Once upon a time, there was a girl who was unable to express her love. Overtime, those who she cared about drifted away from her. Slowly, her heart began to grow hard, and soon even her words of love became stony. Eventually, even the one she loved most left her, as her love had become nothing more than hate.
Large gears moved at a leisurely pace, their brass dull in the darkness. Yet, somehow, a lone figure stood, perfectly illuminated. The figure wore a long maroon coat with slashed sleeves and a green lizard wrapping around the back to the front collar. Multiple feathers of varying colors protruded from his wide-brimmed hat, mirroring the way his white hair protruded from beneath it. The figure stroked the tip of his white beard, which was styled to look like a French fleur-de-lis.
Click. Click. Click.
The horizontal gear he stood on was large enough that it barely moved with each click. He tapped one of his brown buckled shoes along to the rhythm.
Rat tat tat
A new sound joined the steady clicking of the gears, this one light and tinny. Large, red eyes shot over to the source of the new sound, his gloved hand releasing his whiskers.
A tiny girl tapping on a red and white drum strapped around her torso came into view. The seafoam green curls atop her head bouncing with each march-like step she took.
"Uzura! Now where have you been?" Drosselmeyer crossed his arms, one of his thick, bushy eyebrows arched suspiciously.
Uzura looked up at him, innocence oozing form her very being. "I was 'splorin', zura!" She tapped at her ever-present drum as if challenging him to question her again.
Drosselmeyer narrowed his eyes, regarding the small girl skeptically. "Hm."
She cocked her head to the side, her wide eyes staring unblinkingly into his.
"Oooh!" Drosselmeyer relented, dropping his arms—and quite literally one of his hands—to his sides. "I don't have time to keep tabs on you, I'm working on a masterpiece. You're old enough to be taking care of yourself—how old are you, again?"
"What's 'old,' zura?"
He sighed and gave her one last dubious stare before picking up his fallen hand. "Right, right." The deceased writer readjusted his loose limb. "Just don't go running off too far. We don't want anything to impede upon our magnum opus."
"Oooooh, our opus, zura!" Uzura nodded her head as if she was in total understanding.
Drosselmeyer patted her hair as he walked passed her. Taking her on as an apprentice was a risk, he knew. She was so tiny and so very curious—getting into trouble unnoticed was a second nature to her. She was nothing like her predecessor, Edel, who—though she would develop a defiant spirit—followed her role flawlessly. Uzura was certainly a wildcard, but Drosselmeyer always liked being on his toes.
Uzura turned to watch him go in wonder, her hands unconsciously starting a rhythmic tapping.
"They're going to be lovey-dovey, zura," she whispered when the man's cape disappeared into darkness.
Fakir groaned and raked his fingers through his bangs again. Stupid ballet. Stupid Autor. Who did he think he was?
It had been two weeks since he took Ahiru to see The Firebird at Autor's invite, and for two weeks the sight of Autor pressing his smarmy-ass lips against Ahiru's soft cheek haunted him. He needed to focus. He needed not to think about the way Ahiru blushed pleasantly in response, or how she stammered out a quackish 'bye,' or how she struggled to form a complete thought for the next several minutes. That was not how she was supposed to react to that asshole.
He needed to clear his mind. So, Fakir did what he always did when he needed to take his mind off of things: he walked to the library.
The library rarely changed. It was usually the same patrons scattered throughout the stacks—with the occasional smattering of various students, especially around exam time. The familiarity was comforting to Fakir, so it came as a surprise to him when a familiar, but misplaced, duck-girl stood between two tall shelves in the back of the building, studying a row of books before her.
"Ahiru?"
She squawked in response, turning so fast she lost her balance and fell backwards. "F-Fakir!"
A vicious shushing came from a nearby librarian.
Ahiru continued in a loud whisper, "Y-you surprised me! Aren't you supposed to be helping Charon?"
Fakir covered the distance between them in a few strides and offered her his hand before pulling her up to her feet. "He sent me home early."
"O-oh!" Ahiru wiped at the pale pink, high-waisted shorts she wore.
