Once upon a time there was a prince who dreamt of a beautiful bird. In his dreams, the bird sang to him and gave him hope. One day, the bird appeared before him while he was awake. Certain the bird felt for him what he felt for her, he captured the bird and brought her to his kingdom. Overtime, the bird's beautiful plumage molted and lost its color. Eventually, the bird simply disappeared. Not even in his dreams did the prince see her—for she was never his to take.

"You know," Ahiru cooed to a flock of birds settled around her window, "tomorrow is the day I'm going to see the ballet!"

Only a handful of her feathered companions paid her any mind as they pecked at the selection of birdseed she had set out.

She sighed dreamily as she imagined what kind of sets the ballet would have and what the costumes would look like. "Autor said it was called The Firebird. I bet there'll be lots of bright red and yellow…" She giggled and rested her cheek on the palm of her hand, watching the birds hop around her window ceil. "I bet if Rue were here, she'd play the firebird! She always did look pretty in fiery colors!"

A small brown bird chirped and bounced over to her, cocking its head side to side as if it were trying to understand her. With a smile, Ahiru offered it her finger, which it pecked at once before happily perching upon it.

"So you agree Rue would be the firebird?"

The bird tweeted gleefully in response.

Ahiru giggled again. "Of course you do! Rue was the best at ballet."

Chirping again, the bird ruffled its feathers briefly before taking off from her finger.

Ahiru waved after it, calling, "Come again tomorrow, and bring your friends!"

Sliding back into her window seat, she regarded the thinning flock still with her. Ever since Charon made a bird feeder to hang off the gutter above her window, she's seen far more birds than usual.

"I used to dance," she admitted quietly to the remaining ones. "Not well, really, but I did dance…" She absentmindedly rubbed at the gem around her neck. "I guess I can still dance now, but I'll never be able to go back to the academy. And I'll probably never get much better—at least… not before… my year is up."

Suddenly, all the remaining birds took off, leaving behind a mess of down and scattered seed.

Surprised, Ahiru dropped her pendant and looked around outside her window. "Something must have spooked them…" she muttered, not noticing her gem turning from gray to white.

Figuring that her avian friends were done eating for the morning, she wiped all the shed down out the window and cleaned up the spilled seed. After she was satisfied with her job, she pulled the window shut. It was time for her to start her day, anyway.

Padding over to her closet, Ahiru debated on what to wear for the day—and, more importantly, for tomorrow's concert. In the past few months, she was able to broaden her clothes collection and now had a decent sizable wardrobe. Most notably, Raetzel had sent a box of clothes she never wore anymore after her visit. Choice in clothes wasn't something Ahiru was used to, but she decided she liked it—even if it now took her longer to decide on what to wear. She finally decided on a simple pastel blue shirt and a pair of white shorts. Tomorrow, though, she would wear something much nicer. She fingered the soft fabric of a black dress Raetzel had sent her. It wasn't as colorful as Ahiru tended to prefer, but it was by far the nicest thing she now owned.

After quickly brushing and braiding her hair, Ahiru went about her morning routine. Despite her barely contained excitement for tomorrow's performance, Ahiru also had important plans for today that were making her anxious. Naturally, this rendered her a bit more clumsy than usual—not that a few spilt wash buckets ever slowed her down before.

The past couple of days or so, she decided to be a bit more proactive. Taking a page from Fakir's book, almost quite literally, she took to researching. Thinking back on her deal with Drosselmeyer, she concluded she didn't regret the deal she made. The crazy dead man might have been malicious, and he may not always make sense, but this time Ahiru knew in her heart of hearts that she agreed. She didn't want to spend the rest of her life as a duck. She wanted to connect with humans in a way animals simply couldn't. She wanted to have conversations and laugh and be understood. Even just one year of being able to do that was worth lifetimes of floating on that pond. If she did die after her time was up, she would be thankful for the time she had. Her only regret would be any potential pain she causes for Fakir and Charon. Regardless, that didn't mean she had to take it lying down.

Together, she and Fakir were able to change the story Drosselmeyer was spinning from beyond the grave. Rue and Mytho had their happy ending and the Raven was defeated. She knew it wasn't impossible, that there was no harm in being just a little bit hopeful, but she also knew things were different this time around. Unlike the first time Ahiru accepted the offer to become Princess Tutu, she knew who Drosselmeyer was, she knew she was playing with fire, and she was doing it mostly for herself. Yes, it was the knowledge that she would be helping others that tipped the scale, but it would be a lie to claim she was only doing it for that reason. Ahiru was being selfish, and she knew that. This time, there couldn't be a together. She knowingly chose to entangle herself in Drosselmeyer's plots, she would not drag Fakir in with her.

