A/N: No, you're not seeing things. This is indeed the final chapter of Ensnared. I have a real problem coming up with endings, and am really hard on myself when it comes to wrapping a story up, which is part of the reason why this took so long. I apologize for such a long wait and hope you all enjoy the ending :)

Chapter 6 – The Hope Heals

How much time had passed? Where on earth was he? Luisa...my dearest...what has he done to you? Are you alive? Please...please send me a sign that you're safe... James recounted these over and over as he stumbled blindly, surviving in the endless forest as best he could. With the loss of his sight, James had had to rely heavily on his hearing and touch, feeling for the sour berries he was forced to live on for weeks and weeks following his potentially fatal fall from the tower—the tower that had formerly held his love, now empty like the condition of his soul without the company of Luisa.

Falling to his knees in exhaustion, he crawled to a nearby boulder and collapsed, resting his head on the cold, hard surface. He had come close, so close to achieving happiness for both of them: Luisa would finally be free and James would at last have chosen a bride to eventually become his queen. Instead he was left blind, broken and bloody, his body a mess of dirt and grime. And suddenly he felt angry; infuriated at his parents and Luisa's. For as they had both discovered that fateful night, their parents had foiled Drosselmeyer, tricked him into taking control of their own fates. If it had not been for them, the old man would not be so hell bent for revenge—would not be taking out his wrath now on their offspring.

A rumble of anger bubbled up from inside James' stomach before bursting forth from his lips into a loud, long scream which echoed across the vast emptiness of trees, dirt and moss. A cry of rage, fury, helplessness, agony, and finally despair settled in as he lowered his head wearily onto the rock that was his resting place. It was unfair of him to think such things, lying there while his anger gave way to tears, dripping from the end of his nose as sobs racked him. Luisa's father, his own father, they had only done what they had to in order to live peacefully, to not live under the thumb of this sadistic fossil who took control of their lives like puppets on strings. They fought back. They didn't think about the consequences the future might hold, they simply fought back.

James sat up suddenly, wiping his face on his wrist. And that was what he and Luisa had to do—they also had to fight back. He was just about to pull himself into a standing position when a voice called out.

"James-zura!"

He froze. There was no mistaking that voice, that strange impediment on the ends of her sentences. But how on earth—?

"James-zura! Where'd you go, zura?"

"Uzura!" James called, scrambling over the boulder to follow her voice. "Uzura!"

"James-zura! Uzura found you, zura!" Two pairs of tiny, chubby arms latched onto James's leg, holding him tight. James knelt down to her level, feeling for her little shoulders and unhinging her from him.

"Uzura, how did you possibly find me?" James breathed, half disbelievingly, half in relief that after all these long months, he had been found.

"You screamed, zura," Uzura responded. "It was really loud, so Uzura followed the sound, zura." Her little body was shaking, even though the weather was quite warm, as she reached up and touched one of his eyes. "What happened, zura?"

"Drosselmeyer," James answered huskily, "He tricked me into climbing the tower the night I came to rescue Luisa and threw me from it. I was attacked by crows and the next thing I knew...I couldn't see a thing." Drops of water landed on his hands, and Uzura's quiet gasps of air ruled out the possibility of rain. "Uzura...wh-what—?"

"Uzura is so sorry, zura!" Latching her arms around James' neck, the little puppet hoisted herself up, burying her face in his shoulder. "He made Uzura tell, zura! Tell him about you and Luisa, zura! Uzura would have burned from the flame if she didn't tell, but Uzura didn't know he would try to kill you, zura!"

"It's alright," James whispered, rubbing Uzura's smooth wooden back as she calmed herself down. He could very well have been angry with Uzura for exposing their secret—but to learn that she had been threatened with fire changed his outlook completely. Drosselmeyer had control over every single one of them, no matter what measures he had to resort to. Which could mean...

"Uzura," James began, pulling back from her firm hold, "you know where Luisa is, don't you? What has he done with her?" When Uzura did not respond right away, his heart weighed heavily in his chest. "Uzura, she's not—he hasn't—"

"No, no, Luisa's alive, zura!" Uzura answered, angling James' face so he was looking directly at her, he could not tell for himself. "But she's cold, zura...she's like ice, zura."

"Like ice, what do you mean?" the prince asked frantically. Whatever the dead man had done to her, it was obviously a fate worse than death. "Uzura, you have to guide me to her—show me where she is."

"It's this way, zura," Uzura tugged on his hand, leading James along a path to the left as he felt his way along the trees on his right. Tree after tree his hand passed along until his hand fell on something strange. It was the height of a tree, but it did not feel rough with peeling bark. It was smooth, as if sanded down to make an oak table. Knowing now what the old man was capable of, he could very well have disguised this tree to make it look identical to the ones in the forest—yet this one was different.

"Uzura...is this—?"

"A clock, zura," Uzura answered, nodding, "that looks like a tree, zura." James heard what sounded like a door swinging back on the hinges, and Uzura pulled him down to his knees. "You climb down here, zura."

