The Nutcracker Princess
"We're all out of Nutcrackers," the shop attendant said, with a quirked eyebrow, eliciting a pout from Caroline. She looked exhausted, for a vampire, even standing beside Stefan with his perpetually furrowed brow and grimace.
"You must have some in the back," Caroline insisted. She shifted the shopping basket from one arm to the other and stuck out her hip. "Go check," the shop attendant's pupils dilated, "We'll wait."
Stefan frowned at Caroline. "A Nutcracker? Do people still buy those?"
Caroline tapped her foot. "Yes," she hissed. Then a whisper with averted eyes: "Bonnie loved them."
Stefan squeezed Caroline's arm. "She probably liked the magic bits to the story."
"No," Caroline said, "She liked the romance."
"It's not a traditional nutcracker, but… this is all we have left," the shop attendant said when she returned, broken toy in hand. "It was a custom order that never got picked up."
Caroline gasped.
Stefan quirked an eyebrow.
"We'll take it."
…
Damon.
The Boarding House living room was piled high with toys for the Mystic Falls toy drive. With Caroline preoccupied with her ailing mother, Stefan had volunteered their home, and Elena had volunteered to coordinate the drive. There were little dolls, toy soldiers, action figures and board games of every vintage and price bracket. There was even an assortment of nutrcrackers, including a tiny little brown-skinned girl with pink cheeks and green eyes. There were also a pile of wrapped boxes that had been delivered with tags indicating a particular age and gender. Mystery box.
Miss Cuddles, Damon had reasoned to himself between sips of bourbon, wouldn't mind the company. But he kept her with him, safe in his room, just in case. He couldn't risk her being picked up by accident.
Damon?
He heard her call his name in the middle of the night. Bonnie's voice. At first, he thought he must be dreaming or drunk. But then it sounded again: Damon! Damon! Da-mon!
And then a little growl that passed for a sound of annoyance.
He shot up in his bed and threw the covers off. In just pyjama bottoms, he set his bare feet on the cold floor and pushed himself up.
"Bonnie?" he tried out the name, and didn't hear a response.
But there was a sound – a shifting, in the living room where the toys were.
And, in the light of a wilting Christmas tree, there she was. Bonnie Bennett. Life-sized, and dressed up like a nutcracker.
"Damon!" her voice was excited, but hushed. Her eyes dropped to his naked chest, took inventory of his muscles and the low sling of his pyjama pants, but when they returned to his, they seemed less turned on, and more concerned about his sanity. When really, it should be the other way around.
"Bonnie?" He blinked at her. "How did you-"
"Duck!" Bonnie yelled, falling to her feet. He mimicked her just in time to avoid an arrow whooshing in the air above his head to settle between the covers of two old books. With their chests to the floor, Damon glanced up at her.
Bonnie was in full defense mode. She was glancing around them, ready to push herself back to standing. Her eyes were focused and her mouth was set, but there was something off about her too – besides the fact that she wasn't supposed to be here.
"What the hell is going on?" Damon demanded.
"He's booby-trapped the entire place," Bonnie whispered conspiratorially.
"Who?" Damon snarled. "Kai? Is he here?"
"No," Bonnie blinked at him. "The Mouse King."
"What?" Damon narrowed his eyes at her, but her wide ones only looked more sincere as the seconds ticked by.
"Okay, I have a plan," Bonnie said, glancing over her shoulder. She pointed at the model of Mystic Falls. "We need to get back to my house in Mystic Falls." She grinned crookedly: "I hid the ascendant there."
Damon frowned. "The ascendant was destroyed in our time, Bon-Bon. Why do you need it, anyway, if you're back?"
"Back?" Bonnie blinked at him. She whispered, harshly, crawling towards him: "Damon, what the hell are you talking about? We need to go back. Back home. To the Kingdom of Sweets, through the Land of Snow." She let out a huff of breath. "I've done some quick reconnaissance. His army's taken over the kitchen area, and…"
Damon shook his head, "What…"
Bonnie continued, as if he hadn't spoken: "The second they know we're here, they're going to attack. We need to be ready." The clock above her ticked five past midnight. "Damon… can we trust you?"
He frowned. "Of course you can, but-"
"Good," A small smile graced her lips. "Then we must move quickly."
In one fluid motion, she raised herself to a push-up, then to her haunches. Before she stood up, she drew the sword from her side. It was a long, thin blade that shone in the light.