One thing she did not know, however, is where to even start to look for answers on her own. Drosselmeyer said she would be removing misplaced feelings, and while she knew better than to trust his word, it seemed he was telling the truth. Whatever those "fragments" were, when they leave someone's body, it appears to bring them ease. This did not bring her ease, as she had no idea what these fragments were. Fragments of what? Last time she was Princess Tutu she at least knew the heart shards were pieces of Mytho's heart.

So, the duck-girl started in the only place she could even fathom starting: the library. So many time she had watched Fakir pour over piles and piles of books at the library; it was the only place Ahiru could even think of looking. The only issue, of course, was that Fakir always went to the library. With how often he's there, Ahiru figured they ought to name a wing after him or something. Thinking herself rather clever, Ahiru waited until Charon had a big project coming up—one that would require Fakir to spend a lot of time helping him in the smithy. One that just so happened to keep Fakir busy for the past few days.

She snickered to herself as she quietly pushed the front door closed and locked it behind her. She couldn't help but feel so sly as she snuck to Fakir's favorite locale without him knowing. Sure, she could've stopped creeping along walls and darting around corners a few blocks from Charon's house and smithy, but she found it much more enjoyable to continue until she was inside the library.

Okay, maybe she continued to tiptoe and slither even once she was inside.

The fun died quite quickly once she remembered what she was there to do, though. Already, she had thumbed through all the library's Drosselmeyer works, despite the fact she knew Fakir probably read them each a hundred times over since she became a girl again. What did she expect to find that Fakir hadn't already?

Ahiru shook her head and carried on through the fairytale section. She couldn't give up now. Besides, she had information that Fakir didn't.

She stopped.

"Fragments…?"

Furrowing her brow, Ahiru tried to remember if anything Drosselmeyer wrote had anything to do with fragments.

"No…" she decided after a moment of deliberating. "What even are fragments?" She mumbled.

She hadn't tried it yet, and it certainly couldn't hurt.

Ambling over to the section which homed a shelf full of dictionaries, Ahiru tapped her chin in thought. After staring at the tomes for a brief moment, Ahiru picked the most modern looking one and brought it to a nearby table.

"Fragment… fragment…" she mumbled to herself as she thumbed through the pages.

"F-A… F-I… F-L… F-O… F-R-A…" she stopped once she reached the right section and read through the words, skimming the page with her finger.

"Fractionate… Fractious… no… Fragile… Fragility… Ah! Fragment!" Ahiru toyed with a wayward strand of hair as she read the definition softly to herself.

"A piece of something greater which has been broken or separated… to break or cause to break into smaller pieces… Humm…" She leaned back in her chair, still playing with her hair as she ruminated over the word.

With a sigh, she looked up at the ceiling and closed her eyes. "I don't think that made anything that much clearer." Her arms hung limply at her sides. "Would the library really be that much of help, anyway?" Maybe she had put too much faith in Fakir's methods of research. He'd been working at it for months already.

Rat tat tat

Ahiru's eye shot open and her brow furrowed.

Tappa tat

She turned her head towards where she thought the sound of… drumming? was coming from.

Tap tappa tat

"Uzura?" Ahiru questioned quietly as she slowly stood up from her chair. She glanced around to see if anyone else heard the sound. Through a gap in the stacks she could see a librarian sitting quietly at his desk, not at all reacting to the boisterous sound.

Tip tiptip tat

It sounded further away this time.

Ahiru pursed her lips and tried to follow the familiar rhythm.

Tap tap tap tap

It was growing louder, and more continuous. She must be heading in the right direction. "Uzura?" Ahiru asked again, a little louder this time.

Could it be Uzura? The drummer girl had disappeared without a trace around the same time Mytho and Rue had. Neither she nor Fakir had any clue what had happened to her. Had Uzura been hiding in Goldkrone this entire time?

The drumming sounded like it was coming from right in front of her now, but the small girl was no where to be seen. Ahiru took another step, and suddenly the sound stopped.

"Huh? Uzura? Are you here?" Ahiru tried again. She had hoped she would see Uzura again someday—if for nothing else but to see she was okay. Ahiru waited a moment before sighing. Maybe she had been reading for too long and her ears were playing tricks on her. She idly wondered if Fakir ever had that problem.

