Title: Two Archetypes in Search of a Story Series: A Revolutionary Girl Utena/Princess Tutu crossover Authors: By aishuu and ekaterinn Notes: Concrit is welcome on this. For a formally /formatted copy, visit http://www.fanfiction.net/s/3628116/1/ Disclaimer: Princess Tutu was created by Ikuko Itoh, while BePapas is responsible for Utena.
Part 3: Utena was perched neatly beside the accompanist, her legs crossed at her slender ankles as Ahiru sat in her lap. Both were quiet, watching with interest as Fakir stretched in preparation. It hadn't taken too much convincing to get Bruhn-sensei to agree to let Utena watch. Fakir had made some claim about the girl being a distant relative, and then she had apologized for intruding. His mentor, usually a tyrant about how practices weren't meant to be observed by spectators, had nearly tripped over himself making sure Utena was comfortable. Utena had accepted his respect graciously, although Fakir gathered the impression that she had been slightly amused. Fakir was starting to wonder about how things just fell into place for her. He didn't have a chance to wonder for long. From the look on Bruhn-sensei's face, Fakir figured it was going to be one of /those/ rehearsals. He wasn't disappointed. Halfway through, he was dripping with sweat and very glad that Ahiru knew better than try to speak to him during practice. Fakir couldn't stop from turning and looking at her, though, every time Bruhn-sensei yelled at some other poor student. He found himself glancing at Utena, too. That pink hair was distracting. Utena watched him with a curious expression. He could tell from her body language that she was more interested in the dance than his body, which was unusual. Most of the girls who watched fancied themselves in love with him, and completely missed the meaning of the dance. This wasn't one of his favorites, but the Christmas season was approaching quickly and almost all ballet troupes put on a performance of /The Nutcracker./ This year he had the starring role, one that Mytho had filled in the past. Fakir was an entirely different kind of dancer, which required vast changes in the choreography of the performance. He missed Mytho, missed the years they had spent together. Though Fakir knew that any personality that Mytho had seemed to have then had been projected onto him by Fakir himself, he still enjoyed the peace he found with the other boy and the flush of pleasure that came of successfully protecting him. Mytho had been a technically brilliant dancer, and Fakir had learned a lot simply by watching him. He couldnt bring the same distant beauty to his own dancing and didnt try. Instead, he worked on being more athletic, jumping higher and spinning faster than anyone else. Bruhn-sensei must have been satisfied with his efforts, for eventually he called a break. Fakir went to retrieve his water bottle, which Utena graciously held out for him. "You're very good," she said in an admiring voice. "You must work hard constantly." "Less hard than you'd think, Tenjou-kun," an unwelcome voice said from behind Fakir. "There's times when Fakir-kun is less than devoted to his work. He hasn't committed himself completely to ballet, and it shows." Fakir's back went rigid when he realized that Bruhn-sensei must have followed him. This was an argument they'd had many times. His teacher wanted him to give up writing, but he couldn't. He had the blood of Drosselmeyer in his veins. "I try to keep my interests balanced," he said stiffly. Bruhn-sensei, though, wasn't paying attention to him. Instead he was looking at Utena with an evaluating eye. "Do you dance?" he asked. Utena shook her head. "I don't think so," she said, holding her hands in front of her check in a protective gesture. "Everyone dances!" Bruhn-sensei announced. "Dance is in everything we do!" Utena smiled. "I can't dance like Fakir, though," she said. "No one dances like anyone else," Bruhn-sensei said with a smile. Fakir was getting a sinking feeling in his stomach, but was unable to think of anything to say to derail the imminent disaster. "How about you try?" Utena bit her lip, before shutting her eyes. When she opened them again, they were a steady and calm. "Sure," she agreed. "Fakir, can I borrow your sword?" Fakir hesitated, but a glance over at Bruhn-sensei told him that refusing Utena's request wouldn't do any good. "Of course," he said instead and handed over the light foil, hilt-first, to her. The room seemed to go still for a second, as in a pivotal moment in a ballet. Even Ahiru was quiet in his head. Thank you, Utena said, accepting the foil with an ease that would have surprised him a few minutes ago. Now, he merely noted that her grip on the sword was perfect, as far from the too-tight handling of an amateur as was possible to get. It seemed to Fakir that the shadows in the room grew longer, though it was still afternoon. Utena turned and faced the windows, raising the sword. This is how I dance, she said and began to fence. She was good, he recognized immediately. After a moment, he corrected himself. No, she was exceptional. Utena moved with a direct grace that