Fakir ran upstairs, without any explanation to Charon or Ahiru. If he was going to write Ahiru her body back, he'd better start now.
Locking the door behind him so that he wouldn't be disturbed, Fakir grabbed his quill and a stack of paper.
Although he'd never been able to before, Fakir began writing of the future, focusing on Ahiru getting her body back. She would be human again if it was the last thing he could do for her.
Filled with adrenaline, Fakir wrote and wrote. The words flowed like never before, to the point where Fakir didn't even know what he was writing. Only that it involved Ahiru.
Occasionally, he thought he saw flashes of the names Siegfried and Rue, too, but that couldn't be true, right? They were inside the story, now.
For the next few days, Fakir worked without sleep. The story was nearing its close, he could just feel it. Soon, Ahiru. You only have to wait a little longer.
He decided that he would burn the story as soon as Ahiru had her body back. Hopefully, that would prevent any of the rest of it coming to life. That would be dangerous, especially because he had no idea what it was about.
The constant writing was taking its toll. Fakir passed out one day while working, and began having a strange dream.
Drosslemeyer's story, Fakir realized. The original book version. His dream self cringed when the knight was killed, and it almost cried when Princess Tutu vanished.
Get a hold of yourself, dream me! Fakir thought when he woke up several hours later.
He stared writing again. He heard a scratching at the door, but ignored it. Ahiru, getting your body back for you is more important right now than anything else! Go away! He thought.
He heard her quack sadly and waddle away. He turned back to the story.
Only a little longer, Ahiru. Only a little longer.