Just in case, before turning to leave, Ahiru whispered, "Just be safe, Uzura."

Feeling a little disappointed, Ahiru started walking back, wondering if she should call it quits for the day, when her eye caught the section name. She froze.

"Occult?" She stared at the word, turning it over in her mind. A sudden chill ran through her veins and she decided she had been in the library long enough. She could hardly rip her eyes away from the sign as she physically turned her body away. It was time to go home.

Her trip home was not even remotely as playful as her trip to the library.


Fakir met Ahiru's eyes mid-bite; the juice from the apple dribbled down his chin. He heard the door open and close, but had expected Charon to be the one entering, not Ahiru. She looked distracted. He quickly chewed his apple and wiped the juice from his face.

Apparently, she didn't expect him to be there either, as her face suddenly flushed red. "Ah-ahhh, Fakir! Haha, I was just uhm… Went for a walk and. Haha… Got lost?"

She was acting strangely, but Fakir didn't feel like pressing it. His muscles ached from working with Charon the past few days and he was tired. "That sounds about right."

"Heh…" She laughed awkwardly before biting her lip and entering the kitchen. "So, we're still going to the ballet tomorrow, right?"

Fakir put down his apple core and placed his chin atop his hands. "That is the plan. Why?"

Ahiru smiled, stress draining from her as she sat across from him. "Just wanted to make sure. I've already picked out what I'm going to wear. I can't wait!"

"So you've said," Fakir responded, though the usual annoyance was absent from his tone. So far Ahiru hadn't seemed to realize that her old friends and classmates would be in the ballet—maybe even in lead roles. Remembering the last time Ahiru had come across them, he worried it would affect her similarly. Regardless, it was nice to see her so excited. So excited to be going to see this ballet with him. Not that that part was important to him… at all.

Her wide eyes glittered as she rested her cheek in the palm of her hand and chewed on her bottom lip. Fakir was used to seeing that faraway look in her eyes while she daydreamed. Her eyes snapped back into focus and her smile widened. "We should go out to eat tomorrow before the concert, right?! That way it'll be more special!"

Fakir could feel the heat burning in his face already, whatever he was expecting her to say, it wasn't that. "I-uh… Sure. We can do that."

"Hmm…" Ahiru tapped a finger on her cheek as she screwed her lips up in thought. "I guess Ebine is too far out of the way to go there…" She puffed up one of her cheeks in frustration.

"There's a new restaurant closer to the school," Fakir supplied, "we could go there."

Her eyes lit up. "Perfect! I can't wait! I wish it were tonight." She puckered her lips impatiently.

Fakir couldn't help but laugh at her antics. He hoped she stayed this cheery throughout tomorrow night; he hated seeing her upset.

"Have you decided what you're going to wear?"

Fakir rolled his eyes, "No," and didn't even try to hide his amusement as she immediately began demanding he start thinking about it right away. It wouldn't be long before the two decided to cook dinner together for Charon and laughed the night away.

Both went to bed with smiles on their faces.


The day seemed to drag on for Ahiru. She counted down every single hour and each one seemed to go slower than the one before it. Ten hours, nine hours, eight hours, seven hours, six hours… still six hours… five hours… still five hours…

She groaned and flopped back on her bed. She already fed the birds. Did all the laundry. Scrubbed the floors. Dusted the furniture. She even made herself a sandwich and cleaned up afterwards.

Fakir, seemingly unaffected by this horrible slow-time vortex, had left earlier to run some errands for Charon, so Ahiru couldn't even go bother him for a few hours. She wished he could've waited for her to finish so she could've gone with him. Running errands probably made time go a relatively normal speed, at least compared to hanging out in her bedroom doing nothing.

Maybe more time had passed than she thought. Ahiru pushed herself back up and trotted down to the living room to glance at the clock.

Well, four hours was much better than five. She was pretty sure it had been five more hours for five hours.

Ahiru tapped a finger against her jawline. Did it take four hours to get ready? She could probably make it take four hours to get ready, right?

"Okay," she announced to the empty household, "I'll just take a long bath."

With renewed hope, Ahiru bounded up the stairs and back to her room. She put extra care into combing out her hair and drew the water a little warmer than she usually did, hoping the steam would brighten her complexion.

Sighing as she lowered herself into the bath tub, she tried to ignore the unbridled excitement making her pulse race. "Calm," she whispered as she let her body sink underwater. She exhaled again as she sat back up, the hot water dripping from her long hair and face. Maybe if she focused on getting really clean, time would go a little bit faster.

