A Tale fit for a Princess

By Pas de Chat

'Princess Tutu' is a really sweet and wonderful anime that I definitely
do not own, all characters, names unless otherwise stated and made by
me belong and remain property to the wonderful people who spent 6 years
putting the anime together.

' ' is speaking.

* * is a translation of Ahiru's quacks and thoughts that Fakir and
Drosselmeyer can understand.

( ) is thinking.


/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\

 

If you listen closely, I will tell you a story about a Princess who was
also a girl, and a girl who was also a duck.


This little duck held the hearts and happiness of her friends, and her
Prince, far above even the peace and happiness of her own pure heart.
And her heart was such as no one had ever guessed such a tiny, fragile
body could contain, yet this wonderful heart cost the Princess the
Prince she loved, the girl her human life, and the duck the sweetness of
the hope that had always been with her.


Well before the duck, this story started with a man, a simple human
like you or even myself, however this man had a magic of all the stories
that were and ever could be, flowing through him with a force that
changed the man and drove him mad. His talent was such that when he died,
the unfinished stories from his hand came to life unable to lie
uncompleted, even with the power to do much good for the people of the stories
the mans twisted soul could only come back and wreak great misfortune
and suffering amongst his creations. The quest for the ultimate control
over the ultimate tragic stories was all that was left in him and as a
result the little duck and her friends fought through many trials. The
duck making a great sacrifice at the end for the sake of all she held
dear in order to bring peace and happiness to the story and all of its
characters.


Let me tell you a story friend, of a man, a Raven, the Prince who
fought him and a Princess who gave everything for the sake of a world, so
that the little duck who was also the Princess will never be forgotten.


Once upon a time...


/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\


Rising on the balls of his feet, Fakir stretched his left arm in a
perfect strong arch above his head as his fifth position releve reached its
peak, and slowly lowered himself smoothly to the ground again keeping
perfect time with the unpredictable glide of the warm-up music, his arm
falling back into the seemingly relaxed position of bras-bras. His
poise, posture and tension were thrumming with such skill and grace, the
watching audience would never have guessed that the young mans mind was
far removed from the practice floor, and focused away from even the
postures he was affecting.


Fakir was writing.


And planning.


And remembering.


His minds story hand flew from the first time he'd shut Ahiru in a
door, to the time he kissed her sweet naive lips, to the last time he saw
her as the kind red-headed klutz he had come to care for. Paragraphs and
sentences were formed and erased in his mind as he plotted what to put
to paper, what needed to be said and what needed to be left out. At
first Fakir hadn't known the reason he was writing the story of Princess
Tutu, not in a tangible sense, but he had come to realise over the weeks
that he didn't want to forget the sacrifices of a brave girl who was
now a little yellow duck floating on a lake. So writing her story was the
best thing he could do, before the memories paled and faded away.


Fakir had tried to bring back the girl Ahiru, but Drosselmeyer had made
it so the words he wrote to make her human erased themselves as soon as
the ink flowed from his quill. Once, after a particularly fevered
attempt that had caused Fakir to toss his book and writing equipment around
his room in sheer frustration, he had heard the unmistakable sound of
the old mans laughter echoing in the room. However, Fakir was a clever
and resourceful knight who definitely wasn't finished yet, not by half.


No one, not even Rue and Mytho were able to remember anything more
than brief memories of a brave but foolish Princess who had returned to
them their love of each other. Neither remembered the girl, which was
obviously one of Drosselmeyer's manipulative effects. Fakir had decided
that of all the people in the town he, Drosselmeyer's grandson, was the
one person who could never be written to forget if he himself didn't
want to forget. Even if no one else in the world remembered Ahiru, even if
they could never retrieve the memories and recognise them as their own,
Fakir had decided to remind the world about the lengths his Princess
went to save them all before they could fall into another of
Drosselmeyer's cruel scenarios.


So Fakir was writing. For Ahiru, his Princess.


With a pirouette, he spun away from the barre and launched into a jete
that carried him several meters across the floor gathering himself into
a sword wielding pose on his finish. Practice time was over. Now it was
time to continue bringing the story to paper and let Ahiru's human
life be remembered with his words... And continue the plan to rescue her
from a fate she didn't deserve.


Barely acknowledging the legions of admirers who had come to watch the
young man practice, Fakir gathered his things and made his way to the
lake, and to a little yellow duck who was waiting for him.


/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\


'Quaaaa...' A cute little duck swam across the glassy surface of the
lake, smiling to herself as a gentle breeze smoothed her feathers and
whistled tunefully through the reeds that lined the banks of her home.

Fakir was late, but things like that had stopped bothering Ahiru since
she had returned to her peaceful life as a duck on a misty lake in this
strange little town. Though sometimes she still found herself missing
the rhythms of life and practice in the school, her friends,
Neko-Sensei's proposal threats. And every now and then, she allowed herself to
feel a little sad about not being able to see the happiness between
Rue-chan and Mytho-sempai. But Fakir assured her that everyone was as happy
as she could have wished, and Drosselmeyer wasn't causing very much
trouble at all. Sure, a student would turn up as an agouti or an armadillo
occasionally, there was even a mongoose who popped up now and then, but
no one was being hurt anymore. The story of Princess Tutu was over, the
Prince had his heart back and had left with his true Princess in peace
and happiness, Drosselmeyer was most likely just biding his time until
he found something else interesting to manipulate.


Feeling momentarily contented, Ahiru made her way to the bank and
settled down to wait for Fakir who would continue writing the story for her.
It made her happy that she could share it with the people she cared
about. To a little duck, it didn't matter if they didn't remember her,
just as long as she remembered them and knew that they were safe and
happy.