James felt gingerly for the ground, which sloped downward onto a ladder. He had no choice; he would have to feel his way down carefully to find his way. To find Drosselmeyer's prison. To find Luisa.

Cold...so cold...so long. There's nothing...nothing left at all...nothing left for me...

Over and over, these thoughts passed fleetingly through Luisa's mind as she lay staring up into a vast abyss darkness, populated only by clock gears whirring hypnotically above her. She herself lay on a large gear, its metal cold as winter, making her lips tremble and teeth chatter. How long had she been here? She would be dead by now under normal circumstances—but this was not what Drosselmeyer had in mind. No, he intended to keep her this cold, this lost, this miserable for as long as he possibly could—for as long as it kept him entertained.

Luisa was weak from the frigid conditions, vulnerable from such loss of hope that she did not even find the resolve to move. Oh she had resisted at first; heaven above, had she screamed to be released, wept at losing James as well as her dark, green-tinted hair. The hair that could run the length of her tower was now a jagged, messy cut just above her shoulders. Everything had been taken from her as quickly as it had been given—and there was nothing left for her to do. With no response from her caretaker since he had thrown her into this terrible limbo, Luisa resolved herself to death. But even Drosselmeyer would not let her escape in this way; he intended to make her suffer. A merciful death was not in the cards.

Luisa sat up slowly as she felt sudden warmth within her eyes, her vision blurred. Holding her shivering frame, she pleaded silently for death to overtake her as tears dripped into her lap, her lone source of warmth slipping from her eyes. A voice, faint yet frantic, called out to her. It was familiar, but still impossible. No one had been able to find her down here, Drosselmeyer had made sure of that.

"Luisa! Luisa!" A different voice now. A young man's voice. But no, this was even more impossible...

"Luisa!" It was louder now. It can't be him—Drosselmeyer said he was dead.

"Luisa-zura!" the frantic voice called again. "I found him, zura! I found James, zura!"

James...James...James... "James?" Luisa finally found her voice, hoarse and crackled from lack of use. She stood, staring down a long corridor that had opened up, the gears shoved aside as a small light at the end grew larger and larger. Uzura was holding a lamp and running in her direction. And holding onto her hand right behind her was none other than the the man Drosselmeyer had tried to kill—the man who survived, the man who loved Luisa so much that he risked everything to come for her. "James!"

"Luisa!" Her happiness, her elation at seeing him again was abated instantly. His eyes did not find her, even though she stood ten feet from his vision. They darted aimlessly, and Luisa saw how battered he was, his eyes red with infection, wounded from heaven only knew what. Her arms found their way around him, and they both collapsed to the ground, James from his wounds and severe exhaustion at keeping up with Uzura's pace. But it had been worth it all. She was here. His inability to see her face was made up for with her kisses, seemingly twice as sweet on his lips, yet salty from her tears.

"James, my God, what's happened to you?" Luisa exclaimed, holding his face in her hands and examining his eyes. "You...you can't see me, can you?" Her voice broke with anguish, and James reached up to feel for her face.

"No, but it's...it's fine," he lied—he could not show weakness in front of her to cause her worry.

"Oh, James," Luisa whispered, stroking his face, running her fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry...but I'm just so relieved. I thought you—!"

"-were dead!" James finished along with her, initiating the kiss this time as he sank down into her lap. "I'm sorry this all happened to you. Your skin is so ice cold, you ha—" James sat up suddenly as his fingers found the uneven ends of Luisa's now shortened hair. "No...Luisa, no, your hair!"

"I don't care, I don't care about my stupid hair!" Luisa burst out, brushing the locks away before taking his hand. "How—how could I have let this happen to you?"

"Don't," James whispered soothingly, holding her face as her tears soaked his hand, "Don't cry Luisa, please."

"Don't tell me not to cry when you're blinded like this—wounded, and—and—I can't do anything!" It was all she could choke out before sobs overtook her, rocking her prince back and forth in her arms.

"It's alright," James breathed into her ear. "Even though I cannot formally marry you, you are my princess, Luisa. And I have faith in you."

"What—what can I possibly do for you?" Luisa whispered.

"Over here, zura!" came Uzura's cry, and Luisa whirled around, having forgotten the young puppet was still there. She pointed beside her, where a short wooden desk stood. Atop that desk were sheets of parchment paper and a quill feather of purest white.

"What is it?" James asked hoarsely.

"It's...a writing desk," Luisa responded, her brow furrowing in confusion. Moving to get to her feet, she realized James was still leaning heavily against her. "Can you stand?"

James pushed himself to his knees, before crumpling back down due to the injuries from months of wandering. "Afraid not," he answered with a weak smile.

