Inspired by the massive amounts of AUs floating around on Tumblr, I decided to make my own mixing my love of fairy and folk tales and one of my favorite authors: L. M. Montgomery. Although I doubt she'd write this, I still had a lot of fun. Due to the nature of how this story came about the chapters are not in chronological order. I could rearrange them since I'm posting a bunch right now, but future chapters would still be out of order. I've also drawn quite a few illustrations to go with this, they're all on Tumblr where I have the same name so it should be rather easy to find them all.

Disclaimer: I don't own Princess Tutu or any of the characters, the fact that I'm posting this story here is proof enough of that. The story itself, however, is all mine.


On a well traveled highway, just outside of a small farming village, where the nearby forest s trees were just beginning to thin into the flat expanse carved out for civilization, sat a tiny cottage. It was a rather homely cottage, worn on the edges with an over grown garden full of weeds, all of which were shielded from prying eyes of its nearest neighbors by a thin screen of trees and a well placed hill. Inside a man with dark hair and well worn clothes gave a thin-lipped stare to his pantry. It was a well stocked pantry, full of various food items, two of which were still warm. With a slight sound of unhappiness Fakir shut the pantry and moved into the front room, he had some chores to attend to there he really couldn't put off any longer.

As he worked he glanced out the window, still missing curtains, and noticed a middle aged woman just rounding the gentle slope, the one that kept the nearby village out of sight, with a conspicuous basket hanging from her arm. Fakir's cottage was the last house before the road entered the forest proper and there were no other buildings between him and the next village, some day's walk away. Before he could think about it Fakir turned and fled into the kitchen, on the table was an old canvas bag he grabbed hastily before rushing through the kitchen door and out into the neglected garden. As he hopped the low, stone fence that separated his tiny oasis of civilization from the surrounding woods the only thing Fakir could think about was how he could not endure another visit from some farmer's wife with a gift casserole used to gain entrance to come in and see how he's settled since moving in a month ago, but was really an excuse to scoff at his attempts at house keeping. Let her knock on his door and peer in his window, this would make the fifth visit he had to suffer through today and it was only barely after noon. No man could be blamed for skipping out on his fifth curious neighbor in one day. Two of them even happened to run into each other as one was just leaving, the one leaving decided to stay and act hostess for him, without even so much as a by your leave, and entertained the other. He had been forced to sit and listen to them prattle on about quilting bees and dress patterns for nearly half an hour before they both left, heads conveniently close to gossip about his home no doubt.

Fakir's mad dash slowed to a leisurely pace, he was deep enough into the forest to not be followed now. He adjusted the heavy canvas bag he carried, when he first rushed from his home he had only grabbed it on instinct and now it was dragging heavily on his arm. The thought that his home wouldn't be cause for farmers' wives to gawk at if he stayed to care for it instead of always wandering off to the woods crossed his mind for a moment, but Fakir countered the unwanted thought with the retort that he would gladly stay home and take better care of his new cottage if he were not interrupted quite so often by nosey old women.

Before his thoughts had a chance to war any more Fakir came to his destination: a clearing in the forest containing a deep pool, some rocks, a great many wild flowers, and a half rotted log hosting a large growth of ferns. Because of how the log and ferns were tucked into the corner of the clearing the shadows fell dramatically over them no matter the time of day. The frazzled young man stood in the sunshine spilling into the clearing, took a deep breath, and then just stared into the shadowed woods for a time, this spot always refreshed his soul and set his hand twitching. He eagerly moved to his usual spot, the roots of an old oak tree sitting on slightly higher ground. So far, since finding this clearing, the roots of this particular oak had not been wet or hiding any unpleasant surprises while also affording a good view of the log and ferns that usually ended up being his focus. Once settled into his usual spot he unpacked his canvas bag: a solid piece of wood with a metal clip on one end, an abundance of papers clipped to the board, some with writing on them, and a fountain pen. Fakir flipped through the paper until he got to the last one with writing on it, briefly scanning over the words before putting pen to paper. There were frequent stops as he gazed, glassy eyed, at the scenery around him, but soon the sun and wind seemed to work some magic on him and his pen nigh flew across the page.

