There it was. The Sugar Plum Princess' palace.
Ivory walls and gold-trimmed balconies, with lilac and rose windows framing the grand entrance doors. It was a stunning vision, emphasized by the bordering peppermint trees and impossibly green hills.
Yet Clara felt no joy at the sight. An uncomfortable churning had taken hold of her stomach, and she grimaced as they walked up the road leading to the palace. Had she finally come to end of her journey? Was she to be returned home? She supposed she should feel happy by the prospect. Yet the emotion pooling within her was not something she could place as joy.
The Nutcracker paused, noticing Clara's slowed pace. He glanced at the major and captain, but they continued to stride ahead, ignorant to their companions.
"Clara?" The Nutcracker approached her cautiously, frowning at her expression. "Are you alright?"
Clara bit her lip. "Yes, I suppose so."
"What is it? I thought you would be happy. You'll be home soon."
Home. What an odd word to think of, when standing in a land embedded with magic, fairies, and wonderous things.
What made a home? Clara loved her grandfather dearly, but she wasn't sure that his house had truly ever felt like a home to her. Home had been where she had lived with her parents. Home had been that feeling of snuggling between her mother and father in their bed, listening as her mother read them fairy tales by candlelight. Home was the fervent embrace of her aunt's arms.
She looked at the Nutcracker. Home was beginning to feel oddly similar to what she felt when she was with him.
"I…I'm just worried for you," she said instead.
The Nutcracker glanced at the palace. "I appreciate that. But all I can do is ask the princess for her help. Perhaps she cannot break my curse, but…"
"Oh, it's not that," said Clara. "I mean…I'm sure she can." The thought of seeing him in his true form sent a fluttering sensation through Clara. "But what about the Mouse King? It doesn't feel right, my leaving while you still have such danger to face."
The Nutcracker smiled. "I can handle him. Though it will be infinitely easier without this cumbersome body, which is why I'm glad to finally have found the princess."
Clara pressed her lips together, unconvinced. "I think I should stay. At least for a little while more."
"Do you want to stay?" The question was softly spoken. His tone sounded earnest and…almost pleading.
Clara wondered if he was simply prying for an honest answer or…for something else. Something she found herself desperately wanting him to ask of her. She wasn't sure she had the courage to initiate the idea of her staying permanently, but if he asked it of her…
She twisted her hands, conflicted. "I want to help you. I don't want you to face the Mouse King alone." She debated how to continue, then waved her hand in frustration. "Surely there are people loyal to your father who can be recruited. Soldiers, or people who had worked in the castle. We can form some kind of army, enough to take back the castle."
He was touched by her concern, but not swayed. "I have no desire to put anymore of my father's people in danger, Clara."
"They're your people now."
The Nutcracker sighed. "Regardless, I refuse to send them to their deaths."
"So you'll gladly go to yours instead." She was angry now, annoyed that he had allowed his guilt to fester into blind martyrdom.
"What happens to me doesn't matter. All I want is to protect those I care about." He was watching her with an intensity Clara found difficult to match gazes with.
She glanced away.
"I would rather have you home and safe," he said.
"So that's it, then?" she asked, her tone mournful as she looked back at him. "I am to return home while you go to your death, and we are never to see each other again."
"I wish you had a bit more faith in my abilities," he teased softly. "My death is not certain."
But Clara didn't laugh. She fought down the sorrow in her throat, unable to deny the fear spiking in her as he uttered the words my death.
The Nutcracker swept his arm out towards the palace. "So then, are you coming?"
Clara reached up, closing her hand around her locket. If she could linger for only a few more minutes, draw out her time here – with him – for just a bit longer…
"I will," she said. "But…I need a moment. Please."
The Nutcracker nodded. He hesitated, then turned and began walking up the road to the palace entrance. Clara remained still, watching as he caught up to the captain and major.
What is home? The question bloomed in her mind once again as she fingered the locket.
If only the answer could be as easily found as the princess' palace.
/
The Nutcracker paced the dungeon floor, worry burning in his mind for Clara. Was she still on the island? Would she be able to find a way off it, or was she doomed to be trapped there forever? Had the Mouse King gone back for her? If he had, where was she being kept? He felt sick thinking about the possibilities.
"Will you stop moving about so much?" snapped Major Mint. "Your feet are echoing something terrible against these dratted cell walls."
"Sorry," muttered the Nutcracker. He halted and turned towards the glass wall separating them from half of the cell. What purpose could the barrier possibly have? There were already guards outside. The extra reinforcement seemed ridiculous.
