AU: This story is a sequel to "Of Machines and Familiars". I suggest you read that first. This is a longer fanfic that takes place around Christmas time, about five months after OMaF.

Ch1: Crash Landing

A landscape of smoky chimneys and metal buildings made up the scene of the industrial kingdom of Hamelin. Industry was in the air as usual, but a new spirit was in the atmosphere as well. Bright red and gold ribbons decorated the street lamps of the streets and wreaths of green and silver were hung proudly on almost every door. Lights dangled from the roofs, ready for the evening to show off their beautiful illuminations. These decorations didn't stop at just the city, however- their energy had infected the palace as well. The patrolling soldiers couldn't make three steps without seeing a lovely holiday decoration on their route. The spirit had spread to a certain door as well, which held up a simple wreath with just one little red bow on it. And the man that had reluctantly hung it up was behind that very door.

Behind the door was a good sized office with various shelves filled with gears and mechanical doo-dads. Screws, spare tools, motors, and pipes of all kinds were stored in rusty metal bins. At the end of the room was a large wooden desk covered with scattered machine pieces and blueprints. The rusty lamp cast its bold yellow light onto the desk, casting shadows behind the objects and a pair of wiry hands that were skillfully tinkering with a box-like contraption. The lamp also perfectly shaped out the man's black silhouette from behind. From the back the person was a hunched over shape of messy curls on top and a slab of dark green as a tired old trench coat hung off of the chair, hiding the rest of his lanky figure.

There was a knocking on the door. The shadow turned his head to the side, revealing his dark brown eyes as they glanced behind to the door.

"…Hang on, give me a sec'…"

With nimble hands, he placed the box that he was working on in a lower drawer along with a rolled up blueprint with drawings resembling the mystery box. He pulled out a key from his coat's pocket and locked the drawer, hiding his secret away.

"Alright, come in."

The man stood up from the chair, raising himself to his full height. He was a tall man with thin limbs and well worn clothes. As he faced the door, his stubble and angular face were visible.

The door opened and through it walked a younger man with long black hair and emerald eyes. Unlike the other man, this lad was finely dressed in regal garb and held a lovingly decorated staff. Marcassin, the emperor of Hamelin, had concern swirling in his emerald eyes.

"Swaine, how long have you been locked up in here?"

The older man shrugged his bony shoulders. "Beats me. Since I got here, I guess. Besides, the door wasn't locked."

Marcassin sighed and crossed his arms. "Did you at least stop to eat lunch?"

Swaine's eyebrows scrunched with confusion. "Huh? Wait, what time is it?"

He turned his head to a clock hanging on the wall. The face wore a thin layer of dust but the hands were still readable-half past seven in the evening.

"What? When did it get that late?"

Marcassin swayed his handsome head side to side. "Don't tell me you forgot to eat again…"

"Well-I just got absorbed in my work, I guess…"

"…What are you working on, exactly?"

"Um, nothing really, just tinkering around."

The Great Sage cocked his head to the side, knowing he was hiding something. "Swaine, you've been busy in your office for the past three weeks whenever you're not with the others making military weapons-what are you doing in here? I don't want you to starve and get sick because of some contraption."

Swaine scratched the back of his mess of brown hair. "Well-you see-it's just…" He rummaged around in his mind to find an excuse, but failed and sighed.

"…Alright, alright, I'll admit it…it's…a Christmas present for Esther."

Marcassin blinked. "A Christmas present…for Esther?"

"Yeah, and don't go getting the wrong idea-I know you saw that little 'incident' in the hospital room five months ago, but it was a prank by our familiars. This is just something for Christmas, nothing more. We're still just friends. Got it?" Swaine jabbed his finger towards the young Emperor's chest.

"O-okay, if you say so." He lowered his royal eyes, not able to make contact with his brother's.

Swaine continued as he grabbed his coat and slid his arms through the sleeves. "I didn't want my co-workers getting the wrong idea that I've got a girlfriend or anything, so I did it in secret here. It's already bad enough with the crazy-"

Ka-bang! Bump-bump-klang! Ba-bang!

The two men were interrupted as strange noises echoed through the palace halls.

"What the hell?"

"What on earth is going on out there?"

Swaine pulled out his trusty pistol from his coat. "Well, I guess there's just one way to find out."

They nodded to each other and ran out of the office. They jogged down the halls, trying to find the cause of the unusual racket. Guards ran about the place, shouting orders and marching with determination.

"Over here, it went this way!"

"Sir, wait, it's over here!"

"Come on men-after it!"

Swaine scanned his eyes around him as Marcassin's head surveyed the area.

"What the heck are they chasing, anyway?"

"They keep calling it 'it', so I'm assuming it's an unknown creature of some sort."