"What are you doing here?"
Ahiru looked up at him, her face matching her shorts. "I-uhm… I finished my chores early, and there uh, was nothing else to do. So, I just… came here, I guess?"
Fakir raised an eyebrow. "Okay…"
"But, uhm, now you're here, so I guess I'll join you? Unless you don't want me to, of course."
"Don't be ridiculous," Fakir responded, turning away from her.
She smiled at him. "Awesome! I'll go grab some fairytales for you to overanalyze and ruin for me!"
He rolled his eyes as she strode past him quickly. He was about to follow her when a sudden impulse drew him to look at the genre title posted above the section she was inspecting.
"Occult?" his brow furrowed. Why would Ahiru be reading on the occult? Did she even know what occult was? He shook his head. "Weirdo," he muttered before following after her.
Ahiru placed a hand over her rapidly beating heart as she headed towards the shelves of books housing the fairytales. Fakir was definitely not supposed to be here today. "Calm down, Ahiru," she whispered to herself, "He doesn't know why you're here. It's fine. You're fine."
She exhaled heavily, trying to quiet her nerves.
Ahiru paused by the stacks she was heading to, vaguely familiar hushed voices from a few rows over piquing her interest.
"—so much to ask?"
"—label this?"
She couldn't make out exactly what was being said, but from what she could catch, it sounded like a lover's quarrel. Not wanting to get involved in such a sensitive subject, Ahiru started to turn away when she saw the blonde pigtails in pink ribbons. 'Lilie?'
"Hey moron, did you forget where the section is?" Fakir asked, an eyebrow raised.
Ahiru glanced back where she had seen her friend from long ago, but Fakir's voice must've scared her off. Turning her full attention back to Fakir, she stuck her tongue out at him. "No… I thought I heard something."
Dropping his teasing tone, Fakir lifted up a book, waving it a few times. "The library got a new anthology in, I thought you'd like to check it out."
Ahiru smiled, "Sounds good to me!" The two walked to the table they both thought of as "their" table, and Ahiru shot one final glance where she thought she saw Lilie. She shouldn't get involved. She already decided she'd let go of Pique and Lilie; spare them from the pain she was selfishly inflicting upon Fakir and Charon. And she wasn't positive it was Lilie in the first place.
But what if Lilie needed someone to talk to?
She bit her lip. She shouldn't, but she was definitely going to.
Fakir could tell Ahiru's mind was anywhere but the fairy tale he was reading to her in hushed tones. Strange, since this particular one was by d'Aulnoy, and Ahiru usually loved her work. He put down the anthology, leaving Belle-Belle and her servants' story unfinished. Ahiru didn't even seem to notice he stopped reading.
"Something on your mind?"
A brief moment passed before Ahiru seemed to register he was talking to her. "Hm? Oh!" She turned her head toward him in surprise. "Uhm, yeah… I think it's fine…" After seeing his perplexed expression, she scratched the back of her head in embarrassment. "Haha, uhh… what did you say?"
Fakir sighed before repeating himself, "Is something on your mind?"
"Oh, not really!"
He raised an eyebrow at this. "Really? Then what do you think about the story so far?"
"I uhm… like the… uh…" she faded off, knowing it was pointless. "Sorry," she looked away from him sheepishly, "I guess I was daydreaming."
"That's fine," Fakir shrugged as he closed the tome in front of him.
"Ah—!" Ahiru objected, undoubtedly too loudly, "I mean, we could keep reading, I didn't mean to—"
Fakir stopped her with a wave of his hand, "I said it's fine. It was a cliché, anyway."
Ahiru narrowed her eyes. "Aren't all fairy tales a cliché?"
"Yes." She made a face at his response, but Fakir ignored her. "I was going to say, it's a nice day, maybe we should go for a walk instead."
"That sounds nice… Okay!" Ahiru jumped up from her seat, and Fakir couldn't help but smile at her ceaseless boisterousness.
He stood and Ahiru followed him as he placed the book in the return cart. It wasn't until they left the library that either said anything.
