A/N: ZareEraz here! I was re-watching Princess Tutu and found a really sweet line that Ahiru said, and it prompted this fic. I've always been a Fakir girl ever since I finished this series the first time and just had to write a little tribute to Fakir and Ahiru. But since I watched this show in English, I'll be using the name "Duck" in stead of "Ahiru." I hope you enjoy it and don't forget to let me know it you did! :3

Warm In His Arms

"It was warm in his arms." - Duck

It has always been warm in Fakir's arms. At least, Duck had always thought so. Even when he was mean to her when they were first getting to know each other, his arms had been warm as he held her close to his chest, hidden by his blue practice shirt. She was just a duck at the time, delivering a note to Mytho's locker and had almost gotten caught, but he had been kind to her, had taken her out of the boy's locker room and had fed her, a small smile on his face. The first real smile she'd ever seen on his lips, the first real light she'd ever seen in his eyes.

It had been so different from the harsh looks and hateful words that usually wreathed his face, so different from the glares and the frowns that accompanied every look he'd given her as Duck the girl. This Fakir was kind and gentle and not at all like the normal Fakir, but later, much later, she'd learned that the kind Fakir was the real on, the man that he truly was under his overprotective and cruel supervision of the prince.

This Fakir, the gentle one, had held her in his arms again just that night. She'd been floating on a little pond, and he was leaning against a tree in the darkness, tear glistening on his face as he tried to hold them back. He'd thought he was a failure of a knight, scared to die at the hands of the story, scared to face the fate that had been laid out for him. But for the first time, Duck had seen his tears, and she'd known he wasn't a failure. He was just a boy desperately trying to save his friend, to be everything that Mytho needed and more and trying to live until he had to die. It was a cruel fate, just like hers was as Princess Tutu, a maiden that was destined to never be with the one she loved, because if she confessed her true feelings towards the prince to him, she'd turn into a speck of light and vanish, never to be seen by the world again. Never to dance again, never to laugh or smile or feel an emotion whatsoever. It was a cruel fate yes, but one that only a duck could accept. And Fakir had a similar fate, destined to die before ever protecting the man he admired and had grown up with.

They were the same, and by the end of the story, they would both vanish from the lives of the people they loved. It was so unfair, so heartless, but in that moment, all Duck had known was that Fakir was hurting and that he wasn't as bad as he made himself out to be. She'd drifted up to him and hopped out of the pond, waddling in her little duck way as she approached him, tears in her eyes.

You've caught me at a bad time. He'd said that to her, but she hadn't cared as he picked her up, holding her in those warm arms once again, feeling his heartbeat just below his clothes, his skin, the strong heart that was having a moment of weakness. And that was okay. Duck was weak all of the time, she knew what it was like to feel useless and so she cried with him, even if the tears of a duck weren't worth much.

The next time that she felt his arms was while she was falling, her clumsy duck ways (helped by some vicious ravens) causing her to fall down a hole in the underground passage on the way to the lake under the town, the stage that Drosselmeyer had presented Krahe with. He'd grabbed her hand, calling her an idiot and falling with her, shielding her from the ground, from hurting herself. He'd saved her, just like the brave knight he was, holding her tightly as they fell through the air towards the water below. His body cushioned her fall, taking the brunt of the impact and cradling her for just a few moments before he pushed her away and stood up, brushing off his scrapes with his usual scowl when she asked if he was hurt. It was a fleeting moment but in it, Duck could feel the sincerity of his grasp, his desire to save people, as a knight should, as a man should.

The next time Duck felt Fakir's arms she was truly grateful that he was there to hold her. She'd transformed into Princess Tutu in an attempt to stop the Ghost Knight and Fakir from fighting, trying to save both of their lives (or unlife in the Ghost Knight's case), but she'd failed. The Ghost Knight's sword was racing towards her, even as she pleaded for them to stop fighting. Cold steel flashed, readying itself to cut into her flesh, to slash her into pieces. But the second sword behind her had stopped its descent, having been denied the clash of blades it desired. That was the sword she trusted, the sword whom she let guard her back. And guard her it did.