Damon rose, cautiously. He glanced at the arrow over his shoulder, still vibrating, and the crossbow hidden in the boughs of the tree, directly opposite.
"Here," she said, grabbing a small water gun from under the tree and throwing it to him. As he ripped it free of its packaging with one brow raised, young men and women, painted head to toe in green camouflage, began to appear from behind chairs and table and bookcases.
"Ma'am," one of the green men said, "We await your orders."
Damon blinked at him. Stefan? Or… just another doppelganger? His temple began to pound.
"There's no getting around it now. They're too close to the borders. We should head through the foyer, down the hall, and into the kitchen from the side door…"
Damon's eyes were wide and disbelieving. "It's faster if you cut through the library."
Bonnie nodded, decisively. "We'll split up. I will lead the direct charge, and Pantaloon," she nodded at the man who was just speaking: "You and Trudy lead the troops through the library." He saluted her, and began the move. With an arm above his head, a small army of green people followed behind him.
"What… is…" Damon ran his free hand through his hair. With the other, he held Miss Cuddles close.
"Your assistance," Bonnie nodded at Damon, "Will be rewarded."
Bonnie turned now and let out a very low whistle. From under the tree emerged more soldiers, and a few young girls who looked like porcelain dolls.
"Nurses, stay close, but be safe." She addressed a doll that looked a bit like Caroline: "Marie, I expect you to retreat if things go south."
"To the Land of Snow?"
"Yes."
"Without you?"
"Yes, Marie."
Damon blinked again, stunned at what he was witnessing. Bonnie nodded at her soldiers, waved an arm over her head and began to move swiftly forward to the library. Damon followed them towards the kitchen as they avoided trip-wires and foot traps and a few more arrows. He had never known a three-minute walk could be so dangerous. He had his water gun ready and pointed when they pushed open the kitchen door.
And there he was.
"Kai!" Damon screamed.
Bonnie's eyes widened as the Mouse King, butcher knife in hand, stalked towards them with wide, shifty eyes.
"Forward!" Bonnie led the charge.
Kai was surrounded by the biggest rats Damon had ever seen. They crawled all over them, gnawing at the ankles of the toy soldiers, and crushing them with their stampeding weight. Damon's was fast enough to avoid them – and keen enough an observer to see, where there should be blood, there was simply twisted, green plastic. Bite marks made impressions where flesh should have been.
And in the centre of it all was Bonnie.
She swung her sword, and Kai dodged her.
She lunged, and he stepped to the side.
He countered with a jab of his own, but she swung her sword low to knock his blade off its path.
They continued in this pattern, behind the table, and from between chairs, until, at last, from the counter top, above the rioting mice, Bonnie had the point of her blade under his chin.
"Give it up, King of the Mice," Bonnie snarled.
"Never," Kai bit back, as if he knew what the hell she was talking about.
She pushed her blade forward until it drew blood.
The sound of string snapping back was the loudest sound Damon had ever heard.
The arrow whooshed through the air, and lodged itself in Bonnie's back. The sword wavered in her hand, but she stood firm, until another struck her shoulder blade and she went down.
Bonnie fell from the countertop in slow motion, landing on the cold, kitchen floor as the rats scattered all around her.
Not again.
Her dark blood tinged the white floor. Kai jumped down and his sneakers squeaked in it. As he shifted his weight, imprints of the soles of his shoes spread about her.
He shook his head, prying her sword from her fingers.
"Did you really think," he laughed at her, "You'd win?"
Dream or no, Damon couldn't take it anymore.
He rushed forward and snapped Kai's neck before he could even lift the weapon. The rats chirped, loudly, and scattered around them, disappearing back to wherever they came from.
"You killed him…" Bonnie said, blinking up at Damon. Her eyelids flickered as he took a bite of his own wrist. Her green eyes widened, but he pushed his wound against her lips.
"Drink," he insisted. She blurred before him, and he realized he might be crying. Her lips closed around his skin, and began to draw his blood into her mouth. It was warm and rich, sliding down her throat like hot chocolate. When she could take no more, she turned from him, dragging a red line across half her cheek.
Her lips were still smeared with his blood when she said: "I… you saved me."
Damon grabbed Bonnie's hand, linking their fingers together. "I owed you one."
The china doll was beside them in no time. She shooed Damon away daintily before setting down a little first aid kit and clicking it open. Though he took a step back, he didn't let go of her hand.