A soldier grunted and shouted, "Oof! Darn, I almost had it!"

"Don't just lay there, son-we've got to get that thing!"

"Hey, sir, it's going this way!"

Swaine and Marcassin turned around to the voice, praying that they would catch a glimpse of the mystery thing. What they saw took them aback.

"Oi, coming through, mun! It's a flipping emergency! "

Darting right towards them was an old Hamelin guard helmet. It had a pig snout on it and struggled to move. It hopped as if it was losing its balance and ran right into Swaine's shin.

"Yeowch! Dammit, dammit, dammit, that hurts!" The lanky man held his sore calf in his hands as he hopped angrily on one foot.

The helmet staggered to the side from the collision. "Oi, oi, oi, that was defiantly not tidy, mun…" The voice under the helmet was losing its balance along with the helmet. "Oi, woah, woah-oof!" With that, the heavy helmet turned over like a bowl, revealing the voice once underneath it.

Both men blinked with surprise and recognition at the sight.

"…Drippy?!"

The Lord High Lord of the Fairies turned his red lantern towards them. "Oi, there you are! Been looking all over for ya'!"

"What the hell are you doing here in the first place?" Swaine questioned the fairy as he ceased holding his leg.

"Never mind that, mun-Ollie's in trouble!"

The men were silent for a moment, letting the shocking information sink into their minds.

"What?" Marcassin remarked, "Oliver? What's wrong with him?"

"There's no time to explain, Marcy. Ollie-boy needs our help, snappy!" He hopped around and waved his hand for the men to follow him. "He's knocked out cold outside, and he's gonna freeze to death if we dun hurry! C'mon!"

"Brrr! You weren't kidding when you said it was cold out here!"

Swaine rubbed his hands over his arms to keep warm. Marcassin did the same as they fought the icy wind to follow the fairy. The air of Autumnia often got chilly during the winter, but this time the weather was nippier than usual. The cold air cut past the three like frost coated knifes, sending goose bumps up their bodies. Strong, cold gusts of wind slowed their pace with their icy strength.

"Drippy, how much further is it to Oliver?"

"Oi, not much, Marcy! Just over this hi-ah-ah-ahCHOO!"

"Gesundheit." Swaine rubbed his hands faster, trying to drive out the numbness.

The trio marched against the wind and up the hill. They were greeted by the sight of a shivering purple dragon curled protectively around the still form of a young man at the bottom of the hill.

"Oi! Ollie-boy!"

"Oliver! Tengri!"

The men and the fairy slid down the hill and stopped right next to the brown haired boy. Oliver, the thirteen year old wizard, was now an unconscious sixteen year old. Tengri trembled from the cold as his tail and left wing protected his former master from the cold the best he could.

Marcassin kneeled down to the ground and gently pried Tengri's wing from the body. The boy was covered in patches of dust and a few scratches, but nothing serious. He placed his well-manicured hand to one of Oliver's pressure points on his neck, praying that there was a pulse.

"….Thank the sages, he's still alive."

At that precise moment, Oliver's stone still face twisted and cracked his deep blue eyes open. He grunted as his eyes adjusted to his surroundings.

"…Ugh…Ow…" His blue eyes adjusted in the direction of the Hamelin emperor. "…Wait…P-Prince Marcassin? Is that you?"

"Oliver! Are you alright?"

The wizard slowly sat up, rubbing his sore arm. "Ow…I think so…I just feel really weak…What about Tengri?"

"Kyah, kah!" The purple winged reptile screeched with joy at the sight of Oliver gaining consciousness but then whimpered as he tried to move his right wing. Swaine walked over to Tengri's other side to find his wing bent the wrong way.

"Doesn't look so good, Oliver-his wing over here isn't in good shape."

Marcassin draped Oliver's arm over his shoulders and helped him to his feet. "Come on, we better get you two to a doctor and out of this cold." As Marcassin aided Oliver as they walked, Swaine and Drippy followed behind them with Tengri waddling along.

A bushy mustached doctor wrapped Oliver's bruises and cuts in white bandages as a short vet tended to Tengri's broken wing. The wizard sat on a wooden bench with Drippy besides him while Swaine and Marcassin sat on another bench next right next to Oliver's.

"So let me get this straight," Swaine uncrossed his arms, "You cast Gateway to come here, ended up in the Fairyground, met up with Drippy, used your old dragon horn to call Tengri, got caught up with the wind currents, and crash landed here."

"In a nutshell, yes."

"But what were you doing here?" Marcassin asked. "If we had known you were coming, we could have-"

"Oi, I can answer that, mun! Hoho!" Drippy jumped on top of Oliver's head with a mischievous grin. "See here, Ollie's been a little busy during these past three and almost half years."

"What do you mean by 'busy', exactly?"