was unafraid to face confrontation. There was no music, but she didn't need any. There wasn't a particular pattern in the series of feints and lunges she was making, but Fakir could almost see her imaginary opponent. Her long pink hair flew around her body as she spun, leaped and parried, and the people in the room fell silent to watch her. /She's beautiful,/ he heard the Ahiru-voice inside of his head say. /She's as pretty as Mytho when he dances./ That feeling of uneasiness he'd felt since meeting her suddenly crystallized, and he had a name for it. "She's like a prince," he whispered aloud, too low for anyone except himself to hear it. It was a ridiculous idea, that Utena was a prince. She was the wrong gender for one thing, but Fakir knew he was right. Utena had the beautiful heart and noble courage that marked a prince, that had defined Mytho. She was a natural leader, but it was her kindness that balanced it. Now he knew why he'd been so drawn to her. /A knight needs a prince to serve,/ he thought. It wasn't as chilling a thought as it should be, considering what had happened the last time he had gotten involved with a prince. Instead, it was sort of... comforting, as if the pieces that made up his life were quietly slotted back into place, moved by some invisible hand. Fakir was unsettled to think that he should be feeling a lot more disturbed about this. Instinctively, he moved closer to Ahiru, though whether to protect her or himself, he couldn't have said. /If she's a prince, what am I supposed to do?/ he thought. /Can a girl be a prince?/ he heard Ahiru say, supplying another question instead of an answer. Before meeting Utena, he would have said no. Even if a girl could be a heroine - /Ahiru in white, dancing beautifully with everything in her soul/ - she was still a princess. A princess could be brave, but their main purpose was to love a prince. But Utena was here, and there was no way she was a princess. That left only the other option, ridiculous as the truth was. /Yes. Yes,/ he replied. Ahiru was uncharacteristically quiet for several moments. /What do you want to do?/ she asked finally. He wanted to protect Utena. He wanted to serve her. He wanted to offer her his sword and his life. But he also wanted her out, away from here, away from everybody he had learned to care about. /I'm...not sure,/ Fakir told Ahiru, reaching down to scratch her head, comforting both her and himself. Even though there was no music, he could tell that Utena's dance was about to climax. She tossed her sword from her right hand to her left, spinning sharply as she changed directions. He stared, enraptured, by the intensity of her spirit as she struck a final blow; not a killing one, since princes never killed if they didn't have to, but one which vanquished her imaginary opponent. She stood in the center of the salle, poised and confident. For a long moment, no one reacted, but then the applause began to rise from onlookers. Utena didn't move, but poised regally as the applause built and built, until it seemed to Fakir like the beat of ravens' wings. He was conscious of the air around him - it was strangely anticipatory, like the sky before a thunderstorm. But just when it seemed that something had to happen, Utena dropped the foil. It clanged on the hardwood floor. Then she fell to the ground herself, and the spell was broken. He went to her side quickly - /the way a knight was always ready to aid his liege/ - kneeling down to check on her. To his relief, she was breathing evenly, but her eyes were shut. "Utena?" he said, shaking her shoulder gently. She didn't respond, and he realized she was well and truly asleep. The dance had taken a lot out of her. "What's wrong with her?" Bruhn-sensei asked, his deep voice filled with worry. "Should we get the school nurse?" "No," Fakir said, shaking his head firmly. His hands reached down to lift Utena, and he was surprised how very light she was. "She was sick recently, and she just overdid it a little," he told his teacher, stretching the truth. "I'm going to take her home so she can get some rest." Bruhn-sensei nodded in agreement. "That's a good idea. If I'd known...." he trailed off, shaking his head. "I would have asked her anyway," he said, a trace of chagrin on his face. Fakir shifted Utena in his arms so she was lying more comfortably. "It'll be okay," he told Bruhn-sensei. "It was her choice to do this." "Go on and take her home then," Bruhn-sensei said, "and when she wakes up, tell her that - that I enjoyed her dance greatly." Fakir tilted his head slightly. "I will, sir." /Utena will be all right,/ Ahiru piped up, looking anxious. /She will, won't she?