I finally watched Nutcracker and the Four Realms after three years. Three years. Three...long...years! *flops back on bed*
Writing this took a lot of time, research, and a whole lot of imagination. *wipes forehead* I lost a few hours of sleep, I have a crick in my neck, I might've strained my eyes a bit, and my hand's cramped. It was worth it. *sighs* I thought I would be posting this at the end of the month.
I poured all of my soul into this story. All of my heart, tears, blood, everything. I really gave it my all. I added an OC to take charge of the Land of Sweets. I mean, come on, Sugar Plum's not going to take control of that Realm after what she did. (I think what happened to the Sugar Plum Fairy is what she deserves).
Anyhow, now that I'm finished with this spiel, I'm just going to step back and let you enjoy this fanfic.
Clara stood before her vanity mirror, giving her hair long strokes with a brush. She set the brush down on the table when she was finished, smiling in admiration. She looked at herself in the mirror: she wore a pale coral dress covered in frills and ruffles, magenta heels with bows, and her golden key around her neck. Her hair was tied back with a champagne ribbon. She looked perfect.
Turning away from the mirror she gazed at the window, watching the dainty white snowflakes dance in the air in a graceful gala. They settled on the dead earth as an endless white blanket stretching as far as the eye can see, shimmering in the sun like glitter. Clara's eyes trained over to the end table, spotting the gilded egg she was gifted, then remembered the key around her neck and suddenly it all came back to her. She picked it up form the tabled and admired its gilded carvings. There would be time for all of that, but for now, she needed to dash downstairs.
Clara made her way down the stairs excitedly. Strolling toward the front door, she saw her sister, Louise, already at the door with her coat donned on. Her brother, Fritz, stood next to her, his coat already donned on. As soon as Clara stepped down the maid came with her coat, and allowed her put it on her.
"Thank you," said Clara.
"You're welcome," replied the maid.
Another set of footsteps echoed from behind Clara, making her turn around. She saw her father dressed in his fanciest suit with his top hat.
"Father," said Clara.
"Clara," he said neutrally, he looked past her, noticing his other two children, both equally eager and impatient. "I hope that you are all ready for the party."
"Of course," said Clara.
"We wouldn't miss it for the world," said Louise, chipper.
"I want to know what present I'll get this year," proclaimed Fritz.
"Your coat, sir," said the maid, returning with Mr. Stahlbaum's black coat.
"Yes, right, thank you," retorted Mr. Stahlbaum. After he put his coat on, he announced, "Let's get to the party, don't want to be late."
"Of course not!," chirped Clara, strolling alongside her father.
Clara was the last to step down from the carriage, and as soon as she disembarked, the carriage driver pulled the reins, and the team of horses, with the staccato racket from their horseshoes, pulled the carriage away to welcome the next carriage. Clara caught up to her family, walking next to her sister toward the grand manor. Her godfather was hosting another party to celebrate Christmas.
Taking her coat off, Clara handed it to one of the servants, who hung it on the rack along with the rest of the other collection of coats. Clara looked at her sister's dress: it was a cheerful shade of orange that stood out against the frocks of dull, muted colors worn by the other women in the manor. It was an extravagant dress that Clara admired and envied, but she liked the dress she was wearing now.
She strode through the wide corridors, the lights from the chandeliers catching her attention. The guests, men and women alike, children of all ages, meandered here and there, rapt in conversation and laughter. Music filled the hall, its tune pleasant to the ear, and filling the listener with the urge to dance.
"Come on," said Louise, tugging on Clara's arm.
"All right," said Clara.
"I'll see you at the ballroom?," uttered Mr. Stahlbaum.
"Yes, Father," replied Clara, glancing over her shoulder.
"I'm going to see if Theodore is here," said Fritz.
"Very well, son."
Clara watched her brother tread through the crowd, avoiding stepping on someone by accident. She turned back to her sister, curiously wondering what it was she wanted to show her.
"What is it?," asked Clara.
"I want to introduce you to someone," answered Louise, looking in both directions of the corridors.
"Who?"
Louise peered through a doorway, then glimpsed away. The walls were papered in paisley patterns, sconces stood on the walls in a straight line, each holding a lit candle. Paintings took up most of the decor, and the grand centerpiece was the great Christmas tree decorated in thin candles planted on miniature plates. Shiny baubles hung on the branches in many colors from silver to gold to green and red. A glittering gold star stood on the top, standing prouder, outshining the rest of the tree's decorations.
