of Fakir's feet in the snow.
"Did you find her?" Charon bustled out of the kitchen upon hearing the front door close. "Good God, child!" He rushed over to the pair and pressed a hand to Ahiru's cheek. "You're freezing."
Ahiru flinched away from Charon's touch, a whimper escaping her lips. The warmth from his hand was painful to her frozen skin.
Frowning, Charon gestured toward the kitchen. "Put her by the fire, Fakir, and help her get that coat off. It's covered in snow."
Fakir nodded and did as he was told while Charon hustled up the stairs. By the time Charon returned, Ahiru sat coatless by the fire, hugging herself. He wrapped the blanket he collected from upstairs around her shoulders.
"Thanks." Ahiru pulled the blanket tight, hiding her fingers inside her new woolen cocoon.
Charon stood with a sigh of relief. "You've gotta stop doing this. You're going to give me a heart attack."
"I'm sorry." Ahiru frowned and tucked her chin inside the blanket.
"I'm just relieved you're okay. I had feeling it would come in handy, so I made soup. Let me get you some." To Fakir he said, "Watch her, will you?"
Sitting down next to her, Fakir found he was appreciative of the fire himself. It had been incredibly cold outside, and he was out there long enough his toes ached and his cheeks and nose had gone numb. Moments later Charon was offering them both bowls of steaming hot stew.
"Thank you." Ahiru accepted the bowl, careful not to compromise her blanket covering. The bowl was warm to the touch, but she had thankfully warmed up enough heat no longer caused her pain—though dull aches had set in her bones, and pins and needles ran along her skin.
Charon pulled a chair up to the fire, and the three ate their warm dinner in silence as they watched the flames dance.
When Ahiru finished, Charon offered her some more, but she declined. Had she not been in her current state she would've likely accepted another bowl or two—and possibly regretted eating so much after—but her body simply ached too much.
"How do you feel?" Charon asked
"Better," she replied simply. She didn't feel amazing, but feeling was slowly returning to her limbs and the prospect of getting closer to the fire was no longer painful, but instead enticing.
Charon tested the skin of her face again. Blood had rushed to it in an attempt to warm the frozen skin, making it unnaturally warm. He pulled away, satisfied. "Maybe you should take a hot bath. It should take care of the last of the coldness."
Ahiru nodded. "That sounds nice…"
Fakir helped her up the stairs while Charon cleaned up their dishes.
"Careful." Fakir murmured when she stumbled a bit on the top stair.
"Right." Ahiru concentrated on her legs as she pulled away from Fakir. "I think I'll be okay from here."
"Are you sure?"
Ahiru nodded. "Yeah. I'll let you know if I need anything."
Despite her reassurances, Fakir watched her as she grabbed her nightclothes and until she made it to the bathroom door.
"Ahiru—"
Ahiru turned towards him. "Hm?"
He shook his head. "Never mind. We can talk later."
Ahiru stared at him a moment before she responded, "Okay." She shut the door behind her.
Ahiru sunk into the hot water until only her nose and up weren't submerged, staring vacantly at the space in front of her. Charon was right, the heat from the bath had melted the remaining coldness away. Even the deep coldness that had settled in her bones had dissipated. But the time alone left her with nothing but her thoughts—she always had been a pensive bather.
'What are those black flashes, and why do they hurt so much when they go into the pendant? And why do they go into the pendant in the first place?' She groaned and leaned her head back against the tub, pulling her mouth out from under the water. "Did I make the right choice?"
"Having some doubts, are we little duck?"
Ahiru sputtered in surprise, her face darkening at the prospect of having a male in the same room she was bathing in—and Drosselmeyer, no less. She dunked herself under the water so only above her chin was showing and pulled her limbs closer to try and cover the rest of herself.
"Do you mind!?" She squawked, horrified.
"Oh, don't you mind me. I have no interest in that sort of thing."
Ahiru glared into the air. "That doesn't make it okay! Now get out!"
"I've only come to make sure you aren't regretting your decision—not that it matters, of course, we did make a deal after all."
"I don't care about that right now, just leave!"
"So you weren't just sitting here wondering about the pendant, then?"
Ahiru glowered at him. The overwhelming need to throw something at the man was growing more intense by the second—which was infuriating since he had no physical form there for her to throw something at. Despite this, the opportunity to find something else out was too pressing for her to ignore.
"What is up with this pendant!? Why are those black lights going inside of it? Why does it sap my energy? Why does it hurt so much?!"
Uproarious laughter filled the small bathroom, causing ripples to distort the surface of the bathwater. "Calm down now, even I have my limits."
Scowling, Ahiru tried again, "Why am I collecting heart shards again?"
"Heart shards? Goodness me, who ever said anything about heart shards?"
Ahiru processed this information. So she was right, those black lights were something else entirely. "Then, what…?"
"Fragments, child."
"Fragments?" She gripped the gem that hung from her neck. "Fragments of what?"
"Of what, you ask?" Drosselmeyer chuckled at this question. "Why, little duck, I would think it was obvious."
"If it's so obvious, you wouldn't mind sharing."
