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Miscelaneous Princess Tutu drabbles
First ever flash fic. End of series spoilers. Fakir POV. Written for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sohmamon
Fakir had long wanted to return people to their "true" selves. He did not think such power as the ability to change reality belonged in the realm of men. Men were petty and fallible. Hands that twitched and mouths that misspoke, replacing what he meant to say with harsh words. Fakir knew very well how much he lacked the ability to describe what was with what he wanted it to be. He wanted to be a knight, but instead he was- and Ahiru was-
Ahiru was a duck.
However, how could he say that when what they were meant to be, what they were intended to be was so tragic? True, Mytho was a prince, but one beleaguered and set upon by the problems of the world. Rue was a human and not a daughter of the monster raven, but she was also an orphan and had been denied love all her life.
Ahiru was not Drosselmyer's.
Ahiru was the only thing Fakir could write about. And in his distant memory he thought back before the books and before his failure, back when his words were clumsy but heartfelt. He remembered her then, ink and parchment and a bright anticipation filling up so his tiny heart might burst.
Ahiru was his.
And in the final battle when the prince he had spent his life protecting was on the brink of failure all Fakir could do was cry out for her. All he could do write her struggle. It tore him apart inside to continue the tragedy and write out each kick and hit laid upon her poor body. He swore to whatever storyteller beyond that if he could just make everything all right again, he would let the stories write themselves. He would lay no claim on a world whose suffering and sublimity were without design.
Ahiru was not his.
At the end he cradled her body, he couldn't find the words to describe how he missed and yet didn't miss her. Princess Tutu had indeed vanished in a flash of light. But he didn't love Tutu, he loved Ahiru. And Ahiru was his happiness as long as she was all right. She was his joy as long as she was herself. Because, because...
Ahiru was hope.
Rue/Mytho pre-series or around there. 100 words exactly.
“You love me,” Rue whispers to Mytho under the shade of the orchid tree. “Even if you are heartless, remember I’ve enough love for both of us.”
She lets his fingers slip under her sleeve to feel the pulse, a steady beat. But she is still lying.
It is true, her love surpasses herself. She can love passionately, all consuming and with enough ardor to engulf a thousand hearts.
But it can never equal the love she’s trying to replace for the prince who once loved everything. And Rue, who only has eyes for him, can never give him that.
Mid-season two drabble. Kraehe/Mytho. Angst~
Kraehe lies in the darkness, curled around Mytho's body, listening to shallow breaths. Beyond the paleness of his skin and the snow white glow of his hair there is no light to be found in the room. Kraehe feels like a shadow, a compliment that lingers in the unseen parts of him, and she digs her nails into him a little tighter.
"I did this so you wouldn't leave me," she whispers. As if an apology, or a reason. As if it would matter to him.
Mytho glows except for his eyes. They are dark red, deep and offset against the fragile light that seems to flicker about him. Before this all happened, when she first brought him here after stabbing him with his own heart shard, he murmured that he was afraid of the dark.
Now he says nothing.
Kraehe puts her head to his chest to listen. She hears the blood in her brain swirling, sounding like waves crashing or a Wagner opera. "You must love me and only me."
A small tremor in his chest, she recognizes it as laughter. That hateful chuckle that slips out of his mostly silent mouth. "I don't love anything."
Kraehe hears it, believes it, and clings tighter as Mytho slips back into silence. She won't lose him. She fought too hard to keep him. She loved him too much to let anyone take him from her. There was never one moment she wasn't vigilant.
She thinks of the time at the Fire Festival, where she spent so long waiting, until the darkness came and all that was left was the lingering embers of the bonfire. She remembers and knows that was when she first felt the cold terror of thinking that she would lose him. That she would die if she lost him, worse than death.
...but she remembers, pressing against his immobile, dimming body, that it was she who slapped his hand away.
Drabbles written tangentially for the rpg I'm in. From post season one Mytho's point of view as four stories he wrote for his friends and delivered them as paper cranes...
Story for Ahiru
Once upon a time there was a girl who smiled and made friends with ease. Whether she made friends because she smiled, or smiled because of her friends, didn't matter as much as she did so and that was how it was. Her gestures were small kindnesses, like feeding birds and holding out umbrellas to keep off the rain. But, small and confusing though they were, they were done with such open feeling one could not mistake her good intent.