Fakir's arm snaked around her waist quickly, pulling her to the ground as the Ghost Knight's sword missed its mark, missed tearing her apart as he strode past the fallen knight and princess. Fakir held her close to him for a moment, his gloved hand digging into her stomach, his arm tense up around her, to keep her still, to keep her safe.

"What the hell are you doing?!" He'd snapped, glaring at the princess as she foolishly put her life in danger. They both heard the footsteps, the clanking of ancient armor, the heavy footfalls of a man much larger than both of them. The Ghost Knight was coming back, coming back to finish the job he'd started…and it would end in their deaths. Princess Tutu stood, breaking free of Fakir's warm arm, leaving the safety of his sword to face the ghost in her own way.

"Please, Fakir! Do not fight!" She mimed for him to stop, and disappeared with the Ghost Knight into the shadowed, tortured and foggy forest.

"Damn it, Tutu! Where are you?!" He'd called out to her, holding his sword in front of him, but his arms were empty now, and she was gone.

The fight was dangerous, with the Ghost Knight refusing to listen to her pleas for peace, for a simple dance that would set him free. Instead, the knight attacked her, lifting his sword against her and slashing it down without mercy. She gasped and jumped back, barely missing getting sliced across her chest. The next slash came at her face, her waist, her arm and it bit into her skin, her leg, her stomach. She cried out in pain, and she knew that Fakir had heard her because he called for her, demanding to know where she was and what was happening. She told him to stay away. It was her turn to protect him.

Standing up to the knight looming over her, bruised, aching, and cut, Princess Tutu smiled and told the knight that what he desired was not to swing his sword anymore, but to give up the fight that had tortured him for so long, the one that had caused him to kill his own lover. She danced towards him, spinning and asking the knight why he couldn't give up his sword, why he carried so much pain and suffering and grief over the death of his lover by his own hand. And Tutu smiled and danced – she dancing with her shaky legs, she dancing with her aching bones, her sliced skin. She would not let her own wounds stop her from relieving the wounds of the knight bound to a dreaded existence to wander; she would keep dancing until he was at peace. Something changed in the knight as she danced, his legs shaking a little as she twirled around him, asking him to put down his sword. The Ghost Knight raised his sword against her, but she was not afraid anymore. She stepped into him, hugging the tall knight's waist and pleading for him to stop. And he did. He disappeared, leaving behind Mytho's shard of pride, which she gave back to him.

The fight and the dance now over, Tutu had sunk to the ground, her pendant having been damaged by the Ghost Knight's sword and the chain had broke. The spell keeping her a girl, keeping her a princess, broke too, leaving behind a little yellow duck. She collapsed to the ground, tired and in pain as the tortured, black forest around her faded, leaving behind the simple wood of Gold Crown Town.

"It's Duck!" She had dimly heard her name being called, dimly heard the clang of a sword dropping, but she could clearly feel the warmth of someone's hands on her little body, lifting her up so she wasn't on the ground anymore. She struggled to open her eyes, to see who had been holding her, but she did finally managed to open her blue eyes a little. It was Fakir. He was kneeling on the ground, a look of pain on his face, almost as if he were about to cry. But Fakir never cried for her sake, he would never do that, so it was just wishful thinking.

Oh, it's Fakir. Is it okay if I sleep a bit? She asked him, her eyes fluttering shut again wearily. She'd never expected to be in his arms again so soon. But now, she was just a duck again, a sad, beaten, scratched duck who couldn't even keep her eyes open. But she knew that she was safe in his hands, cradled into his arms and chest. He wouldn't let any more harm to come to her tiny body.

What she didn't see was the tears sliding down his cheeks, tears for her.

Why am I so weak? Fakir asked himself, doubting his role as the knight, doubting himself. Can my sword not even protect her? She was a clumsy little duck, why couldn't he protect her? Why couldn't he protect anyone? Fakir pulled little Duck into his chest, cradling her weak body to his chest. It was a good thing she was asleep, or he'd never hear the end of how he was crying. The wonderful Fakir! Crying! It was ludicrous! But he still cried all the same. Silently, quietly and sadly…still holding Duck tightly in his arms so she could rest.

