Once upon a time, there lived a beautiful princess. She refused to marry anyone unless he promised to let himself be buried alive if she died first. All the suitors ran away, though one youth became so charmed with her beauty that he cared for little else. This man married her knowing what he must promise. They lived happily for a short while until the princess fell ill and died. So devoted to her was the prince that he honored his vow.

While in the tomb, the youth found a miracle—a remedy that would bring his dear wife back to life. He revived her but oh, ill-fated prince! While the princess was no longer a corpse, all her love for her husband had died. The youth's unwavering devotion was lost to a hollow woman who couldn't appreciate it.1

...

The sun crept above the horizon. Orange, pink, and yellow bled into the deep blue of the sky. The crescent moon had not gone into hiding and instead shone proudly, a sliver of white against the clouds. Glittering stars were scattered throughout the sky. A beam of light illuminated Ahiru's pale, freckled face. She stirred, and her eyes flickered open. The confused girl lifted her head and looked around the room with half-closed lids. The beating of a drum sent the memories rushing back to her.

Turning around, Ahiru saw Uzura standing at the door with drumsticks clutched in her hands and a broad smile. "Good morning, Ahiru-zura and Fakir-zura!"

Fakir? Where was he? Drosselmeyer caused the knight to lose half his heart. Ahiru's gaze drifted downwards and landed on the boy's sleeping form. Her tiny hands clutched the front of his shirt, the dull blue fabric bunched up in her fists. She promptly released him as her breath caught in her throat. His long dark bangs covered his face and moved ever so slightly with each breath he took.

Fakir didn't seem so intimidating like this. When sleeping, he wasn't the determined knight who sliced through ravens to save a prince or a powerful writer who could merge fiction into reality. He was simply Fakir, a boy just like any other. Sometimes Ahiru found it easy to forget that he was around her age. He had always seemed so much stronger and experienced than her.

"What's wrong, zura?"

"I don't know." There it was: the truth. Ahiru was just a duck, a little bird Drosselmeyer had pulled into his tale for a flourish. She didn't know anything. She wasn't human. The redhead let out a breath. Her fingers curled inwards; she gripped the thick blankets. But Ahiru was not a quitter. Fakir had never given up on her, and she would never give up on him.

Her hand rose to the choker around her throat. The pendent was smooth and warm to the touch, pulsating with an energy from within. It glowed such a lovely red that it made her heart cry out. Fakir's heart shard. He gave up a piece of his humanity so she could be human. It was a gift. For her. Tears stung Ahiru's eyes and blurred her vision. She couldn't fathom why he had done such a thing. She had been perfectly fine as a duck and could handle the boredom and discontentment that came with it just fine. Being a girl meant nothing to the Ahiru if her friend was not alright.

The little puppet tugged on the hem of her skirt. Her eyebrows raising, Ahiru looked down to see Uzura's wide, concerned eyes. "Are you okay, zura?"

Ahiru laughed and waved her hands, forcing her mouth into a smile. "I'm completely fine! Uzura, could you bring some water, please?"

The puppet nodded. "Okay, Ahiru-zura!" She bounced out of the room.

Ahiru's smile vanished. She sank to the floor and buried her head into the mattress. The coldness of the ground seeped into her body. Tears coated her thick lashes and dripped onto the bedspread. "I'm so sorry, Fakir."

"What are you apologizing for, idiot?"

The voice sounded similar to Fakir's, but at the same time, it wasn't. It was monotone and emotionless like Mytho's had been. Oh dear, now she had gone so mad with guilt that she imagined things. Still, her hallucinations were very much like Fakir. That at least brought a bit of comfort.

"It's all my fault you lost half of your heart. And Drosselmeyer came back. He's probably got something to do with it. I wanted to stop him, but I couldn't."

"That has nothing to do with you."

Ahiru's imagination was quite stubborn. "Yes, it does. Because of me, you're hurt. Now I'm being weird and hearing things that aren't there."

"Moron, look up."

Ahiru jumped. Her eyes widened as she gasped. Fakir had stirred from his slumber and now sat before her. His face was passive and showed no signs of pain. "Fakir! You're okay!" She lunged at him and wrapped her arms around his torso. "I'm sorry."

"Of course I am. Stop apologizing for things that aren't your fault." He grunted and tossed aside the covers. Laughing sheepishly, she released him. He climbed out of bed, slipped on his blue uniform jacket, and adjusted the necktie.

"But you were hurt yesterday. Shouldn't you be taking a day off from school?"

"No." Fakir, tugging at the ruffles at the end of his sleeves, barely spared her a glance. He smoothed out his clothes and grabbed his books.