"You'll see," remarked Louise, peering into another doorway. Clara waited before her sister stepped in, dragging her along. "He said he would be here."
"Who?," repeated Clara, brow furrowed.
"He's a friend," replied Louise simply. "I'm told he has a younger brother."
Clara felt the urge to tear away.
"What happened to the boy you met last Christmas?," said Clara as a start to a new topic.
"I caught him with another girl," remarked Louise, head twisting from one direction to the other. "It seemed he thought of me as second best."
"That was rude of him," reiterated Clara.
"Oh, you don't know the half of it. Where is he?," mused Louise. "Anyways, I met this new boy about an hour later."
"How nice."
Clara yanked her arm away, seeing how she was getting irritated with this search.
"Actually," she said, locking eyes with her sister as soon as she turned around, "I have to be somewhere."
"To see Drosselmeyer?," guessed Louise.
"Yes," quipped Clara.
"Can't you wait until after I introduce you to my friend and his brother?"
"It really can't wait."
Before Louise could grab her arm, Clara stepped out of her reach, taking longer strides and effortlessly got swallowed up by the suffocating crowd of guests. Their conversations blending in on top of the other. Louise stood alone, having lost sight of her sister. She gazed down at the floor, mixed feelings tugging at her chords.
Clara, now free of her sister, meandered through the crowded halls, on her way to find Drosselmeyer. It wasn't a complete lie; she did want to find him. She took out the gilded egg she received last year, and then touched the key around her neck. Stepping into an empty hall, the party could still be heard with its lively music and chatter. Laughter overshadowed both of those the further Clara strode through the corridor.
She found the doorway to his study and ambled down the stairs.
"Drosselmeyer?," called Clara, upon reaching the bottom, peeking into the doorway that led to her godfather's study.
She entered, and looked from the ceiling to the inventions that filled the room. The sound of her heeled slippers made a rhythmic tap, which was honestly the only sound she heard. Clara turned to her right, hoping to find him at his work table.
"Drosselmeyer?," hollered Clara, looking upward to left. She looked between the cathedral-style columns, and up towards the rotunda.
The collection of lit candles added touch to the silence. Where was the owl she saw last year? Was it perhaps outside, waiting for her arrival? The fish models hung on the ceiling by thin strings, standing out against the wondrous inventions. The wall clock's pendulum swayed side to side with its ticking echoing faintly.
"Drosselmeyer?," repeated Clara, getting irritated.
"I'm right here," uttered a voice.
Clara twisted around, gasping. Her godfather stood before her, his single eye looking back into her own clear green ones. His black eyepatch made him look all the more unapproachable. His gray hair was curled, though it looked even more gray than she last remembered. Drosselmeyer wore a white, long-sleeved shirt with a dull, brick red vest over it, along with a black tie. He had on a pair of gray trousers and a pair of black dress shoes.
"You scared me," said Clara, blinking.
"I apologize," reiterated Drosselmeyer. "You're enjoying the party, I hope."
"Yes, of course," replied Clara, "but I'm also here for something else."
"Oh? And what might that be?"
"Well, not something else, per say, but someplace else." Clara furrowed her brow. "And someone." She dug into her dress, her hand cradling the gilded egg.
"Your gift from last year," said Drosselmeyer, inspecting the egg admiringly.
"Yes," stated Clara, "I brought it here again for something important."
"Something important?"
"Remember last year?" Clara fiddled with the key around her neck. "When you told me that my gift would be something I'd never forget? Well, I never forgot it."
Drosselmeyer smiled. "I'm glad." He pulled out a gold watch from his pocket. Inspecting the time, he was about to speak up when Clara politely interjected.
"I'm hoping my gift this year will be better than last year's."
"Ah? And what would top off last year's Christmas?," queried Drosselmeyer.
"It's a secret," said Clara.
"Care to tell it to me?"
Clara chuckled, smiling.
"Not talking?" Drosselmeyer himself smiled. "Well," he glanced down at his watch, "let's head down to the party. I'm sure you won't want to miss it."
"No." Clara smiled.