"So… Where to?"
Fakir absentmindedly rubbed at his chin. He actually didn't have a destination in mind when he suggested it. He'd already had lunch—and he was pretty sure his nerves weren't ready for another public meal alone with Ahiru and her penchant for sharing food—so going to a café or restaurant wasn't sensible. They just left the library, so it certainly wasn't rational to go back.
Ahiru watched him contemplate with pursed lips. She hadn't meant the question to be a difficult one. After another moment of silence passed, she decided to curtail his deliberation. "That's okay! We don't have to go anywhere in particular! It's the company that makes it worthwhile, right?" She turned on the ball of her foot and set out in a random direction with a comically overexaggerated march.
Fakir chuckled and went after her, "Alright, but I'm not going to walk with you if you keep that up the entire time."
She scowled at him, but stopped all the same. "Hmph, you're no fun."
"No, you're just ridiculous."
Ahiru made a face at him before dropping it a few seconds later. Unexpectedly, she changed the subject, "Fakir, do you think you'll take over the smithy after Charon retires?"
Fakir blinked in surprise. "I don't know, why do you ask?"
"You don't? You spend an awful lot of time there."
Fakir didn't answer and looked at his hands. They were growing more calloused from helping his surrogate father at his vocation, and his arms had grown sturdier. He did know. "No, I don't plan on it."
Ahiru tilted her head up towards him, "Do you think he'll be disappointed?"
Fakir grew quiet again. He wanted to say no, but he didn't know. That's why he avoided the topic like the plague with Charon. Of course he had no interest in taking on Charon's mantle as the town blacksmith. Fakir, naturally, appreciated the art, and felt he learned quite a bit from helping his guardian, but it wasn't a profession he saw himself happy carrying on. However, in his most private of moments, he had to admit he wasn't sure he could make enough money to live off of by writing. There was no guarantee anyone would want to read his work, no promise words would flow when he needed them to. And if he couldn't afford to support himself, how could he support Ahiru as well? Or if they ha—
"You know, I'm pretty sure he just wants you to be happy. That's what someone who cares about you does, right? I don't think he'd be upset with you if you decided not to become a blacksmith." Ahiru nodded resolutely, certain she had the right answer. "Besides, he's told me he knows you like to write, and he thinks you're really good at it. I think he wouldn't be surprised if you wanted to become a writer."
Fakir sighed, "What brings this up, anyway?"
Ahiru clasped her hands behind her back and looked up at the sky. "Oh, nothing. I guess I was just wondering what you'd do after—" she stopped abruptly, her eyes wide and her face coloring at her mistake.
"After what?"
She began gesturing wildly with her hands, trying to dismiss any suspicious thoughts Fakir might be forming, "Oh—oh, uh, you know, after… like, you grow up! But like, I guess you're already grown up, so that was probably really stupid of me, huh?" She paused briefly before adding, "I'll shut up now."
Fakir didn't comment on her outburst, so she figured she might have gotten out of her blunder scot-free. A beat later he asked, "What do you plan on doing?"
She stopped stone cold. "What?"
"You don't plan on going back to the academy, for ballet anyway, so what do you plan on doing?"
"Uhm… doing, how?"
"With your life?"
Ahiru couldn't bring herself to look at him. She felt like her heart stopped. Of course she didn't think about what she was going to do with her life: she was going to die in however many months she had left, but she couldn't say that to Fakir. "I, uh…"
Fakir patted her shoulder reassuringly, "It's alright, I was a little older than you are now when I started to get just an inkling of what I wanted to do."
"Uh, yeah…" She didn't miss the teasing tone of his voice, but shot him a grateful look anyway, though she was banking on him misinterpreting what exactly she was grateful for.
Part of her was tempted to think of all the things she could choose from if her life wasn't already ill-fated, what she would do with freedom if she had it. Part of her wanted to imagine a life where she and Fakir were friends forever and she grew old and had a career. Part of her really, really wanted to, but she knew it would only be too painful. She quashed the hopeful whispers in her head; futures were not for those who were going to die soon.