Although she befriended those closely tied to the tragedy of their story, its sorrow never touched her. She had only to remain their friend, because she said whatever happened it would never trouble her. The prince and the knight, with the help of Princess Tutu, eventually changed the story's end to a happy one. And, with her friends finally free of their burdens, the girl could see reflected in their smiles the kindness and happiness she had shown them before.
Story for Fakir
Once upon a time there was a loyal knight. He protected a prince against any threat, and watched over him night and day. But ever since they met the prince had not understood why the knight did so, save for it was his role. And the knight did not say why he did so, save for it was his role. Yet if roles were all they had, the prince was truly not a prince without his heart. But throughout the years the knight said it was fine this way and the prince followed his words.
One day a princess appeared with the intent to restore the prince's heart, and for the first time the prince and the knight faced each other with opposite intent. The prince was unable tell the knight how this heart made him understand what it was to be what he was supposed to be. Because the knight had always seemed to know what it meant to be a knight to a prince that knew nothing.
But the knight's loyalty never wavered, even at the threat of death. He stayed by the prince's side, enduring the fits of weakness and the troubles it brought. In time, the princess returned all of the prince's heart and at last they were able to defeat the raven, side by side.
Story for Rue (the one he gave her)
Once upon a time there was a ballerina. She had spent many years and much effort working on her ballet, so she was beautiful to behold for those who saw her dance. Many wanted to dance like her. And dancing with her was...a feeling indescribable.
She grew up into a prima donna and found happiness.
Story for Rue (the one he didn't)
Once upon a time there was a story of a prince and a raven, locked in eternal combat. This was always the way the tale was told, but within it came a girl. And the cruelty of the story gave her the fate that she should love the raven, her father, and the prince, both.
As befitting happy endings, the prince had his heart restored and triumphed over the raven. Once again the land was safe from the story that they had sprung from and caused so much misery over the years. But the prince knew if he could not ease the girl's suffering he would not fight against it. Even if her love turned to hatred, and her hatred demanded vengeance, because that is the way of stories. And because he could not love her the way she asked. He knew at least what he felt for her was that the last thing he wanted was to cause her pain. And if the sacrifice of his life would give her peace he would not fight against this fate.
sohmamonFakir had long wanted to return people to their "true" selves. He did not think such power as the ability to change reality belonged in the realm of men. Men were petty and fallible. Hands that twitched and mouths that misspoke, replacing what he meant to say with harsh words. Fakir knew very well how much he lacked the ability to describe what was with what he wanted it to be. He wanted to be a knight, but instead he was- and Ahiru was-
Ahiru was a duck.
However, how could he say that when what they were meant to be, what they were intended to be was so tragic? True, Mytho was a prince, but one beleaguered and set upon by the problems of the world. Rue was a human and not a daughter of the monster raven, but she was also an orphan and had been denied love all her life.
Ahiru was not Drosselmyer's.
Ahiru was the only thing Fakir could write about. And in his distant memory he thought back before the books and before his failure, back when his words were clumsy but heartfelt. He remembered her then, ink and parchment and a bright anticipation filling up so his tiny heart might burst.
Ahiru was his.
And in the final battle when the prince he had spent his life protecting was on the brink of failure all Fakir could do was cry out for her. All he could do write her struggle. It tore him apart inside to continue the tragedy and write out each kick and hit laid upon her poor body. He swore to whatever storyteller beyond that if he could just make everything all right again, he would let the stories write themselves. He would lay no claim on a world whose suffering and sublimity were without design.
Ahiru was not his.
At the end he cradled her body, he couldn't find the words to describe how he missed and yet didn't miss her. Princess Tutu had indeed vanished in a flash of light. But he didn't love Tutu, he loved Ahiru. And Ahiru was his happiness as long as she was all right. She was his joy as long as she was herself. Because, because...
Ahiru was hope.
Rue/Mytho pre-series or around there. 100 words exactly.
“You love me,” Rue whispers to Mytho under the shade of the orchid tree. “Even if you are heartless, remember I’ve enough love for both of us.”
She lets his fingers slip under her sleeve to feel the pulse, a steady beat. But she is still lying.
It is true, her love surpasses herself. She can love passionately, all consuming and with enough ardor to engulf a thousand hearts.
