AN: Imma slacker, this is why I try to finish stories before I post them, I'm so sorry, please excuse any errors, I'm rushed, please enjoy, and Merry Christmas!


"Wow," Bree breathed in awe. "Your castle is beautiful!"

"I'm glad my humble home strikes your fancy," the Nutcracker replied.

"Humble?" Bree asked, raising her eyebrow. The castle was still in the distance, but it could be seen rising over the trees, its sweeping white towers dancing into the sky.

The bionic could practically feel his hidden smile as she took his proffered hand, and the two of them began slipping and sliding down the slick path to the bottom of the hill. Their boots made scraping noises on any patch of gravel they encountered, sending the sound ringing in the valley.

"Whoa, watch out!" Bree exclaimed as she grabbed the Nutcracker's arm with both of her hands to keep him from losing his footing. He yelped, catching himself by holding onto her with his free arm, and they steadied.

"Okay, ready?" the bionic asked gently.

"Yes," the Nutcracker hissed, extracting his arm from hers and cradling it.

"Oh my gosh, that was your injured arm," Bree realized with wide eyes. "I'm so sorry!"

"No, no, it is well," he forced out, shaking his head before continuing on his way. Bree followed after him, feeling quite deflated.

They shuffled in silence, breathing more at ease upon their arrival at the bottom of that treacherous hill. The bionic continually glanced at her nutcracker, wishing she could see the man under the mask. He kept his silence as he waited the passing of the pain, and Bree only wanted to comfort him. But she held back.

They entered a draping evergreen forest that sparkled in the soft sunlight that had been watered down by the clouds overhead by that time. The trees blanketed them in passive shadows, little creatures scritching in the branches and peering at them with their big, bright eyes. Bree's unease must have been palpable, because the Nutcracker turned back to her to crinkle his eyes encouragingly. Trusting him by that point, she allowed herself to relax and simply watch the passing forest.

As a gust of wind suddenly wove through the pines, tinkling filled the air. Bree looked up and around, wondering if it was more magical music, but the Nutcracker knocked into her and covered her with his body. She was about to splutter when daggers of ice impaled the snow around them.

After a moment into the following silence, the Nutcracker rolled off of her and helped her up.

"What was that?" Bree asked shakily.

"Icicles – beautiful when they hang like exquisite Christmas décor, but when the wind blows – well, my lady, they sing their sweet little battle cry."

"You're not hurt, are you?"

"No," he waved her off. "They break on my back – they do not dare to harm their prince."

Bree raised her eyebrows, but she didn't question him. Instead, she brushed herself off and continued to accompany him through the rest of the forest. It was with relief that they made it out and Bree no longer had to eye the little glass knives dangling above them.

Emerging back into the open air, Bree could see that through the rolling hills, orange little lights glimmered amongst the whiteness. With squinted scrutiny, she realized that these were the warm lights within cozy huts nestled together. As the sky darkened with the oncoming twilight, their brightness grew in contrast to the graying snow.

Bree and her nutcracker were reaching the cobbled streets as the medieval city was lighting their streetlamps, and cries of greeting met the two of them.

Bree beamed down at the little people – for they were only as tall as her elbows. Even in the low yellow lighting, Bree could tell that they radiated a natural golden color. Their cheerful, unintelligible chatter only increased the innocence of their enthusiasm for the arrivals, and they swarmed the two, guiding them along the path while still atop their heels and bumping into their knees.

The bionic gave her nutcracker a sideways glance, but his eyes were bright with joy and pride in his little people. The atmosphere was contagious, and Bree couldn't help the merry little laughs that arose within her.

When they reached the gate to the glowing blue-white castle, they stopped and stared through the curling silver bars. Bree's head craned back so that she could see the twisting, spiraled towers that glittered against the clouds that were already parting to reveal a starry sky and a luminous moon. Bringing her sight closer to earth, she saw the Leo soldiers standing sentinel along the wall guarding the castle, regal and silent. The little golden people hushed, and all were as silent as the soldiers.

Bree shifted in place as she waited for something to happen. Should she say something? Should she do something? She bit her lip, but that was as much as she moved. She waited, and they all waited.

Little sparkling lights floated into existence, circling around the gates to open them. Others began spinning similarly to the ones earlier that morning, and a radiant woman materialized.

"Tasha?" Bree gasped, and the Nutcracker in turn gave her his own sideways look.

"Hail the Sugar Plum Queen!" the soldiers and the golden people cried, and all took a knee. Bree followed suit, but the Prince remained standing.

"Mother," he smiled, stepping forward to embrace her.

Letting go of the Nutcracker, the Sugar Plum Fairy turned to Bree and gestured that she should rise. The bionic did, and the Fairy Queen said, "Thank you for bringing my son home safe and sound – we have much to honor you for. Come, dine with us, and we shall throw you a ball in your honor."

Bree gaped a moment before stammering, "That- that would be – lovely." Her stomach growled to remind her of what a long day it had been, and her cheeks flushed.