Maybe the Mouse King decided that they were large enough of a threat to warrant the added magical protection. The Nutcracker felt vaguely smug at that thought.
Captain Candy gave a sigh and kicked at the wall. His boot bounced off of it with a dull thud. "Never seen the dungeons so full," he said gloomily.
The Nutcracker nodded, his expression grim. They had passed multiple cells while being led here, most of them being occupied by subjects that had offended the Mouse King in one way or another.
The captain placed his hand against the wall, staring at the locked cell door. "I wonder if he had kept Eric down here before…" He swallowed and looked at the Nutcracker. "You said the Mouse King had destroyed the prince. What exactly did you mean by that?"
The Nutcracker grimaced at the unexpected – and unwanted – question. "Does it matter? I would rather not have to retell it."
Captain Candy frowned suspiciously. "I've never seen you here before. How did you even know the prince?"
The Nutcracker cringed. "I…I'd met him on a few occasions before all of this."
"When?" demanded the captain. "He and I were close friends; he was not one to keep secrets from me. Meeting a wooden man is not something he would forget to tell."
Avoiding the captain's gaze, the Nutcracker glanced at the dungeon entrance. "I wasn't always like this."
The captain snorted. "Clearly. You don't exactly blend in."
A sigh escaped the Nutcracker. "Look, I –" He broke off, leaning forward. "Do you hear that?"
The captain and major moved closer to the wall, listening.
There were muffled voices talking. The guards, no doubt. And a third voice…lighter, definitely feminine.
"Clara…?" the Nutcracker murmured wondrously.
"Can't be," huffed the major. "The girl could not possibly –"
There was the sound of footsteps hurrying away. The lock to the cell released, and the door creaked open. There stood Clara, alone, looking nervous but steadfastly determined.
"Clara," breathed the Nutcracker. She's alright. He had never seen a more beautiful sight. He had no idea as to how Clara had gotten here, but he did not care. She was here – that was all that mattered.
Clara stepped cautiously into the room, glancing about in confusion. She made no sign that she could see them.
"What's wrong with the girl?" Major Mint asked sharply.
The Nutcracker examined the wall. "We can see her," he realized. "But she can't see us."
Candy gave the wall a hard rap with his knuckles. "Or hear us, apparently."
Clara frowned. "Why would the Mouse King post guards on an empty room?" she mused, wandering further into the dimness.
"Clara…" The Nutcracker pressed his hands against the barrier, desperate to reach her.
Clara frowned, staring at the wall she did not know was there. Slowly, she walked forward, holding out her hand. Then her palm flattened against the invisible barrier – exactly mirroring the Nutcracker's hand.
He smiled, watching as understanding dawned on her face. Her lips curved upwards as well, in triumph of her discovery. She turned away and hurried back to the cell entrance, where an unlit torch had been mounted on the wall. Clara grasped the torch and yanked it free, then hoisted it over her shoulder as she crossed the cell once again.
"Move back!" commanded the Nutcracker.
The three men covered their heads with their arms as Clara swung at the wall. There was the sound of shattering glass, and the Nutcracker raised his gaze to watch as thousands of magical shards cascaded to the floor. Then Clara was running forward, and the Nutcracker barely had time to straighten before she collided with him, wrapping her arms around him in a fierce embrace.
She let out a relieved gasp, and he heard his own breath leave in same rushed sound. He tightened his arms briefly around her, then allowed her to pull away.
She lifted her hands to his face, stroking her thumbs over his wooden features. He inhaled shakily at the faint feeling of the caress, and the longing for regular hands burned in him more fiercely than ever before.
"Are you alright?" she asked frantically. "What did he do to you? Did he hurt you?"
"No," said the Nutcracker, unable to keep the affection out of his voice. "No, we're fine. He didn't do anything to us."
Clara smiled, tears of relief pricking her eyes. Then fear filtered into them, and she griped his arm. "We've got to get out of here. The Mouse King is building a bonfire."
The solace Clara's presence had brought him quickly vanished. It seemed the Mouse King was eager to put an end to all of this.
"Quickly, you two!" urged the major. He and the captain were already at the cell door. The major gave a frantic wave, and then he and the captain hurried into the corridor.
The Nutcracker began to follow, but Clara tugged him to a stop. "Eric, wait."