"Marie…" Bonnie croaked, as the doll examined her.
"You're fine," she said, shocked. She sat back on her heels. "Princess, you'll live."
…
"It's time to go," Bonnie said, standing in the living room. The few survivors, injured but still hanging on, filed before her. They walked towards the model Mystic Falls and, as they touched it, they shrank.
Damon blinked, disbelievingly at them. His hand was still locked with Bonnie's. And, though that made re-sheathing her sword a bit difficult, she hadn't pulled away.
But now she gave his hand a squeeze that felt, oddly, final.
"Have you decided?" Bonnie asked. He scanned her eyes to find some way of understanding – what she meant, what was happening. "Are you coming with us? Home?"
"We are home, Bonnie," Damon tried, a bit more gently this time.
"No, Damon," Bonnie said. "I've told you. I found a way to return to the Kingdom of Sweets. Come with me, now, or be lost to me, forever. I leave the choice in your hands."
She moved towards the miniature, but he gripped her hand harder, and pulled her back towards him. Startled, she stumbled a bit, and balanced herself with a hand on his chest. Right above where his heart should be.
"Stay," Damon whispered.
She blinked at him and let her hand fall, her knuckles grazing his skin. "You know I can't."
"Bonnie," he pled, "Why?"
"I don't belong here," Bonnie explained. She glanced forlornly at the miniature. "I need to bring us home."
"We are-"
"No," Bonnie shook her head. "You've been here too long, Damon. You've forgotten what home is like. Home is not a battlefield. Home is not wondering who is going to kill you next, and when. Home is not constantly watching your back." She nodded towards the kitchen. "The Mouse King is dead now. You don't have to guard this front anymore." She licked her lips, and flicked her eyes up to his. "You can come back home, now… with me."
Damon's breath caught in his throat. He felt dizzy and light headed as she tugged him forward. She walked backwards, her eyes ever on his. When she reached the miniature, she moved to let go of his hand, but he gripped it firmly again.
"I'm not leaving you again," he said.
She smiled, and yet again, in seconds, he found himself in a strange version of Mystic Falls, alone, and holding hands with a witch. And this time, he didn't let go.
…
"This was a strange cover," Bonnie said as they walked towards her house. Their ragtag group of soldiers had stayed behind at the cave, awaiting the return of their fearless leader and the ascendant. Damon had refused to let her go alone.
He couldn't shake a dark feeling that Kai – the real Kai, not that figment of his imagination surrounded by rats – would pop out at any second.
But Bonnie seemed oddly chipper. She smiled that crooked smile up at him. She had lost her stupid Nutcracker hat, and was looking very Michael Jackson in her red suit. The sleeves were pushed up over her elbows, and the front buttons were open to reveal a plain white shirt, discoloured with blood and sweat. But she swung their arms, between them, as they walked.
"Cover?" Damon frowned.
"I thought he'd find us out for sure," Bonnie said. "While we were looking for the ascendant. But he totally bought it. That we were harmless. At his mercy," she scrunched up her nose and almost laughed. "No one even ever questioned why my parents weren't home!"
Damon laughed, drily.
"I kind of can't believe it's over."
"Me either," Damon said, because she was looking up him like she was expecting him to say something. She nodded her approval.
"When it's me and you, Damon," Bonnie said, tugging him up the porch steps to her house, "Nothing can defeat us."
Damon paused at the threshold, despite Bonnie tugging on his arm. He had never been in the Bennett household before. Not in real Mystic Falls. He had never been invited in. The real Bonnie Bennett would never do that. And yet, here she was, pulling him over the barrier with a laugh.
Then up the stairs.
Then down a hall to a bedroom, where she immediately locked the door, pushed Damon back, leaned up on her toes and kissed him.
Proper kissed him.
His eyes shot open and he stared at her as her lips moved across his. Her hand dragged up his shirt and clutched the fabric. It was the sweetest kiss he had experienced in a long, long time. She kissed like she was drinking life from him and feeding him happiness back. She kissed him like he was something precious.
"Just one more," her voice was sultry as she begged him. Her eyes were half-lidded: "For the road."
He could hardly refuse when she stepped between his legs, pushed herself flush against him, and kissed him again.
"I missed you," she said, when they pulled apart.
"I… missed you, too," Damon said, a bit stunned.