"Whatcha doing?" Fakir's pen skittered to a stop at the unexpected question, he had been so engrossed he hadn't even noticed anyone walking up, let alone practically leaning over his shoulder. If there was one thing Fakir hated more than being interrupted it was someone attempting to read over his shoulder. He only hated it more because such people usually lead to interruptions anyway.

With barely a glance to his left, not far enough to actually see the intruder, he growled out: "I'm writing, do you mind?" Then turned back to his writing and attempted to pick his train of thought back up.

"No, I don t mind at all. I ve never seen anything like it, what do the marks mean?"

Fakir grit his teeth, not only was some child interrupting him, judging from the voice, but this child was so ignorant she didn t even know what writing was. There was no way he could continue writing after such an interruption. "These marks are letters and the are th-" Whatever he was about to say was lost in the ether because he had turned to look at the child who had interrupted him, a slim girl with tanned skin, freckles, bright hair, large, blue eyes, and not a stitch of clothing on her. Fakir sputtered and felt his face heat up as he first attempted to scoot sideways away from the girl then turned and face away while he covered his face with his papers. "Y-y-you re naked!"

"Huh?" Fakir didn t see it, but he was sure the nude girl had cocked her head, "What does naked mean?"

Fakir was so flabbergasted he couldn t even form coherent thought for a full minute at least, first she doesn t know what writing is and now she doesn t know what naked is? Then something clicked, there was something strange about her ears, something he hadn't noticed at first in the shock of her nudity. He turned slightly, trying to look at her from the corner of his eye without looking at her too hard. The girl was now standing in the spot he had just been sitting in, half leaned over as she looked at him with something in between concern and curiosity. Yes, definitely not a stitch of clothing on her, but he was strong and would look only at her face, even if he was sure he was blushing harder than he ever had in his life and would likely never stop after this. He found her ears, they weren't normal at all. Long and pointed, sticking straight out of her head, and covered in fuzz the same color as her hair, they were definitely animal ears of some kind. He wasn t sure what, cow? Sheep? Either way she was not human, likely some sort of fae creature, and he had read enough folklore to know that he absolutely did not want to get mixed up with that.

"Are you okay," She asked with concern. "You sure act strange."

"Yes, yes, just fine thank you. It s just I just realized how late it has grown and I need to return home." Fakir quickly stashed his board and paper into his bag, his pen gripped tightly in one hand as he shouldered his bag with the other. He wasn't sure where his pen's cap had gone and he wasn't about to let it spill ink all over his bag and work while fleeing from this nymph or huldra or whatever. He stood and, eyes firmly on his feet, bowed politely to the fae girl, "Please excuse me." Without waiting for a response he turned and started walking away, a few yards into the trees he realized he was heading in the wrong direction and began circling back, going around the clearing to avoid the fae girl. Rather than head straight for his home, he chose to head straight for the highway, roads were always safe in folk tails. It wasn t until he reached the road that he realized he was being be clear, he suspected he was being followed, were those footsteps in the woods to his left or only the sound of leaves rustling? Either way he dared not look behind him, instead he started walking faster.

It was with some relief he spotted his little cottage through the trees as they thinned out, he could barely make out its shape as afternoon faded towards evening but he had become familiar with the sight and knew he was nearly there. Surely the fae girl would not follow him onto his property, why would she? She probably wasn t even following him right now! Fakir tried not to think about how the trees still grew rather thickly up to the stone fence marking his property.

Finally he reached the gate leading to his home, as he unlatched it he glanced down the road, no one in sight. With a sigh of relief he carefully closed and latched the gate behind him, open doors of any kind were simply an open invitation to the fair folk. But he was safe, he was on his own property and not in the forest any longer, and perhaps he wouldn t need to go back to the forest for a few days.

Not wanting to deal with a front door that was sticky at the best of times and jammed completely the rest he walked around to the kitchen door on the cottage's backside. As he rounded the corner he came face to face with a familiar pair of large, blue eyes. Fakir felt his face heat up again, he truly was afraid he d never stop blushing at this rate, and looked up and away from the fae girl. His eves were looking rather ragged, perhaps he should look into repairing those. "You didn't answer my question," She stated petulantly, "What's naked mean? I think it s very important I know since it apparently involves me. And that was very rude, the way you just walked off like that."