The round of applause echoed in the hall once the show was finished. Clara stood, applauding with the rest. Drosselmeyer stood at the front of the stage, a long gray coat adorning his figure. She waited for him to speak, and just then, she felt a hand wrap around her wrist.
"There you are," said Louise.
Clara spun around.
"I've been looking everywhere for you," said Louise. "I'd like you to meet my friend, Declan."
"Pleasure," said Declare, smiling, holding out a hand. Clara took it.
Declan was blonde with clear blue eyes. He was dressed in a crisp black suit with a top hat. He had on white gloves, and had white spats on his black shoes. His face was free of blemishes and scars, that alone was evident from his lifestyle. His high cheekbones accented his looks, Clara didn't deny it.
"Well met," said Clara, giving a curtsy.
"And," Louise was about to continue speaking when she looked at the spot next to Declan. "Where is your brother?"
"Here I am," announced a voice.
Clara saw him walk through the crowd, avoiding falling over someone.
"There you are," said Louise.
"I got lost on my way," said the newcomer. He turned his gaze on Clara, holding out a hand. "My name is Arthur."
"Pleasure," said Clara, taking his hand.
Arthur had the same hair as Declan, only he had brown eyes. He stood half an inch shorter than his brother. He had an oval-shaped face, but he didn't share his brother's features; he gartered enough attention through his own looks alone. He wore a smoky grey suit that remarkably looked good on him.
"Louise," said Declan, "care to dance?"
"Of course," responded Louise, smiling. She looked over at Arthur, saying, "I'm sure you and Clara will get to know each other better."
"Right," said Arthur. His voice, unlike Declan's, was smoother than silk.
"Right, then," said Louise, "let's leave them alone."
"Yes, of course," retorted Declan.
Louise dragged him toward the other side of the hall, stealing a glance at Clara every few seconds. Clara, amused, could only smile and snicker.
"What did they say to you?," she asked.
"That I would be meeting a girl," replied Arthur. "Someone courteous, intelligent, and imaginative. That she was inventive, creative, beautiful."
Clara's smile grew wider. "Do I fit all your criteria?"
"And then some," quipped Arthur.
Arthur cocked his head toward one of the arched doorways.
"Care to take a walk?," he suggested.
Clara looked over her shoulder. She spotted her sister already dancing a waltz with Declan.
"If only to humor your brother," said Clara, "and my sister."
Arthur smiled.
She followed him out to the courtyard, where she saw the gazebo in the center of the garden. It was surrounded by evenly-trimmed hedges dusted in snow. Strings in many colors were tied to every end of the gazebo, each string held a piece of paper with a name written on it. The snow had stopped falling, and now the garden laid covered in crisp white snow glittering in the moonlight. Paper lanterns were hung from one end of the courtyard to the next, a lit candle inside each. The pine trees with their needles powered in snow enhanced the garden. Icicles hung from the eaves; lights shone from the many windows of the manor.
"Such a lovely night," mused Arthur.
"Quite," muttered Clara.
The moon loomed over the mantle of the sky surrounded by a light mist and the billowing clouds cradled the white sphere.
Arthur stepped onto the path flanked in snow. A frigid breeze blew through the garden, making Clara rubbed her freezing arms.
"A bit chilly, isn't it?," piped Clara.
"I suppose," said Arthur. He seemed to enjoy the brisk air, it occurred to Clara. He pointed to the many strings. "They're all excited to find their presents."
"Yes," said Clara, "I suppose I'm too old for that now."
"Did you get a present last year?"
"I did."
"What was it?"
"It's a secret."
Arthur raised a brow, but didn't push it any further. He stood by the hedges, watching the snow glistening like diamonds.
"What do you dream of?," asked Clara.
"What was that?" Arthur turned his head.
"I said what do you dream of?," repeated Clara.
"Oh, I dream of a lot of things."
"Such as?" Clara meandered last him, standing a few yards before him, eyes gazing at the dark, velvety night sky.
"I dream of traveling to all sorts of places, mainly Paris."
"Ah, Paris." Clara nodded. "I've always wanted to go there."
"Maybe one day when I go you can join me."
Clara tried her best to conceal a blush. She gave a coy smile.
"That would be wonderful."
Arthur stepped closer.