"Oh!" Ahiru exclaimed, her previous thoughts melting into nonexistence. Somehow during their aimless walk, they managed to wander to the pond she used to habitate.
Fakir sensed some hesitation in Ahiru's demeanor. Was this the first time they came back to the lake since she became a girl again? Maybe she didn't want to be here after all. "We can leave," he offered.
Despite the occasional half-formed plans to come here together, Ahiru's feelings toward the small body of water had started souring. Regardless, it felt strangely comforting to see it again. It was that foreign feeling when you visit a childhood home you haven't seen in years—familiar, but entirely alien. As Ahiru stared at the pond that she hadn't returned to in months, she smiled. That pond was no longer her home, nor would it ever be again. From this side, it was just a pond. A pond that had changed so much since she last watched Fakir's back retreat to society without her. It seemed so much happier and peaceful than what she remembered.
"No," Ahiru's bright eyes shone up at him, "that's alright. It's been a while."
Fakir stared at her back as she walked past him and to the dock he had spent years sitting on as she bobbed alongside him. Quietly, she kicked off her white sandals and sat down, dangling her feet over the edge of the dock. The powder blue ruffles of the crop top she wore rustled in a light breeze and he tried to swallow the lump that had been growing in his throat since he realized where they were.
Last time he was here, she wore light blue, too. And she smiled at him the same way, before she poured him a glass of blood and became some dark, twisted version of her former alter-ego.
A distinct black mask flashed in his mind.
Ahiru is dead.
It was just a dream.
You killed her, remember?
It was just a—
"Fakir! Aren't you going to join me?!" Ahiru scowled at him over her shoulder.
He pushed the intrusive thoughts out of his head. "Yeah, yeah. Just hold on." He rolled up his pant legs before taking his shoes and socks off and sitting down beside her.
Ahiru beamed as she threw her arms out to the sun. "You were right! It is a nice day today." She soaked in its rays for a moment before dropping her arms back to her sides. "I'm actually sorta glad we ended up here!"
"Hm?"
"I dunno, I haven't been back here since I was a duck, and I just… The past few weeks I've been thinking more and more about how this place was like a… a… cage. Which is probably silly because not too long ago I wanted to come back here, and I missed it a little bit." She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, and her face on her hands. "But! Now that I'm here, it doesn't feel like this-this looming… villain from the past."
"Why didn't you say anything before?"
Ahiru shrugged, "I dunno. Seemed dumb and unimportant."
Fakir groaned. "Your feelings aren't dumb and unimportant, okay? I'm always going to be here for you, I promised."
Ahiru straightened up and regarded him gratefully. "Thanks, Fakir. You really are an amazing friend."
She smiled that smile that only Ahiru could smile. Where her entire face lit up, and her one dimple winked at you, and she made you feel like you were the most important thing in the world. Like you were the only thing that existed. Fakir's breathing slowed as he studied her face, and the word 'friend' rang in his mind.
And Fakir did something he told himself he wouldn't.
Maybe it was the way her eyes sparkled, or that stupidly adorable way her nose crinkled when she grinned, or the sound of his name on her tongue, or maybe it was the way her bangs messily framed her face, or how she was the most beautiful person he had ever seen in his life.
Fakir couldn't tell you what possessed him, or what detail completely destroyed the carefully constructed wall of self-control he had been building since she first held his hand in that underground lake.
But he could tell you that her lips were the softest things his had ever touched. That her skin radiated warmth which felt so welcoming. That she smelled sweet and floral. That the flutter of her eyelashes against his skin left a delightful tingling sensation in their wake. That the moment he finally let go and kissed her was easily the best moment of his life. That it was so much better than he had ever let himself imagine.
And then reality came crashing down on him. He pulled away abruptly, and he couldn't even bring himself to look at her wide eyes or crimson face.
A moment of frozen silence passed.
"Fa—"
"—I-uh…" Fakir stood abruptly. "Sorry." He spoke and moved so quickly Ahiru could barely process what was happening.
