(I don't own Princess Tutu. I'm trying my best to Update. Arigato. DO NOT REPRODUCE W/O PERMISSION)
A tale woven by time...
Fakir sat quietly in his chair, rocking back and forth, whistling Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake. He was writing the final details of the story he constantly told himself, "Would be a true happy ending." He looked down at Duck in the pond, she quacked softly and gave a cute glare to Fakir. Though she couldn't speak to him, Fakir always knew what she was saying, no matter how much she quacked, he knew what she was saying. It pained his heart, however, to see her as a duck, even if she was content with it, he missed the clumsy human Duck.
As he thought about it, he quietly sighed, as if he were in a far away land. Duck glanced at the glimmering pocketwatch in Fakir's pocket and flailed wildly to him, hopping up on the dock and quacking vivaciously. He soon woke from his daze and quickly packed up his belongings, "Not long now until it's done, Duck, then Drosselmyer's story will have a true happy ending." He said, quietly, running off to ballet class. Everything was normal, the teacher was human again, and nobody remembers that they were pawns in Drosselmyer's story.
Something in Fakir's heart missed the crazy antics of all the animals at Kinkan Academy, but he usually just chuckled at himself. After accepting who he really was, Fakir became more quiet and refined, almost like Mytho, like a prince. As he stretched at the barre, he played with the thought, "Can I really become a Prince?" He shook his head and smiled. Fakir became more like Duck everyday in class, daydreaming, but always danced with the same message in mind when he swiftly moved the whole class, hope. The same kind of hope Duck had when she helped Prince Mytho defeat the Monster Raven. No longer did he dance with wrath in heart for Duck, alas, he danced with a heart heavy with love.
His heart, however, was not just heavy with love, it was heavy with pain as well. As he walked the back streets of the town to the gate, his thoughts were pierced with the thoughts of Drosselmyer, "I cannot turn into Drosselmyer! I can't! For the sake of Duck, for the sake of everyone. His blood my run though my veins, but I will never become him!" Said Fakir, growling though his teeth with clenched fists. "For the little fledgling, the duck with a bigger heart and greater hope than anyone in the story!" As he said this, he arrived at the dock, and saw Duck peering into his eyes, hearing what he had said a few minutes ago.
He smiled softly and picked her up, cuddling her in his arms softly, "Fakir, what are you writing? I want to know!" Duck thought, quacking softly. "A story..." He paused and collected his thoughts, "The Knight and the Fledgling." He set her back into the pond slowly and sat back in the chair. His quill, a duck feather with an ink-stained tip and a few blood stains from when he previously stabbed his hand in order to stop Drosselmyer. "A great ending starts at the beginning." Fakir said aloud, and Duck just cocked her head to the side and quacked in confusion. With a slight smile and a small huff, he leaned back on his chair and set his quill in the bottle of ink, "The story is finished."