Duck awoke in Fakir's arms too. Well…kind of. She really woke up with Fakir's arm reaching towards her and a surprisingly shocked look on his face that scared her, but time had been stopped by Drosselmeyer, so he was frozen, moving to shield her from a nosey and water toting Uzura who was going to turn her back into a naked girl. Duck sighed in relief, happy not to have been so rudely awakened and noted that Fakir must've bandaged her arm-wing up while she'd been sleeping. But then Drosselmeyer had appeared and she'd tumbled outside the window and down to the street to talk with him. The old man had just made her more worried about Mytho and the Raven rather than quelling any of her fears and had disappeared before the conversation had even gotten started. When time moved forward again Duck heard a splash and a cry from Fakir – who must've taken the brunt of the water attack set about by Uzura. As nice as the gesture of protection had been, Duck had been the one to let go of his arms first this time.

The first time Fakir was in Duck's arms was at Autor's house. The door had just opened and Autor had let her inside reluctantly, after she'd seen the knight collapse inside a strange looking study room. Duck ran to him as he crumbled to the floor and placed her hands on his shoulders as he hung heavily on a metal wood holder.

"Fakir! Hang on! Hang in there!" She cried. She wanted to wrap her small arms around him further, but instead she turned to yell at Autor for hurting him, for making him do whatever he ordered. Fakir's arm came up and touched Duck's, his hand warm, even if it was weak and trembling. He'd been standing in that room for three days – not eating, not sleeping and doing nothing. Autor said it was to hone his mind, to better prepare himself for writing the stories that would come to life, but anything that hurt and weakened a person this much couldn't be good! Duck's gentle hands turned to fists, gripping Fakir's blazer tightly. His hand crept up her arm a little more, holding her back from slapping their fellow student, but also because he wanted to touch her, to know something familiar after three days of being immersed in things he didn't have a previous knowledge of. Duck was Duck, a flaming head of clumsiness and quacking…something he'd come to expect and maybe even find affection in. So he lied to her.

"I'm fine." His hand dropped away. She looked at him with her huge doe eyes, concern plainly written on her face, probably knowing he was lying, but he didn't change his answer. He couldn't. It would only hurt her.

But the result of his tutoring with Autor hurt her more. He'd turned into an oak tree himself, at midnight. He'd been prepared to become nothing, to watch and never act, his body morphing into a tree that would observe all. She'd called to him, the princess danced for him in her feathered glory at Tutu, wrapping her graceful arms around his trunk, crying that she could not do anything to bring him back. He'd heard her voice, pleading with him to wake up, to come back, and he did. He could never leave her that lonely.

The tree vanished, leaving behind the tired body of a boy trying to be everything for everyone yet again. And she held him tightly now, as he lay upon the ground. She was stroking his hair, crying for his sake as her gentle arms enveloped him.

"I'm sorry, Fakir. I couldn't do anything. Nothing." She sobbed quietly. But that was wrong…so wrong. She did so much for him, called to him and brought him back! She had to know that what she did was not in vain.

"I heard a voice," He whispered, his own voice weak. "It was yours." He leaned into he a little, resting his head on her chest as a child would with his mother. It was comforting, being held by someone.

It was also comforting to hold someone, but the next time he tried to hold her, hold Princess Tutu's hand, to thank her for saving him from the Bookmen and their axes, for rescuing his hands so he could write…he couldn't touch her.

She had been standing before him, smiling that gentle smile of hers, saying that she was glad she could help him and then, she was trapped in a gear, her hands placed like she was pushing against a barrier of some sort, one that his hand went straight through. He couldn't touch her, he couldn't hold her or thank her because then, Tutu was gone, her gear whisked away into the grave of Drosselmeyer, the old man's voice echoing in the air as Princess Tutu – as Duck – vanished.

Fakir yelled her name, he slammed his fist against the grave of his ancestor, cursing his inability to find out what he was lacking, what he could do to fight Drosselmeyer, to fight the story while within the story itself. Tutu needed him. Duck needed him. She was trapped in the world where Drosselmeyer existed, toying with the lives of the people he loved, making them hurt and suffer. He had to save her this time. It was something only he could do. But what was it that he was supposed to do?