Ahiru scowled, puffing out her cheeks. She scurried in front of his path and folded her arms. "No, you are not leaving. You have to stay home to recover."

"I'm not."

Ahiru grabbed Fakir's arm and attempted to pull him back to his bed. She huffed and puffed, but he wouldn't budge. "But what about Drosselmeyer? What if he comes back to hurt you?"

"Don't get in my way," he said, shaking off her grip. "You're always going around worrying about things you shouldn't. To put it simply, it's annoying."

She glared at the teen as he simply brushed past her. Her, annoying? Well, Fakir sure was one to talk. Why, he was much more irritating than she was, walking around trying to handle things on his own and always forgetting to take care of himself. Fakir had lost half his heart, and he still wanted to go to school like nothing had happened. Ahiru wondered if there was a book on proper behavior for a person who lost a heart. If it was in a book, surely Fakir would relent. Perhaps she should write a novel herself. Maybe then he would listen. "If you're going, then I'm coming with you."

Finally, Fakir looked at her. His eyes widened when gaze landed on the choker at Ahiru's neck. "Princess Ritter," he murmured.

Ahiru reached for his arm. He was like a mix between a mindless puppet and a human. Fakir wasn't heartless, but he didn't quite have all the shards either. His words sounded rehearsed like an actor on stage. Without the emotion behind them, they were close to meaningless. "Do you know anything? Tell me. What about Princess Tutu? What happened to her?"

Fakir shook his head. "Tutu was an extension of Mytho. She's gone. You'll have to stay as Ritter for now until you get a change of clothes." Princess Tutu had been Ahiru's alter ego. When Mytho, a prince from one of Drosselmeyer's fairy tales, shattered his heart, one heart shard allowed Ahiru to change from duck to girl to princess. Princess Tutu's power stemmed from Mytho's heart shard so when all of his heart was returned, Tutu disappeared. Being Tutu was like wearing a tailored costume. It fit like a glove, but it wasn't quite right. Even being Ritter, an identity Ahiru wasn't too accustomed to, was more comfortable than being Tutu had been.

"Ah, that makes sense! So that's why the clothes are different." The redhead smoothed down the shimmering silver skirt. Even in the dim morning light, it glowed with an ethereal beauty like no human-made fabric would. The dress was crafted entirely of magic.

The morning bell rang just as Fakir nodded. Cawing birds shot into the air, their black forms dotting the expanse of blue sky. Students picked up their paces, and the chatter outside grew louder. The boy turned his head to look out of the window. His expression didn't change even when he walked past a confused Uzura who offered a pitcher of water. Ahiru bid goodbye to the puppet and followed her friend out the door. "I'm coming."

He said, "Alright," The boy didn't argue. He didn't have a reason to.

Fakir sounded like a talking doll. His voice was devoid of emotion. He tilted his head, gazing at her with passive green eyes. Unlike before, they had no fire, no sharpness. Normally, his glares would kill someone on the spot. There was no emotion or weight behind his actions; he only did what he had always done for the sake of doing so. Ahiru's breath caught in her throat when she noticed his vacant stare. This Fakir didn't seem to be able to care about anything enough to be angry. The Fakir she knew and loved would fight to his death to protect others, the loyal knight who would do anything to keep his promises. But without his heart, he was only a shell of that person.

Unfortunately, she found it difficult to keep up with his long strides. It didn't help that her friend had gotten a head start either. Ahiru ran as fast as her short legs could carry her, struggling to stay by his side. "H-hey, wait up!"

"So you're coming along." An empty statement simply meant to fill the silence. Fakir walked at his usual pace with his hands in his pockets. Dull green eyes scanned the town. Even the bright colors and bustling of the cheery town coming to life failed to bring a smile to his face. Ahiru sighed at his apathy and reached for the pendent again.

Ahiru turned around and walked backwards. She gazed up at a white bird that dipped lower with outstretched wings. "Don't worry, I promise I won't be any trouble for you!"

"Don't make promises you can't keep, idiot." She stumbled into a wall with a small shriek as soon as the words left his mouth. With the grace given by Princess Ritter, she managed not to trip and fall and easily recovered instead. Her friend gave her a knowing look.

Huffing, Ahiru folded her arms and stuck out her tongue at him. "I only fell because you said that."

"Even with all the magic of Ritter, you're still too clumsy."

"Even with half your heart gone, you're still too mean."

Fakir took no offense to her comment and continued walking while Ahiru stood pouting. Realizing he was actually leaving her behind, she chased after him, grumbling and whining about how cruel he was. He sauntered across the campus with Ahiru at his heels. Her skirt spun around her body while she bounced about, the black ribbons twirling around the fabric. She twirled around and around but stopped when she nearly tripped. What she lacked in height, she made up for in enthusiasm.

