Stubbornly, I insisted with myself that I keep writing, even though I'm not sure my words are meshing and flowing the way I want. I'm still feeling strangely inspired to write, despite how different these styles end up becoming.

Ahiru's point of view, this time. And many references made to numerous things that happen in the series (up through Act 10), in this piece. This one also sort of goes with the one in chapter six, in terms of series event reflections followed by something that takes place much later.

Hope you enjoy this theme. And thank you for the feedback! It's very much appreciated.

101 Kisses - Theme #33: Who? ---- Rating: PG

---------

More

---------

Before she knew no more than his name, Ahiru knew he was someone who commanded silent respect.

Fakir was an excellent dancer, had concentration and focus that did not fault, and he was confident. Features iced, expression grim, eyes dark and shadowed - He didn't reveal much.

'Was there more?' she had wondered.

Many of the female students giggled and fawned over him from the sidelines. She couldn't understand it. There was no warmth in his expression at all, no welcome in his stance. Even his dancing, while powerful, was strictly a combination of mastered steps and moves. What was there to like when he showed nothing?

He was closed.

What could they see in him? Just the tall, dark-haired boy on the outside? Was that enough?

It wasn't, to her.

Ahiru was drawn instead to the gentle, doe-eyed Mytho. Though somewhat like Fakir in his lack of expression, there was something in him that called to her: A silent voice, a plead, a tiny whisper for something inexplicable.

He was vulnerable. He was lonely.

She wanted to see him smile. A real smile.

And to pursue that wish, she crossed Fakir's path to get closer to the white-haired prince.

More of the scowling mystery then came to light: Fakir was insensitive, rude, bossy, and over-bearing.

Immediately, she did not like him. And the next encounter only strengthened the dislike, expanding the feeling like a balloon.

But despite that, again she wondered, 'Is there more to this guy...?'

And there was. But nothing good, as she soon discovered. Another run-in with Fakir revealed him as cruel and violent, as well as an arrogant and condescending jerk that acted like he knew everything.

Ahiru didn't want to know any more about his twisted and nasty personality after the encounter in the darkened corridor of the library. Only his motives were a part of him with any slight interest to her now.

Mytho was her goal. He needed her help to regain his heart and she did everything in her power to bring him back to life with his lost emotions.

But incessantly, the towering shadow would interfere, insult her, threaten her, and force her backwards.

Fakir was a barrier, a special one: A shield fully armed and prepared to physically remove and fight off any intruder. Defense and offense expertly molded together.

There was nothing in his eyes but hard malice. Anything she had thought she might find in their depths didn't exist, once she saw into the green orbs for herself.

How could someone have a heart so black? It stunned her.

And ironically, as soon as she was sure there was nothing good about him, something unexpected happened.

He smiled. A real smile.

At her.

Perhaps it was true that he hadn't known at the time that the little yellow duckling he'd rescued (by smuggling her out under his shirt, of all things) was her, but it stirred a funny feeling inside.

'Somehow, he wasn't like the usual Fakir.'

Of course, she denied having thought it mere seconds later. She'd seen with her own eyes what he was like. Maybe he just liked little animals. Big deal. He still treated everything else like it belonged beneath the sole of shoe.

And yet, that funny feeling inside nagged at her conscience every once in a awhile. It seemed like he was still hiding something.

Curiosity reignited, and again, she found herself wanting to know, 'Is there more?'

Was there something else, hidden under those layers of cold ice and bitter anger in his eyes? Did the smile really mean nothing? Who was the real Fakir?

Surprisingly, it hadn't taken long to get another clue.

They crossed again a mere day later.

He'd gotten angry, and slashed at her with a piece of broken glass. Mytho, who had also been present at the scene, came quickly to her aid, held Fakir back as he shouted at her, and told her to run. And with one moment of hesitation, one brief meeting of blue and green, she turned and fled out the door.

It wasn't until later, when she'd shrunk back into a bird and found herself unable to change back, that she realized her pendant was missing. The one thing she needed above all else was gone, thanks to the jerk who'd slashed her pendant off. And without it, she was and could be nothing more than a little yellow duck.

To further her streak of bad luck, she soon discovered Fakir had confiscated her red gem, having found the pendant before she could. And after failing to pull the jewelry from his grasp, she was forced to follow him the whole day, waiting for another opportunity to get the necklace back.

However, with only the intention of getting her pendant back, she hadn't been expecting to learn anything about him in the process.

And following him to the town's blacksmith shop opened a door that revealed quite a bit.

The first surprise, is that he, too, was connected to the story of "The Prince and Raven". Fakir was the knight from the original tale, reborn. And he'd made a vow, when he was but a child, to protect the heartless prince who could not protect himself.

