Once upon a time there was a woman whose love for humanity burned so brightly it seemed no one could resist her. She was kind and generous, always ready to lend a helping hand to those in need. Those around her loved her in return, grateful to be in her presence. She was happy like this, until, one day, she wasn't. Gradually, the love she received from her neighbors no longer sated her heart. Or, perhaps, her heart had hungered for a different kind of love.
"Charon, you're back!" Ahiru grinned at the blacksmith over her shoulder.
"And on time, too," Charon teased.
Since the doctor had given Charon the okay to return to work, Ahiru had taken it upon herself to make sure he did not overdo it. Many afternoons she found herself in the smithy, insisting Charon pack it in for the day.
In addition, Ahiru took her limited knowledge of cooking she garnered from her time in the kitchen with Charon, to take over making dinner every few nights. So far, she mostly cooked stews and soups—her one foray outside of liquid-based cuisine was a disastrous attempt at schweinebraten, in which the windows had to be left open over night to air out the house. Luckily, Charon was able to carve the charred husk away from the pork roast, and though the remaining meat was on the dry side, it was not inedible. Her kartoffelklöße were spared a scorched demise and ended up being the star feature of the meal. Today she stuck with her specialty and was making a cabbage soup.
"It smells delicious," Charon complimented her. He curiously eyed the contents of the pot she was stirring.
Ahiru tapped the ladle on the side of the pot before setting it down and wiped her hands on the apron she wore before taking it off. "It's pretty much done. I'll set the table."
"I'll set the table," Charon insisted. "Why don't you get Fakir?"
Ahiru shrugged happily, "Alright, but don't start eating without me, okay?" Since taking over cooking, Ahiru often sought Charon's opinion of her final product—his initial reaction she considered to be most precious.
Charon waved her off, already rummaging through the cabinets. "I won't." He stopped and stood abruptly. "Oh, wait!"
"Hm?" Ahiru turned back around.
"The Fire Festival is coming up."
"The Fire Festival?" It sounded familiar, and Ahiru racked her brain for the reason.
"Have you really never heard of it? They hold it in the town square to celebrate the solstice. They light a big bonfire and people dress up in old fashioned clothes and dance. It's something of a big deal, especially with couples."
"Oh!" That's right, Rue had wanted to go to the Fire Festival with Mytho and win some prize. They had been so beautiful together.
"But, uh, it's not just about couples, you know. It's a big festival with great food, festival games, and tons of dancing, which Fakir said you enjoyed. You should go."
Ahiru's eyes grew wide with wonder. She hadn't been to the Fire Festival before, but she had seen the tail end of it. It had looked lovely, and she remembered wishing she had seen the bonfire in its glory. "When is it?"
Charon chuckled triumphantly. "Just under a week. Raetzel actually sent her old costume for you to wear, which is what reminded me. I guess they celebrate the Fire Festival differently in her town, and she didn't want the costume to go to waste. You'll probably have to get it altered, though. You should take it tomorrow, I'm sure the dressmaker is fairly busy around now."
"She didn't have to do that…"
"I believe she wanted to." Charon responded. "I put it in the living room, if you want to look at it."
Ahiru gave a small smile, "Thanks. I'll have to write Raetzel back." She turned to the living room, curious what sort of dress Raetzel had sent her.
It was gorgeous. The fabric was a dark blue impressed with a twisting flowery pattern, accented with a thick white trim which lined the top hem and ran down the middle of the front. The skirt had billowy aspect to it and looked like it would hang closer to the frame. The sleeves were narrow with thick white cuffs showing out the end, and a dark blue braided strap appeared to be what held the shoulders up. A white chemise with intricate embroidery was nestled inside the low neckline of the dress, this also had a dark blue strap.
Charon leaned against the entry to kitchen, some bowls in his hands and a smile on his face. "I take it you like it?"
Ahiru beamed at him. "I do! Raetzel has such good taste!" She allowed herself to admire it a moment longer before she placed the dress back down. "Alright, I better go get Fakir."
"And I'll finish setting the table."
Ahiru hopped up the stairs, excited with the new prospect of going to the Fire Festival.
"Fakir!" Ahiru's voice was sing-song-y when she knocked on his door. She waited for his muffled "come in" before throwing open the door.
Fakir was sitting at his desk, hunched over a stack of paper. Judging by the crumpled paper at his feet, he must've been working on a story. During the time Charon was homebound, Fakir had taken over his smithy work. Since Charon had returned to work, Fakir had reclaimed his newfound free time by focusing on his writing.
Ahiru flung herself on his bed. "Did you know the Fire Festival was coming up?"
Fakir stiffened, and he was glad he wasn't facing toward her; he could feel the heat spreading from his cheeks down his neck. The Fire Festival? One of the biggest romantic festivals in Goldkrone Town? The one where couples danced around a bonfire and the pair deemed the best would receive a golden apple said to bound their souls together forever? Was she trying to kill him?
Ahiru obviously hadn't noticed his discomfort, as she tittered on, oblivious. "Charon said there's really good food!"
Fakir held back a groan. Of course it was Charon's doing. Sometimes he wondered if Charon just enjoyed torturing him.
"We should go! Raetzel sent me a dress to wear, so you have to wear a costume, too!"
Well, he knew Raetzel loved torturing him.
"Fakiiiir!" Ahiru whined and rolled over onto her stomach. "We're gonna go, right?"
The past month hadn't quite been smooth sailing. Largely, things had gone back to the way they were before he had kissed her; she was a loveable goof and he an aloof grump, and it usually felt natural. But, there was some awkwardness now that his feelings were out there. Sometimes he got too inside his own head and analyzed every little thing she did. Every time she shifted even the slightest bit away from him, he was certain it was her way of telling him he disgusted her. Every time she grinned up at him, his heart soared with hope. Sometimes he felt like he was going insane. And nothing from the arduous past few weeks prepared him for the object of his affections innocently asking him to take her to a festival that celebrated eternal love.
He swallowed the growing lump in his throat. "Do you want to?"
"Yes!" Her voice had a tinge of impatience.
He sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. His heart was beating faster, but he knew better than to think she knew the implications of what she was asking. Plus, it wasn't like she was proclaiming her love and begging him to enter the dancing contest. He had gone in the past with friends, so it wasn't like it was impossible to enjoy the festival as simply, only, and strictly platonic friends.
"Yeah, alright."
She squealed. "Yay! Have you gone before?! Charon mentioned games, and I've never been to a festival before—well, other than the weihnachtsmärkte but does that really count?—so I'm really excited to see everything and—" She paused abruptly, her eyes growing large. "Oh no! I forgot, I'm supposed to be letting you know dinner is ready!"
Fakir laughed. He felt calmer now and turned toward her, confidant that his cheeks were no longer bright red. "You should have said so, moron. I'm famished."
She stuck her tongue out at him as she stood up. "I was excited."