And then the story started doubling back, the wind picking up, Autor disappeared from where he'd been taunting Fakir, the Bookmen came and went again and then he was alone. But Fakir wouldn't go back, he wouldn't let the story take him back to a time when all he did was hurt and push people away, clinging to his sword and saying nothing but hurtful things, all to protect him, to protect Mytho. But he didn't have to protect Mytho alone anymore. He had Tutu…he had Duck to help him. He would protect the people he loved with her! They would do it together!

Together…

"What?" Fakir whirled around, pen and paper clutched in his hands. "Just now…I heard her voice!" He could hear her! He heard the little duck, the clumsy girl who was bad at ballet but had the biggest heart to help those she cherished. He had heard her! He thought of her little bird body, staring up at him with those huge eyes, he thought of her girl body, looking at him warmly as they made their way to the Lake of Despair, he thought of them swimming to save Mytho from Krahe, holding hands softly in the water. Suddenly, he knew what he had to write, what he had to do to see her again.

"She's…she's changed me…" He realized. That little moron had transformed him from the hurtful person he used to be into someone who could work with others, trust others to help him in his endeavor to protect the prince. She was the one who kept the story moving forward, but she was also the one who had helped him move forward too.

"I can write a story about her!" Fakir's quill hit his pad of paper and it moved almost on its own, penning down words about the girl…the woman who had changed his life. "But wait…these words…are not my words…" His pen flew on the page, scribbling ink into letters, letters into words, and words into a story. "These are…all her feelings!"

I want to go back, the pen told him. I want to go back to help Mytho! I want to leave this place! He could almost see her dancing, see her expressing her feelings in the most elegant way that she knew how. He could feel all of her.

Her feelings for Mytho are spilling up into my hand and out onto the page! His hand kept moving, kept writing her story, hoping that he could bring her out, bring her back.

And at that time, the knight who had cast away his sword, called her name, in order to lead her out of the darkness. His hand wrote and in that moment he knew, it was time to stop writing and he opened his lips, a single word perched on his tongue.

"DUCK!" He screamed her name – her real name – praying that his voice would reach her, that this one story might come true with all his heart.

Drosselmeyer's grave lit up with a glorious light, so white and pure that it nearly blinded Fakir. But he looked nonetheless, and saw the sight that he'd been wishing for. A single pointe shoe, attached to a graceful leg and a white tutu.

"Duck!" He called again, reaching out his hand, wanting to touch her again.

"Fakir!" She called back, reaching for him as well as her leap descended to the ground with all the elegance of Princess Tutu. Their hands met, their fingers warm against each other. She fell into his arms, her free hand grasping his shoulder, as his arm fell around her waist, pulling her close, keeping her safe. His grip on her hand tightened, never wanting to let her go again. Tutu let herself be held, relief flooding through her like the warmth of his arms. Pages fluttered around their feet, carried by an invisible wind. He'd written a story. A story, to bring her back.

"Did you write a story…about me then?" She asked with small smile.

"Yeah." He replied quietly, ducking his head down to rest it on her shoulder, his breath ghosting across her skin.

"Thank you." Princess Tutu collapsed, her knees hitting the ground heavily as her transformation disappeared in a bright glitter of red, becoming just Duck again.

"Hey!" Fakir caught the unconscious girl and cradled her head into his chest. Autor appeared again as demanded to know what was going on with the story, and Fakir told him that he wouldn't let the story double back again. But mostly his mind was on Duck, picking her up princess style and hefting her into his arm.

"You're not thinking of rewriting the story controlling this town are you?" Author demanded.

"All I want…is the power to protect people. That's it." Fakir said that much with conviction. He wanted to protect Duck, Mytho and the rest of the innocent people living in the town. None of them deserved to be tangled up in Drosselmeyer's sick story, so he'd change it if he had to. And he'd keep Duck safe this time, safe enough that it would be like she was in his arms always, even when she was far away from him. It was the least he could do for the girl who'd risked so much trying to restore the prince's heart.

