A/N: This is a one-shot inspired by moonbunnychan's AMV, "Memories." If you wish to see it, look it up on Youtube or, I will have a link for it onto my profile page. I tried keeping it pretty close to what the video showed and added my own interpretation of it. I plan on dedicating it solely for her though because it was her genius that inspired this. If you have not seen the video (and I suggest that you do) then, this works by itself as well. In my opinion, at least.
Disclaimer: I do not own Princess Tutu, nor the AMV constructed by moonbunnychan.
Warnings: Reflects back onto my old angsty style of writing. Probable typos and though the intended pairing in the video, as in this, is Duck/Fakir, there are hints of Mytho/Tutu.
The Duck Danced
By: Nuit Songeur
For: moonbunnychan
There was a vague depiction of a silhouette of a small figure that, after a flash of red light transformed into a girl that stretched out her limbs to the fullest extent. She looked up to the sky for answers, her original form flickering around her being as well.
Then, the image, warped slightly as if it were contained within a crystal sphere, stretched and displayed beautiful and magnificent dancers dancing to illustrate just the beauty of their talents. First, a male engaging in a pas de deux with an unconventional creature. Then an ensemble of fairy ballerinas, their limbs swaying in sync with each other. Then, the scene shifted again, showing the young girl anxiously fumbling around with her ballet classes, to strive to be just as beautiful and perfect.
And then, the duck awoke. So startled that her blue eyes became wide with confusion. After a few moments of realizing it was only a dream, she sighed, calming down as her eyes returned to their normal size. However, the effects of the dream still wore on her as a brief picture of the girl flashed through her vision before it disappeared. She sat, the duck did, where she was for a few moments, and reconsidered the dream, as one usually does when a dream as vivid occurs, as the drowsiness slowly began to ebb. And, the more she thought of it, the more hidden forms began to reveal themselves to her as another glorious ballerina danced solo for a young man scribbling away at her poses.
Lethargically, the duck stood up on her webbed feet and slowly made her way over to the nearby pond. The day was foggy, everything filtered through the misty haze, and slightly chilly. The dark waters of the pond were just as opaque as it mirrored the duck's reflection when she peered down into it.
She felt guided, as if by some mystical force, to continue watching the calm waters and, as she did, the surface seemed to shimmer and showed a small view of that same ballerina spinning, pirouetting was the formal word for it. Though, the duck had no idea how she knew that. Within moments, the ballerina disappeared only to be replaced by a moment of stillness, the water exhibiting nothing else.
Soon, that changed and an image stretched across the vast expanse of the pond's surface, showing the same ballerina clinging to the scribbling man from before as if for protection. But, that wasn't it, the picture kept moving, ever moving, showing more of the secret life of the ballerina as there was another female, soon approached by the scribbling man, a raven-haired youth, astride a brown horse. And then, that same female, also raven-haired was dancing as well, surrounded by an assortment of young ballerinas like herself. Though, she was the prima donna, the gifted one.
The duck blinked, temporarily casting away the images presented before her as another one was presently conjured in her mind's eye. Another prima donna with talent just as great as the former as flashes of other beings passing around her, behind her, in front of her. The duck looked up, away from the water but the action did not stop the oncoming recollections.
She recalled the desk of a story-teller, littered with books, candles, and other such things as it itself told its own story. A setting of a stage and curtains was brought into view, the spotlight trained on the young struggling girl. Within moments, the awkward girl was transformed into that same prima donna from before, the one that heeded the scribbling youth's words. Her body performed a dance that required extraneous amounts of flexibility on her part: a pas de deux alone. Was she doomed to be alone, forever then, the duck seemed to ask herself.
She was taken backstage and soon thereafter, the raven-haired youth was revealed once more before the swan-like ballerina. She couldn't be alone then; she had him, however distant they may be, as they took the other's hand, dimensions apart. And then, that same awkward girl who struggled so much was within the arms of the young man. But that vision disappeared with a flash, replaced by the empty theater that held only equally empty seats and abandoned pink toe shoes.