"Come, let's get you two warmed and refreshed," Tasha the fairy said quickly, and she again gestured, this time that Bree should join her and the Nutcracker. The bionic did, and the travelers were ushered into a horse-drawn sleigh that had just pulled up. "I will see you both later this evening," Tasha smiled, and she vanished in her magical sparkles. Taking it as his cue, the sleigh driver cracked the reins, and with that the sleigh began its gliding journey to the ice castle.

"What is a 'tasha'?" the Nutcracker asked Bree.

"What?"

"A 'tasha' – you said it when my mother appeared."

"Oh, nothing – she just reminded me of someone," Bree blushed.

"Ah."

They remained silent for the rest of the short little sleigh ride, Bree marveling at her surroundings. When they pulled into a tunnel on the side of the castle, the sleigh-driver clucked, slowing the sleigh to a stop.

Bree slid out with the Nutcracker right behind, passing by the nickering horses to follow the servants who had appeared. Inside, the walls were ice, but the floors were of stone. Gilded pictures lined the hallways among the torches. Between the torches and the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, warm light bounced and shimmered all around, giving everything a golden feel.

As she began ascending a twirling staircase, she looked back to see that the Nutcracker had disappeared. She turned back to the servant ahead of her. "Where did the Prince go? Where are you taking me?"

"The Prince has gone to his quarters, and we are taking you to yours. You must get ready for the wonderful ball tonight!" the tiny gold-radiating servant replied.

It wasn't long before the servants were opening large, wooden double-doors to a warmly-lit room. It exuded the same safe, welcoming air as the rest of the castle, as well as its royal dignity. The high ceilings arced over the large room, a massive, sparkling chandelier causing the warm light to tickle every surface.

"This is huge," Bree said in awe, wandering over to the massive white bed.

"Your maids will come shortly to assist your preparation." With that, the little servants bowed and exited.

"What kind of preparation are we talking about?" Bree wondered.


"Wow," Bree breathed, unable to wipe the grin from her face. She couldn't keep her eyes from her reflection.

After hours of scrubbing, trimming, smoothing, fitting, and delicate decorating, the sweet little maids had made a travel-weary girl into a stunning figure of elegance. She wore a flowing, sky-blue dress that glittered, white swirls twirling across her form. The sleeves were long and hung from her wrists, the tail of the dress gliding over the floor behind her. The neck of the dress hugged her throat and reached for her chin, a diamond-adorned necklace sparkling over her bosom.

She blinked, her long, thick eyelashes seeming to shimmer with the magical ice that had been frozen to the tips. The skin of her face had been scrubbed and smoothed, rose blushing her cheeks and pink ghosting her lips. Her hair had been piled on top of her head in curls, clear jewels that peeked from within them catching the light as she moved. Earrings swung and sparkled with similar jewels.

Never before had she felt so beautiful.

The large wooden doors of her bedroom opened for her, and she clicked through them after the little servants who pranced ahead of her. Several hallways and a small flight of stairs later, Bree found herself stopped at another set of massive, wooden double doors. A soft hum trickled through them.

"Are you ready, miss?" a little servant asked her.

She nodded with a small swallow, and the doors creaked open. A hush swept over the large room she was about to enter before a small fanfare of horns greeted her.

"The lady of the night!" a booming voice announced, and Bree turned a deeper shade of pink. What had she done to deserve such a grand entrance?

As if to answer her silent question, the voice continued, "Lady Bree has saved the Prince and accompanied him home – forever Fantasia is in her debt!"

Bree found the speaker, and her eyes widened in surprise. The masked magician! As people began to mill about again, she politely shooed the servants from assisting her and lifted up her skirts, climbing down the glimmering stairs as quickly as she safely could. When she looked up to reaffirm where he was, he had disappeared. She huffed in frustration.

"You look beautiful, my lady," Bree heard from behind her, and she whipped around to find that it was the Nutcracker.

"So do you – er, I mean, you look very handsome," Bree stuttered awkwardly. It was true, though – he had changed into clean, lighter clothes rich with adornment on creamy white. A rich, red cape hung from his shoulders, a crown glittering upon his masked head. "You're still wearing your mask?"

She could tell that he was smiling underneath. "It is more than a mask, my lady. It is an identity."

Bree frowned at that, but she didn't comment. Instead, she looked over all of the guests. They were of all shapes, sizes, and colors, many seeming to hail from exotic lands where the laws of reality seemed to have no hold. One man was dressed in gold pants and a shimmering vest, easily swinging and twirling around a vertically floating rope as he laughed with those he held in conversation. Another strange character was a large woman, her skirts making a ten-foot radius about her. They swished as if invisible creatures bustled about beneath them.

"How did all of these people get here so quickly?" Bree asked.

"Why, the Sugar Plum Fairy, of course," the Prince replied.

"Well, um, okay." She suspected that it had to do with some kind of magic. She looked back at her nutcracker, her eyes catching the lack of bandages. She reached up to touch where they should have been.

The Nutcracker watched her, saying, "Mother has healed it. It is as good as new."

Bree studied him, fingering the broach St. Nicolas had given him. It shone with a new radiance, as if it had a magic of its own. "This looks very nice on you."

"Thank you."

