This Is All Wrong

by Lexiconish

An insane old man interferes with Fakir's life, asking him to collect all the shattered pieces of Rue's shattered heart. Wait, so all those times she said she loved Mytho, she was lying through her teeth? Ahiru causes chaos as a poor knight too. Screw It.

1. In Which Fakir's Catchphrase Appears

This Is All Wrong

by Black-Sakura27

Disclaimer: Black-Sakura27 does not own Princess Tutu. She was also inspired by a similar idea to this, and does not claim full ownership. Black-Sakura27 does not own the first verse of the 'theme song' either. This is credited to Princess Tutu Abridged. I wrote the second verse for my fan fiction, but well... it's crappy, right?

Warnings: Occassional out-of-character-ness, which was unavoidable. Extreme Drosselmeyer behaviour. Extreme Ahiru stupidity.

Summary: Mixed and matched roles of Princess Tutu. An insane old man interferes with Fakir's life and asks him to restore the pieces of his best friend's girlfriend's shattered heart. "Wait. So, all the times she said she loved him, she was lying through her teeth?" It would be easier if wanna-be knights weren't trying to mess everything up. "Screw it."

Chapter One: In Which Fakir's Catchphrase Appears

~ScrewIt~

She's A Magical Ballerina Princess With A Nice Ass,

Even Though She Is A Duck She Really Is High Class,

And In Ballet School She Barely Can Pass,

Magical Ballerina Princess With A Nice Ass!

One Day Evil Fanfic Writers Came And Stole The Plot,

Took A Knight, A Duck, A Prince And Threw Them In A Pot,

Stirred With Frequent Errors, And Changed To What Was Not,

Meant To Be And Served With Liebe,

A Magical BallerinO Prince Who's Reluctant!

~ScrewIt~

Fakir rolled over in his sleep, a frown marring his handsome features. He was having the most twisted dream he had ever had before, and he honestly just wanted it to be over with.

A raven haired girl twirled on the surface of a lake, garbed in a beautiful white gown, she held a faint smile on her lips. There was something wrong though; in the girl's captivating ruby gaze, was nothing; empty. He would have said she looked lonely, or sorrowful, but the truth was neither. This girl held nothing, and a part of him knew why. The part that didn't would soon be told.

Bored of watching the pitiful girl, Fakir turned around, realising that something was off in the way that he moved; seeing his reflection, his bright, wide green eyes widened. A sleek, velvety feathered black duck blinked the same green eyes from the water. This was the sort of dream Fakir wasn't used to; a duck, he was a duck!

Whipping around, he studied the girl more carefully. He knew that girl. She drifted about the school dancing magnificantlly, but her dances were all technique. There was no passion. Fakir's own room mate, the clever Mytho, was her self-appointed boyfriend. Why had he not recognised her sooner then?

He guessed he had never before zoned in on how miserable her visage was before now. Perhaps that was it. A pang of sympathy flowed out from him. If he could, he would like to help her.

He would like to help Rue.

Fakir shot upright as he awoke, and he foolishly held his hands out in front of him for examination; not a feather in sight, thank goodness. Sighing, he pushed the dream aside, because really Rue couldn't be that pathetic, and if she was, it didn't matter to him.

He rose from the bed, and glanced to his side to find that Mytho was already pulling his pants on. "Ah, you're up," he said, "It's unusual for you to wake after me. You might want to hurry up and get dressed though, I think Neko-sensei will be mad if we're late."

Fakir nodded, and proceeded to class calmly. It had already started, and Neko-sensei scowled at them. Fakir praised the heavens that he was a boy, and so his teacher had never seen fit to threaten him with marriage as punishment, the way he did the girls.

Did he mention his teacher was a cat? Tall, lisping, grey-furred and amber eyed, Neko-sensei was incredibly desperate for marriage, and so often did students turn his proposals down, Fakir worried that the... man/beast would eventually resort to even the male students. He wasn't looking forward to that day. Evading the teacher's hissing scolding, Fakir and Mytho stepped over to the bar and began to practice. Eyes scanning the class, he was momentarily reminded of his dream as his sight alighted on Rue, who was already dancing. Graceful movements, smooth transitions, precise placement of her hands and feet; but as in his dream, there was absolutely no emotion coming across. 'Weird,' he thought, but continued to sweep the class. He was distracted for a moment by the fumbling red-head in the beginner's class that was always late. Ahiru, he was sure her name was. Her friends were currently causing her excruciating pain as they leaned against her back and teased her.

"Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow!" she wailed as they giggled, and Fakir supposed he should have felt sorry for her. Fat chance.

"Fakir?" Mytho nudged his side, "Shouldn't you be dancing right about now?"

Probably. He didn't though. He'd practice later in the day, when other students weren't around. He preferred not to dance in front of people, unless he was performing. Naturally, he couldn't always get away with that, but today Neko-sensei seemed thoroughly engrossed in the beginners lesson (he couldn't help but wonder if this was because the majority of this class was made up of young girls, but dismissed it before he started to think of his teacher as more of a creep than he already did) he managed to lean against the wall and ignore everyone.

'I wish everyone would ignore me too,' he thought with irritation as he felt the stares of more than half the female population in the room. 'Dammit, I wish fangirls would pester someone else once in a while. Come on, don't they have fan fiction to write or something? Couldn't they at least be constructive with their obsessions?'

~ScrewIt~

"Swishy sword," a voice was singing softly. And, badly; incredibly off-key. Fakir winced, following the sound to Ahiru, who was settled on the edge of the fountain and waving a stick around in a mockery of a sword. Mildly curious, he watched as she continued to mutter. "Knight-hood, psh, stuff it I don't have anyone that needs protecting..." she trailed off, noticing his gaze, and waving stupidly with the 'sword'. "Oh, hi Senior Fakir!"

He thought it best not to answer. If he didn't acknowledge it, maybe someday it would cease to exist. A good rule to live by; don't get involved in weird things. Ahiru was all-around weird.

Instead, he wandered over to the library, and flipped through the pages of a book he'd been meaning to check out. "Who the hell wrote this thing, Charon?" his guardian, Charon, had early in life proved to Fakir that he would never be going anywhere in the writing business. What Fakir had been reading was... absolute rubbish. "This doesn't make a speck of sense; I mean, first he avoids her because he wants to devour her life, and suddenly, randomly, with barely a word spoken, they're in love and nothing can tear them apart? Where, I ask, where was the development!?" He silently wondered if maybe Ahiru was the author. Honestly, she seemed to fail at everything he'd seen her do so far, he wouldn't be surprised. Checking the name of the author, he made a mental note to never pick up another book written by her again.

By now, it was growing late, and he set the book back on the shelf, carefully (a book was still a book, no matter how awful it was) and stepped out of the library and towards his dormitory, where Mytho was already asleep. 'I can talk with him more often another time,' Fakir thought. The two of them were fairly close friends, almost brothers, but frankly Mytho shied away from Fakir's controlling nature, and tended to be asleep half the time Fakir was around. Sometimes he suspected the white haired boy did this on purpose.

Climbing into bed, it took some time for him to fall asleep again. When he did, he wished he hadn't.

He was on the lake, again, and Rue was dancing in the background. Fakir didn't pay her any attention this time, and barely stopped to confirm he was a duck again, choosing to explore the realm of his dreams in more depth, but only got so far as some reeds. Sitting in a rocking chair, scribbling in a book (vandalism!) was an elderly man with a maniacal pair of eyes, a colourful feather hat, curly white hair and, well, his whole presence screamed 'freak'.

"You can't come this way," the man said in a deep, gravelly, booming voice that seemed to encompass the whole lake.

"Why? It's my dream, I'll do what I want."

"Well, you can't, because I've gone to all the trouble of setting this dream up again, so you better get back over there, and yearn to help her." He sounded mildly annoyed, the scratching of the quill stopping temporarily as he spoke, not looking at Fakir.

"Can't I just 'yearn' from over here?" Fakir suggested.

"Wha-? You-? Sp-? Over-?" the man spluttered, stunned, "N-no! No, you can't."

He was sick of the freak already. "Whatever."

"Look, you're going to ask me who I am, right now, alright?" the man snapped.

"Just tell me."

"Ask."

"Fine."

They sat in silence for a long time, and finally the man heaved an exasperated sigh. "You may call me Drosselmeyer, or Big-Daddy-Home-Dawg-D." At Fakir's rather disturbed expression, he amended, "Drosselmeyer is probably easier. In any case, now you're going to ask what I am doing here." Remembering that Fakir wasn't really interested, he elected to continue himself, "I'm here to offer you a way to help that young girl. You see, she doesn't have a heart. She's a princess, and she battled a monster chicken - sorry, I mean, a monster Raven, this damn dream system stuffs up sometimes, it's rather old - anyway. In order to seal the raven away, she shattered her own heart, and the pieces scattered. Then the raven came out of the story I wrote," here he raised a rather elaborately decorated book, "and she followed after it. Now the story is happening in your town, and I can't get it moving, so it's gotten rather dull."