She ran her hands up over his – still bare – chest, and he was suddenly aware of how naked he was. Goosebumps raised up everywhere she touched. She nipped at his jaw line, and rubbed the side of her face against his. He settled his hands on the small of her back. She tucked up under his chin, against his chest, so easily.
"Let's just stay here a moment," she asked, rubbing her face against his skin. Her breath was hot against it, and her nails were sharp and delicious as they drew circles on his back. "Before we go back…"
"Alright," Damon agreed, stunned.
Bonnie Bennett had just kissed him. And not just kissed him, but kissed him like she was used to doing it. Like they were brothers at arms, like they had once been lovers.
"I know I'm not supposed to… Especially since you're with Elena…"
"Elena and I aren't together," he said a bit too quickly.
Bonnie's lashes fluttered against his chest. "Oh." He felt her lips spread against his skin and he stifled a laugh. A bubble of amusement floated up inside him as she tightened her grip.
"Even so, when we return… the King may not…" she silenced her wavering voice with a deep breath.
"The King?"
"The King of Sweets," Bonnie said, wistfully. Then she turned to peer up at him. "It's been so long since I've seen him. I wonder how he's changed, if he's changed." She smiled, a bit sadly, and he raised his hand to cup her chin instinctively. "If he's changed his mind…"
"About what?"
"About us, of course," Bonnie laughed, pushing away from Damon at last. She turned towards the dresser and began rooting through the drawers.
Damon felt oddly bereft with Bonnie gone. Sure, she was dream Bonnie. Sure, none of this was real – including that kiss – but his body didn't believe it. He cleared his throat when he glanced down and realized that Bonnie must also, obviously, know how much his body didn't believe it…
"Got something that might.. fit me.."
"Good thinking," Bonnie said from over her shoulder. "It'll be cold where we're going. Try the room to the right."
Damon disappeared into Rudy's room, closed the door, and leaned against it. He waited until the room stopped spinning. Then he got dressed and met Bonnie outside the house. She was leaning against it, a half-smile on her face, an ascendant in her hands.
On his way out, he noticed grimly, that there were no pictures of them together. No pictures of Damon and Bonnie, or even with Caroline or Elena. There was no evidence that they had been ever really been friends at all.
…
A warm welcome was awaiting in the Land of Snow.
As soon as they arrived, Damon realized Bonnie was right by the sound of his teeth chattering and his bones chilling. The whole world was covered in the white powder, and all of the evergreens were decorated with lights.
The crowd of Bonnie's followers dispersed around them to the sound of trumpets and classical music. There was a lively dance being performed around them, by men in tights and women in tutus.
Bonnie's hand slipped from his before he could stop it happening. Trudy and Marie were on either side of her, taking her towards a large, three-tiered tent, lit up on the inside so that shadows of people danced about the tent walls. Outside of the tent were large fire pits from which emanated scents of s'mores and cocoa. Paper lanterns floated above, bright against the night sky, rooted to the earth with thin twine.
Before he could get his bearings, Damon was pulled aside by a limping Pantaloon. He took him in another direction, to a larger, less ornate tent. There, he traded in Rudy's dad sweater for a soldier's uniform of navy blue with blue buttons, and black boots. They even gave him a sword. He ate traditional Christmas fare, followed by eggnog (though he asked for bourbon), and cookies (though he asked for blood).
All around him, the survivors and veterans were treated to similar fare by locals dressed in fluffy white coats. They looked like snowflakes, flitting from one person to another, smiling and laughing. When one finally turned to Damon, he looked so much – exactly – like Matt, that Damon almost choked on his cocoa and couldn't find anything else to say.
"The King will reward your endeavours," Pantalon told him, nudging his arm. "He will look kindly on all you have done for the Princess."
Princess. That was the second time someone called her that.
"The King of Sweets," Damon clarified.
"Yes," Pantaloon said, drawing out the word. "Yes, though the reward may not be quite what you hope for."
Damon smirked. "Oh?"
"Silver bells, sugar stars, sprinkles," he waved his hand in the air, "All the riches in the land, he may offer you…"
Damon snorted.
"But what you want," Pantaloon's eyes met his meaningfully, and Damon was struck, again, by how much like Stefan he looked. But he had levity that Stefan lacked. He had charm, where Stefan had sass and snark. He clapped a hand over Damon's shoulder, "The King may not relinquish that, even now…"
"And what is it," Damon shrugged the man's arm off. "That you think I want?"
