Disclaimer: This story is written for entertainment purposes only and no monetary gain is being made off it. Any violation or infringement on copyright is purely unintentional.

Summary: What if Fakir made a crucial change in Duck's tale for very selfish reasons? (Hint : lemon in future ;))

Warnings: Princess Tutu anime compliant. Ending compliant. (Warnings? or lack of thereof) Story told in drabbles or not at times.

Timeline: Ten years after the defeat of the Raven by Mytho's sword.

Hello everyone! I have been so busy with college. But I'm back with another story! YAAAAY! So I rewatched Princess Tutu and I SHIP FAKIRxAHIRU SO HAAARD OMG WHO DOESN'T IKR.

okay. okay.

Here goes:

Chapter of the Ink

It had been ten years since Gold Crown Town ceased to be a mere stage for the crafty Drosselmeyer's stories. The town had been infused with new life ever since the five-gate boundary isolating it from the entire world was broken down by a duck. Yes, a mere duck who transformed into Princess Tutu to save the lives of everyone from the clutches of the storyteller.

Ten long and lonely years without her.

The lake just outside town, however, remained a quiet place. That was where Fakir found himself often, sitting alone by the lake, thinking of Ahiru. Ever since Mytho returned to the story, Fakir had felt strangely alone. He missed Mytho, sure, but Ahiru, oh dear, Ahiru had left an endless void. In the ten years, Fakir had watched the little duckling grow into a swan, the light of recognition in her eyes had gradually deceased. All this was the result of his rewriting, he knew. Fakir had reverted the town to humanity. Animals were back to where they belonged, and humans repopulated the town. Fakir had intelligence enough to realize that he had done the right thing. He could almost see Ahiru nod her approval with unending vigour. But it was his heart that couldn't let Ahiru go. Her deep blue eyes, her long braid of flaming red. Her warmth against his heart when she leapt out of Drosselmeyer's control and straight into his arms. How could he ever live on without her.

He believed his magic talent to write stories that came true had died with the loss of Ahiru and Mytho, it was because he was coward enough to choose to live, that was the only reason why he was alone now. Fakir's dark green eyes sprung open and a stray tear escaped. He had to try, he needed to try. Once.
Trembling with trepidation for the unexpected, Fakir's quill flew across the rough parchment: once again in a decade. He held his breath in fevered anticipation. His hand shook and tears blotted the ink in places. Undeterred, Fakir continued scratching his quill as fast as he could. He had to see her.

Nothing happened for a long time. Then,

The lake illumined with a soft, golden glow that filled Fakir with warmth.

Hope.

Fakir narrowed his eyes before focusing on the figure that was emerging from the light.

A BIG thank you to everyone who review my stories and keep me going. thank you so much for your precious feedback!