He frowned. "Clara –"
"I don't care what you said before," snapped Clara. She felt somewhat guilty for ignoring his wishes to not use his real name, but with danger so imminent it felt wrong to address him as though he were nothing more than a mere object. "If you face him now, it doesn't matter how good you are with a sword, or how much help we give you. You could die. So before we go out there, I just…" She hesitated, the words tangling in her throat.
"You what, Clara?" There was an urgency to the question, an acknowledgement of how short on time they were. But there was an underlining anticipation as well, as though he had been yearning for her to say these exact words.
Clara's mouth opened, but still she was not sure what she was trying to say. She released a sigh. "Please be careful. Don't do anything stupid or reckless."
He smiled. It was a sad expression, yet there was a warmth in it meant solely for her. "If we'd been acquainted before all this, you'd know how pointless that request was." He paused, studying her with a tormented look. He worked his jaw, as though building up his courage. Or holding back something he knew he shouldn't ask. "Say it once more," he whispered.
Clara's brow creased. "Say what?"
"My name."
She almost didn't hear the words, they had been so softly spoken. Then she smiled. "Eric." She said it wistfully, like how one may whisper secrets to a lover.
He let out a trembling breath, finally exhaling his hatred of the name she spoke with such adoration. Fresh determination seized him, and he gently pulled her towards the door. "Come on. Stay close to the major, and let me handle the Mouse."
She squeezed his hand, hoping he felt the sensation in his cursed form. They rushed out of the dungeon, following the captain and major up the stairs and towards the courtyard.
/
Clara curled her fingers more tightly through his, reveling in the soft warmth of his flesh. He glanced at her and smiled, then refocused his attention on the celebration in the courtyard.
The Mouse King's reign was over, and now the freed Parthenians were celebrating, dancing joyfully around the fountain that had been a bonfire meant for their prince less than an hour before. Clara and Eric stood off to the side, slightly obscured by the crowd as they watched.
Clara had been the one to take his hand. She had surprised herself by the action; before all of this she could never imagine herself being so forward with a man. But with Eric she felt bolder and more comfortable than she had with anyone before, even in his restored human form. She wanted to convey that message to him – that she saw him as the same person he had been under his curse. So she took his hand, hoping to reassure him.
He flinched when she did so, unused to the intimate contact. He had nearly forgotten how sensitive human skin was, and marveled at the sensations that tingled across his fingers entwined with Clara's. He found himself feeling vaguely nervous around her, which was a ridiculous idea. What was he to be anxious of? She was no different than before. If one ignored her newfound royal status, of course, and the shimmering dress that somehow made her even more beautiful than ever.
He felt Clara wrap her free hand around his arm, and he looked down at her.
"Are you alright?" she said quietly, mindful of the people standing near them.
He smiled. "Yes. I'm just…taking it all in."
Clara gave his arm a squeeze. "But you feel fine?" She pressed. "Your injuries…"
Eric gave a soft laugh. "Whatever you did, it was quite thorough. I promise, I'm alright." He hesitated, studying Clara's face. Her enchanting sky-blue eyes, the worried downward curve of her lips…lips that he suddenly very much wanted to kiss…
He blinked and returned his gaze to the dancing, pushing the idea from his head. He had no right to contemplate such a thing, not if Clara was planning on returning to her home. The thought sobered him, and for a selfish moment he wished Clara wasn't the Sugar Plum Princess, if it meant she could stay.
Standing before the fountain, the major and captain bowed before a roaring applause, having just finished one of Parthenia's traditional dances. As the cheering began to fade, they strutted back into the crowd, both looking rather pleased with themselves.
Eric turned to Clara, struck with a sudden desire. "Do you want to dance?" he asked.
Clara looked surprised at the suggestion. "You mean just the two of us? In front of everyone?"
Eric nodded enthusiastically.
Clara's cheeks reddened. "No, no, I couldn't," she stammered. "You've seen my dancing. It's mediocre at best. And with all these people…"
"If the Sugar Plum Princess can turn a nutcracker into a man, I have no doubt she can dance too," said Eric. He gestured to her dress. "Perhaps you just needed a reminder of your talents."
Clara clutched Eric's arm. "Are you sure?" But she sounded less nervous.
Eric smiled, and Clara felt the tension ebb from her body at his expression.
She sucked in a deep breath. "Alright." She released Eric, and he held out his hand in a more formal manner. She lightly placed her hand in his, allowing him to lead her into the courtyard.
Amazingly, as she walked beside him, her anxiety dissipated. A new confidence she had never felt before possessed her. She stepped away from Eric to move into position, and found herself eagerly awaiting for the music to begin.
And they danced.