He grabbed his socks and shoes, not even bothering to put them back on, and fled.
Ahiru watched Fakir's retreating figure, her brain moving at a glacial pace. Slowly, she lifted her fingers to her lips, where just moments ago Fakir's had been.
Did that really just happen?
Suddenly she felt like crying.
By the time Ahiru finally found her wits and came home, Charon was almost finished cooking dinner.
"Ah, there you are!" Charon greeted her. She stood, wide-eyed in the hall outside the kitchen. "Dinner will be ready soon; do you mind setting the table?"
Ahiru nodded dumbly and went to collect three plates.
"You alright there, kiddo?"
The girl shook her head, trying to rid it of all the incomprehensible thoughts that plagued it. "Yeah, uh… just… y'know." She shrugged.
"One of those days?"
"Mm…" She struggled to form words.
Charon nodded sagely, having had many of those days himself. Ahiru was thankful he didn't push the subject.
Mere moments after Ahiru placed the last glass, Charon announced dinner was ready. He tapped his ladle on the side of the pot before setting it down on a ceramic spoon rest. "Go ahead and serve yourself, I'll go get Fakir."
She wasn't really hungry, so Ahiru gave herself a small helping of stew and bread. She sat down and pushed a potato around her bowl with a spoon. What was she going to say to Fakir? How was she supposed to react? She still didn't know how she felt or how to process what happened. And Charon was going to be there, which made her even more uncomfortable. But it's not like she could just… avoid him.
The sound of the wooden stairs creaking made her stiffen. Her spoon froze, and she stared at the now still potato like it was her only life line.
"Guess it's just you and me tonight. Fakir said he's busy right now." Charon announced as he entered the kitchen.
Her shoulders sagged. "Oh," it came out as an exhale, as if the air had been knocked out of her. She felt like crying again.
"You guys fighting again?" Charon asked as he picked up his bowl and filled it. Fakir had been equally despondent.
Ahiru listened to the familiar crunch of the bread knife breaking through the crispy crust of the bread as Charon cut himself a slice. "No," she finally answered.
"Hm." The chair scraped against the floor boards as he pulled it out to sit down.
The two ate in silence, and Ahiru forced herself to finish what she had taken. When she was finally done, she stood and began collecting her dishes.
"Don't worry about it," Charon waved her off, "I can tell you're tired. Just go rest."
Ahiru set her bowl back down and thanked him, making a mental note to put on a better mental state the next time she saw him.
She trudged up the stairs and rested her hand on her door knob. Biting her lip, she glanced down the hallway at Fakir's door. Should she go talk to him? She opened the door and closed it softly behind her. He was the one who was avoiding her.
Fakir buried his face in his hands, the scene replaying and replaying in his head. He careened between wistful and absolutely mortified. Her lips were soft and warm and holy shit he should not have done that.
"Idiot!" He cursed, smacking his forehead. How could he do something so stupid? He promised himself he'd never take advantage of her. He didn't even ask for her permission! He just… just did it! She probably hated him. He wouldn't blame her.
Of course he wanted to kiss her. He wanted to kiss her probably before he even realized he did. How many fantasies of his involved that very action? Sure, he had denied it; sure, he had refused to admit it to even himself, but he was pretty certain he was beyond that point now. And he just did it—no preamble, no romance, no indication she was receptive—just forced his lips on hers.
And god save him, he wanted to do it again. How disgusting was he? He could never speak with her again.
Fakir slammed his face into his knees, willing his greatest mistake to stop playing in his head.
He could never face her again.
Morning came and gone, and though Ahiru had done her chores she hardly remembered doing them. Her mind was focused one thing.
'Did I just imagine it?' She wondered, her fingers touching her bottom lip.
She didn't know what was happening, it went so fast and so slow all at once. She had said something, she didn't even remember what she said. And his face was closer and then… His lips were really warm, hot even. And they were chapped. And the breath from his nose tickled her skin. And he smelled… familiar. And then he was gone.
Her face was hot again, and she wished she could just stop thinking about it already.