"Do you dream of traveling anywhere?," he asked.
"Well, I don't know about traveling," said Clara, putting her hands behind her back, kicks a clump of snow. "But if I had to pick one place, I'd pick Russia."
"Why Russia?" Arthur raised a brow.
"I always liked the cathedrals," answered Clara. "And I enjoy ballet."
"Ballet?" Arthur nodded. "Do you by chance dance ballet?"
"No. I've always wanted to, though."
Clara looked at the ribbons tied from the gazebo. She had the egg still hidden away in her dress. She remembered her sister and Declan. She knew, and if she knew well, they would be coming down here any minute. It was best to cut this conversation short.
"I'm sorry," said Clara, "but I need to check on something."
"Something wrong?," quipped Arthur.
"No, I just need to find my father." An easy lie to keep him in the dark. Nothing wrong about that.
"Very well...?"
He watched Clara turn back and stroll into the manor. Arthur stood confused while also seeming to be fascinated at the same time.
Clara stepped onto the snow as she crawled out of the darkness of the tree trunk. She looked on at the white glade. She looked in awe at the magnificently tall pines standing ubiquitously on the carpet of white snow. The sun was still high in the horizon, blazing like fire. She pressed on, the sound of her feet crunching in the snow.
She took out the gold egg and grabbed the key around her neck. She had been dying to come back here since last year. She enjoyed her time in this realm despite fighting someone whom she thought was a friend at first. Clara breathed and saw to her surprise her own breath. It was that cold, and she hoped to sit by a warm fire once she reached the palace. Though there was no golden thread this time, Clara knew her way.
As she walked further, she thought about Philip and how he was. He no doubt would be happy to see her. He would have so many things to talk about, and Clara could spend hours talking to him. Coming back was all she could think about since the day he escorted her to the Christmas Tree Forest, and she spent a year waiting and waiting. It finally paid off.
She saw the tree with the lights shining within its branches. Clara stopped walking and gazed at the great magnificence. It was here where she found her key, and the mouse. Would he come back like last year? It would make this hike more exciting. Remembering her way, she turned to her left and strolled on.
She huffed a breath, seeing it in a puff. The wisdom of the trees surrounded her, and in their presence she felt overall humbled. The trees spread out and she saw a clearing. She recognized this part, and she went on. She saw the frozen pond. The rocks were lacquered in soft, white snow; icicles hung, their points lethally sharp. Gnarled roots jutted out under the snow, the rest of the trees blanketed in powdery white. The pond's water laid frozen, the shining in a glossy reflection.
"I wish I brought a pair of skates," said Clara.
She briefly thought of going back to home and finding a pair. But she realized it would take too much time, and she wanted to get to the palace as soon as possible. Clara saw the bridge and the post—the same one she met Captain Phillip. That was the bridge that led to the Fourth Realm; the Realm of Amusement. She hurried along. Once she was in view, she slowed down, and craned her neck for a better view. The post was empty, strangely. Which direction led to the palace? Clara looked on to her right. Turning around, behind her must have been the way. She went that way. The sound of her feet crunching the snow echoed in sync to the snapping of branches and the sound of scratching against wood. Clara could see her breath with ever huff; her cheeks felt like ice. She hurried on. She could barely wait to get to the palace.
Clara broke into a sprint, if only to feel warmer. Her ears felt cold as the snow itself, and her teeth began to chatter. She kept her jaw still, the cold seeping into her skin.
She saw a town in the distance. She was almost there! She saw the grand bridge leading to the structure, and she saw it all again. She would be once again with her friends, and they would share so many laughs and smiles. Clara could only think of one person to share it with...
She saw the post, and she slowed to a walk. She looked, and, to her great surprise, saw Harlequin and Cavalier, the guards she met last year. They were squeezed uncomfortably in that postbox, and it seemed like ice had formed on their faces just like it did on Phillip. She stood before them.
"Hello?"
Clara held up a hand and lightly touched Harlequin's face. His eyes snapped open, resulting in him jolting out, awakening Cavalier in the process. Harlequin nearly fell over, but regained his senses, and Cavalier meanwhile stepped out of the post, annoyed but relieved to see it was only Clara they were meeting.
"What? Who?" Harlequin looked from all directions. His eyes finally landed on Clara. "Princess!"