The next time Duck was in Fakir's arms, he was running to save her. Duck had been compelled by Drosselmeyer's story that he'd forced Fakir to write to walk into the Lake of Despair and vanish, leaving the story to a tragic end. Duck had sunk to the bottom, hazily drifting around in thoughts of inadequacy, failure and selfishness that were the complete opposite of what she was. She thought that she had betrayed the prince by not being about to give his final heart shard back, but that was completely wrong. Duck had to see that! Fakir leapt into the water and swam deeper and deeper into the Lake of Despair, looking for Duck, wanting to right the wrong he'd been a part of committing. He had helped in making the girl feel this way about herself, but it was a lie, a lie created by Drosselmeyer to wring tragedy from the story. The words he'd written echoed in his head, haunting him.

At that moment, Duck could hear a voice…it was the voice of Drosselmeyer, the man who controlled the story!

"It's because you're scared of letting go of Princess Tutu that you can't give back the heart shard, right?" Drosselmeyer prodded.

"No! That's not it!" Duck argued back, her voice trembling.

"You're afraid to part with the prince." Drosselmeyer continued, his voice taking on a knowing tone. As if he knew Duck's feelings!

"I just want-" She started.

"Rue would be carved into the prince's heart for all eternity because she gave herself over to the Raven. And by keeping the heart shard, Duck would live on in the prince's heart as Princess Tutu, and not as an ugly, little duck." No! Fakir thought. She's not selfish enough to want that, she's not cruel enough to lead the story into tragedy! She's not ugly…she's the most beautiful person in the story, so pure and kind hearted that she'd risk so much for everyone…

"Is it…is it all my fault?" Duck's voice broke, seeming on the edge of tears. No! Fakir wanted to shout and tell her it was all a lie, but his hand kept writing all the same.

"Yes, yes it is. And in order to take off the pendant, you'll have to give up your life and sink into the Lake of Despair, walking further and further in until-"

"Stop it!" Fakir said. "Stop, Duck!"

"Deeper and deeper…" Drosselmeyer continued. Duck's eyes grew sad and she walked into the lake slowly, disappearing into the waters of despair. And that's when Fakir had stabbed his hand, to top the horrible tale his blood was spinning, to stop the pain and abuse that Duck had been subjected to.

"DUCK!" But she was gone, dragged into the Lake of Despair by the story's – by Drosselmeyer's – will.

Now he needed to change Duck's fate, he needed to find her, fast! Fakir swam deeper and deeper, just like Drosselmeyer's story had prompted Duck to do, to fall and fall into the Lake of Despair until she vanished. He prayed that he wasn't too late. The writer searched the water, looking for Duck. There she was! She was lying still on the floor of the lake, her eyes closed as if she were crying.

"Duck!" He yelled to her, speaking and breathing not seeming to be an issue in this stage of Drosselmeyer's. She opened her eyes. "Duck!"

"Fakir?" She asked softly, sitting up. Fakir floated down to the floor of the lake in front of her. "Fakir!" Duck's hands flew to her neck where her heart shard was and she clawed at the clasp behind her neck. "Fakir, the pendant won't come off!" Her voice was trembling again as she tried to hold back her sobs.

"It's the last of Mytho's heart shards and Mytho asked me to give it to him but…" She was crying now, crying from her own frustration and worthlessness that the story had pushed onto her. Why couldn't she do anything right? Was it really her fault? Did she really not want Mytho to go back into the story? Was all of this for her own sake and not for his? Was she that selfish? Tears rolled down her cheeks as she kept her head down, not wanting to look into Fakir's eyes, not wanting him to see her failure or her tears. She'd hate him. She knew he would, but the words of her insecurity slipped out anyway.

"Mytho said that he wanted to make Rue his princess…and I know he wants to save her from the Raven…but it just won't come off! This is all my fault!" She finally looked up, tears welling back into her eyes, running down her cheeks. "Because I'm thinking…deep inside my heart I don't want the story to ever end! Pike, Lillie, Mr. Cat and all the others turned into crows…but even after that-" Her sobs cut her off, her little chest heaving with sorrow.

"Idiot." Fakir said softly, reaching down to grasp her shoulders. "You're not the only one."

"What?" She asked, looking up again.