By the time Ahiru was ready to get out, her skin was red from scrubbing so hard and the water had gone lukewarm. She pulled the plug before she stood, watching the water swirl around the drain for a moment. The bath had been relaxing, but now that it was over all she could think about was how much time had she managed to burn. Wrapping a towel around her hair, and another around her torso, Ahiru scrambled down the stairs to check the clock again.

Almost an hour had passed. Not quite her goal, but not bad. Almost three hours left. Maybe she would try doing a really elegant hairstyle. That would definitely take time—especially with how much she was bound to screw up and have to start over again.

Nodding to herself, Ahiru padded back up the stairs and to her room. She could definitely pull off getting ready for a little over three more hours.


Fakir tried to ignore the mounting anxiety as he sat on the worn couch in the living room, waiting for Ahiru.

It wasn't a date or anything, and he definitely wasn't building this up to be something greater than it was, but if they were going to have dinner before the ballet, they really needed to leave soon. That, and Fakir was tired of pretending not to notice the conceited grins Charon kept shooting at him from in the kitchen.

He shifted again. His dress pants were a bit stiff, probably because he rarely wore them, and it made it difficult to comfortably cross his legs.

Why was Ahiru taking so long? He was about to go pound on her door when he heard her ambling down the stairs.

"All ready!" Ahiru chirped as she half slid into the living room.

Fakir was suddenly glad he decided to just wear a vest rather than a jacket, as he could feel his face burning.

The black fabric of the knee-length dress she wore swayed around her legs, which were clad in canary-yellow stockings. Her hair was tied up in an elegant coiffure he was certain Raetzel had taught her. It wasn't perfect, but the stray curls that had escaped managed to enhance the appeal. Her fingers played with the hems her sleeves, which reached just past the heels of her hands.

"Ah! You look nice!" Her freckled face had a pleasant flush and it was very difficult for him to pretend he wasn't melting.

Hyper aware of Charon's attention, Fakir forcibly swallowed and responded, "You, too."

She grinned at him, rocking forward on her toes. "Ready to go?" A wayward curl bounced against her cheek and he tried really hard not to stare.

"Yeah, we're running late. Let's go."

Charon stepped out of the kitchen behind him, drying his hands with a washcloth. "Now just hold on a moment."

Fakir held back a groan as he looked back at his adoptive father, bracing himself for whatever ridiculousness the man would undoubtedly spout.

Charon wagged a joking finger at Fakir, "You make sure you bring her home at a reasonable hour, young man."

"Charon," Fakir didn't have the patience to deal with the older man's shenanigans. Not tonight.

Charon chuckled and patted Ahiru on the shoulder, "I'm just kidding! You two have fun!"

Ahiru beamed up at the older man. "We will! And make sure you have a nice, relaxing evening!"

Charon squeezed her shoulder before heading back into the kitchen. "Don't worry, I will. Be safe, now."

"We will!" she repeated herself and skipped towards the door. She opened it and gestured past it, "After you, monsieur."

Fakir rolled his eyes and walked passed her, "Dork."

Closing the door behind her, Ahiru scurried to be by his side. She stuck her tongue out at him. "Jerk!"

He laughed at this. Even dressed to the nines, her adorable idiosyncrasies still shone through. He offered her his arm with a crooked smile, "Mademoiselle."

Ahiru blinked in surprise and stared at his arm for a moment before settling her hand in the crook of his elbow. "Nerd," she shot back good-naturedly.

Their walk to the restaurant was pleasant. Fakir listened to Ahiru effuse about The Firebird, and he totally wasn't admiring the way her eyes shone with passion in the streetlights.

The restaurant was charming and specialized in French cuisine. Fakir felt a bit overdressed for the venue, but Ahiru didn't seem to notice in the least. She cooed over the gaudy rococo tables and chairs as she sat down.

"Too bad this wasn't here when we went to the academy!" Ahiru mused as she picked up the menu. Again, she found herself overwhelmed by the menu, marveling over how many dishes there were that she had never heard of.

It wasn't long before the waiter arrived, filled their glasses with water, and asked if they were ready to order.

Ahiru, happy to have found something that at least sounded familiar, excitedly ordered herself a savory crêpe with potatoes, mushrooms, and gruyère. Fakir ordered the hachis parmenteir. The waiter took down their orders and hurried back to the kitchen.