"It's me, Harlequin."
"Clara!," hooted Cavalier. "Princess! I mean—"
They were the same as when she first met them, but she liked them. She smiled.
"You're back," sputtered Harlequin.
"Of course," said Clara, "I promised to come back. I always keep my promises."
"Ah, well," stuttered Cavalier, fingers clutched at his uniform, "We didn't expect to you see back so soon."
"It's only been a year." Clara seemed confused.
"It feels like it was only yesterday," uttered Harlequin, trying to sound miffed.
"The palace," said Clara, motioning toward the grand structure behind them.
"Oh yes!," said Cavalier, holding out a finger. "The palace. Right away."
He and Harlequin stood in front of Clara, Cavalier to the left, and Harlequin to the right. The two marched, and Clara followed.
The domes of the rooftop palace reminded Clara of the ones in Russia. If she compared them to the Russian cathedrals, it was because they held a special place in her heart. The waterfalls roared, its water spilling into the gaping ravine. The sun gleamed off the golden domes. Clara spotted the bridges connecting the other Realms to the main powerhouse. Statues holding lanterns dotted the railing of the bridge. The grand bridge was opening, revealing a pair of guards emerging once they saw Harlequin and Cavalier. Or rather, to Clara's educated guess, to greet her.
"Your Highness," said the taller of the two guards.
"At ease," replied Clara.
The guards stood still as statues, lips tightened to a line.
"Take me to the palace at once," said Clara, trying her best to not sound commanding. She still wasn't used to this whole princess business. In her eyes, she saw herself as an equal to her subjects.
"As you wish, Your Highness," said the second, shorter guard.
With Cavalier and Harlequin joining in, they walked behind Clara, so she was in a protective circle. The gates were opened, and she entered the bustling city.
The moment she stepped in, the moment it all came rushing back to her. In the city, the citizens turned to gaze at Clara as she strode through the courtyard. All the citizens stopped to look at her. The women wore frocks in every shade of pink, green, blue, white, and purple. Some carried parasols, while the rest wore their hair up, carried fans, or baskets with flowers, or were otherwise empty. The men wore long jackets with tails, frilled shirts, and tights, hats were optional, the same using a walking stick. The shoes they wore were heeled, but shorter than the women's. Their hair was curled or quaffed, or they were periwigs, Clara decided.
She saw the wheel that controlled the gate whenever it opened or closed. The cart carrying flowers, and there was the confectionary stand. The fountain was to the far right. The stair rails were made up of horse statues with the legs rearing up.
Clara made the ascend up the stairs.
The palace doors opened, and she was glad to be back. Two guards blew their trumpets to announce her arrival. It made Clara feel like she was the most important person, and to them she was. The golden angel statues jutted out of the wall above them hung a cluster of lavender. The tall, gilded columns stood on either side out of the black-and-white checkered floor. She ambled through the corridor. The citizens whispered to what other, evidently glad to have their princess once more. But Clara only had her mind set on meeting a certain person out of all of them. She saw the portrait of he mother. Marie Stahlbaum was resplendent in her silver tiara, pastel blue gown, dark blue sash, silver necklace and earrings.
The guards opened the doors to lead into the circular room she recognized as the cabinet, where the sun flooded the room through the windows, and in the center stood a sphere planted into a scepter. She saw in the gold chairs her friends again. The moment Clara entered, the moment they all turned their attention on her.
"Clara," said Hawthorne, waddling up toward her. "I-I, uh, I mean, Princess."
"It's all right," said Clara, trying to sound soothing, "you don't have to call me 'Princess.'"
"Y-yes, of course. My apologies."
He was the same as she remembered: nervous but delightful; his rainbow-colored hair adorned in pastel-colored roses; his beard neatly-trimmed; branches extruding from behind his yellow floral-print coat. The flowers he wore on the front of his shirt stood out more than he did.
"Clara," spoke Shiver, wrapping an arm around her.
He had icicles on his silvery hair and beard, as well as an icicle pattern on his platinum-colored coat. His skin was white and delicate as paper; his eyes a dark blue. His fingers were ice tips that sent a shiver up Clara's spine. A pale blue hue striped his cheeks, the ice on his eyebrows glittered in the light. His grey bow tie made him look all the more fancy.
