Once upon a time, there lived a beautiful couple, a prince and a princess. They lived happily until the princess fell ill and died. But oh! The devoted prince found a miracle—a remedy that would bring his dear love back to life. He revived her but alas! While the princess was no longer a corpse, all her love for her husband had perished. His unwavering devotion was lost to a hollow woman who couldn't appreciate it.1
The sun inched above the horizon. Swirls of 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. Faint, glittering stars were scattered throughout the sky.
Ahiru stirred, and her eyes flickered open. She lifted her head and looked around the room with half-closed lids.
Fakir? Where was he?
Her gaze drifted downwards and landed on the his sleeping form. Ahiru's tiny hands clutched the front of his shirt, the dull blue fabric bunched up in her fists. She promptly released him and 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.
Her hand rose to the choker around her throat. The pendant was smooth and warm to the touch, pulsating with an energy from within. Set in entwining loops, it was a deep emerald with black swirls inside. The edge was chipped, creating a sharp end like a dagger. A piece of Fakir's heart. He gave up a part 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 Ahiru if her friend was not alright.
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. Yet at the same time, it wasn't. It was all cruelty, dark and venomous, with none of his usual teasing kindness.
"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." 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'm okay." 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.
"You were hurt yesterday. Shouldn't you be taking a day off from school?"
"No." Fakir, straightening his ruffled 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."
"Let go of me," he snapped and shoved her off. His thick, dark eyebrows knit together in irritation.
Ahiru's breath caught in her throat. His irritable nature had always been tempered by affection towards her. But looking into his eyes, she found nothing but a dark emptiness. Nevertheless, she refused to give up.
She 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?"
"Get out of 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 him when 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.
"If you're going, then I'm coming with you."
Finally, Fakir looked at Ahiru's pendant. His eyes widened when his gaze landed on the choker at her neck. For a split second, all his venom vanished.
"Princess Ritter," he murmured.
Ahiru reached for his arm. He switched 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, words that ran solely on malice.
"Do you know anything? Tell me. What about Princess Marchen2? What happened to her?"
Fakir shook his head. "Marchen was an extension of the Prince. She's gone."
Princess Marchen had been Ahiru's alter ego. When the prince from Drosselmeyer's fairy tale shattered his heart to seal away the Raven, a piece became the pendant that allowed Ahiru to change from duck to girl to princess. Princess Marchen's power stemmed from the prince's heart, so when all of his heart was returned, Marchen disappeared.
Being Marchen was like wearing a tailored costume. It fit like a glove, but it wasn't quite right. Even being Ritter3, an identity Ahiru wasn't too accustomed to, was more comfortable than being Marchen 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. He merely turned his head to look out of the window with no real interest.
Ahiru followed her friend out the door. "I'm coming."
"Alright." Fakir didn't argue. He didn't have a reason to.
He sounded like a talking doll. His voice was devoid of emotion. He tilted his head to gaze 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 pendant 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!"
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. Ahiru was still a klutz despite the magic.
Fakir took no notice and continued to walk while Ahiru rubbed her scraped knee. 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.
"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."
When Drosselmeyer controlled the town, fiction and reality fused together. Corpses returned from the dead, human-like animals walked around the campus. People lived solely to carry out the roles they had been assigned. With the destruction of the old man's writing machine, all his stories came to a halt. 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 in a burst of 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?" Ahiru squawked.
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.
"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.
"Ahiru, do you...know him?" Fakir raised an eyebrow, mouth curled into a scowl. His voice was dark and cold, the words sharp.
"Idiot," he added. Though whether it was directed at her or Femio, Ahiru wasn't sure.
With a flourish, Femio brushed a lock of hair from his eyes. "Ah, is this a jealous lover I see? I pity you for it is impossible to compete with a true prince such as I."
"Shut up."
For a split second, the world seemed to freeze. Then came the sharp strike of a slap. Fakir's hand had lashed against Femio's face, leaving behind a red welt. Gasps echoed around the courtyard as onlookers turned to watch.
Ahiru trembled and backed away. She could bear to meet Fakir's eyes. Anger. So that emotion had remained. All darkness with none of the good emotions to balance.
"What the hell? How do you even know this guy?" he grumbled, paying no heed to the stares.
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 the prince'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!"
"And what of it?"
The coldness cut her to the bone. "W-What?" Ahiru stammered.
"You're an idiot, wasting time on such trifles." Fakir turned to face her. His narrowed eyes blazed and for a moment, she could've sworn they flashed red. "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.
Fakir turned his back on her and sauntered off. Tears stung her eyes at the depth of his malice, and she furiously wiped them away. The way he was acting reminded her of the old him when they first met, when he saw her as an enemy of the prince.
Ahiru recalled the 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. But not anymore. She silently vowed that she would stay by his side, just as he promised 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. And every time Ahiru ran into him, the pendant around her neck glowed more brightly.
When the lunch hour began, Ahiru hunted the school for Fakir. He wasn't anywhere to be found. She looked in the library, the practice rooms—even the courtyard, which he loathed due to the crowds of students. Yet she 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 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!" She stepped 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 'D. D. 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, "weren't finished,"
"The story came true. The prince—"
"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 shelved it. His eyes gleamed with manic 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!" Ahiru touched her pendant and willed herself to 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 Ahiru 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. When he had nothing to care for, anger took root in the emptiness. Without his devotion, Fakir wandered aimlessly through his life. He couldn't find meaning nor reason to life.
Grasping Femio's hands, Ahiru pulled him into a pas de deux. His limbs relaxed, and the tension drained from his body. Looking at her 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 her partner 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 a suit of armor 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 and a smile spread across its face. The heart shard sparkled and transformed into a small crimson gem. Ahiru clasped it 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 was like 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 Fakir.
The red sparks faded and he released a sharp gasp. Fakir clutched his chest and stumbled forward, as though more weight had been added. Devotion was a heavy emotion.
His eyes widened. "Thank you, Ahiru."
"You're welcome."
1. Based off 3 Snake Leaves, a German fairy tale collected by the Brothers Grimm.
2. Means "fairytale" in German. I changed the name of Princess Tutu from the original anime since it sounded too childish.
3. Means "knight" in German to match how Fakir plays the role of the knight in Drosselmeyer's story.