/ /She'll be fine,/ he told her, /She's just asleep./ At least he hoped so. He had to crush the smidgen of doubt into the back of his mind so Ahiru wouldn't find it. He bent enough so Ahiru could find his shoulder more easily. She still wasn't that good at long-distance flights, although her flying had improved from when they'd first met. He didn't bother to change out of his practice clothes, deciding it would be better to just leave. Fakir ignored the stares of the few stray students on campus, realizing with reluctance that they made a strange tableau. He moved through the town quickly as he dared, not fond of all the attention they were attracting. Finally he arrived home, and carried Utena upstairs to his room. Setting her down on the bed, he spread a spare quilt over her. "It'd be best if she just rests," he said to Ahiru. Ahiru made a suggestion, and he shook his head. "No, no... she'll be fine," he said hastily, knowing his face was flushed with embarrassment. He was still too shy to loosen Utena's clothing, even though Ahiru assured her it would help her breathe easier. /Probably,/ Ahiru said slyly, tilting her head playfully. Fakir let it pass, knowing it was an argument he couldn't win. "Can you watch her, let me know if something is wrong?" he asked the duck. He needed to clean up and change into something that wasn't soaked with sweat, but was reluctant to leave Utena alone. Ahiru nodded, looking serious again. Fakir took some clean clothes from his closet and slipped away to the bathroom with one last backward glance at Utena. In the shower, the water soothed his body. It did nothing for his mind though, and he kept remembering how Utena moved with the sword, like one accustomed to fighting, and how the clapping sounded like the beating of wings. /We're running out of time,/ he thought grimly, suddenly sure of at least that fact. /Letting any part of this mystery remain unsolved will be unpleasant for everyone involved./ After he toweled himself dry and put on clean clothes, he went back to his room. "Any change?" he asked Ahiru quietly. /She rolled over twice,/ Ahiru said with precision, /but she didn't wake up./ "Maybe we should get a doctor," he said to himself. It wasn't natural for a healthy girl to collapse after a bit of exercise. Maybe he'd been overly hasty to maintain Utena's privacy; her secrets shouldn't outweigh her well-being, he thought. There was a mumble from the covers, and he jerked out of his thoughts. Utena hadn't moved, but he was certain he heard her say something. "Utena? You awake?" he asked. "...no doctor," she said, shifting her head against the pillow although her eyes remained closed. He hesitated, but said, "Okay." She sighed a bit, in relief or gratitude. "But do you know what's wrong? Is there anything else I can do to help?" It was frustrating, just standing here and watching her. Fakir would have given a great deal to be able to beat some answers out of some bad guy right then. /And since when has my life been neatly divided into good guys and bad guys, anyway?/ Utena stirred on the bed again. "No, you can't. Just...I think my body remembers. Maybe I just need time." "Would you like something to eat? Maybe some water?" he asked after a mental prod from Ahiru. "You used up a lot of energy with your dance." "I wasn't dancing," Utena murmured. "I was fighting." "Fighting what?" he asked. She was quiet, but then her eyes opened and she met his own gaze with a look that froze him on the inside. "Myself." Before Fakir could respond to that, there was a loud knock on the front door. "Anybody home?" called the clear voice of Aotoa. "It's important!" Fakir sighed. "I'll go let him in." Utena nodded, and he made his way out of the bedroom and to the door. Opening it, he discovered Aotoa on the other side, his face flushed like he had been running. "What's so important?" Aotoa pushed his way in past Fakir. "Is she still here?" he demanded. Fakir folded his arm crossed his chest, annoyance with his cousin's rudeness mixed with a sense of dread. "She's been ill, she's resting upstairs." "I know she was ill," Aotoa said testily. "The whole campus was buzzing about the scene you two - three - made walking across the campus. Haven't you ever heard of the concept of keeping a low profile?" Fakir tried not to shudder. He'd realized that they'd been a spectacle, but hadn't considered that carrying the unconscious girl would raise awareness of Utena. Mentally he cursed himself for being a fool. /It's not your fault,/ the Ahiru voice in the back of his mind said soothingly. /I didn't think of it, either./ "Is it going to be a problem?" Fakir asked coolly. Aotoa grimaced. "It might be," he said. The dread grew. "How so?" "I think I should tell Utena herself first." "She's barely awake. Besides, we're all involved in this now." Aotoa looked exasperated, but gave in. "All right, all right. I ran a search on that ring. I didn't come up with anything particularly useful, but I did find out something else..." Fakir made an impatient gesture. "Get on with it." Aotoa drew a deep breath. "There was someone else looking for her. Somebody is looking for Utena, and I'm not sure that they have the best intentions." He felt the urge to hurt someone, the one he'd thought he'd lost after Mytho had left. A knight knew violence, and his first reaction was to take up the sword in defense of his prince. The blood surged in his veins, and he could feel the adrenaline rush that preceded battle surging through his body. "Fakir!" Aotoa yelled, and suddenly Fakir noticed how his cousin had backed away, and the