Fakir stood up as well and ruffled her hair, earning him a glare. "I know. Come on, we shouldn't keep Charon waiting much longer." Knowing Ahiru, she likely demanded Charon wait to eat until she could see his reaction.
When they got down there, Fakir didn't feel so bad. The knowing smile and mischievous glint in Charon's eye just cemented what Fakir already suspected: Charon liked to torture him.
Ahiru fidgeted nervously as she stood on the platform in front of the dressmaker. The dress was gorgeous, though she felt a bit out of place in it. It was a bit too big in the bust, it would need to be taken in a tad around her waist, and the skirt was a few inches too long. The dressmaker, a rotund woman with deft fingers, danced around her, humming and quickly popping pins in little folds she made.
"Be still, dear, lest I prick ya," the dressmaker admonished… again.
"Sorry," Ahiru murmured. The dressmaker hadn't grazed her yet, but it was a very real concern Ahiru had. She swallowed and stiffened back up.
"It would be a bit easier if ya'd take off that necklace," the woman complained. She had tried to get her to take it off earlier, but Ahiru had refused for reasons related to a great deal of inexplicable pain—not that she could explain that to the dressmaker.
"Sorry," Ahiru repeated. "It's very important, and, uh, you know… I'm um… I'm very superstitious, so…"
The dressmaker tutted as she swiped the pendant over Ahiru's shoulder and adjusted the bust of the dress and chemise, pressing in the occasional pin.
"Hm." The woman stepped back and stared at the dress with a critical eye. "Just a moment dearie. I'm gonna pop in the back room and look for something. Don't move too much, now." She bustled off before Ahiru could respond.
Ahiru looked in the mirror. With the pinning the dressmaker had done, the dress actually looked like it fit her quite well. She grinned. Pleased that she looked so nice in such elegant clothing. Had Rue still been here, she might even be able to stand proud alongside her.
Her brow furrowed at the thought. Did everything have to rotate around Rue? Even after she was gone? Was Ahiru nothing more than a replacement for the raven princess? Her eyes darkened and her heart ached. Why couldn't she exist outside of Rue's shadow? She would never be prima ballerina. She would never be as beautiful, or as elegant, or as graceful. Ahiru would never be good enough, no matter what she wore. She was a mere stand-in. An understudy.
"Found it!"
Ahiru inhaled sharply in surprise, her thought process coming to a screeching halt. 'Replacement? Where did that come from?' She shook her head.
"The guard on the chemise is awfully worn, so we'd best replace that. I don't have that exact pattern in, but what do ya think about this?" The woman held up a thick band of silvery fabric, embroidered with a light blue floral damask pattern.
"It's pretty…" Ahiru mused. She didn't know much about guards or fashion, and if she was being honest, she wasn't entirely sure what a guard was.
The dressmaker nodded. "It would go well with the rest of the design." She placed the strip of fabric over the hem of her chemise with another nod. "Yup, that'll look lovely." She pinned the fabric there before bending over and fussing with the hem. "Once we take up this hem, ya'll actually be able to dance in this. Got ya'self a sweetheart?"
Ahiru flushed. "Isn't there, uhm, other kind of dancing?"
The dressmaker shot her a look. "Other kind? I s'pose, but the main event is the couples dancing 'round that big ol' fire."
Ahiru remembered the coy looks Rue shot at Mytho. The way they held each other in the light from the dying embers of the fire. The way Rue was so desperate to prove that she and Mytho belonged together.
The dressmaker clucked her tongue as she wrote down a few measurements. "Shame, ya look like royalty in that dress. Well, even if ya ain't got no one, ya can still dance by ya'self, right?"
Ahiru nodded mutely.
"Alright," the dressmaker announced, still writing down figures, "go ahead and take it off. I should have it done in a few days.
Ahiru nodded and stepped down from the platform, carefully lifting the skirts so they didn't drag on the floor. With slightly stinted steps due to fear of being pricked, she returned to the changing room and gingerly extricated herself from the dress.
When she returned to the main room, the dressmaker took the dress from her, hung it up, and pinned the paper she had been scribbling on to it.
"Come back in about five days, let's say. I'm a tad backlogged due all the orders."
"Okay." Ahiru thanked the woman before collecting her things and leaving. To say she was excited was an understatement. This would be her first festival, and she was going to be all dressed up for the event. She grinned as she skipped down the road.
"Ahiru!" a familiar lyrical voice called out.
Ahiru searched for the source of the voice. She smiled when her eyes landed on Hermia and Lysander. "Hermia!"
Hermia pulled Lysander over to Ahiru and introduced him. "This is my boyfriend, Lysander!" Hermia gestured between the two. "Lysander, this is Ahiru! I met her at Lilie and Malen's party."
Ahiru smiled pleasantly and shook his proffered hand. "Hermia told me about you."
Lysander looked as uncomfortable as Ahiru had remembered. He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck before he spoke. "Uhm, all good things… I hope."
"Of course!" Ahiru had to admit she didn't know Hermia too well, but from her limited experience with the girl, she doubted Hermia would ever speak badly about anyone, much less Lysander. She turned her attention to Hermia. "How is everyone? It's been a while."
"It has been! Lilie and Malen are doing well. And Pique is as sarcastic as ever. Oh! And Lory! She's really improved at ballet since the party—it's incredible! She said she feels like she's free of some role or something, but really you should see her! Well…" Hermia paused thoughtfully, "I suppose you haven't seen her dance before, so you can't compare it, but trust me. She's gotten so much better."
Ahiru smiled. "I'm so happy for her! She seemed pretty discouraged the last time I talked to her."
Hermia gave a distracted nod as she eyed the shop Ahiru had left. "Oh, did you just leave the dressmaker?"
Ahiru nodded happily. "Yes! A friend gave me her old dress for the Fire Festival, so I took it to get altered."
"Aw, fun!" Hermia grinned and gave Lysander's arm an affectionate squeeze. "We'll be going, too! We always participate in the couple's dance, but, well…" she trailed off and glanced over at Lysander.
Lysander's face colored and he averted his eyes, "Hermia's quite graceful, but, I uh… I'm not."
"Ohh, stop!" Hermia chastised.
Ahiru laughed before cheerfully commiserating. "Me neither! So you're not alone. But it's fun, isn't it?"
Lysander nodded graciously.
"Are you going to participate with someone?" Hermia asked cautiously. She remembered Ahiru's discomfort around the topic of her personal romantic life from the party they both attended.
Ahiru blushed. "Oh, uhm. I mean, I'm going with someone, but not like… with someone. We're uhm… we're… friends."
Hermia smiled kindly. "It's a lot of fun. You don't necessarily have to be dating someone to have fun. Pique and Lory are going together as friends, too."
Ahiru felt slightly relieved. "Maybe we'll run into each other!"
