Chapter One

"Are you going to start the story now, zura?"

"Yes, yes." Drosselmeyer flipped his free hand at her, distractedly, as his gaze pursued The Princess Bride's pages. He needed to have a basic idea of the characters before he could jump in. He could play around as he went and match things up later, but his four pains in his neck needed to be placed just so. "Go get tucked in so we can begin."

"Okey dokey, zura!" she rushed over to her little wooden box bed and carefully set her precious drum on the tall, antique desk beside it. She bounced in her bed, the covers flopping over her as she anxiously awaited the upcoming story.

Drosselmeyer flipped a few pages, heedless of Uzura's excited run.

There only seems to be one leading lady. That is a problem. The most beautiful girl in existence, eh? The princess from my story suits that role, remarkably. And this Westley character's will to do anything for Buttercup matches the prince very well. But, where's the fun in that? He snapped the book closed.

I can't have those two pairing up again. I know where that leads. Instead, I've a much better plan. I shall cast our mere duck as the most beautiful girl in existence. The irony will be such a treat! But, I can't allow the prince to be Westley now, for Princess Tutu would be able to confess her love without worry and that would lead to a happy ending for them. No, I can do much better than that. I will take a note from the raven and cast our good, kind-hearted and true prince as the villain. It's just marvelous! Tutu will never be able to give her love to him as she would wish to from the previous story due to the new story's rules taking over. And now that I think on it, the worthless knight from my tale who was meant to die is perfect to play Westley for he is tragically murdered by pirates not too far into the story. How delightful! I knew this tale would be to my liking!

"You're just standing there, laughing at the book, zura!" Uzura grumbled.

He narrowed his eyes at the insolent doll as he pulled his rolling, wood and leather chair closer to her and the candle light. The worn, red leather squeaked as he leaned closer.

"Ahiru was raised on a small farm in the country of Florin."

"Duck's in this story, too, zura?"

"Of course she is." He laughed at what was in store for those fools that thought they could escape his spell. If his story could no longer reach them, he could always use another until he reached the ending he wanted.

"I'm glad, zura." she whispered, a small tear glistening in her eye.

Dolls and their emotions. Drosselmeyer mentally rolled his eyes.

And so, the story began . . .

"QUACK!" came the yelp as a red-haired girl went sailing off her horse into a haystack in the stables. Ahiru flailed, trying to escape, and sent hay flying everywhere. The girl, who was strangely the most duck-like person in all the land, had always had the silly habit of quacking when things went bad. No one knew why, but it was how she was.

"Idiot!"

Ahiru snapped her head around at the insult, puckering her face in distaste as the dark haired farm boy stalked towards her. Sure, she'd caused more work for him from the mess she'd made, but the meanie could just do it. He was always mean to her, anyway. She quickly flew out of the hay and put her hands up in defense when she noticed the pitchfork he was bringing with him.

"Don't get hasty, Fakir! It's not my fault! That horse hates me!" she wailed, running from him. "I'll clean the mess myself! Promise!" she hid behind a post.

He let out a frustrated sigh, gave her a look and went back to what he'd been doing before. Ahiru let out a relived breath, slumping against the pole. She'd never understand why Fakir was such a meanie head.

Every day held similar occurrences for the pair. And always held the same result.

Ahiru bobbed her head from side to side, merrily, as she made her way past Fakir to the well for some water. Unbeknownst to her, Fakir watched her progress, a small smile curving along his face at her happy tune. It was quickly replaced by annoyance when he saw her struggling to carry the two heavy buckets back with her. The clumsy birdbrain tripped over her skirts and sent the buckets flying.

One bucket nailed him in the head, and the water that covered him from it did nothing to cool his temper. Ahiru, practically drowning in her skirts, squeaked as he approached.

"Idiot." He glowered, grabbing her arm and pushing her towards the house. She squish squashed, sulking at her failure as she went to get new clothes. She glanced over her shoulder when she reached the door and was amazed to see Fakir following a little ways behind with fresh buckets of water. Her heart gave a squeeze before she disappeared inside.

Another new day arrived, but today was different. Ahiru had never seen Fakir act the way he had before. Or, maybe, she just hadn't ever noticed. Either way, she wanted to do something nice for him. Underneath that prickly, hard shell was a gooey marshmallow just waiting to melt between the cracks!

Ahiru pumped her fist, knowing the plan couldn't fail . . . then nodded to herself for a little extra confidence just in case the plan actually failed.

She waved her arms back and forth with a big smile as she marched towards Fakir, who was chopping wood.

He saw her, but didn't pause as he continued his chores. She stopped in front of him, watching him split the logs for a second. She'd never realized how strong Fakir was. He did his work with ease. Ahiru was momentarily entranced by his tan skin, sweat sparkling off him in the sunlight. She mentally shook her head, knowing she needed to say something instead of standing there like an idiot.

"So, you chopping wood?" she asked without thinking.

He raised a brow at her. His expression said something along the line of 'no, I'm doing ballet with a magical ballerina princess, what do you think?'

Eeee! He thinks I'm a spaz! Of course, he's chopping wood! It's getting colder! she made a horrified inner face.

"So, you like chopping wood, huh?" she tilted her head to the side.

Fakir stopped trying to decipher her ramblings and just let her go while he finished his job.

ACK! What am I saying? It's just a chore. It's not like he'd like doing it. Now, I sound like a snob who's making fun of him working for my father!

The pile—and her panic—grew.