frightened expression on his face. Looking down, he was astonished to see he'd somehow grabbed the sword he had hung on the mantelpiece. "Snap out of it!" He forced himself to take a deep breath, to deny the urge to offer his loyalty to the prince. It was hard. It would be so easy to swear fealty to Utena, to fall into the role she needed him to fulfill. Playing a role was easier and less lonely than living as an ordinary man. At the top of the stairs, Ahiru appeared. She hopped down several until she was standing on the one that kept her level with his eyes. Her beautiful blue eyes stared at him, and he felt some of his urgency drain away as he felt her love for him - and her fear. /Even if she is a prince,/ Ahiru said quietly, /are you sure you want to be her knight? You already serve Mytho./ "Not anymore," he said allowed, ignoring Aotoa's shaken look. "Mytho gave up my service when he left." Aotoa looked confused and still a bit scared. "Fakir?" he asked, glancing between him and Ahiru. But Fakir continued to ignore him, watching Ahiru. Her head tilted to one side, making her look both quizzical and sad. /Then is that you miss being a knight so much,/ she said, somehow more softly than in her normal 'voice', /or is it that you miss Mytho?/ "I don't know," he said slowly. He shut his eyes and leaned back against the wall, hugging his arms around his torso. He hadn't thought much about Mytho once he left; it was like losing part of his arm. He had spent ten years of his life serving his prince, only to let him go. They had both decided to live outside the story, but it was hard. The story had defined both of them, and learning who he really was wasn't easy. Now he had a chance to reclaim the role of knight in another story. He knew instinctively that Utena could use a knight. And he could do that for her. The temptation was almost physical, thrumming in his head, /take the sword and go to her./ But could he really give up all he had painfully learned about himself? He opened his eyes and looked the Ahiru, still standing on the stairs, looking as worried as it was possible for a duck to look. And his actions didn't affect just himself anymore. He had to think about Ahiru, too. "Not to interrupt your angst or anything," Aotoa's voice broke in, "but I think I'm missing something. Who exactly were you talking to?" Fakir stiffened as he realized that Aotoa couldn't hear Ahiru. He had been foolish to forget that; he could only blame himself for getting so caught up in the drama. Admitting it, though, might be a mistake. Sane people didn't hold conversations with ducks. But Aotoa would probably believe him, especially in light of what was happening. "Ahiru is talking to me," he said after deciding that honesty was the best policy. Aotoa blinked. Fakir could read his reactions flitting across his face: surprise, doubt, and a finally a wary curiosity. "How?" he demanded, "And for how long? Is it something new or has this been going for a while?" He glanced back and forth between Fakir and Ahiru. "You're not just pulling my leg, are you?" He asked suspiciously, looking, oddly enough, at Ahiru for an answer, who shook her head. "No, of course not," Fakir replied as well, irritated. "Would I joke about something like that?" Aotoa pursed his lips. "It's true that you don't have much of a sense of humor." "It seems to be hereditary," Fakir replied instead of taking offense. "Fakir," Aotoa said sharply, irritated that answers weren't forthcoming. Looking at Ahiru, he motioned for her to come down the stairs. The tiny duck hopped down each stair carefully, until she was in arm's reach of Fakir. /At least he believes you,/ she said in a consoling voice, /but I think he's upset./ Fakir noticed the tension in Aotoa's face, and decided he would humor the other man. "Only since Utena arrived," he confessed. "The story's starting again," Aotoa said, nodding his head like he'd been expecting it. "The question is who's writing it. Drosselmeyer is dead." "That didn't stop him last time," Fakir replied. Aotoa looked uncertain, but said, "No, this doesn't feel like him. And Utena doesn't fit. This shouldn't be her story." "But it's becoming so," Fakir said. Ahiru watched them both intently. Aotoa nodded again, unhappily. "Which leads us back to the question of who." "If this concerns me, then I have a right to know about it," Utena's clear voice came from above. All three of them turned towards the top of the staircase, where she was standing, pale and unsteady. Fakir weighed what to tell her, and decided the truth would be best. To most outsiders, it would sound like an insane tale, but he had the feeling Utena wouldn't laugh. She needed to know exactly what she was getting into. "We should sit," Fakir said, nodding toward the table. Utena gave him a suspicious look, but made her way down the stairs carefully. Fakir's knightly instincts called out for him to offer aid, but he knew Utena wouldn't like it. Aotoa moved without comment, but Fakir waited for Utena to sit before claiming his own chair. Without even thinking about it, he bent down to offer Ahiru a hand up onto the table to ensure