"Yeah! If we do, we'll have to play a festival game together! I'm pretty good at the barmaid race." Hermia winked. She slipped her hand in Lysander's. "Well, hopefully I'll see you then."
Lysander awkwardly waved goodbye. "It was nice meeting you."
"You, too!" Ahiru waved before continuing on her way, her smile slowly fading.
Since Fakir's confession, she had been trying to avoid even thinking about it. What could she do? If she didn't feel the same way, was it fair of her to stay friends with him? Was it fair for her to even continue living with him? She had precious little time left, why did he have to go and complicate things? She wanted to desperately for things to return to normal. Why did this stupid festival that she was excited for have to be so love oriented?
Ahiru shook her head resolutely and shoved her hands deep in the pockets of her pinafore. No, she wasn't going to dwell on it. She was going to go to the Fire Festival with Fakir as friends. They were going to have fun. And she wasn't going to let things get awkward between them because damn it, Drosselmeyer was not going to get a tragedy.
For now, she was going to go home, water her sunflower, and go have a nice, friendly conversation with Fakir, because they were friends.
Just friends.
"Charon?" Ahiru nearly dropped the wicker basket she carried the laundry in out of surprise. "What're you doing out here?" She asked as she readjusted her grip.
"Mornin'." Charon greeted. He leaned over, putting his weight on the long tool he was holding, and wiped his brow. He had been hunched over a patch of dirt by the back door of the house, hacking away at it. "I didn't expect you out so early, to be honest. Guess that ruins my surprise."
"Huh? I always do the laundry around now…" Ahiru cocked her head in confusion. "Surprise?"
Charon gestured to the freshly tilled patch of dirt he was working at. "One of my customers gave me a few tomato plants." He gestured to three small pots sitting off to the side with small, leafy green stalks. "Since you've been so dedicated to growing your sunflower, I thought you'd want to give tomatoes a try."
Ahiru's eyes grew wide in excitement. "Tomatoes?!" She set the basket of laundry down and hurried over to him. She paused suddenly and regarded the hoe Charon leaned on suspiciously.
Before she could say anything, Charon waved her off. "I didn't overwork myself, so you can stop giving me that look, now."
Ahiru briefly narrowed her eyes at him before turning her attention back to the small green plants. "Are tomatoes hard to take care of?"
Charon rubbed at his chin in thought. "Not particularly—that I remember." He nodded his head toward the dirt patch he stood above. "It's ready for planting, if you want to give me a hand."
Ahiru's eyes glowed as she nodded enthusiastically. "Of course!"
Charon smiled and the two knelt next to the patch of dirt. Carefully, he showed her how to loosen the roots before putting the plant in the ground and how to tie it to the wooden supports he had made.
"See? You got it!" Charon cheered after Ahiru finished tying the final plant.
Ahiru grinned and leaned back while admiring her handiwork. "Only because I have a great teacher!"
Charon chuckled before pushing himself off the ground. He offered a hand to Ahiru who graciously accepted. "Well, you've mastered every skill this teacher has to offer, I'm afraid."
"I'm sure that's not true!" Ahiru jokingly scorned. She thought for a moment before adding, "Though, Fakir and I are going to the library tomorrow, I could read about tomatoes then!"
"You're becoming a real gardening enthusiast." Charon patted Ahiru on the shoulder before picking his hoe back up. "Who knows, maybe you'll make a career out it."
Ahiru smiled pleasantly. It would be nice grow things for a living. She could imagine having a little vegetable garden. Suddenly, her heart froze. A career? A living? Those weren't things someone who would die soon got to have. She bit her lip, trying to hide her disappointment.
"Don't worry," Charon assured her, sensing her mood shift. "You have plenty of time to figure your future out, yet."
"Yeah…" Ahiru agreed with a sad smile.
"Fakir!" Ahiru whined.
"You don't have to stay, you know." Fakir responded monotonously.
True, Ahiru had volunteered to go to the library with Fakir, so she could research how to take care of her newly acquired tomatoes, but she had long finished her tomato-based reading. And, yes, she could technically leave whenever she wanted, but she had already stayed this long, it sorta felt like quitting if she left early.
Ahiru groused at him, causing Fakir to roll his eyes and return to his book.
"Isn't your dress supposed to be done today?"
"No," Ahiru puckered her lips in annoyance, "it won't be done until tomorrow."
Fakir sighed heavily. "Alright, just let me finish this chapter."
"Mmkay," Ahiru drawled. She chewed on her lip for a moment before speaking back up. "What are you reading 'bout, anyway?"
"The witch trials."
Ahiru froze. "The… witch trials?" Had she heard him correctly? Had he caught on to her recent research expeditions?
Fakir leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his bangs. "The truth is, with Drosselmeyer's involvement with the story of Goldkrone Town, it's hard to tell what was real and what was his doing."
"What?" Ahiru cocked her head in confusion.
"Goldkrone's history, I mean. Who's to say how long Drosselmeyer had Goldkrone Town under his thrall. I've been researching major points in Goldkrone's history to see if I can find anything."
Relief washed over her. So he wasn't on to her surreptitious investigation. "Witch trials, huh?" Now that she thought of it, she had come across some mentions of witch hunts in her occult studies. It suddenly clicked for her, and she pounded her fist into her open palm. "Wasn't Drosselmeyer killed in a witch hunt?!"
Fakir gave her a strange look before slowly responding. "Yeah… Sort of. The Bookmen were technically a type of inquisitor, but I don't think anyone considers Drosselmeyer's death to be directly related to the witch trials though."
Ahiru's brow furrowed in thought. "Hmm…"
"How'd you know that?"
"Huh?"
"About Drosselmeyer."
"Oh!" Ahiru's eyes widened in surprise. She had slipped up. "Oh, uhm, well, uh, Autor had told me about it, ya know? He was going off on uhm, one of his tirades about Drosselmeyer this, and Drosselmeyer that…" She scratched the back of her head, looking anywhere but at Fakir. "Uh, yeah, so it just… came up. Like that."
"I didn't know you and Autor were still spending time together." Fakir tried to ignore the jealousy bubbling in the pit of his stomach. It wasn't his business who she spent her time with.
Ahiru glanced up at him. He seemed… mad? "I mean… we aren't? It was the only time I've seen him since we went to see the ballet. He just sort of… went off."
Fakir exhaled heavily before shutting his book. "Whatever. You're supposed to cook dinner, right? Let's head home."
"I'm sorry, you can keep studying! I'll be quiet!"
"It's alright. I don't think I'm going to get anything out of that book, anyway. A break for the evening sounds nice."
Ahiru grinned at him and skipped alongside him as they left the library. They barely left the building before he put his arm out in front of her, stilling her.
Ahiru looked up at him, but he wasn't looking at her, he was looking back at the tall building they just left, his frame stiff. "What?"
"Sh." He shushed her without looking away.
