Disclaimer: I don't own Princess Tutu or the characters. I just own this story plot yo!

A/N: Alright, I'm saying this now, I have not finished Princess Tutu, and I feel really bad writing this fanfic without finishing it. So please forgive me if it isn't right with how it ended. Sorry. I will update soon, but don't count on it. I have three other fan fics and I haven't updated them since the beginning of May. Please be harsh and crucial when criticizing about my writing technique. Just not about my plot or anything like that. Thank you and I hope you enjoy it!

Detailed Summary: It's been 15 years since the end Princess Tutu, and Fakir and Ahiru were living together until one day she left him. No letter, no reason, she just left. Now Fakir is working for The Observers, they're in charge of the town and want Fakir to write out people's lives so nothing goes wrong. Fakir agrees, and writes out the stories everyday never leaving his home. One day he had another dream of his days of school with Ahiru, and she asks him about her book, her new book. Fakir wonders what she means and finds out that the new file he recieved could be about her. Will he write the book how The Observers want it? Or will he change it so they can be together? Or will he find her before he finishes and tell her not to come to the town?

Enjoy it and review please:D

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Chapter One: A Writer and His Duty

Everything that happens here in this town, happen for a reason. Nothing ever happens by mistake, or unwillingly. Only few know what will happen, when it will happen, and the reason it will happen. These people are called The Observers. No one knows where The Observers originated from, or who they are. All that they know is that they are always watching. Nothing that anyone does, or says goes unnoticed.

There are rumors saying that The Observers have someone working for them. Someone who has the power to write out people's lives! They this 'writer' lost the one he loved many years ago. They also say that he is an ex-knight to the last king that the people had; King Mytho. No one knows how this ex-knight became an ex-knight. Nor do they know what happened to his lost love, or why he didn't write her back into his life. All that they know is that this ex-knight has their lives in the crook of his hand.

Fakir sat at his cherry wood desk finishing another poor fool's life. He wasn't sure as to why he had agreed to do this, to write out people's entire life. He just knew that writing out other lives would get his mind off of Ahiru and the fact that she is no longer in his life.

Fakir closed the book and let out a sigh. He stretched out his long and muscular arms and got up from his desk. He needed to stretch his legs and get some dancing in. Even though it had been 15 years since he and Ahiru parted ways, he still enjoyed to dance. Though he no longer danced with a studio, or with a partner, he just danced to dance, and to get his mind off of the writing he did. The writing was indeed grim, and wasn't how he wanted it to play out. But what The Observers want, The Observers get.

He walked across his living room and put on a record of music. He warmed up by stretching then starting with the basics. After which he practiced the pas de deux, in hopes of remembering how Ahiru felt and how she would smile at him when they would dance together. These memories were painful, but he needed them to live on with his horrible job. Once he finished with the dance, he turned off the record and went to shower and eat dinner.

While he was eating he heard a knock at the door.

"Fakir, please open the door, I have a new assignment for you," the voice called through the door.

"I'm not home," he whispered to himself as he got up from the table and walked across his wooden floors to the door.

"Good evening Fakir, The Observers sent over this new life, please write and complete this by the end of the year. This person is not scheduled to move into this town until the beginning of next year," the cloaked man said.

"Alright, here, let me give you the one I finished today," Fakir said inviting the cloaked man into his house. Fakir walked into his library and grabbed the copy of the life he finished writing, and set the new one on his desk; he would work on it in the morning. He walked back to the cloaked man and handed it to him.

"Thank you Fakir, The Observers will be very pleased with this. Have a good night," he said as he bowed and left Fakir to the rest of his evening.

Fakir let out a sigh and brushed his green hair out of his face as he walked back to his table and ate his dinner, vegetable stew. He ate his stew and went into his room and retired for the night. That night Fakir dreamt of Ahiru, just like he did every night for the past 15 years.

Fakir walked the all too familiar hallways of his old dorm. He found the door that led to the courtyard, and headed to the fountain. He was looking for Ahiru, like he always did. He sat himself down on the edge of the fountain and waited. She would come out of her dorm running toward him, of course she would, and it's how he wanted it. 15 years of the same dream and one would find it easy to take control, and always have lucid dreams.

"Fakir!" her voice called to him, he smiled and turned towards her.

"Ahiru," he said his smile widening at the sight of her long red hair and gorgeous blue eyes.

"Have you written my story yet Fakir?" she asked him. .

"I already wrote your story Ahiru. Remember?" he asked her.

"Oh, he didn't come yet, alright," Ahiru said looking down at her hands and playing with her fingers.

Fakir looked at her and placed his index finger under her chin and lifted it up so he could look at her face. He noticed that there were tears in her eyes. Fakir was worried about her now. What could she mean?

"Ahiru, what man, who?" he asked her pleading as he wiped away her tears and held her face in his hands, looking right into her blue eyes.

"Drosslymeyer," she whispered.

"Drosslymeyer, he's been dead since we've been at school, don't you remember?" Fakir said to her with a smile.

"No, he's not, he made me Tutu, remember. He said he would come to you and give you my story so I could come back to you," she said.

"What!" Fakir said as he woke up in his bead sweat covering his face and naked chest. Fakir quickly kicked the covers off of his bed and ran into his library, stubbing his toe on the way out. He grabbed the file that the man had brought to him. He sat down and turned on his lamp to read it.

"Ahiru Hooks, 28, female, red hair, blue eyes…" he trailed off and started crying. He couldn't grasp the fact that his Ahiru, at least he thought it was his Ahiru, was coming back to him. He didn't really believe in dreams being more than hallucinations brought upon what you want and what you need. He knew that Ahiru wasn't really Ahiru in his dream. Just what he remembered of her, and what he wanted her to say. But why would she say this. Why would Drosslymeyer be the one to bring him her file? It was the same man that always came, same voice, same face…at least he thought it was the same person.

He set down her file and went into his bathroom. Once inside he sprayed water on his face to calm himself down. He stared at himself in the mirror; his dark green eyes made his face look paler than normal. Fakir could handle his dreams about Ahiru, he could handle pretending to dance with her, he could handle the memories, he could even handle the fact that she left him. But this, this is something that he can't handle, the thought of him writing out her life as the observers want is too hard for him.

"Ahiru, where are you? Why did you leave me?" Fakir whispered as he looked at himself in the mirror. He couldn't control his emotions and fell to the ground sobbing and whispering her name.

"Ahiru, why did you leave me? Why? We were so good together, I love you, and I thought you loved me. We were perfect for each other. Were you mad at me for changing you back into a girl, I thought that's what you wanted? Wasn't it?" Fakir said as he continued to sob on the bathroom floor.