"You're not the only one, Duck." He said earnestly. "I don't want – no, the fact of the matter is that nobody wants to see the story come to an end. No one save Mytho himself. I still can't write a story about Mytho either." Duck looked into Fakir's soft, deep eyes and felt his warm hands on her shoulders, listening to his words that sounded so much like her own. Fakir's hands moved down her arms, pulling her up and grasping her hands. "Stop blaming just yourself. Everyone's scared, of being restored to their true selves." Fakir brought Duck into his arm as she gasped, squeezing his hand tightly as the other came to her waist. His body was close to hers, warming her up in the deep waters of Despair, holding her safely. She melted into his arms, her head dropping to his chest as he comforted her.

"Everyone's used to being given roles that shelter them from the business of living." Then Fakir was moving, moving Duck into a supported arabesque, his hands holding her own as her legs and arms extended. He was dancing a pas de deux with her! "The real you…is a duck. And the real me…in the end, the real me has been protected since by childhood." Fakir's eyes grew pained. "I can't protect anyone."

"Huh?" Duck voiced quietly. Fakir wasn't like that at all! He was strong, stronger than she was! He protected her sometimes and he was always protecting Mytho as hard as he could! But before Duck could say any of this, Fakir stepped back and gestured for her to leap into his arms. And she did, knowing that he'd catch, hold her close and keep her from falling. They spun, around and around, with Fakir's arm around her waist, her legs extended in a split, her left arm thrown back gracefully, her right across the shoulder of his extended arm, always seeming to reach for his free hand, they spun and spun.

"But even if that is what I'm truly like, I want to end the story once and for all." He said it with conviction, something that Duck could hold onto, to make herself strong with. She wanted to make Mytho and Rue happy, and if ending the story did that, then so be it. She'd go back to being a duck, no matter how pitiful an existence it was. "I want to protect Mytho and you because of my own feelings, not because of some role given to me. Even if I use up all of my power." Duck gasped, finally hearing what had been in Fakir's heart for a long time.

"But when that happens, I'll go back to being just a bird." Tears threatened to fall again as Duck spoke. She didn't want to leave everyone, she didn't want to go back, but she knew she had to. "I'll never study ballet with everybody again." Fakir set Duck down gracefully and pulled her into another spin, this time he had his back to hers, his arms draped behind him towards her waist, her arms pulled upwards past his head. They bourreed around and around, still taking to one another.

"That's fine? Isn't it? Because that's who you really are."

"Yeah."

"And when that time comes, I'll stay by your side forever." It was a promise, a sincere, heartfelt promise. Duck nearly started crying again. Just a few minutes ago, she was about to lose everything dear to her…her town, her prince, Rue, Fakir…even her own existence. But now, now she felt like she could keep all of those things in a way, with Fakir by her side. "F-fakir…" She did start crying this time, having this small hope, that he could stay with her, even after she became a bird again.

It's strange, she thought as Fakir ended their spin and took her hands again, pulling them forward and back so that they were chest to chest, cheek to cheek. He sank into a long lunge, his front knee bending, his back leg extended straight with a perfect pointed toe. She dipped into a derrière attitude with her leg bent behind her, not at deep or as elegant as Princess Tutu's attitudes, but it was still good in its own way. This was how Duck danced, this is how Duck danced with Fakir. Until a little while ago, I thought it was okay for me to simply vanish. I'm weak..they moved together again, stepping and dancing until Duck was leaning into his chest with her back, her arms crossed over her chest and shoulders, holding on her his hands on either side of her body. Her right leg floated up into a high développé and she let her head fall into his shoulder. But Fakir always makes me stronger…somehow. She twisted slowly out of her extension and let her leg fall to the ground. She looked at Fakir, staring into his eyes and finding that his own were soft, a small smile on his face, just like hers.

"Let's go back to behind our true selves now." He whispered, wrapping his arms around her waist as her arms came up around his neck. He slid into another lunge, lowering her into a full split softly, gently and warmly with his arms wrapped around her. She never wanted this moment to end, this perfect dance that was far from professional on her part, but it was perfect nonetheless.

"Yes." She agreed, nodding. They stared into each other's eyes, finding feelings that they'd never expressed or had even know that they had felt about each other, but still not wanting to say them because of the pain of parting that lay ahead. "Let's compose an end for this story, not just for Mytho's sake, but for our own sake's as well."

