A/N: This chapter, guys, is where you can say bye bye to conventional Nutcracker plot and hello to the method to my madness. Or at least my crazy ideas. I'm surprised by the hits to this story, considering it's in a pretty obscure part of the site. But, thanks for finding it, and furthermore, thanks for choosing to peruse this.

Chapter 4: Welcome to Marzipania

"So, how will this even work?" Clara screwed up her eyes near shut in an intense gaze at the television screen. This was so freaky that a whole other world was behind there. She used to imagine that she could be sucked into the TV when she was little, but she never expected anything like this. Not even close.

Peter muttered, "Maybe touching the screen will work."

"I'm not even going to bother asking you how you know all this, but oh well, it's worth a shot. OK, Poltergeist moment right here."

"I don't get that reference."

"Of course you don't. You're missing out on the joys of cinema."

And with that somewhat snide comment, Clara placed her hands on the TV, only to have them go through.

"K, what is this black magic? Wait...Wait! WHOOOAAA!"

"I think you're overreacting, Clar—oh God, my stomach! OK, I see what you me—MEEEAAN, AHHH!"

As though it acted as a swirling vortex, the screen managed to suck in the two teenagers to the other world, both of them screaming.

Clara almost had what she could only call an Alice in Wonderland complex later on. For, it seemed she was falling, falling, falling...A plummeting sensation in her stomach made her want to vomit. Her head began to feel dizzy. She hated this feeling of weightlessness, wanted it to go away so badly.

And then, plop, into fresh snow...or was it?

"Sugar...so much sugar. Ugh."

Peter flopped down beside her. "Yeah, sugar snow. Kind cool, isn't it?"

"Not really, it's nasty. I got a lot in my mouth."

Now, normally, Clara wouldn't mind the saccharine sweetness of sugar in her mouth. However, as with everything else, too much of a good thing resulted in inevitable unpleasantness. Disgusted with having copious amounts of sugar in her mouth, she coughed and spat it out.

She wiped her mouth with her sleeve. "Ugh! I hate having so much of it."

"That's the one drawback, I guess. Anyway, welcome...to Marzipania."

Allowing this time to take note of her surroundings, she looked out from her vantage point on the "snowy" sugar hill toward the underlying village. It appeared that each of the houses was made of some type of cookie.

And what impressed her was that no two houses looked the same. For a mere village, it proved to stand out more than any other fairy tale settlement. So much to take in. Clara closed her eyes briefly before opening them again, that was how much in disbelief she truly was.

How could she not be dreaming at this moment?

"Wow...Wait, Marzipania? Isn't it called the Land of Sweets?"

Peter scoffed, "Uh, no. We haven't gone by that name in years. Good thing, too. I saw that name in a history book one day, and I thought it was terrible."

Hm, now that she thought about it, the regal name of Marzipania sounded more epic, more imaginative. Land of Sweets seemed rather dull in comparison. Maybe they should have picked better names for stuff in the ballet. If she had been in charge, she couldn't have chosen a better name than mystical Marzipania. When she glanced back toward Peter, she reached an abrupt realization. His red painted cheeks didn't have a certain fabric brushing against them. Where had the handkerchief gone?

"What about your jaw? It broke earlier. What...What happened?"

He let out a laugh. "About time you noticed. Well, as for how it healed...Magic!"

"Typical," she murmured, a bit disappointed. For a while there, she thought he was deep.

She proceeded to walk away from him, wanting nothing more than to get this adventure started and finished. As soon as Peter would be satisfied with being his handsome prince self again, he would hardly care to bother with her.

He would be so happy that he appeared remotely human that he wouldn't even talk to her. Holding his head up high, he wouldn't show any thankfulness. All men were like that. Once you served your purpose to them, your services were no longer required. Clara wasn't bitter or cynical with this mindset, just wary. She knew she was only his ally because he was desperate for his spell to be broken and his kingdom restored.

When she resolved to descend the hill, she tripped on a noticeably large sugar clump.

"Oh crap! Whoa, and it's a long way dow—!"

"Don't worry, I got you!"

Sure enough, a strong wooden hand gripped her elbow before she slid down much farther. Though she couldn't have gotten hut if she skidded all the way down, Clara was deathly afraid of heights. And the hill they happened to be on turned out to be the biggest one for a few miles around.

So, when Peter's hand prevented her from becoming too frightened (though she wouldn't dare admit just how scared), she felt a sweep of relief. And...well, gratitude.

"Thanks." She smiled up at him and his very vivid green eyes. She admitted to herself that she found them quite beautiful, exotic-looking. When he returned her smile, she saw those same eyes crinkle at the corners. An endearing image, she thought.