"Calm down. We're only going to class." He glanced at her with those dull eyes again. The redhead already missed when they had been a vibrant green, lighting up whenever he fought for something he was devoted to.

"I know! But it's been so long and I miss dancing with everyone and talking with my friends and—"

"It's not going to be like before. Things have changed." Drosselmeyer's stories had controlled the town, and fiction and reality fused together. Corpses came back from the dead, human-like animals walked around the campus. People lived solely to carry out the roles they had been assigned. Drosselmeyer toyed with the lives of others and got pleasure from his sadistic tragedies. With the destruction of the old man's writing device, all his stories came to a halt. Magic left the town left the town. Enchantments came undone, and the town's inhabitants returned to their original selves. Now Gold Crown was an ordinary town.

"Wow, you're right! Is Mr. Cat still here? And Pique and Lillie?"

"No, when the story ended, he became a cat once more. As for your friends, they're still here."

"Oh, that makes sense—"

"Bonjour, mademoiselle! Your beauty surpasses even the loveliest of flowers!" A boy appeared, surrounded by swirling petals. He knelt before Ahiru, bowed his head, and offered her a red rose, his deep purple hair flowing over his shoulders. "For you, my princess; my love is yours and yours alone!"

"F-Femio?" the flustered redhead squawked. While Mytho had been a fairy tale prince come to life from the pages of a book, Femio was nothing more than a pompous idiot who served to annoy everyone. He constantly proclaimed his love for every girl he saw and proceeded to curse his lovely face for causing so much heartbreak. In truth, everyone only wanted him to leave. The phony prince was nothing more than a nuisance, though as foppish as he was, he was the only person to resist the Raven's power by himself. The Raven was a wicked creature created by Drosselmeyer to torture the town's inhabitants. At one point, while still sealed away, it attempted lure people into giving up their pure hearts to gain power. Ironically enough, while it was Femio's arrogance and stupidity that led the Kraehe to pursue him as a victim under the Raven's orders, it was also those same traits that saved him.

"You know my name? I see my reputation precedes me. It is a terrible curse, to be loved by so many." He flashed her a smile, his violet eyes sparkling. Rising up, he spun around with a flamboyant sweep of his arm.

Fakir raised an eyebrow, his gaze flickering to his friend. "Ahiru, do you...know him?"

"Ah, is this a jealous lover I see? Oh, I don't blame you for your envy; it is impossible to compete with a true prince such as I. It is quite clear who the lady has chosen."

"Idiot."

Ahiru tugged on her friend's arm. She wanted to get away from Femio before he called upon his bull.

"Oh, the envy burns your heart! But did you really think you had a chance? For I am a true prince! This cursed beauty of mine, to cause such a terrible emotion. Please, punish this sin—"

"Shut up. You're extremely irritating." Anger. So that emotion had remained. It was terrible, really. Ahiru hadn't wanted him to lose half his heart, but if she had a choice, she would've picked the loss of his worse traits. Despite that, she couldn't help but laugh at his choice of words. It was a very Fakir thing to say. Eyeing the bull creeping closer behind Femio, she pulled more insistently on her friend's arm. "Fakir, we really, really have to go now!"

"Why—"

"Olé!" shouted an old man. His red-haired friend yanked him to the side just as a bull shot forward, led by the man with a red cloth. Femio fell backwards into the pile of roses the man laid for him. The bull trampled Femio, leaving footprints over his school uniform while he twitched in pain, but the cocky smile never left his face. The man picked up the boy, and laid him on the animal's back, then climbed up and rode away.

"What the hell? How do you even know this guy?" the writer grumbled, surveying the scene before him. Crushed roses were now scattered across the courtyard. Accustomed to the false prince's ways, the other students rolled their eyes.

"I sort of met him that day when Kraehe tried to steal his heart and Mytho did the mime for love and there were bulls everywhere—"

When the bull dashed past them, the pendant around Ahiru's neck suddenly glittered, making her raise her fingers to the stone. Could Femio hold a heart shard? But when she had gathered the pieces of Mytho's heart, the holders acted different from the people they normally were. Femio had acted like before, if perhaps more pompous and obnoxious. That wasn't strange, but could it have been Fakir's pride? "Fakir, I think he has one of your heart shards!"

"Does he? Is that to explain his behavior?"

The green-eyed boy tilted his head. His expression was neutral, but Ahiru could swear that his malachite eyes seemed to burn just a tad greener. Was it only her imagination? At the thought, she immediately blushed. She shook her head, pushing away her silly thoughts. No, there was no way Fakir would be jealous. It wasn't possible for him to return her feelings. Slapping her hands over her mouth, Ahiru tried to sort out her thoughts before speaking. Finally, she decided on her words. "No, he was always like that."