Luisa leaned down and kissed him, "I'll be back." Yanking her long skirt aside, she stood up and strode over to the desk. Where did it come from? How long had it been there? Whatever the case was, there was one thing that was certain. Drosselmeyer had put this here. For her. To test her. She could not help grimacing. It was her father's writing that had imprisoned Drosselmeyer, kept him from invading her parents' story. And now, the deceased author was waiting to see if Luisa had inherited this talent. And there was no way she would not abide by his demands...because it was the only way to save James.

Bending over the desk, Luisa glanced over the few sheets of parchment provided for her. She gingerly picked up the snow white swan feather, before nearly dropping it again. The texture, the softness of this feather was unlike anything feather she had ever felt. It felt exactly like...she stroked it several times before it finally dawned on her: It felt like a strand of James' feathery white hair. Was this another ploy in Drosselmeyer's plan, using the texture of James hair to distract her? Shaking her thoughts clear, she hovered the pen over the parchment, preparing to write.

Until she realized something even more vital to this task. She had not been given any ink.

"Luisa." She faintly heard his call as that familiar sensation of hopelessness began to sink back into her chest, weighing on her heart like a lifelong burden. "Luisa, are you alright?"

"Y-yes, I'm fine, just—thinking is all!" But nothing was coming. How on earth was she supposed to write at all, let alone to save the man she loved, without any ink? Luisa shook her head slowly, There is no way... Looking back over her shoulder, she saw James, his eyes focused on a point three feet away from her, his crimson eyes clouded over in a glazed fog. He could not see her at all...because of her, he would never be able to see her again.

"You can do it, zura," Uzura said softly, reaching up to pat Luisa's hand, "Don't give up." Shaking her head again, Luisa dropped the quill back on the desk, covering her mouth with her other hand to stifle her sobs. If James heard her crying, he would know the situation was bleak—and she could not bear to dash his hopes in this way. Pressing the heels of her hands against her forehead, Luisa watched her tears fall on the parchment as she tried her absolute hardest to think of something, anything that could help them...

Uzura gasped, "Look, zura!"

Luisa sat bolt upright, staring at the parchment where Uzura was pointing frantically. She carefully watched as the splotches of water where her tears had fallen grew darker, settling into the shade of a midnight blue.

Luisa felt her heartbeat quicken. This was it. Her tears were the ink!

"Hold on, James!" she called out suddenly, snatching up the quill up again and dipping its tip into one of the drops. Moving it smoothly along the paper, she began to form words, then sentences, and before long a paragraph—her feelings and her passion pouring out onto the page in droves, desperate to heal James' wounds, to heal his eyes, to save him from spending an eternity in darkness with only her voice and touch to comfort him.

A sudden cry brought Luisa out of her burst of inspiration, and she whirled around. James was clutching his face, moaning in intense discomfort. Throwing down the quill, Luisa flung herself back over to James and dropped to her knees. "James! What is it, what's wrong?"

"I..." He pulled back his hands from his eyes, blinking rapidly. Ever so slowly, he looked up at Luisa's face—staring directly into her eyes. "Luisa—!" He grasped her face in his hands, laughing, "I can see you!"

"Oh my God—it actually worked," Luisa exhaled before flinging her arms around his neck, kissing both of his eyes, clear red once again. "You're okay," she choked out, "you're okay..."

"Of course he's okay..." A ghostly chuckle echoed through the abyss. James stood suddenly, pulling Luisa up beside him.

"Show yourself, Drosselmeyer!" he bellowed as Luisa set her jaw tightly. James would not be taken from her...Not again.

"Hurry, Fakir!" Duck urged her husband, hiking up her skirt as they ran through the deserted streets of Gold Crown, headed for the cemetery. Fakir had confided to Rue and Mytho that he knew of one way to access the world that trapped the deceased soul of Drosselmeyer—and that was at his tombstone where the hooded men who had cut off his hands had buried him. On the one hand, it was so full proof that both Duck and Fakir wondered aloud why they had never tried it before. On the other hand, that was years ago. After Fakir had written to save Princess Tutu from Drosselmeyer, the dead man very well could have sealed off that entrance to prevent any more disruptions to his conniving story spinning.

"Here," Fakir finally spoke as the cobble-stoned streets became grass, four pairs of hurried footsteps silenced as the streetlamps faded away into the darkness, Mytho's lantern that he carried like a beacon on a lost stretch of land. "Stop, it's right here!" Fakir called out, throwing an arm out to keep Duck from colliding into him. He had skidded to a halt in front of the same tombstone from nearly twenty years ago, the stone he knew all too well—he had sat here for hours one night, trying to will his duck's feather to scratch out words to save Duck, that even after all these years he still knew it like the back of his hand. More moss and leaves covered it, showing its age, but other than that it looked exactly the same.

"This is where he's buried," Rue nodded as if confirming what she was seeing was real.

"Uh, more or less," Duck responded, twisting her hands nervously in front of her.