Then, he blew it by teasing, "Were you scared?"

Clara still kept her smile. "Well, maybe a little. Um...Me and heights don't get along. I fell out of a tree when I was eight and broke my leg."

Peter winced as he imagined himself in her place. "Well, that explains it then. But, for someone who's got such a big mouth, I didn't think you were scared of anything."

OK. Her smile disappeared entirely as she threw him what was supposed to be a menacing glare. Instead, he went ahead and laughed.

She retorted, "I suppose you're gonna use it against me now."

His face turned solemn, his eyes losing their glow. "Clara, believe me when I say this. In my opinion, I think that using somebody's fears against them is a cruel thing to do. Mozzarella would encourage that."

The hand that lingered on her elbow for a long time after the rescue moved to cup her shoulder. "It's OK to be scared. But, you have to know that you shouldn't let it control you. Hear me?"

"Yeah, yeah, I hear ya. But, Peter...How'd you end up knowing my name?"

He replied as though it was obvious, "I heard your brother say it. Fred. The one who broke my jaw."

"I think I'd know who my own brother is in a police line-up."

This seemed to amuse Peter who goofily smiled again.

Even though they'd barely scratched the surface when it came to knowing each other, Clara believed that they were becoming fast friends. In fact, the way he'd held her shoulder...How could he act that way around her already? Nah, it wasn't affection, just being friendly. As she debated within herself as to the state of their newly formed friendship, she thought she saw a glimmer up in the sky. The sun hit a certain spot that gleamed silver.

Peter stroked his chin. "Well...I was wondering when she'd show up."

"Who?"

Before he could elaborate, a silver chariot driven by six winged unicorns landed a few feet from where they sat.

Winged unicorns? Clara admitted that that was an original concept. Peering over Peter's shoulder, she stifled a gasp upon seeing the loveliness of these creatures. They were a shimmering pearl white that looked colorfully reflective when the sun shone on their coats. Their horns, not silver, beamed gold along with their hooves.

She wished that they existed back in Oregon, because that would make life there a bit more intriguing. On the other hand, though, she knew (somehow knew) that these unicorns could never be truly tamed. With those wide, majestic white wings (about eagle size), they could fly away in an instant. It was a miracle that they were even reined to this chariot.

It was then that Clara took note of its sole occupant who stepped out of the chariot. Her long golden hair came down in waves to the upper half of her back—very long yet very pretty. She wore a magenta dress, skirts ending just above her knees. For, she was laced up to there in deep purple ballet slippers, as though she stepped out of the ballet adaptation. And even though she was possibly as immortal as an elf, she looked virtually ageless. She had a teenager's face yet an older woman's. It was hard to tell, depending on where light and shadow played off it. As for her eyes, they were that rare violet color.

Clara could hardly believe that a single person would seem this ethereal, lighter than air and lovelier than a poinsettia flower. Or any flower for that matter. Somehow, she was impelled to curtsy before this statuesque woman.

The woman, however, held up her hand. "No need to do that. I'm no queen."

"Then, who—?"

Peter gestured toward the enigmatic stranger. "This is Melina, Clara. She's the Sugar Plum Fairy. And very skilled at magic."

Waving a dismissive hand, Melina responded, "Peter, I'm modest, I can assure you. However, yes, people have told me I possess much magical power. So, you must be this Clara girl I intuitively knew would come here."

Intuitively, huh? She guessed that being a fairy meant having a sort of magical ESP, too. As if she wasn't jealous enough of her.

"Yeah, I am. Peter wanted me to help defeat the Mouse King."

Melina smiled mysteriously. "As I presumed. It is wise of Peter to assume that King Mozzarella has returned to Marzipania. For, he has. He retreated to here through his own way after the battle in your living room."

"Figures," Clara sighed huffily, dismayed that he hadn't gotten squished or eaten rat poison during all this time. "Do you know where he is?"

She shook her head but took out her silver wand. "No, but I can show you a future location of his."

With gently made air patterns, Melina managed to fabricate an image of a specific spot in this vast land. The picture in question displayed a grandiose palace that could almost boast its superiority over the Taj Mahal. The main construction seemed to be made of gingerbread, hardier than the houses' cookie material might be. For decoration, there were gumdrops, bits of white and milk chocolate, and even rows of vibrant frosting.

Peter groaned, "That's Marzipania Palace. My home."

"Oooh. Maybe Mozz's rats will kill themselves trying to eat it."