Ahiru certainly didn't have to wait long for Fakir to return.


'QUAAA!' Ahiru squawked indignantly as she was abruptly picked up from
her relaxed position on the bank and tucked into Fakir's warm arms.


'Silly Ahiru, don't sit on the bank like that, you're so tiny someone
would step on you.' Fakir said as he made his way over to an oak tree
near the waters edge, trying not to grin at the little duck's reaction to
being so artfully surprised. Ahiru was torn between feeling very
annoyed at being sneaked up on like that, and feeling very embarrassed at
being held in Fakir's arms. A position she knew many of the school girls
would have been envying right then if they could have seen him and known
that Ahiru hadn't always been just a tiny duck.


Ahiru decided that being irritated was the best course of action so she
could counter her embarrassment from being held in the handsome boy's
arms, leveling him with a fitting expression, she gave him quick peck
for good measure. *Hitoi! That was mean Fakir!*


Shooting her a arrogantly disapproving look Fakir merely responded; 'Oi
oi, is that any way to treat a Knight who has come all this way to keep
you company? Not to mention my bringing you some of that bread you so
like to gorge upon.'


Settling down on against the smooth bark of the tree, Fakir carefully
placed the furiously quacking duck on his lap while he searched through
his bag for his quill, ink and notebook, also removing some bread and a
little basket. Placing Ahiru in the basket, he broke the bread and
placed some in front of her, unable to stop the half smile on his face when
her stream of quacks took on a muffled quality as she started eating.
Setting the basket to the side Fakir opened the story he was writing and
lowered the inked nib of his quill to the waiting paper.


Sometimes he felt unnerved about how the story seemed to flow from the
quill, almost as if it had a will of its own, it was making him feel so
now as the paragraphs he had written in his mind over the last day
flowed over and sank into the pages. He was going to make sure he didn't
end up like Drosselmeyer by enjoying the ease of which the control of a
world came to the enchanted pen hand. With Ahiru at his side it was much
easier to resist the pull, and though he wasn't sure he could admit it
even to himself, he wished he could always have her by his side whilst
he wrote. It had only been a matter of weeks since the final battle and
the transformation of Ahiru to her duck self, and there was something
that Fakir both wanted to ask and do for her, he just had to pluck up
the courage to do so.


His quill still gliding across the page he called to the duck, 'Ahiru,
I've been trying to return you to human shape so that you can continue
life as a human, you should know that I've failed because of
Drosselmeyer. And we both know already that he has irreversibly written the story
so that you can't even leave the area around the lake.'


He paused with a wince at the memory of him trying to carry the little
duck back to the school while a storm was blowing. 'I've been trying
to do what is best for you ever since Mytho defeated the Raven, and I
want to continue doing so. I swear on the sword of the Prince that I
will return you to the girl you should be, and I want you to know that I
think I've found a way.'


Ahiru stopped pecking at her bread to stare wide eyed up at Fakir who
had begun to write again. 'Qua...'


(Do I want to be a girl again?) thought Ahiru. (Life is simple and
beautiful as a duck, and clear, even if I do miss the people I used to be
with as a person...) *Fakir I'm not sure if I want to be a girl again,
as long as the Prince and the Princess are happy and my friends are
safe, then I don't mind being a simple little duck.*


'Don't be stupid, you could go back to your life as before, you could
see your friends and dance again...' Fakir continued, trying to persuade
Ahiru to listen to his reason, neither aware that an old man with
crazed eyes was listening to them and grinning as a new story came to him. A
new one, for characters who weren't new, but who weren't finished as
stories go. There was another tale to be woven for them now. And oh yes,
if there was a tale to be told and revenged through, then only he
should be the one to tell it.


/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\


Jumping into the air and clicking his heels in glee, Drosselmeyer's
laughter bit into the rhythm of the clicking cogs in the tower as he
leaped from gear to gear, only stopping to pick up a quill and paper. It was
time to create!

After several weeks of moving from place to place, moving with and
through time, trying to find another interesting story to create from
scratch and having no success, he and Uzura had returned to Kinkan town
where Drosselmeyer wrote a place for them into the old tower again.


Drosselmeyer, to his great dismay, had found that he couldn't create
any more stories as long as Ahiru and the writing Knight still existed as
unfinished characters. It seemed that Fakir was writing the story of
the Princess, her adventures and was attempting to write more on Ahiru
and himself. This meant that Drosselmeyer was effectively trapped and
separated from his ability to create any other stories. He could still
wield his powers enough to affect the way things were to small degrees,
but the only way to make more stories was to finish those two. And oh
what stories he would write for the end of them, the things he would
create! Adding his grandson's abilities with the quill, the waiting story
could only become more and more interesting, but unlike the last time
Fakir would not be able to change anything sufficiently enough to break
Drosselmeyer's control on the story.


Ahiru would give up another type of hope this time, Fakir would fall
into madness, like Drosselmeyer himself had done, and the wonderful
stories for young children would continue to be written and listened to
with wide eyes and quakes of admiration and fear. Yes, Drosselmeyer would
continue through the ages with nothing to stop him, always writing.


Tales of revenge were perhaps the most exciting, now all that was left
was to decide which aspects of tragedy he should bring down upon the
false Princess and her resurrected Knight.


Laughter rang out again as a gear slammed down in front of the old man
holding within its frame the images of a quacking duck and a shouting
young man.


/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\

Next chapter

Back