"I've read that book," Fakir inserted helpfully, but passed no other comment.

"Have you? That's nice. Back to my deal: I need you to become Princess Tutu - at least, that's what the character was called in my story, but well, it's kind of gotten a bit muddled in the real world. Now I suppose it'll have to be... I don't know, Prince Tights?"

Fakir dead-panned, and Drosselmeyer heaved a sigh. "Or not. Well, come on, I'm working with a ballet theme here. You're a bookworm, any ideas?"

"I'm supposed to become some magical prince. Who'll do what now?" Fakir asked.

"Gather the heart shards of course."

"Screw that," Fakir said almost before Drosselmeyer had finished, "Do you know how many emotions people can feel? I could spend my life collecting these things, and still not finish! No way."

Beginning to rock in his curved wooden chair, Drosselmeyer laughed. "Too bad. This is your destiny pal."

As Drosselmeyer threw a rather sharp green rock at his head, Fakir woke up.

"Good Lord," he growled, sitting up, "What have I been eating lately?" He then felt a stab of pain on his forehead, and reached up to feel a faint cut. "You have got to be kidding me."

However, looking to his lap, Fakir discovered a clear, swirling emerald stone. Something like a white mist could be seen inside it, and it was shaped like the blade of a sword, missing the hilt. "Bugger," he cursed, coming to the conclusion that he may as well hold onto it, in case it was one of those time-wasting things that when thrown away, kept coming back in less and less comfortable places. Attaching it to a silver chain, he looped it over his head, and got ready for class.

As he watched Rue and Mytho performing for the rest of the class, he couldn't help but think he had just been forced into something weird. He knew somewhere in his life he'd promised he wouldn't do that, but... well, here he was. 'The reluctant Prince,' he mused, 'How about that Big-Daddy-Home-Dawg-D? Prince Reluctant.' About ten minutes later, 'I hope he didn't take that seriously.'

~ScrewIt~

Day One

Fakir dreamt again. Drosselmeyer was there. He said he wanted a name, and to hurry up with it.

Day Two

Drosselmeyer was in the mirror's reflection today. Needless to say, Fakir freaked and screamed pervert. It took some time to convince a paranoid Mytho that he'd over-reacted to something...

Day Three

He was kind of expecting Drosselmeyer to be waiting at the fountain at lunch. People were gawking at him, so Fakir skipped lunch, and went directly to the library. He almost wished he could swap Drosselmeyer for some regular female stalkers again.

Day Four

"Seriously," Fakir scowled at the spoon, where Drosselmeyer's deformed features (you choose whether this is because of the spoon, or just Drosselmeyer's natural freakishness) were staring at him, "I don't have any ideas. You pick one yourself."

"I swear, I'll name you Prince Tights," Drosselmeyer jeered.

In response, Fakir threw the spoon into his cereal, and walked away. Drosselmeyer's shadow followed him instead of his own. A few girls shrieked in horror, and fainted in the hallways. "Fine," Fakir grit out, "How about..." he paused to think. "Prince Prinz?"

"What?" Drosselmeyer exclaimed, "Prince Prince? That's just terrible! No."

"Ok. Then..."

"Nevermind," Drosselmeyer suddenly interrupted, not wanting to be subjected to that again, and also having been struck with inspiration. "You go ahead and enjoy life until I give Destiny a call; I've got her number here somewhere..." the shadow vanished. Fakir went on to class without any further worry.

Ahiru was waving her arms around pathetically. Mytho was dancing with the power and determination of a king, and Rue was... dancing the way Rue dances.

Fakir joined in for once, and danced causing the rest of the class to stop and watch; Fakir's dancing shouted for everyone to 'watch me, watch me!'.

~ScrewIt~

That was the point when things got serious. True, Drosselmeyer remained unusually... well. True, ballet classes continued, and the people involved pretended nothing was wrong. But at this point, everyone became...

... serious.