her inclusion. As soon as they were comfortable, Fakir spoke. "Once upon a time, this town existed as part of someone else's story," Fakir said carefully. It was dangerous to speak tales aloud, because stories gained power when they were shared orally as well. "The people in the town changed to carry out the will of the storyteller, and few people realized that their fates were being woven by someone else." Utena listened without comment, her intense eyes fixated on his face. He told her about the /Prince and the Raven,/ and how the characters had left the unfinished tale. He told her about Drosselmeyer, and how the story had come to life within the village. He talked about Ahiru, relieved that his voice didn't break as he spoke about Princess Tutu and Princess Kraehe. He told his own story, about being a knight too weak to actually do anything useful, and then how he'd struggled to find a different way to fight. He told about the bittersweet victory, of how Mytho had defeated the monster raven and chosen Rue as his princess. He spoke of Ahiru sacrificing her human shape, and how they'd been left behind as the story had finished. "And Mytho and Rue lived happily ever after, and we just lived," Fakir concluded, hoping he didn't sound bitter. He didn't hate Mytho for leaving; he just thought that the story had been entirely unfair to its heroine. /Why are you upset when I'm not?/ Ahiru wanted to know, but Fakir didn't couldn't reply. Aotoa, thankfully, didn't say anything, instead removing his glasses and polishing them. Utena nibbled on a strand of her pink hair, her eyes distant. She didn't speak immediately, but when she did, she asked an obvious question. "Why are you telling me this?" Utena wanted to know. Fakir looked at his cousin, and Aotoa nodded. "The story is moving again," Aotoa said. "Your presence has restarted the wheels which had stopped." "You're a prince," Fakir said. Glancing over at Ahiru, he made his decision. "And I'm a knight. I would swear fealty to you," he said. "It is the natural order of things." Utena waved her hands to forestall him. "I'm not much of a person to believe in roles," she said. "Even without my memory, I know better than to do what is expected of me." /What is she talking about?/ Ahiru wondered. Fakir just shook his head, unable to think of a coherent response. The sting of Utena's implied rejection hurt. "So you have no use for a powerless knight," he said, and wished he'd never offered. Now he was stuck with her, because he couldn't throw her out. "No. I don't." She rose to her feet and wobbled over to kneel beside him. "But I could use a friend." Fakir looked down into her eyes, and almost drowned in their blue sincerity. Once upon a time, there had been a youth that had only believed stories to be entertainment. There had been no archetypal role to follow, no foreordained destiny to strive against, and then eventually accept. Now here was another prince before him, telling him that all she wanted was his friendship. His hands shook as he traced the line of her cheek with a reverent finger. "Are you trying to save me?" he asked. She shook her head. "A prince isn't supposed to save those who have the power to rescue themselves," she told him, smiling a bit lopsidedly. /She's a very wise prince,/ Ahiru said. She fluttered her wings, and Fakir smiled at her. Then his hand fell to Utena's, and squeezed it gently. "Then as your friend, I would like to help you," he said. He could still feel the siren call of her presence, but it was no longer so overwhelming. He had been rejected, but in doing so, Utena had freed him of her spell. It felt like he could breathe again. "I can always use friends," Utena replied. She rose back to her feet and retook her chair, still slightly unsteady. "So, my friend, do you happen to know where I came from?" Fakir looked over at Aotoa, and his cousin took the hint. "We don't know where you came from, but someone is looking for you." Utena's expression brightened. "Really?" she asked, leaning forward on her elbows in her eagerness. "Who? Where?" Aotoa shook his head. "It's online, so I don't know where the person is. They could be across the world, for all it matters." "Isn't there a way you can trace where their signal comes from? Like using a call number or something?" Utena asked. "I thought computers had some kind of identification." Aotoa adjusted his glasses. "Maybe, maybe not." He slid a look at Fakir, before returning his attention to Utena. "I don't know if the person who is looking for you is someone you want to meet." "Why?" Aotoa reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper and handed it over wordlessly. Utena unfolded it carefully, her eyes quickly absorbing the words written within. "Oh," she said softly, before handing it over to Fakir for his perusal. The price tag attached to the missing person notice was impressive, Fakir thought. The picture was definitely of Utena, obviously a candid. She wasn't looking at the lens; in fact, she appeared unaware that the image was being taken. While there wasn't any outward signs that the note was meant in anything but