Ahiru glanced back at the stone structure as well. "What's wrong?" She whispered.
A moment passed before the rigidity drained from Fakir's stance. "Nothing… I thought I sensed?… something."
"Something?"
Fakir shook his head, "It felt like someone was watching us… never mind. I must be tired from reading all day. Come on, let's go make dinner."
Ahiru nodded, "Yeah… okay." She glanced over her shoulder one more time before falling into their usual banter.
"Oh dear," Drosselmeyer leaned back in his chair, tapping his chin thoughtfully. His hand fell unceremoniously to the floor, which he ignored. "Oh dear, oh dear. This is never good…" He absentmindedly retrieved his felled appendage and adjusted it back into his wrist. "I'll just have to keep an eye on the situation…"
Tappa tappa tat.
The tinny sound of a toy drum rattled through the air, drawing Drosselmeyer's attention away from the cog in front of him.
"Uzura!"
The tapping suddenly stopped, followed by the stomping of tiny feet.
Drosselmeyer sighed, "Still mad, I see." The girl had refused to talk to him ever since Ahiru turned Fakir down, despite him trying to explain he had no hand in it. "Well, no matter. I can monitor this on my own. Be careful, little duck."
Ahiru fidgeted with the straps of the chemise Raetzel had sent her. The dressmaker had done an amazing job with her alterations and it fit Ahiru quite well now. The dress was lowcut, coming up just a little bit of the bust before giving way to the chemise. The dark blue straps wrapped behind her neck keeping the chemise and the lowcut sleeves up. She stared at herself in the mirror. The navy fabric made her skin look pale in comparison, while amplifying the blue in her eyes. She felt beautiful, but also a bit silly. 'Everyone else will be dressed up, too,' she mentally reminded herself.
Ahiru inhaled deeply while staring at her hair. It was currently out of her signature braid, but she wasn't quite sure what to do with it. Should she have done it before getting in her dress? Probably, but the festival was starting soon, and she was excited to go, and, honestly, she just got a little impatient.
Biting her lip, Ahiru picked up her brush and started running it through her wavy tresses. She really didn't know how old time-y hair was supposed to look, though she remembered Rue had pulled her hair into an elegant bun the time she went with Mytho. So, bun it was.
It wasn't perfect, but it would do, Ahiru decided while admiring her handiwork. It was a simple hairstyle, but the dress was so lovely, she doubted anyone would notice. She smiled. Today was the day. She and Fakir were going to the Fire Festival—as friends—and they were going to have a great time, and she honestly couldn't wait.
She gave herself one last once over before bounding down the stairs, careful not to get the skirts, which were more voluminous than she was used to, caught on anything.
"Well!" Charon exclaimed upon seeing her. "Don't you look just beautiful!"
Ahiru grinned bashfully. "Thanks, Charon." She glanced around the living area. "Where's Fakir?"
Charon shrugged. "Still getting ready, I believe. He had a bit of a late start."
Ahiru puckered her lips in disappointment. "Aw, boo! I wanted to get going!"
Charon laughed. "The festival lasts all day, I doubt you'll miss anything."
"I know…" Ahiru sighed and busied herself by looking at the pictures on the wall.
The telltale thumps of someone rushing down the stairs alerted Ahiru to Fakir's arrival.
"Finally! You—" Ahiru's voice caught in her throat upon seeing him. He was wearing a dark blue doublet with white trim, the puffed sleeves of a lighter blue shirt contrasted with the well-tailored fit. A black cape with brown lining billowed around him, and he looked every bit a regal knight. Her face turned scarlet. Surely, Raetzel didn't purposely give her this dress so they would match? She shook the thought away; Raetzel had simply gifted Ahiru her old festival dress, the likelihood that she planned this was slim. "You… uhm, you look handsome." Great, she sounded like an idiot.
Charon elbowed Fakir none too discreetly, jolting the younger man out of a red-faced reverie of his own.
"You, too."
This earned him another elbowing.
"I mean—" Fakir glared at Charon while rubbing his side before looking back at Ahiru. "You look lovely."
She smiled softly and suddenly found it hard to look at him. "Thanks." She rubbed at her arm awkwardly and adverted her eyes. She knew she looked lovely in that dress, she had been amazed by it the past day or so, but hearing him say it… it made her inexplicably happy.
"Alright, alright, kids." Charon clapped Fakir on the back. "Go enjoy the festival! It only comes once a year."
Ahiru beamed up at Charon. "Is there anything you want?"
Charon shook his head. "Yeah, for you two to have fun. Now, get out of here!"
The two bid Charon goodbye and left for the town square, a sprightly skip to Ahiru's step.
"Have you gone to the Fire Festival before?" Ahiru hummed as they walked down the road.
Fakir nodded. "I went a few times when I was a kid. I used to go with Mytho and Raetzel."
Ahiru's eyes sparkled in wonder. "Yeah? Was it amazing?"
Fakir shrugged, "It was fun when I first went, I think, but it became pretty run of the mill after a while. Though, I think I was just annoyed because Rue started tagging along."
"Well, we'll just have to make this the best Fire Festival ever! For both of us!" Ahiru grabbed his hand and pulled him along upon seeing the first signs of the festival. "Come on!"
Fakir's face flushed as he stared at their hands. Surely, she had to know that just by her being there with him, it was already the best Fire Festival he's ever been to.
"Flower crowns!"
Ahiru squealed at the call of the street peddler and began tugging on Fakir's arm. "Flower crowns, Fakir!"
He chuckled and let her pull him to the stand.
"Ah! A handsome couple! Are you interested in some flower crowns?" The vendor greeted.
"Oh-no! Nonono! I mean—yes," Ahiru floundered, "I am interested in a flower crown, but, uhm, we're just uhm, we're friends."
The vendor looked them up and down for a second before nodding. "Well, flower crowns are for all! Together, or not! Here," the vendor picked up a flower crown and showed it to Ahiru. It was made of daisies, St. John's wort, and cornflowers, woven with some wheat. "This one will match your lovely dress."
Ahiru's eyes lit up as she delicately lifted the crown and inspected it. "It's so pretty!"
Fakir ignored the sting from her adamant declaration of their relationship status—or, rather, lack thereof—and pulled out his wallet. He knew it would be moments before she looked up at him with wide, pleading eyes, anyway.
"Thank you, sir!" The vendor accepted the payment, causing Ahiru to look up.
"Oh! Thank you, Fakir!" Ahiru beamed.
Fakir took the crown from her and gently placed it atop her head. "There."
"How's it look?" Ahiru asked, turning her head back and forth to show it off.
Fakir couldn't help the soft smile stretching his lips, "Gorgeous."
Ahiru looked down, all visible skin above her neckline completely flushed. "Haha, yeah. The crown is gorgeous, huh?"