"Kind of hard to spin stories from beyond the grave if you're six feet under," Fakir chuckled grimly. Opening his leather case, he pulled out his yellow duck's feather quill and let it hover above the paper. For several minutes he stayed like this, and Rue took a step forward.

"Um...Fakir?"

"Shh!" Duck hissed, whirling back around to face her, "He's thinking!"

"Patience, dear," Mytho muttered under his breath.

"Would you all be quiet!" Fakir roared, everyone falling silent at once. Turning back to the tombstone, he reflected back on what had brought him to this point. Luisa...my only daughter is somewhere down there. Trapped in Drosselmeyer's clutches. I have to have faith that she's alive, or else this will never work. My daughter...Luisa...

Duck gasped softly as Fakir's quill began to glide along the page, words flowing from the ink. She had learned a long time ago not to look over his shoulder, and instead waited patiently beside Mytho and Rue.

"It's like watching an artist at work," Mytho said softly, "A man overflowing with passion."

Duck shook her head, "More like a man who only wants to do whatever he can for those he loves...even if he thinks he's useless."

"But passion can drive even the simplest of desires," Rue added, she and Duck sharing a glance. "Especially devotion."

"And if there is anyone Fakir is devoted to," Mytho put a hand on Duck's shoulder, "it's the people he loves...and wants to protect."

Duck reached for Mytho's hand and squeezed it as Fakir threw a page completely covered in his own writing to the ground, starting on a new one. Rushing forward, Duck snatched the parchment from the grass—as if she were afraid Drosselmeyer's hand would come out of the grave and take it for himself. As she read her knight's words, she couldn't help letting a sob escape her lips, cupping a hand over her mouth to quiet her tears.

Fakir was not writing a story. He was writing a letter. A letter to Luisa.

"So," Drosselemeyer's voice echoed, reverberating off the golden metal clock gears as he stepped forward to face his characters, "Prince James, heir to Prince Siegfried's throne...you managed to find your way here after all. Glad to see you're not 'stumbling blindly' anymore, if you will."

He chuckled at his little joke as Uzura hid behind Luisa's skirt, James stepping forward to shield both of them. "Enough of this," James hissed under his breath, his red eyes glowing. But it was not the Raven's blood possessing him this time. No, this was a different rage, a vengeful rage—a desire to fight back. "It's over now, Drosselmeyer, we're going to settle this once and for all."

"What on earth do you mean?" Drosselmeyer asked, the ghostly smile never leaving his face as he conjured up a wooden armchair and table set for tea, sitting down comfortably. "The story is finished."

"What do you mean the story is finished?" Luisa piped up, hanging onto Uzura's hand as the little puppet trembled beside her.

"Your story, my dear girl," the dead man explained. "The tale of a young girl with the longest of hair, stolen from her parents as an infant and raised in a high tower awaiting her rescue." He took a long sip from his tea, less for himself and more to draw out the inevitable suspense. "Low and behold, a prince from afar visits her day after day, hoping to whisk her off to his kingdom and make her his bride."

"You...knew?" Luisa breathed, every muscle in her body going limp, so much so that she nearly passed out, James panting heavily beside her. "You planned...everything. Every moment, down to this very last second was planned from the beginning!"

"From the moment you were born!" Drosselmeyer laughed, "Your mother was with child because I made it so. You—" his wild eyes found James, determined to stand his ground "—infected with the princess' blood of the Raven because I wrote it." He slid the table aside, striding down to where his victims stood before him. "Little did any one of you know that you have been in the palm of my hand from the start. Anything it took to make that damned boy let down his guard so I might spin stories once again of my own free will!"

Luisa's heart felt like ice. The "boy" he spoke of was her father. She found her strength once again, staring down the old man with her nails digging into her palms. "In order to keep my father from taking control of my story himself—" Her breath caught in her throat as the last piece of the puzzle fell into place, "You made my father...you made both of them believe I was dead."

"Precisely," Drosselmeyer drawled, a clenched laugh escaping his lips. "Had he known for sure if you were alive, there is no doubt his power has matured to the point where he could reclaim you. Your darling mother has this infuriating habit of clinging to hope, constantly keeping her spirits high." He leered down at Luisa, boring into the same blue eyes of the little duck he conned so long ago, "My intent was to crush that hope within her—snuff out the light before it grew too strong. For there is nothing more boring than a story filled with hope."

"What exactly do you intend to do now?" James shouted.

"Keep you both here, of course," Drosselmeyer answered simply. "Watch the two of you become so hopeless that you sink into despair—culminating this great tragedy of mine. The two lovers reunited, yet left to waste away together. It's genius."

"It's mad!" James roared, "You can't just keep us here forever!"

"Who says I can't?" Drosselmeyer exclaimed gleefully, barely noticing Luisa backing slowly towards the writing desk behind her. "You see, this will always be my story...and I will always be in control."

"Oh really?" came Luisa's sudden hard, confident tone as James and Drosselmeyer turned to look back at her. "Well, in your gloating and careful planning, Drosselmeyer, you seem to have forgotten one very important detail." Her hand felt for the white swan feather and she held it up for him to see.