Leaning forward conspiratorially, Ahiru grinned. "I noticed a dessert section on the menu. Want to share a crème brûlée?"

Finding it difficult to say no to her, even though his face flushed in memory of the last time they went out to eat together, he consented.

She leaned back, her eyes glittering triumphantly. "Yay! I'll tell the waiter next time he comes back!"

Damn her cute little nose and how it crinkled when she smiled.

"Is there something on my face?" Ahiru cocked her head to the side.

Shit, he'd been staring.

"What? No. I was just thinking."

"About what?"

"Don't worry about it."

Ahiru screwed her lips up. He was probably thinking about the gem around her neck again. She absentmindedly toyed with the aforementioned stone as she rested her chin on the palm of her hand.

Fakir, eager to change the subject, began, "You know The Firebird is based off of old Russian folklore."

That got her attention. "Yeah?"

"It follows the story of Prince Ivan, who falls in love with a princess captured by an evil sorcerer."

"Why is it called The Firebird, then?" Ahiru's light-blue eyes were wide with curiosity.

Fakir took a sip of his water before responding. "The firebird helps him."

"Hmm…" Ahiru was considering this when the waiter came back with their food.

"Will that be all for you?" he asked.

Ahiru looked up at the man with a smile, "We'd like to share a crème brûlée, please!"

"Excellent!" the waiter nodded before disappearing again.

"Oh! This smells delicious!" Ahiru immediately picked up her fork and knife and began cutting into her crêpe. She chewed it excitedly and barely swallowed her food before Ahiru quickly cut off another bite and jabbed it out at Fakir. "It's amazing! Try it!"

Fakir knew this would happen, he had been steeling himself for her inevitable naïveté, but somehow, he found himself woefully unprepared. 'Get yourself together,' he mentally reprimanded himself before leaning forward and taking the bite.

"Good, yeah?" Ahiru didn't wait for him to respond before going back for more.

It was good, but he had a hard time focusing on the flavor with his nerves going haywire. He swallowed. "Yeah, it is."

"Howf yorwf?" Ahiru asked through a mouthful.

He steeled himself. He could do this. He offered her a forkful of potatoes and diced beef. "Try it." He could've died watching her happily take his food from his fork. He really needed to stop taking her to restaurants.

"Mmm!" She exclaimed, "That's super yummy!"

'This is not a date,' he reaffirmed in his head as he eyed the crinkle in her nose again. 'We are just friends sharing their food before going to a ballet.'

Ahiru, true to her nature, ate her food rather quickly, and Fakir was surprised he had done the same. Apparently shoveling food in his mouth was a great way to ignore the rampant thoughts galloping through his mind.

"Your crème brûlée," the waiter announced as he set a ramekin and two spoons between them. He took the two empty plates before leaving.

Ahiru regarded the dessert with curiosity. She actually had no idea what she had ordered as a dessert. She had heard the name before and since it was the only name she recognized, figured it was probably good. She was surprised when she inserted her spoon and was met with resistance.

Fakir chuckled, "You have to crack it."

"Huh?" She looked up at him and he made a small smacking motion with a spoon. "Oh!" She deftly smacked her spoon against the caramelized crust and grinned when it made a satisfying cracking sound.

And that's when Ahiru learned she was not a fan of custard.

Fakir couldn't help but laugh at the disgusted face she made as she tried to finish the heaping spoonful she helped herself to. "Idiot, you ordered something you didn't like?"

Ahiru forced herself to swallow wincing at the awful texture and took a huge gulp of water before she could respond. "I didn't know!" She frowned. "I just recognized the name! Plus, it's fun to say 'crème brûlée,' who would've thought it was so gross!"

Fakir took a spoonful; it was actually pretty good. He'd only had crème brûlée a handful of times in his life, so he really didn't have a standard for it, but it definitely wasn't "gross."

Ahiru made a face and pushed the ramekin towards him. "If you like it, you can finish it."

Fakir rolled his eyes and picked up the ramekin. At least it wasn't a very big crème brûlée.


The pair was able to arrive right on time for the ballet. Other attendees were milling about the foyer and some students were handing out programs. Ahiru accepted hers with barely contained excitement and she immediately began scanning the performers.

"Oh! Femio is in this!"

"Femio?" Fakir narrowed his eyes as he looked at the program over her shoulder.

"As Kos… cheese…" Ahiru squinted at the unfamiliar name.

"Koschei," Fakir corrected. "He's the sorcerer I was telling you about."