The sound of trumpets and applause grabbed both of their attention. They turned towards the sound and there she was, again, like a vision he had dreamed up. Like a version of herself he had never, really, seen before.
Bonnie Bennett was in a gown of snow and ice, seemingly transparent in some places, but shimmering and reflecting light in others. It skimmed her hips before spreading out and swishing in the snow behind her, with the sound of clinking glass. Her hair was pinned up with glittering snowflakes, her lips were dark, and her chin was regal.
But her eyes were warm. So warm, that even from that distance, they wrapped their heat around his body and pulled tight.
"Her," Pantaloon Stefan said.
Damon let out a whoosh of air. He wasn't sure what was going on – what had happened, in the past, in this version of the world, between himself and Bonnie. He wasn't sure what he wanted to have happened, or to happen next. All he knew was that when she flicked her eyes in his direction and smirked, his chest tightened, but lightened at the same time. That if he had a heart, it would be pounding right out of his chest.
"Do I love her?" he asked.
"Do you even need to ask?"
…
Bonnie and her saviour, Damon, were invited to be guests of the Queens of the Snow Lands. They arrived in the palace to be greeted by twins, with long brown hair, and pursed lips. They wore frost on their lips, painted in a circle on their mouths, as if they had just been kissed by ice. Their lashes were flecked with snow.
"Elena," Damon said, without thinking.
"You will not address her," the curly haired one said, stepping in between them. "Until she addresses you."
"Forgive him, your majesty," Bonnie said, bowing. "The battle was harrowing, the journey long." Then she raised an arm out between them. "Your majesties, Elena and Katerina, might I introduce Damon Salvatore, he who slayed the Mouse King."
Damon stood, stock still, as the two doppelgangers circled him, examining him at length. They flicked their eyes about his form without saying a word to him.
"He seems a mighty warrior," Elena declared, her face coloring a bit.
"He is," Bonnie agreed.
"He seems more trouble than he is worth," Katerina said, waving a hand towards a servant in a white jacket.
"He is," Bonnie grinned.
…
Walking behind the servant, Damon followed Bonnie to the rooms at the back of the Castle that they would be spending the night in. He watched as she walked before him, her long gown swaying with each movement of her hips. Small torches lit the narrow corridor, sending light sparking off of her gown, and highlighting the promise of bronze curves underneath. If he could just get the right angle, he could look right through the lacy, icy curls that wound their way up the fabric. He could see through to the soft, warm skin.
He could touch her and know she's real.
"Here we are," the servant announced as they stopped before two opposite doors. "There will be two guards posted in the hallway for your protection this evening. Please use the jingle bells in your rooms, should you need any assistance."
"Thank you," Bonnie said, smiling at the man. She clasped his hands and said the word again.
The second he left, Damon took those hands in his own.
"Bonnie," he breathed, his breath fogging up between them. She smiled, slowly, and he shook his head as he looked at her. Then he smiled too – that slow, soft smile. The fire danced light across their faces.
"Damon," she said right back.
"What is happening?" he said.
She pulled his hands to her lips, pressed them to her mouth, and replied: "What do you want to happen?"
Damon's eyes widened as he looked at her. "What happened, between us?"
"You don't remember?" Bonnie said, half-joking, half-incredulous.
"Of course, I remember," Damon said just as quickly. "I'm wondering what your version is."
"Well," Bonnie said. She turned his palm to her mouth, placed a gentle kiss there, then settled his hand against her cheek. She leaned into it, and stepped into his personal space. It was only natural to tighten his grip on her other hand. "We went undercover, to where our forefathers had trapped with the Mouse King. And we ended up trapped, too, with him. Watched by him. Tortured by him," she closed her eyes, and shuddered, "For months without reprieve."
"Yeah," Damon breathed out, studying her face intently. Everything she said, was almost true.
"To free ourselves, we would risk freeing him. Showing him a way out and back to the Snow Lands," Bonnie pressed her lips together. "When we could not defeat him, we tried to retreat and regroup. But only you made it."
"Because of you," Damon said, heatedly. "I wanted to stay. I wouldn't have left you."
"And I love you," Bonnie replied, taking Damon aback, "all the more for that."
"You… love me?"