"And what detail would that be, Luisa?"

"My father is directly descended from you," Luisa smirked, letting the tip of the feather rest against her cheek. "Would that not mean your blood runs through my veins as well?"

Faster and faster he wrote, pages littering the ground as Fakir wrote to Luisa, pouring out every word he had ever wanted to say to her for the past fifteen years. Duck, Rue and Mytho were all reading his words—so simple, yet moved by his honesty, his raw emotion he put forth into every sentence.

"It has to be working," Mytho said aloud as he finished scanning a page before moving onto another, "He has to be making some sort of progress!"

"I can't tell," Duck was on her knees now, catching the pages as they fell. "Fakir, slow down!"

"No," Fakir muttered firmly, the flow of his words never ceasing. "This is the only way to reach her...I know it now..."

"How do you know?" Rue asked desperately.

"If I speak to her—if I express through written words every conversation that I, as a father, has ever wished I had with my daughter, I'll be able to convince myself she's here," Fakir exhaled in one breath, "I can bend her story to my will."

"Rue," Mytho said quietly, turning to his princess, "We must do the same for James."

"What...but how?" Rue's brow furrowed in puzzlement, "Neither of us can spin stories."

"We can dance," Mytho smiled, taking her hand. "For us...this is how we express our feelings when words fail. Even when my heart was lost, I could always turn to dance to show you my eternal allegiance."

Rue nodded in understanding as she stood to face him. "A pas de deux, then?" she asked, taking fifth position gracefully.

Duck watched in awe as the story's prince and princess began to twirl across the grass, a love story reflected in their eyes through the moonlight. But it was not for eachother—Duck recognized the look in Mytho's eyes and put a hand to her heart. It was the same expression Fakir wore the day she had given birth to Luisa, knowing that this child was his. Mytho and Rue danced for their son—just as Fakir was writing for their daughter.

Her eyes widened as Drosselmeyer's tombstone began to glow. Mytho was right. They were making progress.

"You'll write a story," James whispered in amazement, gazing at Luisa with utmost admiration as she gathered her quill and parchment in her hands.

"Yes," Luisa said, going up to him and kissing him gently, "I can do it, James, I can get us out of here."

"Without any ink?" Drosselmeyer laughed, then stopped abruptly as he looked down beside him. "What—what are you doing down there?"

Uzura had stealthily made her way over to Drosselmeyer and plunged her tiny hand into the pocket of his robes, feeling her way around until her face lit up, "Success, zura!" She withdrew a bottled inkwell from the old man's pocket and dashed back over to Luisa.

"Thank you, Uzura," Luisa said, planting a kiss on the puppet's forehead.

"Regardless," Drosselmeyer sneered in her direction as Luisa dipped the tip of her quill in the inkwell, "you will not be able to free yourself from here."

"Of course I can," Luisa glared back at him. "You said for yourself I would need the resolve to get out of here, and I do!"

"As long as your parents believe you have wasted away in my clutches, there is no possible way you can escape," the deceased man drawled on, rubbing his disjointed gloved hands together. "And you will waste away...once you give into your despair."

"You've tried this trick before, haven't you?" James hissed at him, "Using any doubts, any hopeless feelings she has against her—don't listen to him, Luisa!" He whirled around to face her, watching her grip slacken on the parchment in stunned silence.

"James, I...he's right," Luisa breathed. "I had forgotten that he wrote this tale...we were created to suffer in order to punish our parents for defying him—"

"And don't you see?" James cried, grabbing her by the shoulders, "This is how he almost won the last time! He's trying to make you focus solely on your despair so you'll give up. You can't give in." He pulled her close to him, crushing the parchment between them, "What would Princess Tutu do?" he whispered in her ear, "What would your mother do? She wouldn't lose hope."

As long as your parents believe you have wasted away...there is not possible way you can escape... "Oh James," Luisa returned his embrace tightly, "Thank you..." She pulled away, putting the quill to the now wrinkled paper. As long as her father thought she was dead, she was destined to die in this horrid limbo. There was only one option...she had to reach her father, in the only way she knew how...

"Luisa," James said softly as he watched her begin to write. There was a warmth, a passion he could feel emanating from her form. "What are you do—?"

"The only thing I can think of," Luisa answered, half preoccupied by her writing. She paused slightly as her voice caught in her throat. "I'm writing...a letter to my father."

"Fakir, look!" Duck cried, grabbing his ink stained hand to cease its insistent journey across the page. The tombstone that supposedly held Drosselmeyer's decaying form had reached a consistent heavenly glow. "Is that—?"

"Yes," Fakir whispered, letting his pen fall for the first time in several long minutes, "It's where Drosselmeyer is...it's where Luisa and James are." They both turned to see Mytho and Rue, bringing their pas de deux to an end in a silent, intimate embrace that made them instinctively interlock their fingers together.