'I definitely did not imagine it,' she decided.
But what did it mean? She remembered a time when she would flail about in glee just imagining Mytho doing to her what Fakir had done. But, maybe… that kind of thing wasn't as cut and dry as she once thought. Not long ago, Autor had kissed her cheek, and she knew he didn't have any feelings for her. Maybe it was the same sort of thing. But he… her lips! And why did he run away? And why was he avoiding her? Autor hadn't talked to her since, but she didn't live with Autor.
If she was being honest with herself, it pissed her off. He was the one who had… had… done that, how was it fair he was just avoiding her now?
It was one in the afternoon and Fakir hadn't even left his room to use the bathroom. She shook her head. She would go insane if she spent another minute waiting for him. So, she went for a walk.
The weather was as nice as it was yesterday, and the town was just as lively as it always was. Ahiru walked aimlessly, her eyes following the cracks in the road. When the road ended, she just stared at her feet as they moved in tandem.
"Ugh!" A girlish cry of frustration broke Ahiru out of her stupor, and for the first time she looked at her surroundings. She was in a forest, the trees lush and green. Further up the path was a small figure sitting under a tree. Ahiru recognized those blonde curls anywhere. Wait, was she crying? Her pendant flashed a bright white.
"Lilie?" She gulped. Every instinct in her told her to run to Lilie's side and hold her until she felt better. But, Lilie didn't remember Ahiru. Ahiru knew Lilie would not be as receptive to the comfort of a stranger as she would a friend.
She dashed behind a tree before Lilie could look up and gripped her gem. It hurt in ways she couldn't comprehend, not being able to be there for Lilie as Ahiru—but she could be there for her as Princess Tutu. She closed her eyes, welcoming the liquid warmth of her transformation.
The moment Princess Tutu stood en pointe, she quickly approached her friend, coming to a stop before Lilie's slumped-over form.
Lilie slowly looked up at the prima ballerina, her green eyes full of tears.
"What pains you, so?" Princess Tutu asked, her voice light but concerned.
Lilie tried to furtively wipe the tears from her eyes. "Are you worried about me? Aw, how cute!" She tried to keep her voice chipper, but it wavered.
Princess Tutu rotated her hands in her trademark mime. "Won't you come dance with me?" She asked with her hand outstretched.
Lilie nodded and wiped her eyes on her sleeve before letting the ballerina pull her to her feet. She was deceptively strong. Normally, Lilie wouldn't accept invitations from strange, glowing ballerinas who approached her in the woods while she was vulnerable—not that it happened before—but this one seemed… trustworthy. She seemed kind and caring and like she could actually help Lilie with the emotions she struggled with. And she seemed… almost familiar. Like a long-forgotten dream that eddied beneath the lake of her memory.
Having studied ballet for many years now, Lilie did not struggle to keep up with the prima ballerina's movements, and the two danced a beautiful pas de deux. "I have these feelings," Lilie admitted, "I don't know how to explain them."
Princess Tutu dipped Lilie and stared encouragingly into her eyes. Lilie stretched her arms out gracefully, letting the dance elicit the emotions she struggled to put into words.
"It's like I had someone I loved, someone who was so important to me, but they're gone, and I don't even remember them." She leaned back against Princess Tutu's chest, the mime for love coming naturally to her hands. "Sometimes, in my dreams, I get these shadows of a memory—cheerful blue eyes, caramel colored freckles, a laugh—and they're gone. But I keep feeling like… like maybe she'll come back to me."
Princess Tutu's heart ached for her friend. She had no idea Lilie had felt that way. She held Lilie's waist as she performed a jeté.
"And I'm trying to move on, because she probably never existed and I'm seeing someone, and I can tell it's killing her that I just can't commit fully to her!" Lilie cried. "What if that other girl came back? I keep thinking, if I could only remember her, she'd come back to me. We could be together."
"Sometimes," Princess Tutu began, leading Lilie through a series of chaînés, "our hearts fear moving forward. Sometimes, we hold on to things we don't understand because at least they are familiar. But, we have to move on. If it cannot be fixed, it's okay to let it go."
