Title: Love on the Inside
Genre: Romance
Rating: K+
Pairing: Mytho x Ahiru onesided, Mytho x Rue, onesided Fakir x Ahiru if you squint
Spoilers: N/A
Summary: "You'll live forever in her mind. An overwhelming love for you has seized her soul. Now she's cheerful, but mostly she is sad, now she has tears streaming down her face, and then she's calm again, it seems, and always, always loving you."
Word Count: 1,574
Warnings: N/A

Disclaimer: Not mine. Summary belongs to Goethe.

A/N: I'm literally writing this simply based off this amazing quote from Faust, which is one of my favorite books.

Once upon a time there was a girl, who loved a boy very much. The boy was a prince, fated to live his life amidst beauty and splendor, with a beautiful princess forever at his side. The girl, though, was a duckling, fated to live out her days among the reeds and forest. All who looked upon the young girl could see the love she had for the prince shining through, all but the prince himself. For to him, it was unlikely for a duck to fall in love with him, as it was for him to fall in love with a duck. And so, the young prince moved on with his life, content with his princess, and never thinking for a single moment, of the life he was leaving behind, all but for noticing, a single spark.

"Mytho!"

Golden eyes glanced upwards, drawn away from treatises and discourses at the melodious call of his princess. When she danced into the room, graceful even weighed down my layers of fabric, he smiled, standing to hold out one elegant hand for her to take. "My lady," his tone and eyes were warm with affection.

Tinkling laughter was his response. "Oh, Mytho, darling, stop that." But her burgundy eyes glowed with happiness at the term of endearment falling so easily from those lips. How different this life almost turned out. And how lucky she was that it had happened this way. She with her Prince.

Allowing her the lead him around the desk, Mytho tugged her into his arms. "My apologies, Princess. What should I call you then?" He leaned down to kiss one porcelain cheek. "My dear?" Another kiss on the opposite orb. "My Princess?" A light brush of lips against the tip of her nose. "My love?"

"How about my wife?" She murmured before kissing him, arching up into his hold, her lines as graceful as the prima ballerina she was. He made an agreeable noise against her mouth, leaning in closer, before, laughingly, she pulled away. "Mytho! That's not why I came here!" She pulled out of his reach, hands roaming down her clothing and patting at her hair to straighten her appearance.

He leaned back against the desk, watching her with no small amount of amusement. "And why did you come here, wife?" He loved to watch the way the words made her light up, but she was adamant about completing whatever had been her mission when she came in here.

"Fakir." Mytho blinked at the name of the knight who had been so instrumental at helping his return to the life that he had, unknowingly lost. At his flabbergasted expression, Rue continued, "He's here."

Mytho was stunned, more confused than anything else. "How…"

Her shrug cut off his question. "I'm not sure. The guards merely told me he was waiting in the foyer so I came straight here. I had assumed you would want to know immediately."

Even as he was nodding in agreement, he was already beginning to walk out of the library, one elbow extended in a gentlemanly manner, so Rue could grasp it by her fingertips and walk daintily at his side. The walk was silent, as Mytho contemplated the very, very unexpected arrival of his friend, and Rue just basked in his company, not caring one way or another why Fakir was here. All too quickly, they arrived in the sitting room, where the knight was standing, arms crossed, staring out a window, at the picturesque, storybook landscape of the Prince's kingdom.

"Fakir!" Allowing Rue's hand to drop from his arm, Mytho strode forward, the joy at seeing his once-upon-a-time classmate.

The writer turned, mouth quirking in a half-smile, before he allowed Mytho to envelope him a quick hug. "Mytho," he greeted, serenely, but with an undeniable warmth in his voice, if you knew him.

"How did you come here?" Mytho inquired, as they all took seats at the surrounding couches. Rue discreetly called for tea. "And why?"

Fakir shrugged, watching as a butler poured tea and left the room. "It wasn't all that difficult once I decided to do it. I wrote my way here." He shrugged. "I can write myself into any world. And any world into mine. It just takes the correct words." He was silent for a long, long moment, but Mytho had known him long enough to know that he was simply thinking of what to say next. He had always been very precise with his words, the writer existing in his soul long before his mind knew of it. "People… were worried about you."

There was a moment of quiet as the couple took that in, the gentle hesitation in Fakir's voice, before Mytho questioned, quite abruptly, "Fakir… where is Ahiru? Did she not wish to come?"

Fakir's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, even as Rue stood suddenly, spilling over her tea cup in her haste. When Mytho began to rise to assist her, she waved him off, before departing, citing the need to change her dress. The two men settled back into their seats, an uncomfortable silence settling over them.

"You… remember Ahiru?" Fakir finally asked, and Mytho blinked in surprise at the abrupt question, confusion evident in his eyes. A frown. "It's just that, when Drosselmeyer was defeated and everyone had been written back to normal, Ahiru… and yourself and Rue, were forgotten, having all been written back into their original stories."

"Ahiru… was from a story?" Fakir gave a hesitant nod. "What story was she from? Was she a Princess as well?"

"I – of a sort, I suppose." The knight was smiling softly at the thought. "Princess Tutu."

Mytho blinked as he took that in. "So, she is gone, as well?"

A shrug. "I suppose. She returned to her original form, but I am attempting to write her a new story." He ignored the question that statement was plainly drawing to the surface in the prince. "But she was very worried about you." It seemed the cause him a great amount of pain to admit that. "So I am here to verify your safety and happiness."

Another blink, slower and more pronounced. "Why would she… care?"

The knight sucked in his breath, whether to steady his nerves for answering or because he had to force himself to give the response or from anger at the question itself, Mytho couldn't tell. But finally Fakir sighed, the nameless irritation rising at the thought that Ahiru, cute, precious, bright, and bubbly Ahiru, loved this shy and quiet boy-child prince. And that this prince couldn't see it. Couldn't see her eyes brighten when she looked at him. Couldn't see that she constantly sought him out. Couldn't see that she literally only lived for his happiness. "You'll live forever in her mind, Mytho." He forged on, even as the prince's jaw dropped open. "An overwhelming love for you have seized her soul." Fakir turned his fierce eyes onto his friend. "You ask how she is? Sometimes she is cheerful." He shrugged. "But mostly she is sad and will have tears streaming down her face." He shook his head, half fondly, half in exasperation. "Then she'll be calm again, it seems." His eyes bore into Mytho's. "But she is always, always, loving you."

At that moment, Rue danced back into the room, resplendent in a new gown, and both men stood. Mytho was still trying to find something to say to Fakir's announcement, but the knight was already beginning to leave.

"I should go. Ahiru will be wondering how the journey fared and how you both are." He paused. "I will tell her you are well and happy and – " A hard stare into the prince's eyes. " – and I will tell her I can no longer return her. In order to spare her a lifetime of pining over you. In order that she may move on from you. But you deserved to know how you affect those around you, even when you don't wish it." Fakir bowed to each in turn. "I wish you both well, and long reign."

Mytho continued to watch him long after he had walked away, lost in thoughts of two individuals who had been so important to his life for a brief period. And elegant dancing prima ballerina who continually saved him from enemies and despair. And an awkward, clumsy young girl who made him smile with her antics and cheer.

How different life could have been – how strange if it would have turned out differently – if only Ahiru had spoken a single word, if only Tutu had made some sign of her devotion.

With a gentle hand on his shoulder, Rue drew his inward thoughts away, and the prince shook his head. He had a princess, did he not? Why should he focus on something that would never be?

Placing his hand in hers, the prince escorted his princess back to their kingdom.