Fakir resisted the urge to brush some stray bangs from her face, his own skin flushing when he caught the judging look the vendor was shooting them. "Uhm, yeah…" He gestured toward the main festival area. "Shall we?"
Ahiru nodded, eager to ignore the awkwardness that seemed to be creeping in. She would have a good time with Fakir as friends. She had just promised it would be the best ever a few moments ago, so she couldn't mess this up.
The quiet discomfort that fell over the two of them quickly dissipated in the bright colors and joyful festivities flooding the town square. Ahiru looked around in wonder at all the people moved around them.
"What's that?" Ahiru asked, pointing at a group of people dancing around a wreath-like structure on a pole.
Fakir shrugged. "I couldn't tell you, but we can go check it out."
Ahiru enthusiastically agreed and didn't even wait for him before she bolted over and was quickly absorbed into the ring of people. Fakir shook his head knowingly before following her. He couldn't help but laugh along with her as he got pulled in beside her.
"This is fun!" She spoke loudly enough that he could hear her over the music and laughter.
Fakir tried to respond, but was quickly distracted by keeping in time with the fast-paced music.
As the jaunty tune went on, the pace increased, making the steps more frantic. Finally, the music came to a head and they all lifted their hands above their heads with a "hooray!" before letting go of each other.
Ahiru's laughter pealed out across the town square as the two caught their breath. She fanned herself with her hand, "If I had known it would be like this, I would've gone for something less…" she gestured wildly at her dress.
Fakir agreed. "It is a bit on the hot side today."
"Whew!" Ahiru continued fanning herself while she scanned the town square.
Fakir pointed across the way at a stand in the shade. "Why don't we get a drink to help cool us down while we walk around?"
Ahiru nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, yes. Let's do that."
There was a short line ahead of them, and when it came their turn to order, Fakir got an iced coffee, while Ahiru opted for a summer bowle.
While they sipped their cold drinks, Ahiru pointed over to some booths clearly designated for games.
"Festival games! Come on!" Ahiru urged as she hurried over.
She eventually joined the outskirts of a crowd gathered around what appeared to be a strength game of sorts. Contestants challenged each other to see who could hit the weight higher up a tube, and their respective partners swooned when they won.
Ahiru grabbed Fakir's arm eagerly. "Fakir! You're strong! You should try it out!"
Fakir eyed the hammer in the game runner's hand warily. The last thing he wanted to do was make a fool out of himself.
"This stupid thing?"
Ahiru indignantly puffed up her cheeks. "Fine! I'll try it!" Before Fakir could respond, Ahiru snaked her way through the crowd and paid the man the game fee. Some in the crowd laughed as she stepped up to the platform—she wasn't exactly the most intimidating in form.
"Fight me!" She squawked while the game runner asked who wanted to challenge her, earning more laughter. Fakir smiled. She was incredibly cute when she goofed around.
A burly man eventually stepped up to the plate, and while he thoroughly destroyed the height Ahiru managed, he seemed pretty impressed with how well she did do. The crowd cheered her on heartily for all three rounds, despite it being obvious she wouldn't win. In the end, her challenger gifted her his prize—a sugary sweet from one of the stalls—for being a good opponent.
"See?" Ahiru raised an eyebrow cheekily at him when she returned. "I even got a prize out of it!"
"You mean your opponent won and took pity on you."
She pulled the candy from her mouth and stuck her tongue out at him. "Spoil sport!"
He laughed and they continued their stroll along the game booths.
"You could've beat him, I bet." Ahiru stated solemnly as they walked past some children trying to catch goldfish.
"I doubt it."
Ahiru shook her head adamantly. "No! Really! Your arms are huge!"
Fakir stopped in surprise, his cheeks coloring. "What?"
Sensing his embarrassment, Ahiru screwed her lips up. "Well, you know… from the blacksmith… I mean, your arms are pretty muscular, 's'all. Anyone can see that." Her voice gradually decreased in volume. "Even with those puff sleeves, I mean…"
"Ahiru?" a familiar voice called from behind them.
Ahiru turned to see Hermia pulling Lysander after her. Hermia had a gorgeous raspberry and yellow striped dress with slashed and puffed sleeves, while Lysander had a striking gold and chocolate colored doublet.
"It is you!" Hermia exclaimed. "Oh, you look absolutely stun—" she stopped short when Fakir turned around. "—ning."
"You, too! Uh," she glanced at Hermia quizzically when she didn't respond.
"Right! Thank you. Uhm, this is… your friend?"
"Oh! Right!" Ahiru gestured at Fakir, "This is Fakir! Fakir this is Hermia and Lysander!"
Fakir inclined his head good naturedly, but didn't say anything.
"I, uhm, know who Fakir is," Hermia's voice seemed hesitant. "He's, uh, sorta a big deal in the ballet department—well, was."
"Oh, right!" Ahiru laughed. "Of course you know him."
Lysander offered Fakir his hand, which he shook. "I remember seeing your graduation dance," Lysander commented, "You're good."
"I don't really dance anymore," Fakir shrugged.
"So, uhm, you're friends?" Hermia interjected.
Ahiru frowned. "Yeah…? What's wrong?"
Hermia shook her head, "Oh, uhm, nothing. Don't worry about it. I'm just surprised, that's all! I don't know if you know, but Fakir was pretty popular when he was in school…" She bit her lip before adding, "Still is, really."
Fakir half rolled his eyes, though Ahiru was too distracted to reprimand him.
"Hey Hermia, Lysander! We got you some nonnenpfürzchen! They were so cheap!" Pique's raspy voice called out from the left.
The group turned toward her, and Ahiru excitedly waved. "Hey, Pique! Lory!"
Lory wore a brown dress with light blue trimmings, which looked much cooler and airier than what Ahiru wore. It looked like it was accentuated with a small cage, which only enhanced her natural cuteness. Pique, on the other hand, wore a pale green and magenta dress with a striped skirt, tight laced bodice, and a feathered hat. Both of them had paper cones in their hands filled with fried dough.
The two came to a screeching halt and Lory's face blanched. "Oh, Ahiru. You uhm, you look nice. Blue is a good color on you."
"Thanks!" Ahiru grinned at the them. "You look so pretty! You, too, Pique!"
When Pique didn't immediately respond, Hermia began, "Piqu—"
"So you just wanted to make me look like a fool, then?"
"What?" Ahiru was dumbstruck at Pique's sudden outburst.
"Like you don't know, with your—your stupid matching outfits!"
Ahiru glanced up at Fakir for help, and upon meeting his eyes realization dawned on her. Gasping, Ahiru whipped her attention back to Pique. "No, no! It's not what you think! Fakir is my best friend! He and I do everything toge—I mean, we aren't like—I just—I didn't want you to-to misunderstand so—I mean I should've told you, but it isn't—"
Pique narrowed her aubergine eyes at Ahiru, and angry tears threatened to spill over. "Just save it, okay!" She stamped over to Hermia and Lysander, thrust the two fritter-filled cones she was holding into their hands, and ran off without saying another word.