"I apologize," Fakir replied as politely as possible, "I did not intend to be rude I simply realized I have very pressing needs at home." Fakir tried to inch his way around the irate girl, desperately trying to be polite while also just as desperately trying to get rid of her.

"So what is naked?" She huffed with irritation.

"Er..." Fakir paused in his inching as he floundered, how do you explain something as basic as naked to someone who has no idea what it means. He shifted his focus to the lock of hair sticking straight up on her head, the way it bobbed when she talked was very interesting and sure to keep his focus. "These are clothes," He said, feeling very foolish as he started his explanation and used the hand not clutching his pen to pull on his shirt. "Clothes are used to cover us up, people who aren't wearing any clothes are naked. Naked means without clothes." It wasn't the best explanation, but it would do. He started trying to get around her again.

"I know what clothes are, you aren't the first human I've seen!" She huffed with irritation again, "But I always did wonder why you wear them." Her tone relaxed into curious as she continued, "Are you born wearing clothes?"

Fakir stopped again, and had to remind himself that this strange, fae girl had probably never talked to a human and she was probably also really powerful and he didn't need her cursing his garden or tools or something. "No, we're born naked and screaming. We wear clothes for dec- er for protection. They keep us warm in winter and protect our skin from the sun in the summer. We also like the way clothes look and we're so used to wearing them we just keep wearing them even when it s not cold or sunny." He really did not want to attempt to explain a complex concept like decency to this fae girl. "Now, if I've answered all your questions I really do have things I must do, things I put off earlier today to go into the woods that I must get done before going to bed tonight, like making dinner." That was a lie, he had three gifted casseroles all ready to be eaten sitting in his pantry. He pushed past the fae girl as he spoke, hoping she would just leave him alone now. Perhaps he should tend to the garden, it had grown so wild fae creatures would probably just consider it part of the forest despite the stone fence.

"Oh, what kinds of things? What are your dinners like? I ve always wondered what humans do inside their piles of dead trees and stone. How do you light up the inside? The light is always so much warmer than moonlight but not very strong like sunlight is. Oh, and if not wearing clothes makes you naked does that mean animals are naked too?" To Fakir s surprise the girl was attempting to follow him into the kitchen, crowding behind him as he walked in. Just what he needed, another curious woman who wanted nothing more than to inspect every corner of his home.

"These piles of dead trees and stone are called buildings." Fakir had turned to face the girl, focusing squarely on the yellow flowers nestled in her hair, he wasn't so naive to think them clipped there like on the village girls, but it seemed far safer than looking any lower. He also put a hand on her scandalously bare shoulder and attempted to push her from his door step. "This one is my home, and it is considered quite rude to enter someone's home without his permission."

She looked quite surprised as he tried to push her out, even putting a hand up to her wide open mouth, "Oh! This is your den? I m so sorry, I didn t mean to be so rude! May I please come in?" She smiled as she asked her question, so sure he'd just let her in and look around. Well, hadn't he done so four times already today?

"No." He simply shut and latched the kitchen door, then leaned against it to make sure she didn't try to get in.

"Well, now you're the one being rude!" He could hear a faint slap of flesh on stone, she must have stomped her foot on the stone acting as his doorstep with that outburst. Then he thought he heard her stomping away, but the sound was very muffled. He ran to peek out of the window, sure enough she was stomping her way off of his property quite angrily. He had to turn away quickly, some how he had forgotten that nude meant he would see her butt quite clearly as she walked away, but he did note that her bright hair was in a long braid that swayed quite wildly with each step and she seemed to have some sort of fluffy, white tail that was sticking up over her butt. Fakir had had enough, no matter if it was early and he had more work to do, he wasn t even hungry and he was quite exhausted after the day he had had. Instead of preparing a supper, tidying up his home, or even unpacking his bag he dropped the bag on his dinner table, put the pen down next to it, and went straight to his bedroom. He d deal with whatever happens next in the morning.