"Clara," said a new voice, "welcome back."
"Mother Ginger," said Clara, hugging her as soon as she was in arm's reach. "I missed you."
"And I missed you," crooned Mother Ginger.
Mother Ginger wore her red-and-gold frock with tassels on the skirt, and her black beaded necklace. Her red hair was worn up, with the curled tresses cascading to her shoulders, complete with the decorative ornaments dangling with every movement. She exuded the allure of a jester to the last detail.
"I missed you all," said Clara, looking from Mother Ginger to Shiver to Hawthorne.
"And we missed you," cheeped Hawthorne, smiling widely.
"But I missed you more," interjected Shiver.
"Has anyone seen—"
"Is she really here?"
The next voice was heard across the corridor. Clara craned her neck to see him marching his way through the entrance. Captain Phillip Hoffman the Nutcracker. His skin as dark as oak bark, his red-and-gold uniform, complete with gold helmet and his sword in its scabbard.
"Your Highness," he said, getting down on one knee in reverence.
"At ease," said Clara.
Captain Phillip stood back up, smiling.
"It's good to see you again," he said.
Clara returned the smile. A whole year of waiting has come and gone, and she couldn't imagine spending it with anyone other than Phillip.
"We must have another pageant!," chirruped Hawthorne. "To welcome Clara back."
"A grand idea," stated Shiver.
"We must start at once," said Mother Ginger. Turning to Clara, she said, "Come, we must have you prepared for the pageant."
"Right away," beamed Clara.
She led Clara down the corridor that led to her mother's bedroom, or rather, her bedroom, now that she was the princess. The guards opened the doors, and as soon as Clara and Mother Ginger entered the room, they just as quickly closed them. The four-poster bed stood in the center of the room, decked in gold drapes puddling to the floor. The canopy edged the top. Cream and gold cushions took up most of the space, most covered in embroideries and frills and lace. The collection of fancy gowns took up the other half of the room, every dress covered in protective plastic. The room's gold interior looked pale in the lamplight. The dark mahogany vanity to her right had its combs and brushes, ready to be used.
"Come, come," instructed Mother Ginger.
Clara followed her toward the mannequin collection, observing each gown in silent admiration.
"Tell me what's happened," said Clara, running her fingers down the plastic covering of a yells gown.
"A lot has happened since you left, Clara," replied Mother Ginger, walking over to the farther end of the room. "The Realms have fared well since Sugar Plum's defeat."
"Speaking of," interrupted Clara politely, "who is in charge of the Land of Sweets?"
"A high-ranking citizen of the Land of Sweets," explained Mother Ginger, looking over her shoulder, "her name is Cerise Goldenwhirl. You'll meet her on the pageant. She's a delight. A better delight than Sugar Plum, I might add."
"She sounds lovely." Clara smiled. "I can't wait to meet her."
Mother Ginger strode toward a mannequin that was placed further away from the rest.
"I don't remember seeing that dress," said Clara.
"It's new," retorted Mother Ginger, pulling off the plastic wrapping.
The gown was a tone of blue so pale it was nearly white. It had a nipped-waist, while the skirt was of a trumpet style, covering the feet, covered in a tulle overlay. It had a square neckline with a strange ornament on the right shoulder, which Clara could discern as a snowflake or shards of ice. There was a cape in the back the color of snow, it was so long it dragged on the floor. Whatever material it was, it was as though it was made from frost and snowflakes woven together.
"It's beautiful," uttered Clara.
"Then you shall wear this one," proclaimed Mother Ginger. "Come, let's get your hair done."
Clara stepped down from the white carriage. After her was Cerise Goldenwhirl, the new Regent of the Land of Sweets. Cerise was the same height as Sugar Plum, but her wardrobe was a combination of pale and dark shades of pink with golden accents. Her skin was white as snow and free of blemishes, and smooth as porcelain. Her lips were painted bright gold, while her eyelids were dusted a dark pink that was nearly purple with a seafoam outline. Her hair was bright shocking pink with rouge streaks, falling down to her waist. A sweet cherry scent hummed off her body.
"It was nice spending the day with you, Your Highness," said Cerise. Her voice warbled like a lark's. Her eyes, surprisingly, were fuchsia.