On his way to the library, Fakir passed beneath Rue's dormitory window. That didn't seem odd, because he always did, and rarely even noticed the bold violet curtains that fluttered in the breeze. Today though, he stopped and looked up, as he had done occassionally ever since Drosselmeyer's appearance, just in case the decrepit man gave 'Destiny a call'. She was standing there at the moment, dull eyes examining the world around her with little interest. A raven flew past her window, and she followed its path with crimson eyes, unblinking.

Then she clambered onto the sill, and leaned out, spreading her arms wide, and she jumped. Fakir's eyes grew wide in alarm. Was the girl insane? She was attempting suicide! 'Now would be a good time Big-D!' he thought, rushing forwards without thinking, and squeezing the green stone around his neck tightly, feeling it dig into his skin, and blinked as light enveloped him. Before he could protest, he stood in the courtyard in a pair of black tights, a form-fitting black top that had sleeves that cut off at different lengths, one half way down his upper arm, and the other three-quarters of the way down his arm. He wore sleek black two shoes, and his hair was... short, and sloped down at the back to the nape of his neck. He also had a deep, navy blue cloak.

"Ridiculous," he muttered, before remembering that Rue was falling and pretending to fly. Slapping his forehead, he grimaced as he pirouetted forewards, and softened her fall with a carpet of slippery dark blue petaled flowers. Scooping her up uncerimoniously, he snarled, "Idiot! Humans. Can't. Fly!" immediately stalking away, Drosselmeyer's voice echoing in his head: "You are Prince Liebe."

"Screw destiny!" Fakir shouted as he stomped towards the forest, "Screw it!"

. . . whereupon, to his alarm, he promtly transformed into a tiny duck. "I hate you," he 'quacked', hearing Drosselmeyer's amused laughter all around him, "This is NOT funny!"

Oh, but it was.

~ScrewIt~

Kura: Here I enter with a brand new fan fiction, to apologise for deleting "The Doomed Princess"! I did so, because if I ever get around to it, I can improve it, in which case I will re-upload it. Anyway, I confess, I had this idea while watching Princess Tutu Akt 13 - you know the one, the finalé of Series One? Where Fakir 'dies'? Yeah. Except as I began to write it, I recalled reading somewhere on deviantART that someone had done an RPG type thing with a similar idea, so perhaps I was influenced, therefore, I do not claim full rights to the idea. I was inspired.

Anyway. I realise Rue is going to be Out Of Character a lot, because she doesn't have a heart. Can't really be helped. Mytho is going to flit between Prince!Mytho and Raven!Mytho and Heartless!Mytho... Rue will probably randomly burst out as her other personalities too. Ahiru is going to be a little bit... um, amusing, to say the least, and Drosselmeyer was intentionally OOC alright? I wanted him to be. Also... I did randomly decide that Fakir's version of 'Quack' is 'Screw it'.

Insert: Big-Daddy-Home-Dawg-D came from Princess Tutu Abridged on youtube. Go check it out if you haven't, and stick with it; the later episodes have improved a lot from the first few.

Drosselmeyer: Do I have a mobile?

Kura: Yes.

Drosselmeyer: And I have Destiny's phone number?

Kura: Apparently.

Fakir: Lol~ I am reluctant.

Kura: Very. I'm afraid that doesn't really change. I'd like to point out: This is an Ahiru/Fakir fic, and a Mytho/Rue fic. Sorry guys, at no point in the story will Fakir or Rue have romantic feelings for the other. There are other feelings though...

Fakir: Yeah...?

Ahiru: -glaring- what kind of 'other feelings'?

Kura: Nothing romantic, remember?

Rue: I have a question.

Kura: Mmm?

Rue: What's Prince Prinz mean? And Prince Liebe?

Kura: Glad you asked. Autor, if you please.

Autor: -pushes glasses up nose- certainly. Prinz, as any die-hard Princess Tutu fan ought to know, is German for 'prince'. -sidetracks from script momentarily- honestly, Fakir, that was dreadful. -returns to script after receiving a death glare- Uh, and liebe is German for 'love'. Thus, Drosselmeyer has rather humiliated Fakir with the title...

Mytho: Prince Love.

Ahiru: That is so cute!

Kura: . . . Let's cut to the chase. A review would be nice, and it'd go a long way towards faster updates. Hopefully, next chapter will be an improvement. The story will begin to deviate from Princess Tutu at times. Please stick with this, because I realise this chapter isn't my best, and I will be getting better. Chapters will probably be longer, too.