"I'll give you a hint; remember Esther's soul mate?"

Swaine scratched his stubble, searching for that name in the library of his mind. "Hm…what was her name again? Mary or somethin'?"

Oliver sheepishly scratched his red-brown hair. "It's Myrtle."

"Right, right, Myrtle. So what does she-hold on a minute…" He gazed his brown eyes on Oliver's now blushing face and Drippy's nodding.

"That's right, mun! Ollie-boy here's got himself a girlfriend!"

Marcassin and Swaine's eyebrows shot up with surprise but the Lord High Lord of the Fairies wasn't done yet.

"Yep, crybaby-buntin' here's got a lady in his life now, and he came here to find something flipping special for her, see?" He bounced down and paced across the floor, nodding his lantern. "Mm-hmm, yep, there's beautiful when a lad goes out of his way to find his lady friend something special. Proper touching, no?"

Marcassin faced Oliver. "So what were you trying to find for her?"

"…A blizzard bloom." Oliver fiddled with the sleeve of his shirt. "Christmas is in a few weeks, and I figured a blizzard bloom would be a nice gift…"

"Hmm, so you managed to get yourself a girlfriend, eh?" Swaine jabbed his elbow gently at Marcassin's ribs. "Looks like mama's boy here has more luck with the ladies than pretty boy here. Haha!"

Marcassin held his arm with embarrassment. "Um, well…I-I've just been busy being the emperor and all…"

Oliver's eyebrows scrunched with confusion of his word choice. "Wait…did you say emperor? You're now Emperor Marcassin?"

"Yes, but you can still call me Marcassin."

"Oka-"

Before he could continue, Tengri perked up his head with alert eyes. It was as if an invisible force had called out to him. The dragon attempted to get up on his back legs but stopped as a sharp pain shot out from his broken wing.

"K-kya! Kya, kya…" He whimpered with pain and brought his sad green eyes to the ground. Marcassin came over and helped the dragon lie back down as it weakly cried with longing.

Marcassin's eyebrows went skyward as a thought entered his mind. "…Esther…she must be trying to call Tengri to her with her horn."

"You mean Esther has been Tengri's master the past few years?" Oliver got up from his seat, crouched down, and patted the dragon's head comfortingly.

"Yes, but Tengri must of recognized your horn and came to you, his former master…But Tengri still responds to Esther's horn." Tengri casted his sad green eyes at the Hamelin ruler as he spoke. "…But I don't think he'll be able to fly back to her in his current condition…"

Oliver's eyes wavered as he searched through his brain before they flashed with an idea. "Wait-I can just teleport him to Al Mamoon with Travel and-"

"I don't think that's the wisest choice of action, Oliver," Marcassin cut him off. "Although casting Travel is a very convenient spell, it isn't always safe to participate in if you or someone else is severely injured."

"So how are we gonna get Scales here back to Little Miss Familiar Tamer?" Swaine jerked his thumb at Tengri, who responded with a low growl. Swaine backed away a few steps. "Whoa, easy boy-I was just teasing."

"So…how are we going to get Tengri home?" Oliver crossed his arms in front of his chest. Drippy did the same as he tilted his large nose to the side in thought.

"Hmm…this is a tough one…If we can't get there by air, and we can't get there by magic, then the only option we've got is…" He scratched a tiny hand on his noggin. "…Blimey, I can't see any flippin' way!"

A sharp snap suddenly cut through the air from Swaine's fingers. His brown eyes gleamed with an idea.

"Got it! By sea!"

"Oi?...Oh, now I get it! We just hop on a boat and sail our way to the Summerlands!"

"Well, then we'd better secure a boat for Castaway Cove first thing tomorrow." Marcassin stood up, "A trip there by ship can take up to a few weeks…"

"Awright then! Proper tidy, mun! That okay with you, Ollie-boy?" The fairy turned his lantern to the brown haired boy. Oliver buried his hands in his mop of hair.

"I'm not sure…If I'm away from Motorville too long, everyone there will get worried."

Marcassin placed a hand on Oliver's shoulder understandingly. "Its okay, Oliver. You can leave this to us. After all, you saved our world over three years ago-helping you with this is the least we can do."

"Well, okay. Thank you so much, pri-I mean, Marcassin! It really means a lot!"

"Oi, no problem, buntin'!" Drippy hopped about like a ball full of enthusiasm. "Just you wait-we'll get Tengri back home in no time and get youer girlfriend the biggest, brightest blizzard bloom you've ever laid youer flipping eyes on! Once you've got another chance to slip out, we can all travel for it together, just like old times! Oh-"He paused for a moment, "Ah, do you think you'll be able to come back here, Ollie-boy?"

"Um...I get out of school for Christmas break a week from today." He held a hand to his chin, looking downward. "I think I can come up with a good excuse to come here then."