"Pique!" Ahiru made to run after her, but Lory stopped her.
"Maybe… You should stay here…"
"But, I—" Ahiru's eyes became downcast as she faded off and nodded in agreement.
Lory looked at Hermia briefly before turning to follow Pique, leaving the rest of the group in silence.
Breaking that silence, Hermia placed a comforting hand on Ahiru's shoulder. "It's not your fault."
"I'm sorry." Ahiru's voice was brimming with tears. "I didn't mean to hurt her."
Hermia shook her head, "I don't think there was any avoiding it. She was going to realize it wasn't going to happen sooner or later."
"We're not together," Ahiru cried. "I didn't tell her because I didn't want her to get the wrong idea, or upset her at the time, but now…"
Hermia chose her words carefully, clearly conflicted. "You can't… change your reality for someone else."
"But…"
Hermia patted her arm softly before giving Fakir a small smile tinged with sadness. "You two make a lovely pair."
"I told you, it's not like that." Ahiru insisted woefully.
"It's complicated." Hermia supplied, watching Fakir. "It's alright, I understand." She gently squeezed Ahiru's hand in farewell. "Take care, okay?"
Lysander nodded goodbye before leaving with Hermia.
Fakir delicately placed a hand on the small Ahiru's back and led her to a more secluded area to give her some privacy from the crowd. They found a wooden bench in some empty backstreets and sat down.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Fakir hesitantly asked. He could extrapolate enough from the conversation to figure out what had happened, and he wasn't sure what would help calm Ahiru down.
She worried her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment before she started. "I think I made a mistake."
Fakir studied her profile while he waited for her to elaborate. After a moment passed, he decided to take over. "Look, you know I've never cared for those weird stalker girls who deemed themselves my fan club. They were never anything more than a nuisance to me."
Ahiru frowned up at him. "Be nice," she admonished.
Fakir scoffed and ran his tongue along his teeth before responding. "I am. I could say much worse about them. I don't have any interest in those girls who fawn over some fake idealized version of myself. They all think I'm a moody bad boy with the personality of a carboard box that'll treat them like a princess once they 'fix' me. They don't know me, nor do they have any real interest in getting to know me."
"Pique isn't like that…"
"I didn't even know her name was Pique until you just told me. I've always mentally referred to her as 'Ahiru's fuchsia-haired friend.' Do you honestly think there was ever a chance of her being something more to me?" Fakir's cheeks colored as he muttered, "I think I made myself pretty clear on who I want to be with."
Ahiru somberly looked down at her hands. Some time passed before she whispered, "But she's my friend…"
"Is she?" Fakir sighed when Ahiru glared at him. "I meant, she doesn't remember you from before, right? She doesn't remember any of the time you spent with her. When you found out your friends had found someone new to fill your place, you said you didn't want to reclaim that friendship. I wouldn't stop you from changing your mind, but if she really is your friend, she'd get over it. Or, at least, hear you out."
Ahiru glowered sadly at the ground. She knew he was right, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt. Pique didn't remember anything from when the story was controlling the town—not the time she and Lilie forged a love letter from Ahiru to Fakir, nor the time she gave up on Fakir due to the misunderstanding Mytho created when he was under the influence of raven's blood. Pique didn't remember the time Lilie was convinced Ahiru was in love with Fakir and tried to urge them to battle, but Pique's love for her friend was so much stronger, the idea of fighting didn't even register on her radar. Now, Ahiru was a stranger who failed to tell Pique that the guy Pique had been crushing on was not only Ahiru's best friend, but her only friend. …Who may have kissed Ahiru before Pique entrusted her with that secret.
Pique may not have remembered that the two were once close friends, but Ahiru did. Ahiru remembered all the classes, the parties, and the secrets whispered in the dark of the night at sleepovers. Ahiru remembered that they were friends, and that friendship still felt very real to her. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt Pique—even if she did promise herself to stay away from Pique and Lilie.
Her heart hurt, but she knew there was no avoiding Pique finding out. Delaying it may have not been the best route, but it was inevitable regardless. Ahiru's friendship with Fakir was important to her, and, like Hermia had said, she couldn't give that up just because Pique admitted her feelings to Ahiru.
"You're right," Ahiru admitted.
Fakir frowned. "Are you alright?"
Ahiru nodded her head.
"Do you need a moment?"
She sniffled slightly and nodded again, so Fakir simply wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her into his side. Quiet tears ran down her face as Fakir rested his chin upon her head.
He idly wondered how he managed to get here. It wasn't a surprise everyone thought they were a couple—their outfits did match, after all. Of course Raetzel sent the festival dress she got at the same time Fakir and Mytho had bought theirs. Honestly, though, they were sitting there, clandestinely cuddling at a festival, and it came so naturally to them. He imagined their interactions just screamed "couple." So how did he end up curled around this amazing girl who he had poured his heart out to, who neither accepted nor rejected his feelings, but so vehemently denies that they're together?
Her tears dried, and a selfish part of him couldn't stop the words from leaving his lips, "Is it really so bad? The thought of us being together?" He winced when he felt her wilt under him.
"Fakir—"
"I know, you don't know how you feel. It would be nice not to… be reminded so often."
"I just didn't want to hurt Pique… I didn't mean to hurt you, too."
"I know. I'm sorry. Forget I said anything."
They sat together in silence for some time before Ahiru began, "Maybe we should just go home. Coming here was probably a bad idea."
She started to stand, but Fakir stopped her. "I thought this was supposed to be the best Fire Festival ever."
Ahiru threw her hands up in the air, "Well, I clearly blew it! I hurt both Pique and you! If we stay any longer, I'll probably hurt someone else, too!"
He couldn't believe she had managed to make him be the one arguing to stay. There would be other Fire Festivals they could go to, but she had been so excited for this one. "Hurting people is inevitable, idiot; it's part of being human. If you give up every time you hurt someone, you won't get very far. Besides, the Ahiru I know is stubborn to a fault. She never gives up."
Ahiru made a face at him. Fakir cocked an eyebrow at her, causing her to demeanor to crack and allowing a small giggle to escape.
Fakir smiled at her. "It'll be fine, we just need to give it time."
Ahiru nodded in response. "Okay."
"Do you want to go back to the festival now?"
Ahiru nodded again.
He stood and offered her his hand to help her up. As they walked back to the main road, the sound of cheering and laughter grew louder.
"What's that?" Ahiru asked, pointing to the crowd gathered around the mouth of the street they were on.
"It looks like a parade of street performers."
"Street performers?"
"It was my favorite part when I was a kid. They had all kinds of different acts parading through the main street."
Ahiru called over her shoulder as she rushed ahead, "Well, hurry up then!" Fakir rolled his eyes and quickened his pace.