Lilie nodded, her blonde curls bouncing on her shoulders. "Yes, I can't do anything about someone I can't even remember, but…"
"You are allowed to move on from old feelings you can't place, it is not a betrayal to take care of yourself." Princess Tutu assured her.
Lilie nodded again. "You're right. It's only hurting me not to let go, and… it's hurting Malen."
Princess Tutu smiled as they twirled around each other.
"I care about Malen a lot, and I can't let a phantom stop me from being happy."
Lilie bowed to her partner; her heart felt lighter. "Thank you." Before she could straighten back up, a black light shot from her chest, causing her to lurch forward as her consciousness faded. Princess Tutu lunged for her, catching her as the light entered her pendant, eliciting a pained groan. Her transformation faded as she fell to her knees, Lilie leaning against her, but she managed to stay conscious.
Ahiru felt like the wind had been knocked from her. Her chest pounded and Lilie's body was heavy against her shoulder. She exhaled a few times before she felt she could gather her senses.
She looked down at the mess of blonde hair obscuring her view. "Lilie?" No response came.
Well, she couldn't leave her out here alone. Ahiru exhaled in preparation before standing up, pulling Lilie with her. In the past, Lilie loved to lean all over her, so Ahiru had been familiar with her weight, but she was heavier than before. A few years probably did that teenagers. Ahiru grunted in determination as she turned and hefted Lilie onto her back. She could do this.
She looked down at her feet, and her heart stopped as she saw the murky gray of the pendant shining on her chest—a deep contrast to the white she was used to. She bit her lip as she watched it slowly grow dimmer in color. A few moments passed before it returned to the pearly white she was used to. She shook her head. She couldn't deal with this now. She had too much going on, not to mention she had Lilie to worry about. No, she would deal with this later.
Resolute, Ahiru stared straight ahead, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. "I'll get you back to town, Lilie," she ground out.
Ahiru had wandered further out into the woods than she thought and had to stop a few times to give herself a break. By the time she reached the town, her muscles were screaming.
"The dorms aren't… too much further…" She murmured half to herself, half to the passed-out Lilie.
Further up the road was a wooden bench, and Ahiru was desperate to take another break.
"Lilie?!" A cry drew Ahiru's attention from the wooden oasis she was so focused on. A sage-haired girl ran up to her.
'Malen,' Ahiru recognized thankfully. She shrugged to reposition Lilie on her shoulders. "Oh!" Ahiru greeted the artist, "Do you know her?"
"Yes!" Her dark blue eyes flashed in concern as she reached out for the other girl's face. "She's my—uhm, well… yes, I know her."
Ahiru smiled wearily, "Do you mind helping me get her to that bench? She's a little heavy."
"Of course!" Malen quickly adjusted the girl between them and together got her to the bench.
"Phew!" Ahiru sighed in relief and slumped into the bench.
Malen had positioned Lilie so her head was in her lap. She brushed the blonde's bangs out of her eyes. "What happened to her? Is she okay?"
Ahiru peered over at Malen. The way her fingers caressed Lilie's cheek spoke volumes. She was glad her friend had found someone who cared so much for her. "She seems fine, I just found her like that in the forest."
Malen frowned and began combing her fingers through the girl's blonde curls. "Silly girl, she's always being reckless." Malen looked at the girl slouched over next to her, her voice suddenly sheepish. "I'm sorry, I didn't introduce myself. I'm Malen."
Ahiru smiled, "Ahiru."
"Ahiru?" Malen repeated, "What an unusual name, how cute!"
Ahiru stifled a giggle. Malen had definitely been spending a lot of time with Lilie.
"Thank you for helping her, I really appreciate it." Malen said, looking back at the girl in her lap.
"It wasn't a problem really," Ahiru waved her hand dismissively.
Lilie's green eyes began fluttering open. Her voice was slightly raspy, "Malen?"
"Lilie!" Malen's voice was stern as if she was admonishing her, but a big grin gave her away. "And just what were you up to?"