"Duck," Fakir exhaled as his wife looked up at him expectantly. He glanced from the elegant storybook couple back to the glowing tombstone—waiting for him. "No matter what happens here tonight..."

"Fakir, what are you—?" She was cut off as his lips met hers fiercely, before pushing her away and sprinting forward towards the gravestone. "Fakir, don't!"

"What is he doing?" Mytho cried out in fear for his childhood companion, rushing forward as Fakir grasped the stone with both hands. Instant, sharp, increasing white heat met his hands as the writer gritted his teeth against the pain.

Duck's pleading with her husband was cut off as she looked down in amazement at the parchment Fakir had shoved into her hands. Ink swirled within the page before it came to rest, forming deep blue curved handwriting. My dearest father...wherever you may be...

"Fakir, you have to see—!" A sudden scream of pain made her jolt her head upright, Mytho's scream of "No!" confirming her worst fear. The heat from the tombstone had created an electric shock reaction, as the Great Oak Tree had so long ago. Fakir flew backwards a few feet from the stone, landing on his back—his eyes closed, completely motionless.

The page, scrawled with what could only be Luisa's handwriting, fluttered to the ground as Duck—for the first time in years—let out a fearful, plainly audible "Quack!"

"What—what is this?" Drosselmeyer exclaimed, whirling around as one of the clock gears behind him became bathed in a heavenly glow. "It can't be!"

"Luisa, you're doing it!" James shouted encouragingly, watching intently as Luisa scrawled across the page, ink staining her hands, sprinkling on her nose, but never ceasing. It had been far too long, and there was far too much to say. Her parents would know how much she had missed them, how much she longed to have known them in her childhood—how much she loved them with all her heart.

"Stop this, do you hear me?" Drosselmeyer roared at Luisa, who showed no signs of hearing him much less stopping. "As your guardian, the man who raised you since your infancy, I order you to—!"

"Drosselmeyer!"

Luisa finally looked up, thinking it was James who had shouted. But no...the voice had come from too far away, echoing through the abyss like the dark toll of a bell. As if it had come from an entirely different place...

"Well," Drosselmeyer's grin had faded as he faced the gear behind him. An image had begun to flicker upon it, growing slowly clearer until a face appeared within it. "Prince Siegfried...it's been awhile, hasn't it?"

"Father!" James cried out, whirling to face the gear as relief flooded his face, "How did you find us?"

"James, stay right where you are," the prince said firmly before turning back to the old man. "Release my son and Fakir's daughter this instant."

"The only way for that to happen is if the writer wills it to," Drosselmeyer said darkly. "Luisa's power is far too adolescent to bend reality to her will. So...where is the writer who insists on interfering with my affairs?"

"I'll never forgive you for this!" cried another voice, female and strangled with emotion. Luisa watched as the image grew clearly into a dimly lit graveyard where four figures were present. Two she immediately recognized from the pages of The Prince and the Raven—the elegant Prince Siegfried and his princess, once the daughter of the Raven. The woman who had screamed, however, was petite with long red hair that rippled down her back. She knelt beside the crumpled form of a tall man with tan skin and dark hair—the same shade as Luisa's. And the red-haired woman glared back at Drosselmeyer—with Luisa's same deep blue eyes.

"Well little duck, you just never know when to stop meddling do you?" Drosselmeyer regarded her like a father scolding his child as Luisa dropped her pen and paper to the ground. The duck from the story...Princess Tutu...her mother.

"You stole my daughter from me, and now you've done this to Fakir!" Duck shouted, cradling Fakir's unconscious form in her lap, "You're the one who doesn't know when to stop meddling!"

"Here!" Drosselmeyer bellowed, grabbing Luisa by the arm and swinging her around roughly so she was staring directly into the panicked face of her mother. "She's been here under my curse for fifteen years! Now it's your choice—your husband's life or your daughter's!"

"Why do you delight in tormenting us like this?" Rue finally stormed forward unleashing a fury she felt only once before, when she discovered the Raven had abducted her, and had never thought she would feel again. "Our children have done nothing to you, so let them go!"

"Let me have my tragedy and you can have your children safe and sound—or rather, as safe as their fate would allow," Drosselmeyer hissed at the livid princess. Just as Rue was beginning to tremble with rage, Duck felt Fakir stir in her lap and let out a cry of relief.

"D-Drosselmeyer..." Fakir choked out weakly, sitting up to face him as Duck held him tightly by the shoulders, afraid to let him go.

"Ah, the man of the hour himself has decided to join us in the land of the living," Drosselmeyer growled, restraining Luisa even tighter with both hands. "Your precious daughter has been most anxious to finally see you."

"Father!" Luisa cried, her voice breaking as tears sprang to her eyes, struggling to break free from Drosselmeyer's grip.

"Luisa!" Fakir stumbled forward, slamming his hands against the portal to try and reach her, but was blocked by some invisible boundary of glass. "Luisa, I'm here—your mother and I are right here!"