When they joined the crowd lining the street, a team of dancers dressed in wyvern costumes were parading past. Ahiru gasped gleefully along with the crowd when the dance reached a fever pitch upon entering the town square. At the climax the dancers all stopped and breathed fire in the air. Ahiru cheered as they resumed their show, now juggling and spinning accessories ablaze with fire, seemingly melting all of her woes away.
Despite missing the beginning of the parade, there was a great variety in the remaining acts: acrobats performing seemingly gravity-defying spins and feats with rhönrad and einreifen; stilt walkers dressed in pied jester costumes, playing jaunty tunes on fifes and concertinas—one even managed to strap a glockenspiel around her neck; sword dancers amazed the crowds with their dancing, sword juggling, and some even swallowed their swords; and a group of contortionists that moved their bodies to create moving illusions as they slinked along the parade route. At the end of the parade, the crowd dissipated, seamlessly melding back in with the rest of the festival-goers.
"What do you want to do now?" Fakir asked.
Ahiru tapped her chin thoughtfully and eyed the town square. Finally, she decided to return to the game booths, intent on trying all the games—even the ones meant for little kids. They went from booth to booth, and Fakir would watch with a reserved amusement as Ahiru tried her hand at the different games. At each new booth, she'd try to get Fakir to participate, but was only successful one or two times. After they exhausted the game booths, they found themselves at a makeshift fighting pit that was selling wooden swords and offering festival goers the chance to duel with them in their fighting pit as a sale gimmick. Ahiru, naturally, insisted that he duel her. Surprisingly, he accepted her challenge—unsurprisingly, she lost fairly quickly. She, of course, blamed her restricting dress.
"Can we get some food?" Ahiru asked, handing the sword back to the proprietor. "Something smells soooo good."
"It's hollerküchel." Fakir pointed at the stand selling said fried flowers.
"Yes please."
Fakir chuckled and the two bought an order to share.
"Uhgh!" Ahiru groaned after her first bite, "It's so good!"
Fakir popped a bite in his mouth as they sat down at a nearby table. "It is pretty good," he agreed.
Ahiru sighed contentedly as she leaned her head on her hand, watching the people enjoying the festival. She munched thoughtfully on her snack. "Are all festivals like this?"
"For the most part. Only some minor differences depending on the holiday." Fakir picked at the flowery confection.
"It's starting to get dark…" She mused.
"Oh, that's right." Fakir jerked his head toward the town center. "The lighting ceremony should be starting soon. I assume you want to go watch."
"Yeah!" Ahiru hastily shoved the last bite in her mouth. She stood, collecting their trash and tossing it, before they made their way to the town center.
Even before they reached the town square, Ahiru could see the large pile of wood intended for the bonfire. They clearly hadn't lit it yet, but the required firewood was impressive on its own.
"It's going to be huge…" Ahiru murmured in awe.
Fakir nodded in agreement as he looked around the square. Already a decent sized crowd had shown up. Regardless of if you were participating in the couple's dance competition, the lighting ceremony was a popular event. Fakir assumed they put some kind of chemical on the tinder, kindling, and fuelwood, as the fire always burst into grand flames fairly quickly. And, of course, the couple's dance competition around the fire after it had been lit was, for all intents and purposes, the main event. Many stayed after the lighting ceremony just to watch the couples dance and see who would win the golden apple this year. Others participated in their own merriment separate from the competition—be it dancing, singing, drinking, spending time with friends, or some mix of those.
The crowd was thickening, and Fakir surmised the lighting ceremony would start soon. Sure enough, the couple who had won the golden apple the year before came towards the center of the square with a torch and were greeted by loud cheers. The two gave a typical Fire Festival speech, explaining the cleansing power of fire and how it would bring good fortune before touching the torch to the bottom corner of the wood stack. Just as it always did, the flames quickly engulfed the wood, creating an impressively high bonfire.
"Whoa!" Ahiru gasped, her eyes alit with joy.
The crowd roared with enthusiasm and the couple announced the beginning of the competition, wishing all the couples luck.
An impressive number had taken part in the competition this year. Though it was a popular event, there usually wasn't more than a maybe twenty couples competing. This year there was at least a few dozen.
Ahiru watched raptly as the couples spun together. She could easily pick out Hermia and Lysander, as well as Malen and Lilie. She even recognized a few of the other couples from her school days. "They're so amazing! I don't know how the judges decide who win!"
Fakir nodded, though he hadn't fully been listening to what she was saying. He vaguely wondered what it would be like to be competing. Would it be insulting not to win? Or would it be a joy just to dance with the one you loved?
"I wish I could dance like that…" Ahiru sighed dreamily.
"You can." Fakir held out his hand, inviting her to dance.
She stared, bewildered at him. "But this is a competition…"
He gestured with his head toward the other side of the bonfire where people danced in groups and sang loudly. "Only depending on where you dance."
Ahiru stared at his hand, biting her lip. Considering the earlier disturbance Ahiru caused with Pique, she felt it was probably wise to sit this one out—and, considering Pique's friends were competing, it was likely she was in the crowd. She hesitantly shook her head. "We shouldn't."
Fakir raised a single eyebrow in question.
"Because…" Ahiru wanted to say 'Pique' or even 'I don't want to lead you on,' but both objections fell dead on her lips. She studied his eyes as the fire flickered within their dark emerald depths. Something within her gut told her to just let go, so she did. "I don't know."
The corners of Fakir lips turned upwards ever so slightly as he took her hand and led her to the other side of the fire, away from the competing couples. She blushed lightly as he took her hands and helped her into the starting position.
Ahiru had forgotten how skilled Fakir was at dancing, since he rarely did so—at least since he graduated. She remembered the days when he was preparing for his senior final and he practiced at the dock so they could still spend time together. After he had graduated, she didn't recall seeing him dance again. Sometimes she wondered if he only joined the program for Mytho's sake—though the thought saddened her, as he was extraordinarily talented. He certainly was good enough to make up for her own awkward clumsiness. His touch was adept, warm, and comforting, reminding Ahiru of the time they had danced together in the lake of despair. There, in the cold, desolate waters Fakir's presence was the only thing providing her warmth. Now, in the warm summer air, augmented with the searing heat of the nearby bonfire, Fakir's presence seemed to envelope her.
As he expertly led her through the steps of an unchoreographed pas de deux, all sense of time and place melted away from Ahiru. She didn't feel the eyes of others as they watched the two move together, nor hear the drunken songs of those nearby as they enjoyed the end of the festival. She didn't notice when a young couple was announced the winner or the resulting cheers, nor did she realize when the crowd was beginning to thin. All Ahiru focused on was the soft sway of their steps as she gazed into Fakir's fervent eyes.