Lilie smiled and closed her eyes. "I had a wonderful dream."
"Oh?"
Lilie nodded, "I dreamed of a beautiful swan, and it told me something."
"What?"
"That I was lucky to have such a wonderful girlfriend."
Malen's dark blue eyes became glassy, her grin becoming heartfelt. "Lilie…"
Lilie playfully poked the girl's nose. "Aw, you're all atwitter because you finally won the war and earned a beautiful maiden. How cute."
Malen rolled her eyes, used to her recently-declared girlfriend's antics. "Oh, be quiet."
Ahiru smiled briefly. She was happy for Lilie, but the last thing she wanted to be around was a cutesy couple. She left, leaving them to moon over each other in peace. She was fairly certain they didn't even notice her go.
"…cheerful blue eyes, caramel colored freckles…"
Ahiru swallowed and shoved her hands in the pockets of the shorts she wore. There was no way Lilie had a crush on her all those years ago. Surely she would have known if one of her best friends had feelings for her. She combed through her memories of all her interactions with Lilie. All the times Lilie incited her to fight for love, all the times she insisted Ahiru's clumsiness was such an endearing trait. She didn't think Lilie had feelings for her.
But only she had disappeared from Lilie's life—minus Mr. Cat, of course, but he was definitely not a she. Who else could it be?
Ahiru pinched the bridge of her nose, something she had seen Fakir do when he was frustrated. She wasn't sure why though, because it did not seem to do anything to alleviate her headache.
She felt like screaming. She couldn't deal with all these emotions being flung at her—she didn't even know what her own feelings were. Everything was a tangled-up mess, and wow did she wish she could just go a little while without having to deal with any emotions.
The fountain by the school wasn't far from where she was, so she decided to head over there. Water's supposed to be tranquil, right? She flopped down on the stone lip of the fountain, staring down at her rippling reflection. She looked exhausted.
It used to be one of the places she'd meet Fakir back before they beat the Raven. Actually, towards the end of her time as a human, there were days when the only person she saw was Fakir. At some point, he had become her best friend, and he's been her best friend since.
Did she see her and Fakir becoming something more than just best friends, though? She shook her head and pressed her eyes against her palm. She didn't know. She didn't even want to try and imagine the future—she didn't have a future. She didn't know if Fakir actually had those kinds of feelings for her. If he did, would he have run away from her? Avoided her?
Now here she was, dealing with this mess of confusion by herself. And suddenly she realized how cripplingly lonely she was. All she had was Fakir. Drosselmeyer had taken everything else from her. Rue and Mytho had disappeared into his story. Lilie and Pique didn't remember her.
Autor, who she recently made friends with, stopped hanging out with her since the concert.
'Another boy who kissed me and ran,' she thought, bitterly.
Her head really hurt. Her thoughts were making less and less sense. A cacophony raged in her mind, the din crescendoing the more she tried to think. 'Too much,' she pressed her hands roughly to her ears, wishing it would do anything to dampen the deafening noise. 'Too much!' It wouldn't quiet. 'STOP!'
She wanted to scream, she wanted to kick her legs and punch her arms and to just stop all the feelings. Her hands pressed at her ears as tight as she could manage, her nails digging into her scalp, drawing blood in some places.
And then it stopped.
Ahiru let her arms drop to her sides and stared blankly at her reflection. Her eyes were darker than normal.
She stood.
She walked home.
She didn't feel a thing.
A/N: I really tried to get this out for Valentine's Day. They finally kiss, so I figured it would be so easy to write! Bro, I rewrote that scene so many times. I am satisfied with how it turned out, but wish it didn't take me so long to settle on how it all went down. I had fun writing Lilie, even if I didn't get to play with her usual sadistic banter—it just didn't make sense in the situation. Oh, and after over a decade of writing Princess Tutu fanfic, I finally decided to get hip to the correct spelling of Mytho, for those of you who have noticed. I'll be going back and editing older chapters fairly soon. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter! Thank you for reading!