"Splendid!" Marcassin chirped, "Oliver, stay here and rest until you're well enough to return to Motorville. I'm going to go and secure the fastest boat available to the Summerlands!" The emperor turned and briskly walked away before he called out, "Sleep well, everyone." and made his way from the palace.

The dusty clock quietly chimed six times in the dim light of the office. The lamp bravely shined its light on the desk next to a mug of black coffee as Swaine rummaged around the desk, putting tools and various nick-knacks into a simple messenger bag.

He pulled out the same dull key from before and unlocked the low drawer. It gave a quiet squeak as he pulled back the handle. His lithe fingers wrapped around the box shaped object from before and placed it gently on his desk. Upon close examination, the outside of the box was made of wood and filled with gears and strange mechanisms, like a clock. Swaine then placed a piece of matching wood and a pair of small brass hinges besides it. Finally he held up a rolled up blueprint, spreading it out between his hands. Elaborate images of the insides of the box decorated the paper. Scrawled to the side were tidbits of handwriting and arrows pointing to corresponding pictures of gears, motors, and screws.

As he stared at the paper, another sheet fluttered down from it. He scooped it up and gazed at it with a strange softness in his eyes. This page didn't have pictures on it, but music. Underneath each note in each line of music was a scribbling of numbers, like a code. Carefully folding it up with the blueprint he slipped it into the messenger bag's side pocket. After that followed the box, the piece of wood, and the hinges.

For a moment he was silent and still. His body gave out as he slumped into the chair and rested his head on his fist as his elbow leaned on the desk. The mechanic sighed, a faraway gleam glazing his eyes. Something complicated was running through his mind, but his train of thought was staggering along in a thick fog of emotions.

Knock-knock "Swaine, are you there?"

"…Hm? Oh, yeah. I'll be out in a minute."

He stood up from the chair, swung the bag's strap over his shoulder, and curled his hand around the coffee cup's handle. Taking a sip from the bitter beverage he walked over to the door where his younger brother was waiting. When the mechanic opened the door, he saw Marcassin also holding a cup of coffee.

"Are you ready to depart?"

"Yaaawwn… Refresh my memory on why we have to go so freakin' early."

"I'm sorry, Swaine, but we need the fastest ship to the Summerlands, and the Sea Cow is setting sail there in just a couple of hours."

The older man rubbed the sleep from his eyes the best he could with his free hand. "Hmph…It won't help that Lord High Lord of All Things Annoying is commin' with us, too…"

The sage swallowed some of his coffee. "I'm sure it'll fly by. Besides, we'll be traveling together again…like old times."

"Mm-hmm…" Swaine mumbled sleepily as the duo walked down the hall from the office. They walked in silence for a few moments as the younger man eyed his older brother's zombie-like movements in between gulps of coffee.

"…Swaine?"

"Mm?" The man began to swallow some more of the black liquid.

"…Are you sure you don't have any feelings for Esther?"

PFFFFFFFFT! The mechanic spat out his drink with wide eyes. He faced the sage as a faint blush rose to his face.

"W-What the hell do ya' mean by THAT?! She's just friend, nothing more!"

"Um…well-it's just…I-I was just curious. Yes, just curious…" Marcassin took a nervous sip from his mug and looked away.

"Well, I answered your question-ya' satisfied now?"

"…Almost. I've been wondering what you've been making in your office."

"I told ya'-it's a Christmas present for babana girl."

"No, I mean what exactly you are making for her. I suspect it's some sort of mechanism, at least…"

Swaine's hand instinctively went to his messenger bag. "It's nothing big or fancy…but I kinda want to keep it a secret."

"You mean a surprise?"

"Call it what you like." The lanky man shrugged his shoulders. "Anyway, how long is this little trip gonna last?"

"Two weeks, at least."

Swaine nearly spat out his coffee again. "…Great; I'm going to have to put up with that stupid fairy and the possibility of getting soaked to the skin in a storm for two whole weeks."

Marcassin placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "I'm sure everything will turn out alright in the end."

The ex-thief made eye contact with the shorter man's green orbs. His eyes held a reassuring gleam with a slightly optimistic smile. Swaine's face reflected a smirk with eyes that had softened just a bit.

"Alright, let's get this show on the road and over with." He took one final swig at his coffee and emptied its contents.

"Heh, if Esther was here, she'd probably nag at you for being so pessimistic."

"You want me to noogie you into next week or what?"

Marcassin suddenly grew very fearful. "Oh-um, no, no that won't be necessary, really."

The mechanic smirked. "Didn't think so."

The men had reached the entrance and exit of the palace. They continued to walk on, leaving behind only the echo of the clunks of their shoes on the pavement, until those echoes faded away in the air.