"Ahhh, but it is so much more entertaining to see you try and figure it out. What kind of story would this be if you knew everything?"
"A better one," she grumbled, sinking further into the water.
"You will know soon enough, little duck."
"You didn't answer my other questions!" Ahiru accused. There was no answer. "Hey!" She called. Nothing.
She groaned in annoyance and let herself submerge completely underwater. The gentle sway of the still water calmed her angry heart, letting it wander away from thoughts from her lack of answers and onto different subjects.
'Fakir is probably still mad at me… especially after I got stuck in that storm…' Tears prickled at the back of her eyes. 'Why can't I get things together? All I'm doing is causing trouble.' Tears escaped her eyelids, mixing with the soapy water of her bath. 'I'm not needed here…'
Floating gently above her chest, the gem shone a soft gray.
Fakir sat at his desk, resting his forehead against the back of his hand.
"Why can't you just be happy that I'm human again?"
"It could be worse: I could still be a miserable duck, with no friends, floating alone on that God forsaken lake!"
The words she shouted at him before running off into the cold haunted him. He knew he wasn't the best at expressing his feelings, but did she really think he wasn't happy she was human again? He had been trying his best to let her know how happy he was, and yet… She could've died in that storm, and she chose being out there over dealing with him.
He couldn't bear to think about what he would've done if she had died. If she ever died. It would simply destroy him. But knowing that it was his fault… it was too much.
A soft tapping at his door drew him from his dark reverie. "Yes?"
"Can I come in?" Ahiru's voice was muffled by the door.
Fakir straightened up, turning his body. "Yeah."
A light click sounded and the door creaked open, Ahiru padding inside and closed the door behind her. "Hey…"
He was almost mesmerized by how the light of his lamp reflected off of her long, damp hair. He had only seen it out of its usual braid once before: when he bathed her after finding her in the pond. At the time he was so panicked, he didn't even think to appreciate it. Waves of poppy that almost reached the floor seemed to cascade from her head like a waterfall.
"Hey," he dumbly responded.
She was quiet for a moment before she sat down on his bed. "I'm sorry."
Fakir shook his head. "No. I am."
Ahiru's eyebrows knit together in confusion.
"I'm sorry about earlier," he clarified.
Her face flushed and looked down at her hands. She had hoped he would have forgotten about her immature display from earlier, or, for that matter, why they were fighting in the first place. "You don't… you don't have to be."
"No, I do." He turned around in the chair, putting a leg on either side and resting his arms on the chair back. "I am happy you're back. I really am. I'm sorry I made you think I wasn't. I'm just…" he sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "I'm just worried about you. I don't want you becoming a pawn in some nefarious plot again. You deserve better. It's just… in my experience, ducks don't just magically become humans."
Ahiru avoided his gaze. In her experience ducks only became human when a crazy dead man who was obsessed with tragedies made them an offer.
Quiet fell over them as Fakir waited for some sort of reaction from her, and Ahiru tried to think of something to change the topic toward.
Finally, the energy in the room became too much for Ahiru, so she began, "You know, your bathroom is really nice. I mean, the one I used back at the Academy," she inwardly grimaced, instantly regretting mentioning the building but soldiering on regardless, "wasn't nearly as nice, or big. And your tub is really comfortable! Like the one I had was so cramped, and I could hardly stretch my legs out! Though it makes sense you have a bigger bathtub, I guess, because you and Charon are so much taller than me… Hm, it must be nice to be tall. What if you got so tall that you had to bend down to get through doors? And—"
"Ahiru."
Ahiru frowned at the interruption. She knew she was rambling, that was part of her charm, wasn't it? She should've known better than to think it would help deflect the topic. "What?"
"Why don't you want to go back to the Academy?"
Ahiru exhaled heavily. She knew the topic had to be addressed, but she didn't know how to go about it. No matter what angle she tried coming at it, she kept coming back to the fact that it wouldn't make sense unless she mentioned that she had made a deal with Drosselmeyer. That she was going to die in less than a year now. That she didn't think it was fair to put Pique and Lilie through that. That she hated doing it to Fakir, but she couldn't stand not spending her remaining time with him.
Wordlessly, she stood up. She didn't know what to say or do. Running away from her problems seemed incredibly tempting. She didn't mean to walk away from him, but she did. Simply turning from him, she walked back to her room and stood moodily in front of her window, staring at the wind-whipped snow outside.
Fakir followed her, though, not ready to let go of the topic. Patiently, he leaned against her door jamb and waited for her to speak.
The storm had calmed considerably since they had been outside in it, but the snow had yet to stop falling and the wind continued to bluster. Ahiru watched the snow eddy, spinning in haphazard circles just above the ground covering.
How little truth could she tell and still get the point across?
"I saw Pique and Lilie the other day," she whispered.
"What?" Fakir drew nearer until he was standing behind her.
"Pique and Lilie. I saw them," she repeated. Fakir's eyebrows knit together as he tried to place the names. Sensing his confusion, Ahiru supplied, "my friends from the Academy. Pique and Lilie."
"When?"
