Ahiru never meant to fall in love with Fakir, no no no.

No, she loved Mytho, and that was that. The beautiful, beautiful prince, with the saddest, loneliest eyes she had ever seen. Yes, she had loved him. So much, in fact, that it shined bright enough to catch the attention of Drosselmeyer, and the story was set in motion. For the longest time, she loved him. Truly, it even seemed that the prince was loving her in return. The way he searched desperately, desperately for his Princess Tutu...

Tutu...

Fakir, on the other hand...

She hated him. Oh, yes, she hated him. The cruelty rolling from him in waves and the way he treated Mytho was enough to ensure that. Cruel, selfish, bitter, everything that went against her nature made up who he was. Even as he turned and began to accept the return of Mytho's heart he had still revolted terribly against her, refusing to let her near him, to accept any sort of help.

She thought she had known him...

Looking back, she actually had, for the most part. He had changed.

Even in the underground lake, when she- Tutu - had preformed a solo pas de deux, her heart had belonged to Mytho alone, though she had begun to understand Fakir. He had become a friend.

In fact, for the longest time there had been confidence on her part that the beautiful dance between the Princess and the Prince would forever remain her most precious memory.

She continued to fight for Mytho, spurred on by her love for him, working tirelessly as Tutu alongside Fakir to find the heart pieces, and, soon, to keep Mytho from dealing out harm in his possessed form. Side by side they worked, and talked, and laughed, and fought...with each other as well as the enemy.

Thinking back on it, she wasn't entirely sure when the lines began to blur.

Perhaps it was when she had become used to Fakir looking at her with much more gentle eyes, when she began to really worry about Fakir's safety, instead of just completing the mission. Perhaps it was when Mytho had looked up at her, helplessly, whispering those desperate words-save me...Tutu...-and she had clutched him to herself protectively while a fierce heat rose up in her that anyone would /dare/ hurt her dear-...and she didn't know how to finish the sentence.

Perhaps it was when Fakir had been enveloped in the branches of that tree and Ahiru had felt her fear rising up her throat like bile at the thought that he might be gone.

Perhaps it was when their hearts had connected and worked in perfect sync to free herself from Drosselmeyer's repulsive loophole in time, and he had called her name-AHIRU-and she had come flying out, and his hand clasped hers, and it felt so /right/.

No, she could not pin-point the moment in which she fell in love with Fakir, for it had never been intentional. She had been firmly set on Mytho, but the heart can be funny sometimes.

No, she didn't mean to fall in love with Fakir. In fact, she didn't even know her own heart had turned until the end.

It was not until her eyes met his on the soil at the bottom of the lake of despair that the truth suddenly rang true.

"Mytho wants to make Rue his princess-"

When those words had slipped past her sobs and through her lips, she had expected her heart to wrench into two pieces, for pain to bleed through her chest. Instead, it flew out as nothing more than a declaration, another wish that she couldn't make come true because for the first time that traitorous pendant would not cooperate with her!

Then his hand slid quietly into hers, and their eyes met, and with a small flutter the realization flew through her.

Too late...too late.

Then something changed.

For this pas de deux, between clumsy Ahiru and the Knight who had thrown down his sword, would remain her most cherished memory.

Somehow, through the whole thing, she only miss-stepped once: in her surprise at the beginning.

The fact that this love would never bloom ached in her heart, but she also received Fakir's promise to never leave her, and the knowledge that she wasn't alone.

Then all things came to an end.

When she said good-bye to Mytho, sadness cloaked her voice. Not for the loss of a love, but of a dear, dear friend, of the end of what may have once been a love, what probably would have been a love if it were not for the Raven.

(Some days she wondered which love she would prefer, and she suddenly finds it ironic that in a way she is thankful for the Raven, for this love is much, much better. Because while either way she would have been happy, this way everyone is happy and the only serves to compound her joy.)

Then as a duck, she and Fakir worked perfectly in sync, playing a beautiful, pivotal part in the final battle.

Yes, though she never meant to, she was in love with Fakir.

The more she looked at it, the more and more perfect it seemed.

For Mythos had seen her, danced with her, and, for a time, loved her, so that the reflection of his precious Princess Tutu shone in his eyes.

Fakir...

Fakir had seen her, known her, danced with her, and, she believed, loved her, with nothing before his eyes but the truth: Ahiru.