The memories that flooded back to the duck overcame her with such intensity, she could only sigh in despair and sit herself down on the ground where she was. She peeked from beneath her downcast eyes to see the entire pond shifting again, giving way to a swirl of white feathers and pieces of paper- both empty and inscribed with words- that masked first the swan ballerina's and the writer's grasp and then their embrace for each other.
Just as quickly, the writer was riding his brown horse furiously, as if in a desperate pursuit of life. Then it was the swan ballerina, tenderly cupping a blood red gem in her palm. But then, she disappeared as well, the image switching from the view of her in favor for three dancers: the raven-haired prima donna, another male youth- white-haired, this time, and the same writer from before, each dancing with the other two as merrily as if life itself were a carefree ballet.
The water rippled and the duck closed her eyes, seeing the three dancers dance behind her eyelids, seeing how happy they truly were. The duck wished she could have that for herself, happiness with other beings. The feat seemed improbable. Impossible, really.
Blocking the rest of the visions temporarily, the duck found herself in almost a stupor. She felt herself walking, not aimlessly because, with the determined way her webbed feet padded, she knew she was headed toward some unknown destination. And soon, she was in the nearby town where her pond was situated right next to, browsing through the cobble-stoned streets, looking around the town anxiously and seeing it was completely empty, devoid of people. Desolate and lonely. Deserted, perhaps. The duck thought that the town's name was Gold Crown Town.
There was still brief moments where more images would flash before her, in her head. One where she was transforming, from the duck to the awkward girl, and then from the awkward girl to the swan ballerina. Time sifted past her in the shape of old, ticking clocks. The duck stopped in her walking, looking up and noticing a street lamp close by. However, a cloud of flame erupted within her vision and she saw the final stage of transformation, the swan ballerina, stretching before another fire with the help of a handsome prince. Perhaps the same white-haired youth from before.
More fire flickered and the duck was brought back to the present, seeing people in the town, for once, a short way ahead, all dancing around a bonfire. Just as merrily as the duck saw the trio from earlier. She despondently looked away from the plaza of people.
Soon, she found herself elsewhere, more flashes emitting around her. Once, she was a crying duck with a purpose, then an awkward girl who showed someone how to trust, and then the same awkward girl again, clutching onto the hand of another in order to keep him safe.
And then, everything within the duck's world went black. That was when the duck realized that everything she had been seeing, the life of glamour and beauty, love and pain, vitality and fear, and happiness and security, was what she once had. Startled, the duck looked forward, gaping at nothing but what she was just remembering as her blue eyes shimmered with an edge of anguish.
What she saw after that was supported by her own regaining memory.
She saw herself as the awkward girl, spinning with the raven-haired writer. The scene which was so precious to her, brought forth more tears to her eyes. And still, she continued watching the occurrence as she knew, deep-down, it was both cataclysmic and meaningful. So she continued watching when the writer, holding onto her securely, brought her down as her legs split apart into a straight line. And their faces, their faces were extremely close to the other, sharing a practically tangible moment that was only intensified by their locked gazes. There was nothing the duck could do to stop herself from crying.
Then, there was a set of hands that held out an intricate and exquisite pendant, as if relinquishing it to someone. The dim busts of the writer and ballerina appeared, both offering the magical pendant to someone indistinct. But then the ethereal forms of both subsided, leaving Princess Tutu, for that was her name, to renounce the pendant for herself, surrendering it to the white-haired boy from earlier. Her prince. There was a burst of red, twinkling glitter.
The duck danced, feeling her own limbs moving in correspondence with the inscribed words of a story. She didn't care; she danced now to express her feelings of sorrow and joy from her previous life as a human. Her lost life as a human. And though she was human no longer, she vowed never to forget such experiences again. The rest of her past life was displayed blatantly before her.
As she danced, the duck saw as she sealed her own fate, giving up pieces of a heart- her own means of life- to disappear within the same mass of shiny red sparkles that preceded a bright flash of light.
She watched momentarily before she continued her dancing, reminiscing in her previous life as the movements could only echo such grace and beauty she could only now know in her dreams.
I hope you enjoyed! Please review!
-NuitSongeur