"Oh!" Ahiru looked back at the program, "Ooh! Freya is going to be the firebird! I can't wait to see her perform!"

Fakir gave her a half smile. So far so good. The two names she mentioned weren't exactly her best friends before, but she seemed happy so far.

"Humm… I don't recognize a bunch of these names…" Ahiru mumbled as she continued to read the names. "Hermia is playing the princess that Prince Ivan falls for, and oh! it—" She got suddenly quiet for a moment, and Fakir had a feeling she got to the roles her previously close friends were performing.

"Ahiru…"

She jerked her face towards him and grinned, perhaps a little too widely, "Look, there are multiple princesses, and Pique and Lilie are both playing one." She quickly looked back down at the program, and Fakir studied her.

Her eyes landed on the extras. There was Lory's name. She gave a small smile at that, 'That's where I would've been, too,' she thought ruefully.

The lights dimmed and came back on, causing Ahiru to look up.

"Come on," Fakir gently took her elbow, "the show is starting."

Ahiru gripped the program in her hands as Fakir led her to the entrance. He handed an usher their tickets, who lead them to their seats. "Thank you for supporting the students of Goldkrone Academy. Please enjoy the show."

Ahiru settled in her seat, nibbling her lip. Why did she feel so weird?

"Fakir!" A shrill voice from their right shook Ahiru from her thoughts. "I knew it was you!" The voice belonged to another student Ahiru vaguely remembered seeing around campus before who was seated a few seats away from them.

Fakir looked annoyed, and Ahiru couldn't help but snigger, "I see you're still popular, even after you graduated!"

"Shut up," Fakir grumbled.

The girl got up and came over, her friend she presumably came with following after her. "I'm so glad to see you still support the ballet department—though it suffered after you left, Fakir!"

"I hardly think that's the case," Fakir deflected her comment.

Not at all perturbed by Fakir's coarseness, she started again, "Oh, no, it's true!"

"Definitely!" Her friend agreed from behind her.

"And we ar—" she stopped short when her eyes landed on Ahiru. Her smile grew tight. "Who's this?"

"That's none of your business." Fakir had hoped graduating would have put an end to the self proclaimed "Fakir Girls," but apparently not. He didn't even know this girl's name.

Ahiru laughed, "Don't mind him, he's always grumpy." She offered out her hand, "My name's Ahiru. I'm Fakir's friend."

"Friend." The girl repeated, letting a moment pass before she shook Ahiru's hand—too tightly to be considered polite, Ahiru noted. The lights dimmed again, and the girl drew back. "Well, show's starting! Hope you enjoy it, Fakir!"

Ahiru grinned cheekily at Fakir, who was looking a lot like the Fakir he was when she first met him.

"The ballet's starting." He cut her off before she could even say anything. She giggled again and leaned back in her seat.

The lights brightened on the stage, revealing a dark, twisting backdrop and Femio, dressed in a black costume with silver boning on his ribs and legs, posed dramatically in the middle. Surrounding him were other danseurs dressed similarly, but with less flair. The music began with the low rumble of the strings and brass. Ahiru mused that the strange movements of Koschei's dance was fitting of Femio's unorthodox dance aesthetic.

When the lights dimmed and revealed Freya, dressed in a fiery red tutu bedecked with many brilliant orange, yellow, and red feathers, Ahiru gasped. She was beautiful. Her movements were light and graceful, reminiscent of a bird. Her bright red and orange eyeshadow glimmered in the spotlight, and Ahiru couldn't hold back a grin at the red flowers tucked into her pale blonde hair.

Ahiru was almost outraged when the student playing Prince Ivan caught her. Something so beautiful should never be hunted, much less captured. She was relieved to see he let her go, and amazed when Freya twirled and elegantly procured a feather from her tutu. Ahiru was disappointed to see her prance off stage as the music changed and Femio and his cohorts returned.

She wasn't sure if the role of Koschei was supposed to be so egotistical, or if Femio's natural vanity was pouring into the role. Either way, she was amazed at how much his execution had improved.

Her breath hitched when the Koschei summoned his bewitched princesses and they danced on stage. Each one poised and perfectly synchronized with the others. There they were. Pique and Lilie. Dressed in light, flowing skirts, and glittering crowns. Both of them, like the other princesses, sported a single braid which draped over their shoulders.

Ahiru watched as they danced gracefully, barely even noticing when Hermia entered, pas marché. They had spent so much time together, trying to learn how to dance properly, and here they were, dancing en pointe as if it were the easiest thing.