"Yes." She whispered, holding onto Farki's warmth for just a moment longer. Her pendant sparkled once and then the clasp came undone, falling into Duck's startled hands as she let go of her partner. "The pendant! The pendant just came off, Fakir!" Duck felt happiness and sadness at the same time, but she only dwelt on the happiness.

"Let's give it back to Mytho." Fakir smiled at her. But then the floor that they were on moved, tipping to the side to reveal that it wasn't a floor but a gear, a gear of the story. Duck screamed as they fell deeper into Despair, but Fakir reached out and held her close as they fell.

They saw Rue below them, trapped in a gear further down in her own despair, but they couldn't save her like this, they needed to save her in the world above them. So they left, Fakir still holding onto Duck and Duck doing the same as they went to face the conclusion of the story and the return to their true selves.

She wasn't physically in his arms during the fight against the Raven, but while Fakir was writing, it was as if his arms were around her tiny duck body, holding her warmly as she fought to give Mytho hope, to give Rue hope, to give the villagers hope, and to give herself hope as well. She could hear his voice, probably through the story as he wrote, giving her the strength to stand no matter how many times she was pecked at or tossed around or thrown to the ground. His voice, his words, his hope was what kept her going – kept that warm feeling that he always held in his arms around her as she danced. Even when she finally collapsed to the ground, the Raven defeated by Mytho and Rue, it wasn't long before she was back in Fakir's arms as he held her tiny, beaten body close to his chest. She opened her eyes and smiled at him as best she could with her duck's beak.

He bandaged her up first, making sure that her wounds were taken care of before he even thought of rewrapping the wounds on his own hands – hands stained with ink from rewriting the story, the story that saved them all. Rue and Mytho joined them too, smiling and glad that the fight was over. And then, when Uzura came running, yelling something about having found the story, Fakir carried Duck in his arms, not letting her walk a step as he tried to keep her from hurting herself more by clumsily tottering after then, being beaten up as she was. Fakir climbed up the steps of the tallest building in town, carefully holding Duck so she wouldn't flail or move and hurt herself more. Up and up and up they went, all five of them until Uzura showed them the machine that was writing the story. Fakir tore the machine away from the blank pages of the unfinished manuscript, severing Drosselmeyer's hold on the town, ending the story himself.

"I will write the rest myself." Fakir stated, taking fate into his own hands. And he did.

Prince Siegfried took Rue into the story with him, to be his princess and she was delighted to be loved by the prince. They all said their farewells, and even if Duck was sad, she knew that this was the way that it was always going to be, right from the beginning. Because she was just a duck. And that was okay. Fakir had promised to say by her side no matter what form she took, so she decided to believe that promise even as she let Mytho and Rue – her friends – leave her life. They would live happily together in the story because that's what they wanted. And Fakir was there to watch them fly away into the horizon, holding her comfortably.

And to be honest, it was still warm in Fakir's arms, especially since she was allowed to sleep in them now. Sure, it had been nice to doze off in his arms as a Duck, but ever since the writer had written her a story that turned her back into a human girl, well, they lived and loved together years after the story had ended. It was nice. To be held and to hold someone as well.

Fakir was one of those men who, despite being a pain in the day time, could be really sweet and childish at night when he was asleep. He liked to hold Duck close to him like one would hold a comforting blanket or a stuffed animal. He denied all her teasing about it but one time, he had admitted that he was scared that he'd wake up and she'd be just a duck again, his failure plain to see. Not that he minded her as a duck, but he liked talking with her and holding her and giving her little kisses for no reason at all and watching her squawk and sputter in her clumsy girl body.

Duck giggled at the thought, her soft laughter waking up Fakir in the early hours right before the gray dawn touched the sky.

"Duck?" Fakir whispered, lifting up his head a little bit off the pillow. "What is it?"

"Warm…" Was all she said, snuggling into his chest, loving the warmth that he'd always had.

"Too warm?" He asked sleepily.

"No."

"Then don't wake me up." He grumbled, dropping his head back down to go back to sleep. Same old Fakir. Duck giggled a second time and Fakir just sighed, wrapping his arms around her tighter as they drifted off to sleep again.

Ende

A/N: And that's all folks! I hope you enjoyed my first Princess Tutu fic! See you all later! :3