"Yes, I still love you, Damon," Bonnie promised. "I have for a long, long time now. My father be damned, I would have run away with you ages ago, if we had somewhere – anywhere – to run to…"
"When I got out, I tried to get back to you…"
"He got out first," Bonnie continued. "I found the ascendant, and hid it. Then I began recruiting our soldiers, across the line, to the bigger Mystic Falls. I hoped… I hoped you would be there, waiting for me." She smiled, slowly, "And you were."
"I can't give up on you," Damon said. "I don't really know why, I just… I can't leave you."
Not to the mercy of Klaus, not on the island, not on the Other Side, and sure as fuck not in Kai's prison…
"So," Bonnie leaned forward on her toes. She let go of his hand, and reached both of hers around his neck. His free hand found the small of her back, wrapping up in surprisingly silky fabric. The sparkling parts warmed and melted against his hand, as if it really was made of ice. "What do you want to do?"
Damon leaned down and kissed her.
Kissing Bonnie was easier than he ever thought it would be. Not that he thought about kissing Bonnie Bennett… but he had kissed many other girls who were not this simple. There had been Katherine, with all the intrigue and the lies and the games and broken promises. There had been Rose, the platonic hook up, and Rebekah, the hate-sex hook up. There had been Elena and her compromising morals.
But with Bonnie… there was no guilt. There was no other girl, hovering in his head. There were no secrets, and there was nothing to hide. She was kissing him back, sweetly, like she savoured the taste of his tongue, like she had longed for the brush of his lips – and his body and his metaphoric heart were finally, perfectly, in tune.
He wanted her, and he wanted her.
He held her close, and she sighed in his arms. Her strength made him stronger. Her honesty and trust made him want to be vulnerable.
As she shifted to press herself between his bedroom door and his hard body, tilting her head and moaning into their kiss, he thought – maybe he was the one that was longing for this, maybe he was the one who was savouring…
The door fell open, and Bonnie took two swift steps back, dragging Damon along by the lapels. She pulled his blazer from his shoulders, and he thought, yes. She tugged his shirt up from his pants, and he thought, more. Her hands brushed against his chest, again, and she lit him up with heat. He grabbed her roughly by the ass and squared her hips against his. She ground herself into him, and they both moaned at the sensation.
"I need to touch you," he whispered.
"You are touching me," she said, whipping his belt free from his slacks. Then she started on the button.
"I need to know you're real."
Her hands stilled.
"I'm real," she said, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "We're real."
"Okay," he said, running his hands over the planes of her face. She looked like Bonnie. She felt so hot and smooth, like Bonnie must feel. She sounded like Bonnie; her moans like what he imagined her moans must sound like.
She undressed him with her deft hands, leaving a trail of clothes from the door to the bedroom. Right before they reached the bed, he said: "Wait."
Damon ran his hands up and down Bonnie's still-clothed sides. Then, with his fingers, he began pinching the fabric into his palms, gathering the skirt and raising the hem against her hips. He watched her legs, smooth and brown, and bit his lip thinking of what they would feel like, wrapped around his waist.
She stopped him with a breathy, "Okay."
"How's this?" he asked with a smirk as he scooped her up against him. She wrapped her now exposed legs against his waist.
"You tell me," Bonnie said hotly, pressing herself onto his erection.
Damon's eyes almost crossed right there, because Bonnie wasn't wearing any underwear.
She couldn't be real. She couldn't be real. It was impossible, right? That Bonnie would let him kiss her, like this, so thoroughly. That she would let him touch her bare skin. That she would shift into his caresses.
"I need to feel you," Damon said, pausing between kisses to whisper into his mouth.
"You are," Bonnie began.
"I need to… Can I…" Damon blinked against her skin. They were both breathing hard, their breaths intermingling and puffing up in the air. "I really want to be inside you, Bonnie."
She shuddered against him. "I want that, too."
He moved them towards the bed, and laid her down, gently. Their eyes didn't leave each other's as they discarded the rest of their clothes. With Bonnie's skirt above her hips, the last thing to go was the bodice of her dress. Little snowflake buttons adorned the front, and Damon flicked them off.
First, one by one.
But then, when he saw what they revealed, he tore the dress open.
Bonnie was scarred: black lines, almost like veins, were crawling over her once flawless skin. Damon frowned, rubbed his finger gently against them, and when they remained, he turned his eyes, questioningly, to hers.
Bonnie looked away.
"The Mouse King did this to me," she said, covering the dark, spiralling circle at the centre of her chest with both hands. "After you left, he attacked me in his prison. The longer I stayed there, all alone, the more it grew."