"And it was nice meeting you, Cerise," replied Clara. She didn't mind that Cerise addressed her as "Princess" or "Your Highness," but she hoped she could be less formal with time.
"Princess," said Phillip, walking towards her and Cerise.
"Captain," said Clara.
"I hope you enjoyed your time in the Realms."
"Of course. It was wonderful seeing everyone again."
Clara wore the new dress Mother Ginger picked out, and her hair was worn in a braided bun with strands of hair dangling down the sides of her face. The hair bun was speckled in little silver stars. She wore pink lipstick, rose blush, and turquoise blue eyeshadow. She wore a pair of heeled slippers the color of Arctic blue.
"I'll see you up in the palace," said Cerise excitedly. She lifted her frilled dress and trotted toward the gates. Clara sent Phillip a smile.
"How is everything in your world?," he asked, putting his hands behind his back.
"Walk with me," said Clara, "and I'll tell you."
"Of course, Your Highness."
"Drop the formalities for now. It's just us."
"Right, right, sorry."
Clara strode down toward the gates with Phillip following beside her, ever obedient.
"How is your family?"
"Doing well," replied Clara, "my sister's met a boy. She says he fancies her."
"That sounds like good news," said Phillip. "Anything else?"
"My brother still likes to help me with my inventions. He's quite the good helper. Always ready to lend a hand."
She walked up the palace stairs, where the doors were opened, and she and Phillip entered. The ever-present citizens waved to Clara, their smiles wide and their eyes bright from laugher. The women curtsied while the men bowed, and Clara returned the sentiment by curtsying back. When they entered the palace, she headed into the hall leading to the cabinet.
"What about you?," queried Clara. "Enjoying your new job as general?"
"Oh, it is enjoyable," said Phillip. "It is rewarding to be able to lead an army and give orders, and gain the trust of your soldiers, and have them look to you for answers."
"That sounds nice."
"Indeed."
He and Clara reached the cabinet where they saw Cerise already waiting for them with Hawthorn, Mother Ginger, and Shiver.
"Oh, Clara," piped Cerise, "wasn't that wonderful? The pageant?"
"It was indubitably," retorted Clara.
Seeing how Cerise was new, it was only reasonable that she spend the day with Clara only to get to know her and reacquaint her with all that she missed.
"I'm glad to hear that the day went accordingly," said Mother Ginger. "Now how about a show?"
"Splendid idea," hooted Hawthorne enthusiastically. He turned to look at Clara. "Right?"
"Yes," she said plainly, "a show would be wonderful."
After her pageant today, she figured a show would compete the day. Her pageant was like last year's, except this time she got to see the Realm of Amusements, but in a different light. No one in the Realms was afraid of the dreaded land formerly called the Fourth Realm, and welcomed it delightedly. All of Mother Ginger's entourage performed for Clara as her carriage passed through their tent. She even got to see the Mouse King again. It overjoyed Clara immensely.
"Phillip," whispered Clara.
"Yes?," said Phillip.
"After this is over," she began, looking almost childishly hopeful, "would you like to go through the Christmas Tree Forest? Just the two us. You can bring your horse."
"Of course, Clara. Anything you command."
She followed him to the theater, where the show would commence any moment.
Clara sat behind Phillip on the horse's back, whose hooves crunched the powdery white snow. Every pine, every cedar laid blanketed in white snow, every needle glistening like tinsel. Every once in a while, Clara saw a tree with lights glowing through their branches.
They were quite a ways away from the palace, and closer to the entrance back to Clara's world. Clara was no longer dressed in the ice-themed gown and back to wearing the clothes she was wearing when she arrived. Her time in the Realms was just as fun as last year, only this time they didn't have to fight against the Sugar Plum Fairy and her army of Tin Soldiers.
"Where did they put Sugar Plum?," asked Clara.
"She's been stored away where no one can find her," replied Phillip, holding the reins to his horse's bridle. Jingles the horse let out a neigh.
"I'm glad to hear she's been hidden away safely," quoth Clara, "we wouldn't want her coming back to life again."
"No, no, we wouldn't." Phillip chortled lightly, if it would break the tension he felt whenever she was brought up. He instead changed the subject and asked, "You'll be going home now, right?"
"Yes," answered Clara.
"Then we are almost there."
