Princess Tutu Fan Fiction ❯ Princess Tutu: the Diamond in the Rough ❯ Music: Vivaldi--the Four Seasons, Spring and Summer ( Chapter 1 )

Princess Tutu: The Diamond in the Rough

 

Prologue

 

Drosselmyer sat anxiously as he watched the affairs around Goldkronesburg, that had been so abruptly wrenched from his control not months before. A direct descendant of his thwarted his attempt to exact great tragedy and revenge against a world he felt did not recognize his genius by the use of a character of his own “creation” and a young duck not long out of her fledgling feathers. He had called her into help complete the story, solely because of her deep desire to aid the prince in regaining his smile, and because he assumed that a little duck could do nothing to prevent the tragedy, (once the ability to help had been taken from her.) He had not expected the duck to actually become Tutu, though still trapped in a duck's body. Of course, if Fakir had not stuck in his nose where it did not belong, (and had not discovered the power he possessed,) and defied the fate he had slated for Fakir, this would not have happened. Instead, he cast off the role assigned to him, became his true self, and empowered the duck to allow the prince to kill the Raven and rescue his love. Since that time, the prince had claimed the vacant crown of the principality in which the town resided, and betrothed himself to Rue. He also, (much to the curiosity of the principality,) outlawed duck hunting at any time. Of course, Drosselmyer knew why, and it angered him. It would have served her right to be blasted for messing everything up! What was worse was Fakir was now aiding the Bookmen in erasing all the mischief he had caused in his stories while he was alive. They were giving Fakir the original manuscripts that he had written, some with the endings ripped out, and having him write new endings for the stories. By doing so, the stories in which he lived were in jeopardy. Already, there had been four stories that he had rewritten, and thus he wrenched control of them from Drosselmyer, thus, causing them to vanish form his realm. If the boy rewrote his entire body of works, he knew he would fade into oblivion. This, he had to stop—but how?

 

It was then he saw Fakir emerge from the shop with one of his greatest tragedies: “Princess Adelheid and the Five Warlocks.” His writing of that story actually caused the vacancy of the throne—one that had not been filled for centuries until Siegfried came along and filled it for a much grateful people. It was also his last complete book before he was killed in the midst of “The Prince and the Raven.” He had already eliminated Princess Adelheid, and now sought to entrap her teenage son in his next story. IF he could eliminate him, he could write a tale that would give him the crown, and then, essentially make himself a god, playing with lives as if they were his toys and playthings. Though he had entrapped Siegfried, he was killed before he could finish the tale. However, he had enough foresight to install the writing machine in the clock tower in case something happened. If he did die, then the sotry could be locked into place until such a time he could cause it to finish. He did not forsee, however, the now transformed prince being able to reenter the real world, the Raven in hot pursuit, many centuries later. He figured that, since the sotry had not been completed, the bridge between story and reality had been left open as to where they could escape. The shattering of his heart did curtail things a bit, but he knew that he, through the machine, could resolve that at the right time. Yet, now, it looked like Fakir was now trying to change even that! However, he noticed that the end of this one had not been removed. He thought this odd, and then rememvered how he ended the book. Princess Adelheid had entrapped the warlocks, (who, in reality, were five practicioners of the black arts, who also were murderers,) in a large diamond in the rough, but also caused it that she would be trapped as well. Now, the six spirits of them are locked in there, buried somewhere in Goldkronesburg, eternally combating one another. Thus, the tale did end a bit open to interpretation. Could it be that he sought to continue the tale? If that were the case, maybe he could exact his revenge. He had to await the right moment…

 

Chapter I

Music: Vivaldi—the Four Seasons; Spring and Summer

 

It was a beautiful late summer day, and the duck sat on the dock, contently napping in the warm sunlight. She awaited the return of her guardian, in hopes of enjoying another great afternoon of fishing, and reading what he had written. She was so happy to know that he was attempting to right all the wrongs of his ancestors, and she loved the way he always did things. He had expressed to her that he feared a “butterfly effect” if he altered too much, considering that these stories typically affected actually people of the past. Therefore, he had to be careful that the past was not altered to the point where it would radically change his time. He had to write logically, insuring a happy outcome, and yet, not alter history to the point where he just might write himself, and his friends, right out of existence. This was just one reason why she loved his caring heart so much.