Fakir shrugged, raising an eyebrow at her behavior. Then he brushed it off. After all, it was Ahiru: everything about her was odd. "If there's no change, perhaps nothing's wrong. Go look for heart shards somewhere else. But right now, we should get you enrolled, then get to class."

"Sounds good! I'll do my best!" The ballerina twirled around, eyes burning with determination. "You'll get your heart back, I promise!"

He held her gaze for a moment, then looked away and closed his eyes. "Don't waste time on trifles, idiot. You shouldn't be troubling yourself."

"But it's no trouble at all, I swear!" She latched onto his arm and tugged at his blue uniform sleeve. "Why can't you let someone help you for once?"

"I have no need of an entire heart."

"No! Everyone needs a heart and I'll definitely get the rest of yours back." Ahiru nodded with certainty, her eyebrows knitting together, her hands balling into fists.

"Fine. Do what you wish," he relented, a smile tugging at his stern lips. It was typical of her stubborn self to argue.

The diminutive dancer smiled at his words, gazing at him with her bright blue eyes. She barely reached the top of his shoulders. When she looked up at the male, she was reminded of that time where she had found him desolate at the lake. She had been a duck, so he had taken her into his arms without hesitation. Fakir was always by himself, fighting alone, crying alone. Even with Mytho he had been alone, as the heartless teen understood nothing. But not anymore. She silently vowed that she would stay by his side, just as he did to her in the lake. He no longer had to stand alone.

Femio only became more obnoxious while the hours passed, offering Ahiru roses at every minute. He bombastically professed his devotion to her and swore to love no other. He constantly interrupted classes, much to the teacher's chagrin. Not to mention that there was also an increase in the number of bulls in Gold Crown Town. Where exactly did the phony prince get them? Yet every time Ahiru ran into him, the pendant at her neck glowed more brightly. She had changed into the uniform given to her at the admission office but kept the choker.

When the lunch hour began, Ahiru felt an immense relief wash over her and searched for Fakir. He wasn't anywhere to be found. She had looked in the library, the practice rooms—even the courtyard. Oh, did Fakir hate being around so many people. Yet the redhead had already checked the entire school. He was nowhere to be found among the groups of chattering students, so Ahiru decided to try her luck at finding Autor. Despite his all-knowing and condescending attitude, he had been of immense help in defeating Drosselmeyer. For that, Ahiru considered him a friend.

As expected, Autor was in one of the music rooms practicing the piano. Upon hearing her entering, he looked up and lifted his fingers from the keys. "Ah, come to visit me since Fakir has left you?"

Ahiru scowled, huffing, "He didn't leave me. I just can't find him,"

"But you did come here for a reason, did you not?" Autor's glasses flashed in the light, the glare hiding his eyes. His lips curled into a smirk.

"I wanted to ask you about Drosselmeyer. He came back yesterday! And Fakir's lost half his heart!"

Autor sighed, pushing his glasses up his nose. He stood and walked to the windows, clasping his hands behind him, his back to Ahiru. "I'm not surprised. That power of his is going to waste."

"No, it isn't! Fakir is a good writer!" The redhead took a step forward as her hands curled into fists.

"He is as short-tempered as everyone says. Fakir tends to rely on brute strength and makes rash decisions. He still needs to learn that in situations like this, words are extremely powerful."

Ahiru vigorously shook her head. "What happened was Drosselmeyer's fault. If he never came back, none of this would have happened." She took a deep breath and looked away. "Autor, please, I need your help to save Fakir. I don't know how to do this on my own."

Autor slowly turned around and fixed his gaze on her. "Fine. Come with me." He led Ahiru to one of the secluded rooms in the library. Tomes with cracked spines lined the shelves. An author's name, the gold letters shining beneath the layer of dust, caught Ahiru's eye. She stepped forward and brushed away the dust to reveal 'Drosselmeyer' written in looping cursive. Gasping, she stumbled backwards and tripped over her own feet. She looked up to see Autor, who sighed in irritation.

"Be more aware of your surroundings," he grumbled and ignored her hurried apologies. "Now, every book here was written by Drosselmeyer. Some stories," he pulled out a copy of The Prince and the Raven, "have not been finished,"

"The story came true. Mytho and Rue and—"

"Yes, obviously, but the characters led the tale to an end. Therefore..." Autor opened the book. Ahiru's eyes widened. She reached for the book and flipped through the pages. Words that had not existed before now filled the creamy white paper and detailed the events from months ago.