Jingles had galloped past the frozen pond and through a grove of pines lined up in rows. Clara glanced over her shoulder, the sun seemed to have descended lower in the horizon. She wondered how long it's been in her own world. Was Louise looking for her? Was her father fretting over her tardiness? What about her little brother? She wondered what she was going to say to Arthur when she sees him. But most of all, she wondered what his reaction would be to seeing her with Phillip by her side...
"Is there anything else going on in your life?," inquired Phillip.
"Hmm," mused Clara, "well, I don't know if it's anything important. Just something that's recently happened."
"Oh?" He peeked over. "Tell me."
"My sister introduced to a boy she met at the party."
"I think you already told me that—"
"And he has a younger brother my age."
The staccato racket coming from Jingles' horseshoes resonated in the snow, carried on in the wind. Phillip's face was hard to look at.
"Ah, a boy?," he finally said, looking toward the snow-laiden road. "What is he like?"
"A bit vacuous, if you ask me," responded Clara.
"Why's that?" Phillip tried to sound interested without showing any bitterness.
"He's charming," said Clara, "polite, well-mannered, he comes from an affluent family, but..."
"But?"
Jingles leaped over a log, and continued galloping through the forest, the snow being shaken off the pine needles, falling onto the otherwise monotonous white sheet.
"But..." Clara bit her lip. "I tried to be attentive, but I grew bored of him. He talks about traveling, but I don't think he really wants to get out there. He seems to be more at home in his manor, lounging about, indulging in the decadence."
"My," uttered Phillip, "he sounds...nice."
"Right?" Clara giggled.
Jingles made a turn to the right and leaped over a set of fallen branches. In the distance, they saw the trunk. The trunk that led back to Clara's home. The faster the horse ran, the closer the entrance appeared, and Clara's excitement bubbled in her like a volcano set on erupting.
"We're here," said Phillip, pulling on the reins. Jingles reared up, then came back down on all fours. He snorted.
Phillip got off the horse, then held out a hand to Clara. She took it and she landed on the snow, her shoes getting dusted in the cold crystals. She let the nutcracker lead her toward the tree trunk.
"You'll be home momentarily," he said.
"I was hoping," stated Clara, "that you could accompany me to my world."
Phillip stood, gaping at her with eyes as wide as saucers.
"Clara," he uttered.
"Won't you consider it?," crooned Clara, her hand tightened around Phillip's, firm but comforting.
"I..." Philip stuttered, "I don't know if..."
"Please?" Clara's smile could melt this entire forest in one blow. "I want to share my world with you. You and the others shared your world with me."
Phillip didn't answer, but his mind whirled with an onslaught of differing emotions. He wanted to be with his princess, but leave the Realms? Was it possible for him to leave this world and go to Clara's world?
"Won't you take a chance?," encouraged Clara.
"But," quipped Phillip, "what if they don't like me? What if they don't accept me?"
"Well, that's a possibility," remarked Clara, "but what does matter is that I'll by your side the whole way. You've stood by me, and defended me, let me do the same."
Phillip's expression softened.
"You don't have to be so brave all of the time. You should let others defend you when you need it." Clara touched a hand to the nutcracker's face, and caressed his cheek.
Phillip smiled, and honest smile.
"Very well," he said, "lead the way."
Clara walked ahead of him, and stepped onto the tree's gnarled bark, her hand grabbing onto the top.
"What are you going to tell them?," queried Phillip, sounding worried.
"I'll tell them you're part of the British Armed Forces," answered Clara simply. "Their uniforms are similar."
"Ah, clever thinking."
Phillip carefully stepped onto the tree trunk, gazing over its immense size. It surprised him that he and Clara could fit in it.
"Ready?" Clara said
"Forever at your service, my princess."
He followed behind Clara, nervous but hopeful. With Clara by him, he knew he would never be lost.
He and Clara's world would always be connected. Now and forever.
How was that for my first fanfiction for Nutcracker and the Four Realms? I tell you, I was downright nervous. I didn't think I could do it, but I did. And I'm glad I wrote it.
As to why Clara takes the golden egg with her, it's meant to be symbolic. The egg brought them all together, and it connects Clara's world with her friends' world.
Thank you for reading my fic. Merry Early Christmas. ^_^