Ahiru sighed and sat down on the window seat. The blanket Charon had given her was crumpled up into a ball next to her, so she pulled it over herself. "When I bought the birdseed."
Fakir watched as she tucked her toes inside the blanket and leaned her chin on her knees. The birdseed? When did she buy the birdseed…? It clicked. "The day I told you about the Academy."
Ahiru nodded. He sat down next to her and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. A moment of silence passed before she could bring herself to talk again.
"They replaced me."
"What do you mean?"
"There was this girl, Lory, and she was cute, and awkward, and—they replaced me."
Fakir gave her shoulder a brief squeeze before letting go. "Why didn't you just tell me that? I would've understood."
Ahiru peeked over at him from the corner of her eye before quickly looking down at her blanket-covered knees. She didn't know why it hadn't occurred to her until he reacted to her statement that maybe feeling out of place with her old friends would've been enough of an explanation. "I just… I don't know."
Watching her toy with the fraying hem of the slate-colored blanket, Fakir reassured her, "If you really don't want to return to Goldkrone Academy, I won't make you, you know. Things have changed since the story, and I didn't consider that they could possibly become painful for you."
Ahiru took in a shuddering breath before she launched herself into his arms, bewildering him. "I'm sorry, Fakir! It isn't that I don't want to dance anymore, or that I don't want to go back to the Academy! I just—I mean—it's not like I wouldn't like to get to know Lory or anything, y'know? But it's changed, and it won't be the same and I don't know where I fit—"
"Hey," Fakir patted her back, "you don't have to explain everything. I understand." With a sigh, he looked out the window. "If you had told me sooner, we could've avoided all of this."
"Sorry—"
"Stop apologizing."
"I didn't know what to say, I guess." She snuggled further into his chest, forcing him to resituate his back against the wall. Her fatigue was seeping back into her with a vengeance, pulling her eyelids down. Before she was all but drained of her energy, she fumbled with the blanket, spreading it so that it covered both her and Fakir.
Fakir's face reddened at their proximity and position. Flustered, his body tensed as she drew herself against him. About two minutes passed before he started, "Ahiru, you should go to bed." When no reply came, he craned his neck to the side so he could better see her face. 'She's asleep.' He smiled and let go of the tension in his muscles, letting his body relax.
Tenderly, he rested an arm around her shoulders as he leaned his head against the window. His intense gaze focused on the snow covering the dark shingles of the roof, but his mind was on the petite girl in his arms.
'God, this is a mess. How could I forget the possibility that her friends could've found a replacement for her?! …Ahiru,' his eyes wandered to her sleeping form before they darted back to the roof. 'What can I do to help her? First Mytho and now her—am I really that helpless?' He resisted the temptation to absentmindedly comb his fingers through her hair as he glanced up at the starry sky. 'It can't be Drosselmeyer, can it?' Fakir mentally shook the idea from his head, 'No, we put an end to that.' Yet, there was still a persistent nagging doubt in the back of his mind.
Vaguely, Fakir registered the grandfather clock in the living room ringing eleven 'o'clock. 'I should go now.' He lightly shifted the slumbering duck in his arms, "Ahiru, come on, we should get you in bed." Upon getting no response from her, he slipped his arm under her legs while ensuring he had a decent hold on her back. With a grunt, he lifted her off of him and settled her under the blankets on her bed. As he pulled the yellow comforter to her chin, he was struck by how fragile she looked. With a frown he stood back, regarding her face critically.
"I'll figure this out, Ahiru, I promise. I won't let you get hurt again." Being as quiet as he could, he left the room and closed the door.
His promise hung in the air.
"My, my, my! What is this?" Drosselmeyer's voice reverberated with delight. Before him, suspended in air, was a rotating viewing gear. This one showed the image of a young man with dark green hair sitting at a writing desk. He was clearly aggravated, as every time he started writing, merely a moment would pass before he'd crumple up the paper and toss it to the side with a groan of frustration.
"Come here, Uzura." Drosselmeyer beckoned his apprentice.
"What, zura? Ohh…" She stared up at the gear with wide-eyed wonder.
"Well, what do you think?"
Uzura grinned and banged on her drum before announcing in a sing-song voice, "Fakir is starting another story, zura!"
Drosselmeyer tittered in excitement. "Well, he won't get far, that's for sure."
She stopped beating on the drum and looked over at him. "Why, zura?"
He ignored her question. "Even if he did successfully write a story, it wouldn't do him much good! Writing a story without little duck's permission!" He laughed at this. "Grandchildren, am I right?"
Perplexed, Uzura looked between him and the gear. "Grandchildren, zura?"
"Well, great-great—you know, I can never keep track of how many generations there are between us, is there really a—" he paused before waving her off, "Oh! You wouldn't understand."
Uzura shrugged and marched away, rapping on her drum and singing, "Drosselmeyer's old so he can't remember anything, zura!"
Drosselmeyer leaned back into his chair with a huff. "Ooh, it's just so hard to find good assistants these days! First Edel, now her." He turned his attention back to the gear before him, pushing the thoughts of his tenacious apprentice from his mind. "Foolish boy."
