Once (PT, Mytho/Rue)
Title: Once
Fandom: Princess Tutu
Pairing: Mytho/Rue
Summary: Once, she fell asleep and woke to the feeling of his hand stroking her hair.
Rating: K
Warning[s]: Mild angst.
Disclaimer: I don't own Princess Tutu or the characters; I'm just playing with them.
Notes: Set very early in the series. As always, all feedback is deeply appreciated. Thank you!
- ONCE -
Once, she fell asleep on the grass while resting her head in his lap, and woke up to the feeling of his hand stroking her hair. His touch was light, delicate, and totally absent of understanding, and so pathetically simple that it almost hurt. He was only drifting, softly and idly smoothing her dark locks, barely aware of himself and his own body, let alone his actions. There was no thought behind it, and no connection between what his hand did, what his mind recognized, and what his hollow heart couldn't feel. It was just an empty and unconscious act, and nothing more. It couldn't be anything more, and it didn't have to be.
Even so, the soft and soothing contact still managed to alarm and deeply touch her at the same time, and she didn't know what to make of it, or what she could have done to deserve such an empty and lost act of tenderness. It startled her, and made her feel too open, laid bare. It was the exact same way she'd seen him absently touch and calm stray kittens and wounded birds when he held them safe in his arms and shielded them from harm, without understanding himself or what he was doing, as if his body remembered gentleness and reassurance, but his mind and heart could not. But under the summer sun and the kind warmth of his soothing hand, it felt so close to real care and affection, so close...
As she stirred to look at him, he abruptly stopped, the motion of his hand frozen and forgotten.
"Don't stop," she said, soft and surprised, and disliking her own vulnerability. "Do it again."
He complied immediately, but it wasn't the same, and she couldn't help but frown as her displeasure grew into a brief and burning confusion. This time, the touch of his hand felt feeble and docile as it mildly passed over her hair in flat, measured and uniform strokes. He only did it because she'd told him to, and it showed. The movement was hollow, artificial, and meaningless, nothing but an obeyed command from a submissive puppet. Rue shook him off, angry and hurt, and not understanding at all.
Maybe things had changed because she was awake and aware, she later thought. When she was awake, she certainly wasn't weak or helpless. She wasn't the fragile type. No, she proud and intelligent, and fierce when she needed to be, and something in Mytho must have recognized it. After all, she was his brilliant and matchless prima donna; graceful, strong, skilled, and confident. Nothing could threaten her, and over the years she'd grown many defenses and many shields; enough to be the strong and commanding princess he needed.
But perhaps something about her looked different while she slept. It was strange to admit, but in those moments while she drifted to sleep out in the open, she must have seemed totally helpless to him, and completely trusting...and maybe, like something in need of guarding and protection.
A few days later, they shared another picnic together and rested side-by-side under the soft canopy of her favourite tree. Once again, she let herself fall asleep in his presence, and when she woke, he was touching her hair again with the same mild, wandering delicacy. Rue smiled, full of quiet satisfaction.
That time, and every time afterwards, she pretended never to wake for hours, and treasured the sweet and pleasing feeling of Mytho absently and gently passing his hand through her locks, not wanting to let go of the rare happiness that filled her.
Perhaps it signified nothing, perhaps it was only a hollow and mechanical impulse, perhaps it meant she was no higher than a stray cat or injured bird in his view, but this much was true: some lingering ghost within him was moved to care for her in those moments, and so she would cling to them. They were all she had.
- FIN -
Fandom: Princess Tutu
Pairing: Mytho/Rue
Summary: Once, she fell asleep and woke to the feeling of his hand stroking her hair.
Rating: K
Warning[s]: Mild angst.
Disclaimer: I don't own Princess Tutu or the characters; I'm just playing with them.
Notes: Set very early in the series. As always, all feedback is deeply appreciated. Thank you!
- ONCE -
Once, she fell asleep on the grass while resting her head in his lap, and woke up to the feeling of his hand stroking her hair. His touch was light, delicate, and totally absent of understanding, and so pathetically simple that it almost hurt. He was only drifting, softly and idly smoothing her dark locks, barely aware of himself and his own body, let alone his actions. There was no thought behind it, and no connection between what his hand did, what his mind recognized, and what his hollow heart couldn't feel. It was just an empty and unconscious act, and nothing more. It couldn't be anything more, and it didn't have to be.
Even so, the soft and soothing contact still managed to alarm and deeply touch her at the same time, and she didn't know what to make of it, or what she could have done to deserve such an empty and lost act of tenderness. It startled her, and made her feel too open, laid bare. It was the exact same way she'd seen him absently touch and calm stray kittens and wounded birds when he held them safe in his arms and shielded them from harm, without understanding himself or what he was doing, as if his body remembered gentleness and reassurance, but his mind and heart could not. But under the summer sun and the kind warmth of his soothing hand, it felt so close to real care and affection, so close...
As she stirred to look at him, he abruptly stopped, the motion of his hand frozen and forgotten.
"Don't stop," she said, soft and surprised, and disliking her own vulnerability. "Do it again."
He complied immediately, but it wasn't the same, and she couldn't help but frown as her displeasure grew into a brief and burning confusion. This time, the touch of his hand felt feeble and docile as it mildly passed over her hair in flat, measured and uniform strokes. He only did it because she'd told him to, and it showed. The movement was hollow, artificial, and meaningless, nothing but an obeyed command from a submissive puppet. Rue shook him off, angry and hurt, and not understanding at all.
Maybe things had changed because she was awake and aware, she later thought. When she was awake, she certainly wasn't weak or helpless. She wasn't the fragile type. No, she proud and intelligent, and fierce when she needed to be, and something in Mytho must have recognized it. After all, she was his brilliant and matchless prima donna; graceful, strong, skilled, and confident. Nothing could threaten her, and over the years she'd grown many defenses and many shields; enough to be the strong and commanding princess he needed.
But perhaps something about her looked different while she slept. It was strange to admit, but in those moments while she drifted to sleep out in the open, she must have seemed totally helpless to him, and completely trusting...and maybe, like something in need of guarding and protection.
A few days later, they shared another picnic together and rested side-by-side under the soft canopy of her favourite tree. Once again, she let herself fall asleep in his presence, and when she woke, he was touching her hair again with the same mild, wandering delicacy. Rue smiled, full of quiet satisfaction.
That time, and every time afterwards, she pretended never to wake for hours, and treasured the sweet and pleasing feeling of Mytho absently and gently passing his hand through her locks, not wanting to let go of the rare happiness that filled her.
Perhaps it signified nothing, perhaps it was only a hollow and mechanical impulse, perhaps it meant she was no higher than a stray cat or injured bird in his view, but this much was true: some lingering ghost within him was moved to care for her in those moments, and so she would cling to them. They were all she had.
- FIN -