"There's nothing you can do for her as long as I—!" The dead man's gloating was cut short as he let out a strangled yell, forced to the ground by the impact of James' body slamming against his.

"Luisa, go now!" James screamed, stabbing the dagger from his belt into the dead man's throat. It would not finish the job, but it would keep the fossil preoccupied long enough for Luisa to escape.

"I can't just leave you here!" Luisa cried, finally yanking herself free.

"You said you wanted to see your parents again, didn't you?" James hollered, struggling to hold the dead man on the ground, "This was your dream, wasn't it? Go to them and don't worry about me!"

"Please James, please—!" Luisa started to sob.

"I said go!" James yelled at the top of his lungs—just as Drosselmeyer yanked the dagger from his bloodless wound and plunged it into James' shoulder.

"James—James!" Rue screeched, Mytho holding her back from throwing herself at the portal.

By the time Luisa heard her prince's deafening cry of pain, it was too late. Her hands had passed through the glass-like boundary of the portal as easily as if it were the surface of clear water, and Duck thrust her own hands through to pull her out. There was a swirling sensation of dizziness that resonated only for a fleeting moment before Luisa slammed hard onto the dewy grass in Gold Crown's graveyard.

"No—no, no, no, no!" Luisa screamed over and over, the joy at seeing her parents and the anguish at being forced to leave James behind too much for her to take in all at once.

"Luisa, my darling Luisa," Duck wept as Luisa fell into her arms, both women beside themselves with tears as they clung to eachother.

"I can't bear this," Rue broke down, clutching at Mytho's chest desperately as she watched her only son writhe in pain as blood seeped from his shoulder, "I just can't!"

"Luisa," came a low, firm voice. Luisa wiped her face on Duck's shoulder before looking up to face the man who was her father for the first time. It was not the husky, emotional tone expected from a man who had not seen his daughter for fifteen years, but a commanding voice that called her to attention at once. "Do you love him? Do you love James with every fiber of your being?"

Luisa gulped several times as Duck stroked her frayed dark hair soothingly. Finally she nodded vigorously, "Yes...with everything I am, yes."

"Then you can free him." Fakir then held out his quill and parchment for his daughter, who took them gingerly. The inevitable emotional reunion with her father would have to wait—at the moment, Luisa had to assure that James was safe. She looked from the tombstone, where Drosselmeyer stood over James snickering with glee to Rue crying into Mytho's chest before putting the duck feather quill to the paper.

At that moment...the maiden in who had escaped from the tower called to her prince, to lead him out of the darkness. The scream ripped from her throat before she could stop it.

"JAMES!"

"LUISA!" At that moment, the gravestone glowed brighter than ever, Drosselmeyer's yell of defiance barely heard as James rose through the portal and landed gracefully on the grass before crumpling due to the wound in his shoulder. The echoing scream from Drosselmeyer grew fainter and fainter before a slamming of stone sealed the tomb shut once again. For a moment there was silence, the question of whether he was truly gone hanging in the air. One thing was certain however—the sadistic dead man who loved tragedy was finished with this story.

"James!" Mytho called, rushing over to tend to his shoulder as Rue held her son to her chest, kissing his face.

"It's—it's fine, Father, just my arm," James cringed as Rue tore a piece of fabric from her gown to wrap around his shoulder.

Mytho pulled his son into a strong embrace, stunning James with this sudden display of affection, "I'm just so relieved you're safe."

"I did it," Luisa panted, "I brought him back."

"Yes, you did," Fakir said. His gruff voice began to tremble as tears filled his emerald eyes, "There is no doubt—that you're my daughter."

Luisa dropped the parchment to the ground before bursting into tears, flinging herself into her father's waiting arms and burying herself in his chest as Fakir began to weep softly as well.

"You're him," Luisa said quietly, pulling back to look up into her father's face, "You wrote the end to The Prince and the Raven, the one Drosselmeyer would never let me see. And Mother—" She turned to face Duck, who got up from the ground and came to her side, "The duck who became Princess Tutu, who put the prince's heart back together—"

"Yes, yes it's all true," Duck whispered, pressing her lips to Luisa's forehead. "I'm so sorry, Luisa..."

"If I had known this is what the consequence would be," Fakir choked out, shaking his head in agony, "I never would have finished that story."

"Don't say that, Fakir—you know it's not true," Mytho stated wisely, "I would have cut out my heart again if you hadn't. Rue would be dead, you would have lost Duck, the gift that is our children would not be here had you not cast down your sword and taken up the pen. Your daughter would never have met my son...and made him happier than I've ever seen him before."

Fakir looked over at Duck, who nodded slightly as they both released their hold on Luisa so she could dash across the grass into James' embrace.

"Mother, Father..." James began, pulling Luisa closer, "I've chosen my bride, the woman to aid me in becoming your heir."