concern, something about the harshness of the words demanding information on Tenjou Utena's location raised Fakir's internal alarms. /That person doesn't seem like someone Utena would be friends with,/ Ahiru agreed. "Did you trace the person who sent it?" Fakir asked his cousin. "It was routed through several servers, and I couldn't hone in," Aotoa admitted reluctantly. "I'm not that good with computers." "It's okay," Utena said, and she reached out to touch Aotoa's fingers with her left hand gently in reassurance. "This is more than I had before. This person might know who I am." Her right hand clenched in her lap. "I'm going to go find them, and maybe I can find out who I am." "Utena, this person may not mean well," Fakir said. "Maybe it would be better-" but she held up a hand to forestall him. "I think it will be okay the writing just seems desperate, not mean. Even if the person does want to do something nefarious, I can't back away from this opportunity. A prince never runs from danger," Utena said, winking. "I'll be okay I promise." And since she was a prince, Fakir had to believe her. Princes couldn't break their word. "Be careful," he said. He hoped she was better at protecting herself than Mytho had been. "Of course," she said. She rose to her feet. "I think I'll start on my way I just need to change." "But it's night! At least stay until the next morning," Fakir said. She shook her head. "No. I need to go; from what you told me about this town, if I stay I'll just get sucked in. And I do know that this isn't a story I want to participate in. Mine's still out there, somewhere," she said. Then she looked at Ahiru and smiled again. "It's been nice getting to know you. If I ever get where I'm going, I'll give you a call." Fakir knew that princes rarely reached the end of their tales, but wasn't about to point it out. "Let me get you some extra food and clothes," he said, rising to his feet. Fifteen minutes later, Utena was dressed in her original outfit, which had been laundered. Fakir wordlessly handed her a pack filled with a few changes of clothing, along with enough food to keep her for a couple of days. To his surprise, Aotoa pulled out an envelope, and pushed into into Utena's hands. "You'll need funds," Aotoa said. "If you need anything, I wrote my phone number on the back. I'll do what I can to help." Fakir couldn't help but think she looked a bit like a fish as her mouth gapped for a second, before a grateful smile spread across her lips. "Thank you," she said, wisely not declining due to pride. Then there was nothing else to do but say goodbye. Many girls would have offered Fakir a hug in thanks for all he had done, but Utena was not ordinary. She gave him a bow, inclining her body with respect. He found himself responding, lowering himself more deeply. She grinned as she straightened, turning her attention to the duck. "Good luck, Ahiru-chan," Utena said, holding out her index finger to stroke Ahiru's downy head farewell. Fakir hated long goodbyes, a feeling Utena apparently shared. She stepped out the door, and didn't look back as she vanished back into the forest. Aotoa turned to his cousin. "That was interesting," he said blandly. There were times when Fakir wanted to murder Aotoa, but his gesture of concern for Utena mitigated that impulse at the moment. "It was," he said, looking at Ahiru thoughtfully. /Fakir?/ she said, and he was pleased that he could still hear her. Perhaps the magic Utena had inadvertently brought with her hadn't expired. Or maybe there was something else afoot. "How do you feel about a journey of our own?" he asked the duck. "We could go on a quest," he replied. "To save the beautiful, enchanted princess." Aotoa's breath hitched, but it was the tiny duck that had Fakir's full attention. She had resigned herself to this life, as an animal, but he knew a part of her longed to become a girl again. /Sounds like fun!/ she said perkily, but there was a shakiness in her tone that her flippant words couldn't hide. The tips of her wings shivered in excitement, and Fakir knew that this was the right choice for them. In many stories, a knight was also a prince. While Fakir didn't see himself as the heroic type, he wanted to be the man Ahiru needed, and maybe that was enough. There would be trials ahead, but he would prevail. He found their current life one of contentment, but not a true happily-ever-after. And Ahiru deserved better. Utena's arrival had reminded him that there were still options out there, still powers that Fakir hadn't even dreamed existed. Surely the old storyteller wasn't the only one with the power to turn a duck into a girl. Drosselmeyer's story was finished; it was time to write their own story. ______________________ Help, I'm fallen into a weird fandom and can't get out! Fanfiction: http://www.midnightrevolution.org/quicksilver/ Fic Journal: http://www.livejournal.com/~quillofferings ____________________________________________________________________________________ Be a better Heartthrob. Get better relationship answers from someone who knows. Yahoo! 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