'Their lives went on…' She thought sadly.

While she was stuck on that pond, swimming and waiting for Fakir to show up, everyone's lives went on. They made new friends. They learned new skills. They grew up. They matured. And she was there. She was stuck in a purgatory parading as a small body of water.

Her thoughts halted when Fakir squeezed her hand. Through the dark, she could see an empathetic smile on his lips. She smiled back and returned her attention to the dancers.

Because that was exactly why she didn't regret her choice. She'd rather die tomorrow than spend another year on that damn pond. She lost enough friends. Ahiru wasn't going to let the remainder of her year go to waste.

Ahiru watched as Hermia and Prince Ivan ended their dance, the other princesses scattering off stage with a hurried elegance before Hermia followed. The student performing Prince Ivan's part was actually quite good, Ahiru decided, her eyes following his precise form. She thought he looked familiar; maybe he was one of the male students from the advanced class when she attended Goldkrone Academy? He performed well. And his eventual showdown with Femio's Koschei really showcased his skill.

But it was Freya's firebird that really stole the show—which, Ahiru supposed, was probably to be expected of the titular character. The dance where she enchanted Koschei's minions was, well, enchanting. She grinned as the firebird helped Prince Ivan defeat the evil sorcerer and saved the princesses and guards from their enchanted slumber. As soon as the curtain call began, Ahiru stood and applauded. All the dancers had worked so hard, how could she not give them a standing ovation?

She beamed up at Fakir when he shortly after followed suit.

After the four main performers took their last révérence the curtains slowly descended upon the stage, hiding the undoubtedly exhausted dancers.

"That was amazing!" Ahiru gushed, turning toward Fakir. "Freya was absolutely gorgeous! All the costumes were really well done, honestly! And did you see Femio! I can't believe he's gotten so much better! And—"

Fakir nodded along in amusement. He wasn't surprised she was so animated after the performance, and even he had to admit the students had done a great job. He was just grateful Ahiru had recovered from her brief episode of grief. It went much better than he had expected—though he wasn't quite sure what exactly he did expect.

"Did you see that one dance? Freya did like twenty pirouettes in a row! And the minions' dance was so fun and lively!"

"Did you notice the music at all?" Fakir couldn't help but ask. It seemed like Ahiru had forgotten she came there on Autor's invitation, and Fakir wasn't above admitting that pleased him a little bit.

Her cheeks flushed, and she looked down, studying her forefingers which she was now pressing together sheepishly. "I mean… I heard it, but I'm not very good at figuring out which instrument is which?"

He didn't bother covering up his chuckle as he nudged her toward the aisle, "Come on, moron."

She laughed awkwardly, glad she knew Fakir wouldn't say anything to Autor about her little slip up. It wasn't that she didn't like music, she was just not really in the know-how of identifying music. She thought the music for the ballet was very nice and complemented the choreography quite well, but she definitely couldn't say which parts were produced by a piano.

It was a tad warm in the foyer, as the audience and now the cast and crew members were all piled into the area. Families and friends fought to congratulate their loved ones while others stayed further back, chatting with their companions about what they enjoyed. Cocktail tables had been set up during the ballet, and some students were manning a bar.

"Ah, there you are." Autor's unmistakable voice caught Ahiru's attention. He approached the pair with smirk. "Did you enjoy the production, Ahiru?"

Of course he didn't even bother complimenting Ahiru's appearance before seeking her praise, Fakir noted in irritation.

Her eyes lit up as she began to dive into an explanation of all her favorite parts. Autor nodded good naturedly, but Fakir could tell he was waiting for his plaudits.

Finally, Ahiru enthused, "and the music was just sooooo good! You could really tell the dancers' energy was stoked because of how great it was!"

Autor's smirk grew, "Well, it is the backbone of every production."

Ahiru shot him a toothy smile, and he placed a hand on the small of her back, gesturing with his free hand. "Why don't we find a table so we can chat some more?"

Fakir gritted his teeth as he followed behind the two, watching Autor like a hawk.

Reaching an empty cocktail table, Autor removed his hand from Ahiru's person, much to Fakir's relief.

"You know Stravinsky was not only a composer, but he was also a pianist, so it comes as no surprise that the part of the piano is so integral to the composition," Autor mused.

Ahiru nodded, her eyes wide, and Fakir could tell she was only half taking in what Autor was saying to her.

"It's a shame they chose to do The Firebird instead of The Rite of Spring, though. The orchestral score is much more profound and groundbreaking."