"Then let us return to the kingdom and have the both of you wed at once," Rue said happily, taking Luisa's hand and squeezing it.

"Now wait a moment—"

"Fakir," Duck said in an undertone.

"Duck, we just—I can't let them—" Fakir stammered.

"Fakir," Duck ordered, placing a hand over his mouth. "She loves him. He loves her. We can't be the ones to keep them apart."

"Then come with us," Mytho urged them, "Live in my palace, where you'll always know that Luisa is safe."

"Mytho, I can't leave Gold Crown—I have a responsibility here," Fakir said in a hard tone. "I swore to this town I would continue writing its stories, I swore to Duck I would never leave her side. I can't break that promise."

Luisa closed her eyes, pressing her forehead against James' chest as she felt her heart being torn in two. She had been united with her parents again moments ago, only to be torn from them again to be with the man she loved.

"That leaves only one option then, doesn't it?" James said, looking down at Luisa who pulled back to face him. He smiled warmly, "I'll have to stay here then."

"James!" Rue cried.

"Rue, stand down," Mytho ordered, and the princess took a step back.

"James, why—?"

"I will not be the one to rip you from your parents a second time," James insisted before turning to Mytho and Rue. "Please, with your permission Father, I would like to remain here with Luisa."

"Does that mean...?" Mytho trailed off as James nodded.

"I give up my claim to the throne."

"James..." Rue whispered, cupping his face in her hands, "Are you absolutely sure about this?"

"Yes," the young prince answered, kissing his mother's hand. "Besides—in due time, I'm sure my sisters will be able to run the kingdom with all the dignity and grace you both have."

He and Luisa both had to turn away to hide their laughter as Mytho and Rue glanced at eachother with looks of horror.

A few months later, Luisa sat braiding her mother's long hair one evening by the light of a warm fire while Duck perused Fakir's latest work before sending it off to Autor. Several weeks earlier, James and Luisa had been married in an elegant yet simple ceremony—well, as simple as one could get when the entirety of the kingdom attended—and left on the wings of James' swan carriage for Gold Crown the following day.

The transition period had been a great deal easier than Luisa assumed it would be. James adjusted well to the simple life her parents led on Fakir's meager writer's salary, with the promise that they would have their own cottage in due time. In the meantime, Duck and Fakir bonded with Luisa over the course of time, while constantly stunned at how their daughter had turned out to be a perfect mix of both of them—when happy, she was quite the chatterbox; when upset, she withdrew in isolation and snapped at anyone who tried to speak to her. Now, being ever so happy, Duck and Luisa chattered so loud and long that Fakir wondered if he would ever get any writing done ever again.

"Would the both of you please keep it down out there?" Fakir called from his writing desk as he worked on a manuscript giving him particular trouble.

"I'm styling Mother's hair, Father!" Luisa called back, "You should see it!"

There was a pause before Fakir responded. "Don't forget to pull out the gray ones."

"Wha—Fakir!" Duck shrieked back at him while Luisa doubled over with laughter. Once she had calmed down, she asked her now slightly disgruntled mother to regale her time as Princess Tutu and how she and her father had met once again. She never got tired of hearing this story, the one The Prince and the Raven did not provide, yet was all the more important to that story's outcome.

"I'm home!" James called from the front door. Luisa fastened Duck's braid at the end before getting up to greet her prince with a kiss.

"Any news yet?" Duck asked, examining her hair in the mirror on the wall.

"The cottage is ready," James announced as Fakir came in from the study, "Luisa and I will move in three days' time."

"How far is it?" Luisa asked, not wanting to leave her parents so soon—and judging by their crestfallen faces, they were thinking the same thing.

"Just down the lake's shore, closer to town," James reassured her, "You could practically walk there from here."

"Oh good," Duck sighed in relief, just as Luisa and James' lips met in a long kiss. Moments passed and they did not break apart. "Um, Fakir?"

"Hmm?" Fakir mumbled, pointedly looking the opposite direction. Duck nudged him in the arm and pointed to the kitchen, raising her eyebrows. "Oh, oh right," he said quickly, finally understanding as they both slipped quietly out of sight.

"You have gall to kiss me that long in front of them, Your Highness," Luisa teased James once they parted, "You know how overprotective my father is."

"Three more days and we're out of their hair," James reminded her, and a grinning Luisa moaned in approval before pulling him down for one more kiss. "I have something for you, my princess."

"A late wedding present?" Luisa said slyly, sitting on the sofa closest to the fire.

"Somewhat," James answered, sitting beside her and pulling out a flat rectangular package. "I was perusing the bookstore this afternoon and found something...quite familiar."

Luisa's brow furrowed as she took the package from him and opened it. A slight uneasiness settled in her stomach as she ran her hand over the elaborate cover art, meeting James' questioning glance. For the title of the book was...

The Story of Rapunzel.

THE END

A/N: Hope you all enjoyed this tale now that it's finally finished :) Please leave a comment on your way out!