 

However, things were soon to change, because he was soon to return to school. Because of all the changes that had taken place, none of them—he, Rue, nor Siegfried—could finish the previous year. Thus, they all pledged to go back and finish together. This meant long days without Fakir, and she just did not know what she would do with herself while he was gone. He always sought to have her by his side, and now, she knew he would be lonely. Yet, she wondered what she would do without him around. She did not mind the arrangement, and was quite content, and yet, something felt amiss. Ever since the machine had been destroyed, she was regaining, (and now had fully regained,) her memories of being hatched and brooded, and always having been a duck. However, Drosselmyer was right: she may have returned to being a duck, but she would never be the same after her time as a human, and further, her time as Princess Tutu. She retained human intelligence, rationale, along with human emotions and desires. Thanks to ballet, she could communicate through dance, as well as communicate through writing. Her writing was not the greatest, considering the awkward way she had to hold the pen in her wing, (which she learned how to use more like a hand because of her time as a human,) and her beak in order to write. However, she was able to communicate.

 

She also kept in practice with the dance, and she would have been an intermediate dancer by this point. The reason why she had not excelled before was that she lacked self-confidence and self-esteem, as well as she being distracted by her mission. With that done, it was no longer a distraction, and now, she could put her full effort into the dance. Fakir helped as well, providing her with that confidence and esteem she had aforetimes lacked. In fact, this care hit home with her. It was not just that Fakir took care of her—he doted over her. He lavished love on her to where, if people knew just how much, they might lock him away as crazy! Yet, because of this, he gave her strength, self-esteem, and the ability to love herself. She was a duck, had always been a duck, and there was nothing wrong with that. Being human had only been a means to an end, and she knew that she did her greatest heroic work as a duck. She had stopped physically being Tutu, but the spirit of Tutu still lived in her, and because of that, being a duck was not a bad thing at all. However, something was wrong.

 

She always expressed her gratitude to Fakir for all that he did, and she knew he understood and accepted these thanks. Yet, something was missing, and she could not put her primary feather on just what. She wanted to be able to shoe more gratitude, but did not know how. She was pondering this when she drifted off. In her dream, she saw herself, not as a duck, but as Duck. She also saw herself dancing with either Fakir in a pas de deux, or as a pas de quatre with Rue and Siegfried. This always got her scratching her head. Though she had no problem with being a duck, she also had come to learn that dreams are actually the business of the heart and mind—a byproduct of the brain's processing data received in that day. Therefore, if being a duck was no problem, why did she dream like this? What was going on in her subconscious? This time, it was the four of them, and then suddenly, she heard the quacking of other ducks, and they slowly but surely were being surrounded by ducks—a lot of ducks! It shocked her awake, and it was then she realized why this was happening. A rather large flock of ducks had landed in the lake, and by the looks of it, they were resting from a long flight. Then, one of the drakes piped up, and said, “Hey, kid, looks like you beat us here! What squadron are you from?”

“Squa…squadron? What do you mean?” speaking all confused.

A duck then swam up and said, “She's not with us, honey, she's one of the locals. Sorry to confuse you sweetie. You look like you just got your adult feathers, yes?”

She looked a little embarrassed, and said, “Yes.”

“Well, it's nothing to be ashamed of, dear,” said the duck in the water, “You look so pretty so fresh in them. You're going to knock some drake off his feet one day!”

She turned her head a bit coquettishly, and stirred her foot on the dock. The duck in the water continued, “So, this will be your first migration?”

“Migration?” she asked, “Oh, it is that time, isn't it? I hadn't thought about it.”

“Well, I'm not surprised,” she continued, “Your wings and squadrons usually leave some point next month.”

“You're welcome to come with us,” said the drake, “We're heading for the Red Sea area: a great wintering spot!”