"I liked The Firebird," Ahiru piped up, "I thought the ballerinas and danseurs looked like they really enjoyed the piece."

"Yes, yes," Autor dismissed her comment with a wave of his hand, "The ballet was quite well done; it's just a shame they chose the lesser of the three ballets commissioned from him."

Fakir watched as Ahiru screwed up her lips in annoyance. Autor was resoundingly bad at reading his conversation partners.

"You look gorgeous tonight," Autor stated suddenly, immediately getting a rise out of Fakir.

Ahiru's cheeks colored and she started fiddling with the program in her hands. "Th-thanks! I don't get to dress up often, so…" she trailed off, not sure how to respond to him.

Autor gave her a rare, sincere smile. "Well, you should." He stared at her a moment longer before changing the subject, "Would you like to drink?"

"Oh, uh—Just water is fine!"

Fakir rested his elbows on the high table and stared at Autor's retreating back, thankful the man had removed himself.

"You never said what you thought of the ballet!" Ahiru leaned forward, her fingers still twisting around the paper in her hands.

"They did well," Fakir responded.

She pouted. "That's all?"

Fakir shrugged. "You're right, they have all improved a great deal."

Ahiru was satisfied with this. As far as Fakir and praise went, he pretty much just gave them a glowing review. She leaned back and absentmindedly ran her finger along the edge of surprisingly resilient paper.

"Ow!" Ahiru's cry was sharp.

Autor was headed back to their table when he heard her exclamation and saw her suddenly jerk her hand and drop her program.

Autor quickened his pace to see what the admittedly endearing clumsy girl had done, but Fakir's actions made him stop short. Even in the loud room, Autor could hear him clearly.

"Idiot! Are you okay?"

Ahiru's poppy-colored curls bounced around her shoulders as she nodded, one of her fingers nestled between her peach lips. She released it shortly to respond to him, though Autor couldn't make out what she had said.

He watched in stupefaction as Fakir gently took her hand into his own and inspected the injured digit. The girl watched him with wide blue eyes as he examined her finger.

Not long ago, the same girl had burned her hand serving Autor coffee and had refused to let him even look at it. Now here she stood, her cheeks flushed and with what Autor could only assume was a negligible cut, as his rival cradled her hand.

And Autor understood what he had always known: he didn't stand a chance.

He sighed, ignoring the crushing feeling of disappointment, as he continued back to the table.

"A water for the lovely lady." Autor announced as he set the glass of water before her.

Surprised, Ahiru pulled her hand from Fakir's. "Oh! Thanks!"

Autor inclined his head politely before beginning, "I wish I could stick around to speak more about the orchestral score, but I was informed the orchestra is having a meeting. I'm glad you enjoyed yourself, Ahiru."

Ahiru pouted, "Aw, you have to go?"

He felt a bit better knowing she genuinely wanted him to stay, but he was not interested in sticking around the pair any longer. He took her hand to kiss it goodbye, but, suddenly feeling cocky, pressed his lips against her cheek instead. When he pulled back he was delighted to see her face a bright red—as was Fakir's, but for an undoubtedly very different reason.

"Goodbye, Ahiru."

She stammered out a farewell, her face growing brighter by the second.

He flashed a smug grin at the fuming male next to her, "Fakir."

Autor may have lost the war, but he was satisfied to have won some of the battles.


Ahiru settled into her bed for the night. Her hair was tightly braided once again, thanks to Fakir's help, and she was happy to be out of her fancy clothes and in her most comfortable nightgown.

She stared at the stars flickering outside her window as she sunk into her mattress. The ballet had been even better than she predicted, but something didn't sit quite right with her.

How could the Prince trap the firebird and then make her fight his fights? And then what? They thank her and go on with their lives? Didn't she deserve better?

Her eyes fluttered shut and gray twinkled from beneath her blankets, along with the stars in the night.


A/N: It's been almost a year since I updated? I'm sorry! I really meant to get this out sooner, but I've had quite a bit going on in the past year, including a big move across a few states. I hope this chapter makes up for the wait! I won't promise anything, but it is my goal to get the next chapter out by Valentine's Day. I don't want to spoil too much, but the next chapter involves Lilie, so fans of the Goldkrone sadist, rejoice!

As always, constructive criticism is encouraged! And if you notice any grammatical errors, please let me know! I try to go back and correct them whenever I see them, so help is always appreciated! And thank you so much for reading!