Carefully, Damon pulled her hands away. The dark spirals extended from her heart, outwards, like rings on a tree. They reached outward to her shoulders, and downwards to scrape the top of her navel. She looked like she had been shattered, like she was cracked.
He leaned forward and kissed her, at the epicentre. Her breath hitched in her throat, and he sucked harder. He pressed his lips against her, sliding against the softness of her breasts, tugging and teasing, until he left his own marks on her.
"You're beautiful," he said.
Bonnie fell back in the bed at the sensations of his hot kisses on her cold skin. Her dress might as well have melted off of her. He kissed one breast and then the other. He followed the dark lines towards her shoulders, then traced them down her stomach. Her muscles twitched, and her thighs clenched together. Her whole body buzzed with warmth.
"Nothing can break you," he said. When he reached her navel, he dipped lower. He couldn't stop, now that he'd come that far. He wouldn't stop – not with her moaning and writhing underneath him. Bonnie Bennett, hot and wet for him. Flushed and teased pink, because of him. He grinned against her skin as he slid her dress down her hips and to the floor. Then he started at her ankles and worked his way back up. By the time he reached the apex of her legs, all it took was one, slow lick for her to fall apart around him.
"Now," she said.
"Are you sure?" Damon asked, coming back up to press his forehead against her sweaty one. Her voice was hot on his ear.
"It's now or never, Damon."
"Now, then."
They moved together; he shifted lower, and she rose up to meet him. They stayed together, ever after they were both sated, wrapped up in each other, guarding against the cold, and trying to memorize each other. Because who knew what the day would bring – an angry King of Sweets, or a toy drive in Mystic Falls without Bonnie.
…
"Damon," Bonnie nudged him awake. He turned over with a sleepy smile.
"Bonnie," the room was still cast in darkness. "It's not morning yet."
"I know," she said, pressing her lips together. "We have a problem."
Damon shot up. "What's going on?"
Bonnie slipped from the bed sheets. He watched her naked form in the moonlight as she donned the dress again, as best she could. She began gathering his clothes as well.
"The guards," she said, handing them to him. He got dressed as she spoke. "At the corridor. They've been drugged."
"What?"
"The Mouse King, Damon," Bonnie shuddered. "He's coming for me."
"We have to go," Damon said. He grabbed the sword and tossed it to her. She caught it easily, tested its weight, then began shearing her dress at the knee.
"They'll go to my bedroom first," Bonnie reasoned, as she moved to the window. Pushing back the curtain, she pointed towards a small, bright light that twinkled like a constellation of stars in the distance. "That's the Kingdom of Sweets. We just need to cross the lake."
They scaled the castle walls using bed sheets, then ran, in the snow, to the lake. The wind kicked up around them, scattering snow in the air, and chilling Bonnie's skin. The train of her dress disguised their footsteps behind her. Damon never let go of her hand.
When they got to the lake, a boat was awaiting them, hooked on either end, to two swans.
"Hurry," Bonnie said, climbing into the boat.
"You can't be serious."
"Come on!"
Damon got into the boat. Pulled by swans. With Bonnie Bennett at the reins.
They shared his jacket as they sat together, hands linked, each holding one rein in their free hand.
"We can make it," Bonnie said.
The lake was half water, half ice. The swans moved carefully, navigating the fragments.
As the boat moved further along, Damon noticed that she was changing. Her serious, wooden exterior was chipping away. She was becoming the Bonnie he knew: light and full of warmth and hope. Her eyes were bright, and she was smiling that smile – the one she made when she didn't even realize she was smiling. When she didn't know he was looking.
Damon's heart thud in his chest.
Wait. What?
"Bonnie," Damon said, pulling their linked hands, together to his chest. "Bonnie, do you feel that?"
"Your heart," Bonnie smiled. She almost laughed. Her teeth chattered and he pulled her closer. He glanced at his fingers and found them almost blue, too. "It's pounding as hard as mine is."
"Yeah," he said, eyes filled with glee. "Yeah, it is."
"We're almost home, Damon," Bonnie grinned at him. "We're almost there."
"I'm not leaving you," he said suddenly. "No matter what the King of Sweets says."
Bonnie laughed. "Good, because I'm not letting you."
…
The arrow should have hit him, instead.
It went straight through her back, the arrow head sticking out from her stomach. Then another whizzed through the air, and caught her a few inches lower. She opened her mouth to scream, but only blood came out.