But it can never equal the love she’s trying to replace for the prince who once loved everything. And Rue, who only has eyes for him, can never give him that.
Mid-season two drabble. Kraehe/Mytho. Angst~
Kraehe lies in the darkness, curled around Mytho's body, listening to shallow breaths. Beyond the paleness of his skin and the snow white glow of his hair there is no light to be found in the room. Kraehe feels like a shadow, a compliment that lingers in the unseen parts of him, and she digs her nails into him a little tighter.
"I did this so you wouldn't leave me," she whispers. As if an apology, or a reason. As if it would matter to him.
Mytho glows except for his eyes. They are dark red, deep and offset against the fragile light that seems to flicker about him. Before this all happened, when she first brought him here after stabbing him with his own heart shard, he murmured that he was afraid of the dark.
Now he says nothing.
Kraehe puts her head to his chest to listen. She hears the blood in her brain swirling, sounding like waves crashing or a Wagner opera. "You must love me and only me."
A small tremor in his chest, she recognizes it as laughter. That hateful chuckle that slips out of his mostly silent mouth. "I don't love anything."
Kraehe hears it, believes it, and clings tighter as Mytho slips back into silence. She won't lose him. She fought too hard to keep him. She loved him too much to let anyone take him from her. There was never one moment she wasn't vigilant.
She thinks of the time at the Fire Festival, where she spent so long waiting, until the darkness came and all that was left was the lingering embers of the bonfire. She remembers and knows that was when she first felt the cold terror of thinking that she would lose him. That she would die if she lost him, worse than death.
...but she remembers, pressing against his immobile, dimming body, that it was she who slapped his hand away.
Drabbles written tangentially for the rpg I'm in. From post season one Mytho's point of view as four stories he wrote for his friends and delivered them as paper cranes...
Story for Ahiru
Once upon a time there was a girl who smiled and made friends with ease. Whether she made friends because she smiled, or smiled because of her friends, didn't matter as much as she did so and that was how it was. Her gestures were small kindnesses, like feeding birds and holding out umbrellas to keep off the rain. But, small and confusing though they were, they were done with such open feeling one could not mistake her good intent.
Although she befriended those closely tied to the tragedy of their story, its sorrow never touched her. She had only to remain their friend, because she said whatever happened it would never trouble her. The prince and the knight, with the help of Princess Tutu, eventually changed the story's end to a happy one. And, with her friends finally free of their burdens, the girl could see reflected in their smiles the kindness and happiness she had shown them before.
Story for Fakir
Once upon a time there was a loyal knight. He protected a prince against any threat, and watched over him night and day. But ever since they met the prince had not understood why the knight did so, save for it was his role. And the knight did not say why he did so, save for it was his role. Yet if roles were all they had, the prince was truly not a prince without his heart. But throughout the years the knight said it was fine this way and the prince followed his words.
One day a princess appeared with the intent to restore the prince's heart, and for the first time the prince and the knight faced each other with opposite intent. The prince was unable tell the knight how this heart made him understand what it was to be what he was supposed to be. Because the knight had always seemed to know what it meant to be a knight to a prince that knew nothing.
But the knight's loyalty never wavered, even at the threat of death. He stayed by the prince's side, enduring the fits of weakness and the troubles it brought. In time, the princess returned all of the prince's heart and at last they were able to defeat the raven, side by side.
Story for Rue (the one he gave her)
Once upon a time there was a ballerina. She had spent many years and much effort working on her ballet, so she was beautiful to behold for those who saw her dance. Many wanted to dance like her. And dancing with her was...a feeling indescribable.
She grew up into a prima donna and found happiness.
Story for Rue (the one he didn't)
Once upon a time there was a story of a prince and a raven, locked in eternal combat. This was always the way the tale was told, but within it came a girl. And the cruelty of the story gave her the fate that she should love the raven, her father, and the prince, both.
As befitting happy endings, the prince had his heart restored and triumphed over the raven. Once again the land was safe from the story that they had sprung from and caused so much misery over the years. But the prince knew if he could not ease the girl's suffering he would not fight against it. Even if her love turned to hatred, and her hatred demanded vengeance, because that is the way of stories. And because he could not love her the way she asked. He knew at least what he felt for her was that the last thing he wanted was to cause her pain. And if the sacrifice of his life would give her peace he would not fight against this fate.