She stepped away from him again, glancing at his masked face again before looking over more of the guests.

"Is there anyone you are wishing to speak with?"

"No, not really – I'm just curious about a lot of these people."

"Your curiosity will be satisfied in due time," the Prince said with a smile that must have been sly. "Come – will you join me at our table?"

Bree looked back him in surprise. "I'm sitting at your royal table?"

"You are the guest of honor."

"I don't know if I can get used to that," she said, but she smiled, taking his proffered elbow anyway. As they were weaving through the other guests, Bree caught sight of a familiar purple vestment, and she tore away from the Nutcracker in a rush.

"My lady!" he complained after her, but she paid him no mind. Instead, she planted herself right in front of the masked stranger, interrupting his conversation and causing him to slightly choke on his drink.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, crossing her arms.

"Pardon me?"

"Did you use your magic to bring me here? I mean, I'm not complaining, but you have to let me go home at some point, right?"

"My lady…" he frowned underneath his glittering mask.

"Don't play ignorant with me – you were at the party in my home, dancing and performing and giving the place life. You were there!"

"Bree," the Nutcracker said gently from behind her, laying his hand on her shoulder. "Let my brother alone – you are weary from our journey. Come be nourished with me."

"Your brother?" Bree asked, astonished.

"Bree, it is? It was nice to meet you, but I do have to advise you to go with my brother," the masked man said.

"But-" Bree began, but she was firmly guided away by the Nutcracker. She frowned, pulling herself free to walk with the Prince of her own will. When they had skirted around the long table, he pulled out a chair for her, inviting her to sit. She did and he followed suit, but she refused to try starting any conversation with him. He seemed to sense this, refraining from saying more than was polite.

Bree's eyes found their way to the magician, and she tracked his every move. She just knew he was lying – how else could she have gotten to Fantasia? Would she be trapped in the mystical world forever?

If she was honest with herself, she hadn't been thinking much of her home, though. The sights and wonders she'd been experiencing had been magical – and seemed far more exciting than her mundane life of bionics with a crazy family in a California mansion. For one, everything was beautiful – was perfect. And there weren't any brothers around to annoy her. And break her stuff.

In Fantasia, she was a heroine, treated like a princess. And she had a feeling that if she were to use her bionics, it wouldn't be so weird. She'd be the everyday, nothing-out-of-the-ordinary distinguished lady.

A clinking spoon rang through the air, the sound growing into the chorus of hundreds of tinkling bells. The chatter melted into silence, and the magician's voice filled the room. Wait, when had Bree lost track of him? She blinked back her confusion and focused on him.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you my father, the High King of Fantasia!" the magician announced grandly. Trumpets sounded, and from the doors that opened behind the head seats strode a man of much grandeur. He wore splendid clothes of royal purple and gold, a crown that reached for the sky clinging to his head. He smiled and waved his hand in acknowledgement to his guests and subjects, the sparkling form of the Sugar Plum Fairy materializing beside him.

She looks exactly like Tasha, and he looks exactly like Davenport, Bree thought to herself. She squinted at them more from down the table, and still their likenesses remained. Her thoughts drifted back to that earlier morning, to the battle of the rats. All of those Leos and Marcus'… they had to be of her dreamings. Davenport and Tasha – they must be as well. It was all a dream, it was all a dream.

Bree was snapped from her flurry of thoughts by the King's quick claps from where he and the Sugar Plum Fairy were seated. People began meandering to their seats, and the bionic looked around to finally notice a raised platform just across the room with lush décor adorning it. Once everyone was seated, the lights dimmed so that a single beam floated over the platform – a stage, she realized.

Onto it, from the sides, twittered flowery little people, tiptoeing about as a bird might flutter from branch to branch. Their delicate movements mimicked the piccolo and flute accompaniment.

Their performance didn't last long, however, before rotund little men bobbled onto the stage after their graceful depart. The little men bounced around, knocking into each other almost as if it was there dance – Bree had the suspicion that it was.

Next to the stage was the woman with the enormous skirts, and Bree was surprised to realize that her earlier observation hadn't been absurd – there really were little beings rushing about under the skirts! Children! Such children with rosy little cheeks like apples.

Many such acts revealed themselves, showing off their unique, beautiful cultures. Animals were led through routines, Arabic-appearing people made human towers, and ladies as flower petals splashed the stage with color. Bree was entranced, soaking herself within the splendor of it all.

As a small group of men spun and dipped to unbelievably fast music, the Prince leaned over to her, whispering, "We're next."

"What?" Bree wasn't sure if she'd heard right.

"We're the final act – we're next."

"What! Why? I don't know how to dance!"

"This celebration is in our honor – we are the finale."

Bree gulped, her heart fluttering and her breath coming up short. "I don't know what to do up there – I can't dance! Not like that, at least. I mean, we didn't practice, we didn't prepare anything! And how do I dance in this?!"

Clapping broke out among the guests and subjects seated, and the Prince rose to his feet. He proffered his hand to Bree. "Come, let us dance for joy on this day, and share it with our people gathered to celebrate it with us."

Bree stared up at him, and his eyes crinkled kindly.

"Come."