He and his foster father fought over past versus present, right there before her eyes, harsh words thrown back and forth between them at rapid speed. The blacksmith lost his temper, struck his adopted son, and Fakir, visibly shaken, immediately dashed out the house. Ahiru followed.

She found him by a small pond outside, leaning against a tree. And then witnessed something she never imagined she would see: Fakir was crying.

That strange feeling inside of her stirred to life again, but this time, it did not fade or disappear from her heart.

She'd been blind to the truth. Just like the girls who liked and admired him for what they saw on the outside, she had judged him purely by his open actions, and thus fallen prey to his well-constructed illusion. She hadn't seen past the mask.

There was more to Fakir.

He was vulnerable. He was isolated.

And while he'd become very skilled at hiding everything he didn't want others to see deep beneath the surface, this moment of weakness proved that he could still feel. Unlike Mytho, he could feel any and every emotion.

Alone, he carried all of his own burdens.

'I see a truth now,' she'd thought, jumping onto the bank before him, his own sadness and helplessness mirrored in her tearful blue eyes. 'This is part of the real Fakir.'

"You're seeing me in a pretty disgraceful state," he'd said upon spotting her down below. And again, unexpectedly, he had smiled, right through his tears. "Are you crying for me?"

'Yes,' she thought. 'Your heart isn't black. I misunderstood you. I'm sorry.'

Then he had wordlessly knelt before her small feathered form, picked her up from the grassy ground, and wrapped her into his arms.

'Is there more than even this?' Ahiru had distantly wondered yet again, closing her eyes to the warmth of his embrace.

There were no heart shards to track down and return, in Fakir's case. He wasn't like Mytho. The reborn knight had his feelings already. They existed, locked somewhere inside of him, hidden from view and buried deep within.

Maybe it wasn't really her place or right to think and act on such a thought, but she felt that she could unearth the real Fakir, piece by piece.

He wouldn't cooperate with her. She already knew that. It was bound to be a rough road. And she accepted that.

But there was more.

And she wanted to know.

---------------------

The giggling redhead hung upside down from the tree's limb, swinging back and forth. Her long braid bounced to and fro with her body's movement and the light summer breeze.

An apple fell from the shaking branch she was dangling over, landing with a thunk upon the head of the form sitting quietly beneath the tree.

"Ow!" came an indignant grunt, followed by an irritated gaze that traveled to the innocent girl rocking in the tree. "Why the hell are you throwing fruit at me?"

She laughed. "It fell on its own."

"And just happened to fall directly onto my head," he replied sarcastically, cradling the offending object in one hand, and rubbing the point of impact with his other.

"Yup!" she answered cheerfully. "I guess something is trying to tell you to stop brooding over your writing."

Fakir scowled. "At least I'm doing something constructive with my time."

"One day your face is going to freeze like that," she mused aloud.

"Better than being reborn as a monkey," he retorted, placing his paper and pen on the ground and rising to his feet. He tossed the apple back and forth between his hands, arching an eyebrow at the swinging figure. "You're going to lose your balance and fall, Ahiru."

She stuck her tongue out childishly. "Will not!"

"I wouldn't bet on that," he replied simply, eyes focused on the ripe red fruit. He bit into the apple, chewing thoughtfully. "Surprisingly sweet," he remarked after a moment.

"You were expecting it to be sour?" she inquired. "Like you?"

Ignoring her comment, he tossed the apple up to her. "Try it."

Startled, she barely caught the fruit in both hands, one leg nearly slipping from its hold due to the sudden reaction. "You're trying to knock me down!" she accused.

"Try it," he repeated. "It's good."

Frowning, she glanced from him, to the apple, and back again.

Fakir crossed his arms. "It's not poisoned or rotten, idiot. I sampled it already."

The redheaded girl was still looking at him almost suspiciously from her upside-down position, making her expression rather comical from his viewpoint.

The dark-haired writer sighed. "If you don't believe me, try the section I did. There's nothing wrong with it."

Studying the missing chunk of the red fruit, she brought it to her lips and hesitantly bit into the groove.

He waited below while she munched the piece, watching the tail end of her braid sway with the wind. "Well?" he questioned. "What do you think?"

"Mm, this does taste pretty good," she agreed with his former impression.

He glanced up and met her gaze again, emerald eyes reflecting a teasing glint and lips quirking into something that nearly resembled a smirk. "That was an indirect kiss, you know."

Flushing, she squeaked in surprise, lost her balance, and tumbled right down to the ground.

"See?" His green eyes shined with amusement as he held a hand out to help her up from the grass. "I told you that you'd fall."

Rubbing the dirt from her chin, she blinked up at him with wide blue eyes.

Years after the first time Ahiru had wondered, "Is there more?", she still continued to learn new things about Fakir every day.