Contentment tugged at Ahiru's soul, and suddenly she could see it. She could see a happy future where she and Fakir had a family. Where they lived in the woods in a cute little cottage, where he'd write, and she would have a little vegetable garden. Charon would retire and come live with them so he could spend time with his grandchildren. They'd hold hands, and Fakir would poke fun at her every time she burned dinner—which she would still do, but not as often as she did now—and she would petulantly stick her tongue out at him, no matter how old they got. This was the future she wanted.
Fakir had supported her when she couldn't support herself; he stayed by her side when no one else had. She wanted to spend all of her time with him. Constantly, she found herself paradoxically entirely comfortable around him, and yet trying to impress him. She would blush when he complimented her, and her heart would flutter whenever he gave just the simplest of smiles and she noticed how incredibly handsome he was. Her most cherished memories were of private moments they had shared.
Ahiru had been a fool to insist Fakir was just her best friend, she realized, because he had not been just her best friend for a long time. She wasn't sure when, or why it took so long for her to realize it, but she could deny it no longer.
Ahiru was unequivocally, incandescently in love with Fakir.
"Ahiru…" Fakir breathed, his voice husky.
"Yeah?"
He caressed the side of her face, lightly grazing the corner of her bottom lip. "Can I kiss you?"
She found herself completely enthralled in his gaze and could only nod her consent. As he drew near and her eyes fluttered shut, she murmured, "Fakir…"
"Hm?"
She could feel his breath on her skin, sending her into a pleasant haze. "I think… I—"
A sudden jolt shook her mind, the shock causing her eyes to fly open. Barely centimeters from her lips, Fakir's face was frozen in time. His eyes were barely open with an alluring expression, and his hand, now unmoving, was suspended against her chin while his other arm was wrapped tightly around her middle. A cursory glance around the square made it clear no one else, not even the fire, was moving either.
"No. No no n—"
"Ah, ah, ah, little duck."The booming voice of Drosselmeyer filled the air.
Suddenly, the deceased writer appeared in the shadow of a stall not far from her, his face filling the entire shape of darkness.
"What do you want?" She hissed.
"Oh, come now. Is that how you show your gratitude?"
Ahiru narrowed her eyes in exasperation. "Gratitude? For what?"
"I believe our agreement was you would become a girl and Princess Tutu again, was it not?" Drosselmeyer's visage flashed over to the bigger shadow of a nearby building.
"What does that have to do with anything?"
He grinned with a detached balefulness. "Why, I don't know if you recall, but Princess Tutu had a certain affliction, oh, what was it…?"
Ahiru's heart grew cold as she realized what he was implying.
"Ah, that's right!" Drosselmeyer exclaimed gleefully. "If Princess Tutu declares her love to her beloved she'll turn into a speck of light! I do believe you were less than a second from doing that very thing!"
"But…" Ahiru stammered, "that-that was if she said it… to the… prince…"
Drosselmeyer chuckled and moved to a smaller shadow that was much closer to her. "Well at the time, Princess Tutu loved the prince. But, you're Princess Tutu now, aren't you? And you, little duck, have fallen in love with my great-great-however-many-greats-grandson, haven't you?"
Ahiru didn't respond. She looked back at Fakir. Though she was still being pressed up against him by his arm, her head was no longer where it had been when time had stopped. His face and hand frozen mid-air, looking every bit like he was moments from pressing his lips against an invisible specter.
"Don't get me wrong, now! I find this absolutely, tantalizingly delicious!" Drosselmeyer jeered from the shadow. "But a deal's a deal, and we agreed upon a year—not that I don't mind shaving some time off, but half seems hardly fair, don't you think?"
"N-no!"
"Be careful, little duck." As Drosselmeyer's resonant laughter faded, the world came screeching back into motion.
The instantaneous removal of proximity of Ahiru's face to his own was jarring, causing Fakir to look at her in confusion.
Her blue eyes were wide with horror as she stared back at him.
"Ahiru?"
Terrified, she squawked, "QUACK!" Panic flooded her senses as she slapped her hands over her mouth.
Fakir's eyebrows knit together, and he reached out for her face again. "Ahiru, what's wrong?"
She shook her head and wrest herself from his grasp. Unable to comprehend the whiplash of emotions she just experienced, Ahiru did the only thing she could think of.
She ran.
She ran, ignoring Fakir's concerned calls after her. She ran, not conscious of where she was headed. Hot tears poured down her cheeks as she squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her hand against her mouth.
She was stupid.
How could she forget she didn't have a future? How could she let herself imagine a future where she was happy and in love? How could she drag Fakir down into the depths of despair with her?
She cried out in pain when she rolled her ankle and fell to the cold ground. Uncaring, she lay where she fell, sobbing with her cheek pressed into the dirt. The sound of her pain was swallowed by the foliage of the forest.
Ahiru had fought to make this year a happy one. She wanted to ruin Drosselmeyer's tragedy, show him that she could have a happy ending even if she died.
She played right into his trap.
A/N: Happy Eleventh Anniversary! I can't believe eleven years ago today I posted the first chapter of this story. Hey, now my previously abysmal average is over one chapter a year! How about that? Thank you all for your continued support!
Also, I need you to know I exercised a great deal of restraint with the flower crown vendor. When the vendor was judging them after Fakir put the flower crown on Ahiru's head, I was very tempted to have the vendor say, "if it walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck…", and I didn't, so you're welcome.
Anywho, time to get to the technical stuff. So, I'm not someone who can write a perfect, well-polished story in installments. As I write, I go back and tweak things. Obviously, fanfiction doesn't lend itself well to that (unless I write the whole thing before I start to post chapters, but… I digress). There was one glaring issue that I needed to address, but really couldn't until I got to a certain point, and that was time. I have the entire story plotted out. I know pretty much everything that is going to happen. The issue is, I didn't have a timeline plotted out. I wanted to be able to let events flow naturally, and let time pass as it seemed fit. Since I have a very clear time frame (one year) this story takes place in, I have to keep track of time. And I have been, down to the day. The issue I have is the seasons.
The Fire Festival was a set-in-stone, this-is-going-to-happen-in-this-chapter deal, and had been from the very first time I plotted the story out. So, I had to figure out when the Fire Festival was going to take place. From what I could suss out, the Fire Festival was most likely a take on the sommersonnenwende, or summer solstice, and St. John's Eve celebrations, which usually take place around June 23 and 24. It isn't exact, but it fit the best with actual German culture, so I decided to go with it and make a hybrid of Princess Tutu's Fire Festival and the German summer holidays.
Either way, I had a set point in time for this chapter, while wanting to let events flow naturally, so I decided to write things without seasons up to this point, and then figure the timeline out backwards from this point.
All this to say, I will be going back and editing previous chapters to include seasons (and Fakir's horse, as discussed in a previous chapter). It will not change the story at all, just add some more details to make it feel more organic (I hope). You're welcome to go back and reread the whole story if you desire once I post the next chapter, but it will not be necessary.
Thank you again for all your support!
