Listen (Princess Tutu, Fakir/Ahiru, #17)
Title: Listen
Author: elektra3
Fandom: Princess Tutu
Pairing: Fakir/Ahiru
Theme: #17, kHz
Disclaimer: Princess Tutu belongs to Ikuko Itoh.
Note: This takes place in Episode 21, during Fakir's acid trip... er, convo with the oak tree.
There are things that he should be caring about right now. Things
Fakir! Fakir!
that he did care about, once upon a time. Things that made him unhappy, that made him feel helpless with rage. Things that brought him nothing but misery, but which he cared for nonetheless.
Now he wonders why. It’s so
Fakir!
peaceful here at the center of everything, peaceful and perfectly calm. Even before he met the prince, even before his parents died, he never knew what it meant to be still; he was always striving, racing ahead, wanting more. Here, he has no need to move. No need to struggle. He
Fakir, listen to me!
doesn’t need to suffer anymore, forever wanting something he can’t achieve. He can stay here, sufficient, for all eternity; stay here and watch over everyone. Isn’t
Don’t get sucked in by the oak tree!
Isn’t
Fakir!
Isn’t that
Fakir!
Isn’t that
Fakir, come back to me!
enough?
There’s a strange background noise beating against his thoughts. It’s not a pleasant sound, exactly; it’s raspy, frantic, urgent, reminding him of the world he left behind. But somehow, it’s not something he wants to get rid of; there’s another voice inside him, something deeper than that urgent outside voice, something even deeper than the oak tree, saying this, this, you must remember this.
It’s not peace that the sound is calling him to, not the deep calm
Fakir! Fakir!
that the oak tree promises. There’s pain where the voice is, pain and loss and failure. Failures, yes: He wrote stories only to watch them kill the people he loved, became a knight only to hurt the one he was trying to protect, hurt and hurt and hurt some more rather than admit what his pretenses of protection had become. It doesn’t hurt here, where his successes and failures are equally meaningless, but it will once he leaves.
Fakir! Fakir!
But there are things other than pain out there, aren’t there? All the reasons
Fakir!
why he even bothered to fight in the first place. His prince, alive and safe and well. The raven, defeated once and for all. The town, free from danger.
His mother, who kissed him goodnight before he snuck out of bed and wrote the story that killed her.
FAKIR!
These things are all a part of him now, the dreams and the failures and the voice that’s driving him out of his stillness. He can’t hide from them; it was wrong to even try.
FAKIR!
And even if it was the right thing to do, he doesn’t deserve be at rest. Not yet. Not while there are people who need him.
He reaches up toward the voice, and climbs.
Author: elektra3
Fandom: Princess Tutu
Pairing: Fakir/Ahiru
Theme: #17, kHz
Disclaimer: Princess Tutu belongs to Ikuko Itoh.
Note: This takes place in Episode 21, during Fakir's acid trip... er, convo with the oak tree.
There are things that he should be caring about right now. Things
Fakir! Fakir!
that he did care about, once upon a time. Things that made him unhappy, that made him feel helpless with rage. Things that brought him nothing but misery, but which he cared for nonetheless.
Now he wonders why. It’s so
Fakir!
peaceful here at the center of everything, peaceful and perfectly calm. Even before he met the prince, even before his parents died, he never knew what it meant to be still; he was always striving, racing ahead, wanting more. Here, he has no need to move. No need to struggle. He
Fakir, listen to me!
doesn’t need to suffer anymore, forever wanting something he can’t achieve. He can stay here, sufficient, for all eternity; stay here and watch over everyone. Isn’t
Don’t get sucked in by the oak tree!
Isn’t
Fakir!
Isn’t that
Fakir!
Isn’t that
Fakir, come back to me!
enough?
There’s a strange background noise beating against his thoughts. It’s not a pleasant sound, exactly; it’s raspy, frantic, urgent, reminding him of the world he left behind. But somehow, it’s not something he wants to get rid of; there’s another voice inside him, something deeper than that urgent outside voice, something even deeper than the oak tree, saying this, this, you must remember this.
It’s not peace that the sound is calling him to, not the deep calm
Fakir! Fakir!
that the oak tree promises. There’s pain where the voice is, pain and loss and failure. Failures, yes: He wrote stories only to watch them kill the people he loved, became a knight only to hurt the one he was trying to protect, hurt and hurt and hurt some more rather than admit what his pretenses of protection had become. It doesn’t hurt here, where his successes and failures are equally meaningless, but it will once he leaves.
Fakir! Fakir!
But there are things other than pain out there, aren’t there? All the reasons
Fakir!
why he even bothered to fight in the first place. His prince, alive and safe and well. The raven, defeated once and for all. The town, free from danger.
His mother, who kissed him goodnight before he snuck out of bed and wrote the story that killed her.
FAKIR!
These things are all a part of him now, the dreams and the failures and the voice that’s driving him out of his stillness. He can’t hide from them; it was wrong to even try.
FAKIR!
And even if it was the right thing to do, he doesn’t deserve be at rest. Not yet. Not while there are people who need him.
He reaches up toward the voice, and climbs.