"Bonnie!" Damon screamed. He pulled her down, and a third arrow lodged in his shoulder blade. He settled them both low, and the final one gashed open his face, tearing a red line across his face. Damon was bleeding.
Bonnie lay in his arms as more arrows fired overhead. Her eyes were filled with fear, and sadness, and confusion. Why, she seemed to be saying. Not again. Or, maybe that was him.
Damon shifted so her trembling lips lay against the gash to his face.
"Bonnie, you have to drink," he said.
Her lips touched his, and she tried to lick at the wound, feebly, but it stung him and did nothing for her. He forced her to latch on and try again, but still, she bled, ferociously. The boat seemed to be flooded with her blood.
Finally, she refused any more.
"Bonnie, please…"
"I'm not going to make it," Bonnie said, her eyes welling up with tears. She tried to press her lips together, to take deep breaths to stop the sobs. But they wouldn't come.
"Yes, you are," Damon insisted. He held her close against him. His blood wasn't working. He couldn't stop the bleeding. He could do anything but hold her close to him, and hope. "You're going to be alright, Bonnie."
"No," Bonnie insisted. She turned her eyes to the Kingdom of Sweets, just beyond the horizon. "You're going to have to tell them," she said, "You're going to have to tell them their Princess is dead."
"No," Damon said, shaking his head. Louder, he insisted: "No! You're not dying on me…"
"Warn them about the Mouse King, Damon," she shook her head against his embrace. Her eyes were already drooping.
"Bonnie?"
"You can save them…" Her eyes were wet, but her face was light, and satisfied. It looked exactly like it did, the first time he left her, with an arrow through her stomach. And that made it hurt all the more…
"Bonnie, please don't." He cradled her face in his hands, turned it up to look at him. "Please, don't…"
"I have loved you… so much."
"You love me, Bonnie. Just hang on," he glanced towards the Kingdom of Sweets. They would never make it in time. He wanted to scream to the heavens. He wanted to cry out, but his throat felt swollen and blocked with tears. "Bonnie!"
But her head was limp, and her eyes were blank. The blood stopped spurting out.
Damon released the swans.
Then he gathered Bonnie close to him, and lay them down, together, as they had been, mere hours before. In the middle of the wintery lake, Damon shut his eyes.
"I have loved you, too," he said. But there was no one there to hear him.
…
When Damon awoke, he was alone. Back in present day, Mystic Falls.
Slowly, he made his way out into the living room. He had slept all day, apparently, because the toy drive was over. Instead, it was Christmas Eve, and, it seemed, based on the congregation in his living room, that Bonnie wasn't back. She was stuck in Kai's prison. Or, maybe,
the toy drive had concluded. All of the toys had been packed up and shipped off. The only ones that remained were a few inexplicably melted army men, and the broken, brown-skinned nutcracker girl.
"Bonnie loved the Nutcracker Prince," Caroline pouted, cradling the broken toy. "She always wanted to be Clara in ballet, but she never got the part…"
"Who did she play?" Stefan asked. They were seated around the tree, drinking egg nog and eating cookies, and starting new traditions with their immortal families. Damon sat, a bit out of the group, away from the light of the Christmas tree, cradling bourbon with one leg over the arm chair, a teddy bear cuddled up in his hands.
"The Nutcracker," Caroline and Elena both said, smiling, at the same time. As she laughed, the toy jostled in Caroline's hands, and a small carving caught the light.
"There's an inscription on the bottom," Stefan said, taking it from Caroline. "For BB from dad," he read out. Then he pressed his lips together. Caroline's eyes welled up.
"Her dad ordered it for her." Stefan frowned.
"Before he died," Elena said.
"Before he was murdered," Caroline amended.
"Here's to Bonnie," Damon said, suddenly, interrupting the group's quiet. He raised the glass in the direction of the nutcracker, and everyone joined him. "Here's to hoping she'll be back, cracking someone else's nuts – or is it, busting someone else's balls?" he snickered to himself, "In the New Year."
"Nice, Damon," Caroline rolled her eyes. Then she raised her own glass: "We miss you Bonnie."
…
Bonnie shot up from her bed in the Boarding House. Outside was another burnt Christmas tree. In the sky was another sun preparing to be eclipsed.
"Damon?" she tried, but there was nothing.
She scratched at her chest, in the spot above her heart, where the beginnings of a dark spiral had begun to appear.