They lived happily ever after for the time being.

Ahiru ran her fingers over the final line, her heartbeat speeding. What did 'for the time being' mean? She closed the book and looked up. "How is this possible?"

Autor retrieved the book from her and reshelved it. His eyes gleamed with wild excitement. "Don't you see? A new tale—a fanfiction—has begun. We are in Drosselmeyer's story and to a greater extent, someone else's." He laughed at Ahiru's puzzled expression and pushed his glasses up his nose. "I didn't expect you to understand. But understand now, I am a plot device. I am important."

"Okay! It was nice talking to you." She backed away from the crazed musician and dashed to the ballet division of the school. Much to her frustration, she soon found her path blocked by Femio.

"Bonjour, my ravishing goddess! Your beauty grows with every passing minute!" Femio shouted, kneeling before her to offer another flower. Ahiru glanced around the hallway, searching for Fakir for any means of escape.

"I h-have to get to class," she stammered, toying with her fingers. The corridor was empty, having been long deserted by the girls once Femio had set foot inside it.

"Oh, it is unbearable, for I am utterly devoted to you. How heartbroken must others feel, their poor burdened hearts! This cursed beauty of mine; I must repent for my sins!"

"Wait, Femio, there is nothing to be sorry for!" The redhead checked to make sure there weren't any incoming bulls, and Femio's butler was nowhere in sight. Touching her pendant, she felt herself transform into Princess Ritter.

When the transformation was complete, the ballerina stepped forward. "Femio, you don't have to suffer like this!"

He looked at her in confusion, unable to recognize the redhead in her new form. "I apologize, mademoiselle, but my heart already belongs to another maiden! Oh, this wretched fate, to be loved by everyone!" He bent over and clutched his heart, his purple hair splaying across the floor.

Ahiru rotated her hands above her head and slowly lowered her arms. "Please, will you dance with me?" she requested, extending a hand.

"I cannot, for I am utterly devoted to another!"

She gasped, and her brows rose as her eyes widened. She was hit with a sudden realization; he had the heart shard of devotion. In Drosselmeyer's last story, Femio had claimed to be in love with every maiden. To commit himself to only one girl was unusual for him. The reason Femio continued bothering the redhead was because he was affected by the heart shard of devotion! And Fakir—he was like a puppet with no direction because couldn't devote himself to a cause. Without his devotion, Fakir wandered aimlessly through his life. He couldn't find meaning in life nor a reason to live.

Grasping Femio's hands, the dancer pulled Femio into a pas de deux. His limbs relaxed, and the tension drained from his body. Looking at the girl with his teary eyes, Femio allowed himself to be led through the dance. "Don't you believe that you qualify to be a true prince? Do you not love everyone?" Ahiru continued, twirling around the boy with grace and ease.

"I...I can only care for one right now." Femio faltered in his step and closed his eyes. He pulled away from Ahiru.

She tightened her grip on his wrists and silently forced him to continue the dance. "Why is that? How can you chose only one girl?"

"I don't know! And I cause so many the terrible burden of unrequited love, so I knew I must pick only one lest I hurt the others." Femio shook his head, his wavy hair falling in front of his eyes. The dancer took his hands and pulled him into a spin.

"This feeling is not yours." Ahiru coaxed the heart shard out of his chest. A faint red image of Fakir dressed in medieval clothing appeared before her. "You don't have to stay any longer. You can now return to your original owner."

"Thank you, Princess Ritter." Its eyes closed as a smile spread across its face. The heart shard sparkled and transformed into a small crimson gem. Ahiru clasped in her hands. The jewel burned hot against her skin, just like the courageous fire in her knight's eyes. Devotion was a valuable emotion; to lose passion and commitment to things was the same as wandering without a purpose.

"Femio, you can return to loving everyone," she said, but much to her relief, the phony prince had already disappeared. Ahiru felt a twinge of relief. She had spent enough time with him—one more minute would have been extraneous.

Footsteps echoed behind her. She turned around to meet Fakir's gaze. He stood a couple feet away from her, shrouded in shadows. Though most of his face was obscured by long dark hair, a faint smile could be seen. Ahiru held her arms out and watched the heart shard returned to her friend. He gave a sharp gasp as the red sparks faded. Immediately, his chest felt heavier, as though more weight had been added, which must've been true. Devotion was a heavy emotion. Fakir clutched his chest, his eyes widening. He lifted his head to look at the redhead before him. Princess Ritter vanished and left behind the Ahiru the girl.

"Thank you, Ahiru."

"You're welcome."

...

1 - Based off 3 Snake Leaves, a German fairy tale collected by the Brothers Grimm.