Though Clara was optimistic that this would happen, she noted that his shoulders still slumped. Oh well, she tried. She could only watch helplessly as the wondrous image dissolved in thin air. If they didn't stop the Mouse King soon, the sight of the palace vanishing could very well be a reality.

"So, if we don't get there in time, the rats might destroy every bit of Peter's home. Right?"

More serious, Melina inclined her head. "It is most likely. There will be a battle—an invasion—at Marzipania Palace. In the meantime, you must ensure you arrive there within three days."

Both adolescents' eyebrows shot up. "Three days?"

The Sugar Plum Fairy smiled wider to the point of giggling slightly. The sound resounded pleasantly like the tinkling of bells.

"Yes, though I'm sure you will accomplish this arduous task. I have perfect faith in you two. Peter, you did well in bringing this strong-willed girl along."

In a civil manner, he gave her a bow. "Thank you, Melina."

"Now, now, I don't want a bow from you either. I merely have magic. I'm not one for unnecessary formalities. Now, I will reveal to you the path you'll take to reach your destination. Listen carefully, for I will only tell you this once. I assure you it's simple to memorize."

Clara and Peter both unconsciously stepped closer to her, to listen attentively to what she would inform them. All the while, Clara's heart beat furiously in her chest. She hoped she wouldn't fail them. Either of them.

Melina proceeded to explain, "First, you will go through the Candy-Coated Caverns, which are not too far away from this village. Then, onward to the Gumdrop Marshes. Quite tricky, those marshes. As for the remainder of the way, you will go through Gingronia Forest. That should take you directly to the palace."

"We'll also have to go on a boat to get to the palace. There's a moat," Peter brought up.

When wasn't there a moat around any kind of castle? This would be a pain. Ugh, so typical!

Clara cleared her throat. "OK. This won't be hard at all. Cake."

"Yeah, that would be nice right about now. Some caramel drizzle on top. The palace chefs have always been top-notch."

She elbowed Peter in the ribs. "Stop it. You're making me hungry. And...Here's a curveball...How do you know about palace chefs? And it's your home?"

A flush of pink appeared under his crimson painted cheeks. "Uh...I'm a servant."

With the same Mona Lisa smile, Melina glanced over at her. "He will tell you the truth when he is ready."

Actually, Clara experienced a sinking feeling in her stomach over not telling Peter what she knew sooner. Her knowledge and love of the ballet would spoil everything, maybe upset him. And she couldn't afford to have him resentful toward her throughout their whole journey. Not to mention she'd settled on liking the guy, so now she wanted more than anything for him to trust her. If they made camp or stayed over at a villager's house tonight, she would tell him. The whole long and short of it.

Cutting into her thoughts, Melina said one last thing, "You have three days starting tomorrow. I hope that both of you do well. I wish you luck."

She left them with those sincere parting words, stepping onto her idyllic chariot. The six pearl white winged unicorns spread their glorious wings and lifted the chariot and Melina into the air. The two of them watched it go further and further away until neither one of them could see it any more. So much magic surrounded them, Clara realized.

She remained where she stood, frozen to the spot as she admired the sky where those unicorns flew. Utterly, entirely, she was spellbound. Once her eyes searched and landed on Peter, he seemed quite grim. Pained.

Clara couldn't say she blamed the guy. If anything, she understood and sympathized with him. A banished prince trying to redeem himself, wasn't that what his story was? Maybe not banished, though, but pushed out of favor and out of his home. She had half a mind to approach him and wrap her arms around him. But, the other half of her mind rejected the idea. He could be irritated by her pity, like any proud man.

"It'll be OK. We'll kick Mozzarella in the place where the sun don't shine and get rid of him for good. Trust me."

He sent her a look that stopped her heart for some inexplicable reason. "I already have."

Which made her so happy yet so crushingly guilty.

A/N: I was actually thinking "Welcome...to Jurassic Park" when I had Peter say "Welcome...to Marzipania." And I haven't even seen all that movie, just the first forty-five minutes of it. I'm hard-pressed to watch action movies.

For Melina, I originally was going to characterize her after Glinda from Wizard of Oz or even Belle. I'm so glad I didn't and that she ended up coming out as this Galadrial-esque character. And I love Lord of the Rings, so maybe that's why. As for Peter's liking to Clara, well, when she talked to him when he was a toy (treating him like an actual person in other words), that made an impression on him. Granted, it's not always going to be hunky-dory between them.

One more quick, random note. I've started watching The Nutcracker Prince (a movie I've missed out on childhood) on Youtube and I love it so far! They don't make kid flicks like they used to...