"How 'bout I help you with this? There's a lot to do! I could carry the wood and—"

Ahiru quacked in pain. She had been jumping around all over the place and not paying attention, so she'd jabbed her hand with a sharp piece of bark. Fakir rushed over at the sound of her cry.

"Idiot!" he snarled, grabbing her.

"I'm sorry, Fakir! I should have looked out! Don't worry about me! It's just a little cut!" she jerked away from him, hating that she was causing trouble when she'd wanted to help.

He simply took her hand back, refusing to let her go, as he inspected the cut. Tears welled in her eyes when he pressed her skin together to remove the splinter. Satisfied that she would indeed be okay, Fakir leaned down and pressed his lips to the cut to make the pain go away. He straightened to be on his way, but stiffened at her wide-eyed expression. A deep blush spread over his face when he realized what he'd done.

"Idiot." he whispered as he turned away to hide the blush and gently shoved her towards the house.

Her feet moved on their own as she trailed away in a daze, not taking her eyes off him. Idiot was all he ever said to her. And that day she was amazed to discover that when he was saying 'idiot', what he meant was 'I love you.'

And even more amazing was the day she discovered that she truly loved him back.

Ahiru's heart was going to beat out of her chest. She could hardly breathe when Fakir was around. Ever since the day he had kissed her hand.

She sloshed water everywhere, washing the dishes in a panic when Fakir walked through the room. It was getting close to sun down and he was getting his things to go home. Ahiru didn't want him to go. Every time they parted, it felt like he was taking a piece of her with him. She wasn't whole when he was gone. And when he was there it felt like she was going to explode. She didn't know what to do.

As he walked out the door, all she knew was that she couldn't stand it if he left, so she called out. "Fakir!"

He looked back over his shoulder at her, an unspoken question blazing in his eyes.

Ahiru looked all around her, not knowing the answer he was looking for and certainly not knowing how to explain why she'd called out to him.

"U-uum . . ." she stammered. "Would you hand me that pitcher?"

He glanced at the pitcher that was hanging on the stand a few inches away from her. She knew full well that she could get it easily, but it had been the first thing she'd seen to use as an excuse.

"I-I need to wash it." She said, lamely.

Fakir shook his head as he walked back inside. Ahiru was shocked by his smile and the twinkling laughter in his eyes as he reached above her head to hand her the pitcher.

"Idiot." he let out a small chuckle.

Ahiru smiled up at him, tears welling in her eyes, and hugged him tightly. He gathered her in his arms, happier than words could say. They were together. That was all that mattered.

Still, Fakir did need to return home to his father. It was time to say goodnight. They walked outside, hand in hand. And as the sun set on that glorious, perfect day, Fakir pulled Ahiru close and . . .

"Are they going to be all lovey dovey, zura?" Uzura piped up.

Drosselmeyer skipped ahead, getting very sick of all the romance and desperately wanting to find the tragedy.

"Were they lovey dovey, zura?" the doll crossed her arms.

Drosselmeyer just smiled.

"Tell me, zura!"

"You're too young to know." he laughed at the doll's sour face before continuing from his new spot. "Fakir had no money for marriage, so he packed up his few belongings and went out to make his fortune. It was a very emotional time for Ahiru . . ."

Ahiru wailed and flapped her arms around in her duck-like manner as she tried to convince Fakir to stay. "Don't go! Don't go! Don't go!"

When he just walked past her with his bag, she jumped him.

"Moron, let go of my leg." Fakir grunted, dragging her body behind him.

"Don't go! We don't have to get married!"

"Yes we do." He said, dryly, a small blush lighting his cheeks.

Her eyes widened, her own blush forming. "I didn't mean it like that! I mean, of course we have to get married to be together, but . . . uh . . ." she hated it when her brain picked the worst times to take a vacation. "J-just, please don't leave. I-I'm afraid I won't see you again." She dropped her head down.

His eyes softened. Fakir crouched down beside her and hugged her close. "I'll come back, Ahiru. I promise. I will come back and stay by your side forever."

Ahiru sniffed into his shirt. "How can you be sure?"

Fakir drew back to gaze into her eyes. He wiped her tears and brushed her hair out of her face. "This is true love."

Ahiru's eyes widened. True love . . . He really does love me. Me, the clumsiest girl in all the land. I'm not the smartest, the bravest or the prettiest. And all I do is mess up, but he still loves me for me.

"I love you, Fakir!" she shouted, making him blush, before tackle hugging him, which caught him by surprise and made him fall backwards.

She snuggled to him. I'm weak . . . but, somehow, Fakir always makes me stronger . . .

They parted ways then. Ahiru waved goodbye at him, very animatedly.

"Don't forget your promise!" she shouted to him from the top of the hill.

"I won't!" he laughed, waving back at her before trekking off into the unknown.

"Fakir didn't reach his destination. His ship was attacked by the Dread Pirate Roberts, who never left captives alive. When Ahiru got the news that Fakir was murdered, she went into her room and shut the door. And for days she neither slept nor ate."

"I will never love again . . ." Ahiru whispered, brokenly.

"I don't like this story, zura." Uzura mumbled, a tear trailing down her cheek.

I love this story! Drosselmeyer cackled in his head, eagerly turning the page for the next chapter.

Author's Note: I do realize that Uzura said Duck instead of Ahiru. I was torn as to which name to use for this story and settled on Ahiru, but I like Uzura calling her Duck because I feel that it fits her in being blunt and in cute, childlikeness. I hope this didn't bother you or cause any sort of confusion. And, I do hope you like my story thus far and would like me to continue. I'd love any sort of feedback. Thanks for reading!