no struggle
Their love had no struggle; it deserved none. When something just must be, it cannot be fought for. Perhaps they thought they were fighting for it, but no, they never were. They were merely on the path to what had to happen.
This is not to say that it was destiny-- destiny implies that there was no choice. They had a choice to love or not love, to sacrifice or not sacrifice, and they chose the right way. Or maybe they chose wrong. Regardless, it ended the way it had to.
Fakir woke up that night warm, warmer than usual. The source of this warmth seemed to be something next to him. He held very still, unbelieving. A person was there, a real human being. He held his breath, then breathed out, tried to relax. A dream, it must be a dream.
Apparently it was, he concluded when he woke again in the morning, the warmth on his back definitely that of sunlight, not of another body.
He stepped out into the day, feeling wistful as always, and looked to the lake. Ahiru was there, also just as always, bobbing peacefully on the shining water. Fakir waved at her nonchalantly, smiled a little bitterly, and set off for school.
Again, the next night, warmth. And the next, and the next. Just like a story, he thought ruefully, just like once upon a time. If it was a story, he knew what he had to do.
He turned over, reached out. His hand met flesh, flesh that, as his eyes adjusted to the dark, glowed pale against the night. She stirred sleepily, making small sounds, familiar sounds. Almost like a bird.
Her eyes flickered open; she saw him, and they widened aprubtly. "Oh," she said.
"Oh indeed,"he said, and hugged her to him, drawing in her warmth.
And that was how it should be.
-finis-
A/N: Every fan of Princess Tutu has to write this fic. I mean, it's not written in stone, but it damn well should be.