“I don't know if I can do that,” she said, “I have certain things that…”

As if on cue, Fakir was coming to the pier. The ducks in the water froze, and the drake mumbled very carefully, “Don't look now, but there's a large human coming right behind you!”

“Does he have long, black hair tied in the back?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said, “and he looks mean!”

“Oh!” she laughed, “That's just Fakir! He's my friend!”

As she said this, he scooped her up, and said, “Hi! I missed you,” and they embraced. She then said, “See? He's all cool!”

All the other ducks then looked at her funny. She was actually letting him hold her, and she was not fighting. Then the drake said, “But…aren't humans…”

“Its okay,” she answered, “In fact, all the people around here are nice. The ruler of this principality outlawed all duck hunting, so you are all safe here!”

“Really!” he said, all pleased and surprised, and then turned to the others, and shouted, “Hey! Spread the word! It's safe to stay here tonight! Tell everyone its time for a little R & R!”

Of course, to Fakir, all he heard was quacking and duck chatter, but he knew they were talking about something. “What are you guys on aobut?” he asked. She hopped down, and began to dance, giving indications of flight, and then pointed in a southerly direction. Fakir caught the gist, and said, “Oh, so they're migrating, yes?”

She nodded, and then gave indications that they wanted her to go with them. “Did you accept the offer?” he asked.

She then took the position of refusal. “Well,” he said, “I cannot stop you, if that's what you want. Besides, it might be good. I'll be in school most of the time. I'll be staying here, but I won't be around as much. I know you'll be back in the spring.”

She again took the position of refusal, and this time, vigorously shook her head back and forth as she quacked disapproval. She then, to get her point across, ran up and embraced his leg. He scooped her up and said, “Okay, okay: I get the point!”

He then sat down and lounged as he set out his hook, and she nestled down into his belly. He then produced the manuscript and said, “Well, here's an interesting one. This is a story that was finished, but could be continued. The main reason why they asked me to do this is to see if I could at least free the heroine and give her some peace. Let's take a look.”

 

Whenever Fakir received a new manuscript, he always read it through to insure that he understood the plot, and so that he could get into the character's heads. He just did not write what he wanted, because he did not want to play with people's lives like that, or cause something catastrophic in his time by changing the past too severely. He always tried to shape the character's decisions in a way that would be logical for the situation given, the way that person most likely would have chosen. If, however, the demise of the character was needed for story continuity, (and if that character living would have changed the past and altered his time severely,) he always insured that it was for a noble cause, and that the character died a hero. He always had her read with him, because her suggestions were always welcome, and she oft had good ideas. However, to anyone passing by and observing, it must have seemed a curious sight. Here was this man with a duck on his belly, and both of them seemingly reading intensely the story before them. It must have seemed even more odd when it seemed that, from time to time, when he prepared to turn a page, she would reach up a wing, stop him for a few seconds as she scanned the page, and then allowed him to proceed. After awhile, the other ducks began to realize that Fakir was not a threat after all, and began to wax bold, even perching on the pier. The drake that had spoken earlier hopped out of the water and waddled up. “What are you doing?” he asked her.

“Reading,” she said, not even looking up.

“What's `reading'?” he asked.

“All these marks represent words,” she said, “and if you know what each one means, you can follow them, and they tell a story.”

“Weird,” he said, and prepared to hop up and take a look. Fakir, who had stopped reading when he heard all the quacking, saw what the drake was getting ready to do, and said, “Don't even think about it: you're soaking wet!”

He looked at her, and grumbled, “Humph! He's quite the grouch, isn't he? How do you put up with him?”

At that moment, a limousine with royal markings pulled up. The chauffeur quickly exited the vehicle, rushed to the rearmost driver's side door, and opened it. Out stepped Prince Siegfried, in a fine Armani suit, and highly polished cordovan wing tip shoes. He deftly turned and extended his hand to his betrothed. Rue, though now called “Princess,” she was still, in truth, considered the princess consort until they were properly wed. She was wearing a matching lady's suit, with a fine skirt and a frilly ascot tie and a fine broach. The two, and the drake on the dock turned to see this, and the two smiled, while the drake, (still not sure how much to trust humans around these parts,) figured that the water was the best place to be at that moment. The two arose and approached the royal pair, and then they all embraced. “Your highness,” said Fakir, “to what do I owe this pleasure?”

