A little drabble I thought up for the coupling FakirMytho (or Fako as I like to call it). It didn't seem like a very popular ship so I think it deserves a little love. Fakir perspective, I laid it heavy on the angst but hey, it worked. Mind you that I've only seen the first five episodes of Princess Tutu, so if it is terribly offbeat, feel free to yell. Don't like slash, go back right now. Reviews make the Authoress's terrible week a lot brighter.

I don't own Princess Tutu. If I did…I'd wanna see Evil Mytho more often…


I miss familiar sensations.

The feel of your cold, lifeless hands pinned into mine. When you anger me, I hold you against the bedroom wall until I hear you protest- until you give me a sign that you are alive.

I miss the sight of you every morning.

Silvery-white chunks of hair sticking up from a restful night of sleep, your long and pretty body loosely restrained only in a thin nightshirt. You were always up before me, staring out the window longingly. What did you wish for? Did you wish at all?

Like the lonely princess locked away forever by the wicked and possessive witch, you stare numbly out into the unreachable world, letting the golden sunrise outline your beauty, as you continue to stand by our window. Yet I know you feel nothing. Your naïve amber eyes swerve around to me after a couple minutes, sensing my presence behind you.

I miss the first sound you make in the morning.

Your head tilted back, pale throat exposed, a small mewl of wonder escaping your tiny lips as my mouth brushes the knuckles on your right hand which I cradle with my left.

The delicate fingers twitch.

But you can't possibly feel it at all.

My teeth reveal to find the tip of your index finger, gently grazing and sucking the skin there. It tastes of peppermint. The sweet you prefer. The oil of your bathwater. I wish to know if perhaps...the sweet pink tongue dancing behind your candy lips tastes the very same.

I cannot know.

Colorless skin turns reddish and raw as I pull away, roughly throwing your arm back at your side. You stare up unaffected at the callousness of the action, the callousness of my voice.

"Get dressed. We have school."

A quick, silent nod.

As you retreat into the dark corner of the room, my shaking back to your temptingly naked body, I grit my teeth.

Despite my best intentions, and my worst, I know one day you will restore your princely heart and fall in love.

It won't be with me.

Knights don't get the happily ever after in fairytales.