Author: Bitterfig
Title: Without the Raven or the Swan
Fandom: Princess Tutu
Pairing: Ahiru/Rue
Summary: Tutu and Kraehe take off the costumes of the Swan and the Raven to face each other as Ahiru and Rue.
Beta-Reader: Fedink
Word Count: 364
Rating: R
Warnings: Sexual Content
Author’s Note: Written for the 3rd round of porn_battle for the prompt “strip ballet.”  This is being used for 100_women prompt #28: naked.  My complete 100_women progress chart is here.
Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction. Any illegal acts taking place within that fiction are NOT condoned by the author. Depictions of any questionable, illegal, or potentially illegal activity in said fiction does not mean that I condone, promote, support, participate in, or approve of said activity. I grasp the distinction between fiction and reality and trust that readers will do the same. I do not profit from the fan fiction I write, and all rights to the characters remain firmly in the hands of their creator.

Without the Raven or the Swan

 

 

Tutu met Princess Kraehe’s fury with serene understanding.  She spoke calmly as her hands traced graceful arabesques. 

 

“You don’t need to disguise and protect yourself with the dark feathers of the Raven,” Tutu said.  “You are beautiful without them.  You don’t need to be a cruel princess decked out in shadows.  It is enough for you to just be Rue.”  

 

“If I wrap myself up in the Raven, you hide behind the Swan,” Kraehe sneered.  “Could you stand before me naked as your true self?”  Then she laughed a harsh caw.  “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours, Princess Tutu.”

 

In answer, Tutu turned a pirouette and her crown and headdress disappeared.  Another and her wings dissolved.  Kraehe narrowed her ruby eyes and not to be outdone she too began to dance, spinning, and shedding pieces of her ensemble with each turn.

 

So they whirled and twirled and stripped away the guises of the Raven and the Swan.  Only when their slippers vanished did they stop and face each other. 

 

They were just themselves.  Not Kraehe and Tutu but Ahiru and Rue, without costumes or disguises, with nothing to conceal them from each other.  Rue reached out to touch Ahiru’s hair.  It was the first time she had seen it loose, unbraided.  It was golden orange, almost as long as Ahiru was tall, wispy fine as the feathers of a new chick. 

 

As she stroked the silky veil of Ahiru’s hair, Rue’s breasts brushed against the other girl.  As they did, Ahiru hung her head and wrapped her arms around herself to cover her flat little chest. 

 

“Don’t,” Rue whispered, gently moving her arms away.  “Don’t be ashamed.  You were the one who said it was enough, to be ourselves.”  Her fingers brushed Ahiru’s tiny breasts then her whole hands engulfed them.  “You’re lovely Ahiru, lovely.”  Tentatively Ahiru reached out to Rue, mirroring her caresses as if it were a dance class exercise. 

 

Perhaps it was, a kind of dance, a form of education for them both, to see each other, to see themselves in the other, to touch, to feel, to move together as they did pared down to the essence.