Siegfried laughed, and said, “Please, you do not have to be so formal when it is just us. Siegfried will do fine!”

“It feels so funny to call you that, after calling you `Mytho' all those years!” said Fakir.

“If you called me that by habit,” responded Siegfried, “It would not offend me one bit!”

They then turned their attention to the duck, and Siegfried stroked her head, saying, “And how is my deliveress, Princess Tutu, doing today?”

She never ceased to be amazed that he still called her “Tutu,” despite what he now knew was the truth about her. She responded by hopping into his arms, and giving him the biggest hug a duck could muster. She then hopped into Rue's arms and hugged her as well. “Hello, Duck, I missed you too!”

“Speaking of which,” interrupted Fakir, “it's been months since I last heard from you. What have you been up to?”

Siegfried rolled his eyes, and said, “I've been touring the principality, allowing people to see me, get to know me and Rue, formal meetings, cabinet meetings, hospital openings, and so on, and so forth.”

“Sounds quite interesting,” said Fakir.

“Actually, it got to be quite boring at times!” said Rue, “I cannot believe how aggravating I must have been at one time!”

“What do you mean by that?” asked Fakir, the duck quacking in concurrence, as they all walked to the dock.

“When one was as snobbish as I used to be,” she continued, “you cannot see how others see you. You do not realize how aggravating one was. I guess it's paybacks for all those years.”

Siegfried put his arm around her shoulder and squeezed her close, as if to say, “It's alright, darling.”

She continued, “These people have their noses in the air so high, they can't even smell the very thing of which life is made! Sadly, I talk from experience.”

The duck pointed to where her ear should be as if she were human, made a cutting motion, pointed towards the academy, and mimed snobbishness, stuffing her beak high in the air. Essentially, she said, “Sounds like half the kids at the academy!”

They all laughed, having come to learn the duck's versions of sign language, (a combination of standard and ballet mime.) Fakir then asked, “What brings you here today?”

The prince then, (and quite outside of royal decorum,) took off his shoes and socks, rolled up his pants, sat on the edge of the dock, and began to soak his feet. “To be honest with you,” he said, “I needed a break! I am so not used to all this royal decorum and doting. I know it comes with the territory, but, sometimes I just have to feel…well…common.”

Rue, but this point, had taken off her pumps and sat beside her beau, leaning her head on his shoulder consolingly, and the duck was perched on his other thigh, leaning her head on his belly, as he caressed her back. Fakir smiled, chuckled, and muttered, “Moron!”

Fakir waked up and said, “Hey, we're going back to finish school. That's a good break from things.”

Siegfried then said, “True, although I hope that people will associate with me. I mean, either people do not approach because they are uncertain in how to approach, or they act like I am a pop star!”

“How's that different from before?” asked Fakir.

“Now I can react to it,” said Siegfried.

“Well, I wouldn't worry too much,” said Fakir, “Ever since the people's lives have been returned to them, they have no memory of past events. I mean, they know me, but not in the same way. They act like you never existed before they knew you as the prince, Rue is the lucky girl that won your heart, and they have no memory of Duck. All the anthropomorphs are gone, and Mr. Katt has gone back to being a normal cat, and quite a prolific one at that! Only me, and Autor, outside of us, have any memory of the past, as well as the Bookmen.”

Rue then said, “Well, baby, if you wanted a fresh start, you certainly have one.”

They sat silent for a time, and then Siegfried said, “So, speaking of the Bookmen, what project do they have for you now?”

Fakir then turned and retrieved the manuscript, and then presented it to Siegfried. His eyes brightened, and then he said, “Fakir, you must make this your priority and finish it as soon as possible!”

Everyone looked shocked at his reaction and he said, “I shall explain!”

 

 

 

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