Chapter 13: The Story Unfolds

"But…you weren't, I mean… Fakir saved me. The Sorcerer died and- you never got to-"

"Another reason for my complete and utter detestation for you Fakir. I must admit you really have done yourself in. How can you protect what you love, when you can't even protect yourself from making such foolish and vital mistakes? One thing sets you off and you lead yourself in your fault to chaos." Nesumir's circling was beginning to feel predator-like.

"You can't be the Sorcerer's son! Fakir stopped the trade of my soul to-" Ahiru protested again.

"Lucky for you the trade didn't happen, but just because he didn't trade out your soul for myself, doesn't mean my spirit energy didn't enter this world."

"What exactly is going on?" Autor looked confused. Fakir wondered how often that happened.

"My soul was awakened. Think of it, like a little spark of energy that up and became part of the human world before I could become whole with my body. As you can see, my bespectacled friend, our dear Ahiru is still alive."

"So then how did- you—" Fakir protested before he cut off.

Ahiru watched wide eyed as the wood climbed up his right leg almost fully now.

"How did I become human?" Nesumir smiled deviously. "A trade. Picture this: as nothing more than a ball of energy, I reached out to the first thing I could live off of. That happened to be a mouse at the time in the forest."

"…how ironic." Autor snidely commented.

Nesumir wasn't fazed. "Like every thing, there's always a trade; my life energy for the energy of others." He paced around them again. "Soon, there was simply no more mouse left, and honestly I was lucky enough to find not long after, someone a bit more useful to control… and it just so happened, the boy really didn't put up much of a fight so-"

"Boy? It couldn't have been the missing-" Autor speculated.

"What happened to Fritz?!" Ahiru's eyes widened. She remembered what Fakir and Autor had said about how he became who she once was; the underdog.

"Well I'm happy someone is following along." Nesumir looked to her. "Fritz is gone. He really didn't have much of a role, and luckily he gave in to me quite easily. Never quite had the will to fight me. My soul became part of this body, and now this body is part of me. Those glasses were never really my thing anyway."

Ahiru's stomach turned. This was horrible.

"Oh don't look so grim. It was either your soul or his. It just so happened that you didn't work out, and don't get me wrong I'm happy it ended this way because now you can have a real Prince."

"You aren't a Prince, the only thing you've told us is that you're the apprentice of your rather failure of a father and-" Autor protested rather logically.

Nesumir looked to him unimpressed and sighed. "You really don't know when to shut up do you. Yes, luckily my father told me quite a bit of black magic so no, he wasn't a failure. And, apart from what you think, I'd say I am a Prince, look at all my followers."

They looked around, and before Autor could make another remark, hundreds of mice appeared running through the streets like a small stampeded stopping behind him.

"Well if we had any doubts that Drosselmeyer is basing this part of the story off of the Nutcracker I'm sure their gone." Autor's eyes were wide at the immense infestation.

"But where did they all come from?" Ahiru asked.

"The question you should be asking is where has everyone else gone." Nesumir retorted. "It just so happens because I'm not really here, I mean sure my spirit was awakened, but I need a lot of …energy to keep myself maintained at times, especially with all this magic I'll be using. Magic does need a trade so-"

"He's taken everyone and used them for his own gain." Fakir looked up from the ground. "Not much of a Prince…putting the lives of people on the line for your own gain."

Nesumir seemed stricken by the comment. "And you should talk."

"I never failed. I never abused anyone. This was your doing –"

"Then if you're the Mouse Prince…or King or whatever, who is the Mouse Queen-" Autor asked, picking up where Fakir couldn't leave off.

"I'm sure Fakir remembers her well, quite the fall he had. I hope you didn't hurt your jaw."

"…oh that part fits too…I see…" Autor mumbed.

"What?" Ahiru asked.

"Fritz is the boy in the play, ironically…he causes the nutcrackers jaw to break…in this case the prologue and the action of the Nutcracker story were morphed into one, through Fakir's curse. Nesumir is Fritz…in a sense…"

Ahiru's stomach churned. They had been so deep into the Drosselmeyers new twisted story they hadn't even noticed.

"Who was-who was the first –victim-"

"Victim, Hah! She wanted to help me, and so said she'd do anything for me, in this case, it was becoming my guarantee to making sure you fell into the trap."

"She. She wanted to help you…" Ahiru's eyes went wide and almost blank as an idea crossed her mind. "Pike?! You used Pike first?!"

"It's what she wanted. And she got it." Nesumir shrugged. "One thing I did have in common with her is her ambition. I'm going to get what I want too." His eyes fixed on Ahiru.

Ahiru stepped backwards, closer to Autor and Fakir. She looked to him. Could she do this to save him? What exactly did Nesumir want?

"So, now that I have this piece of misused metal, I'm sure your interested in a real deal. You want the pain to stop, all at once before, well I can't say it will be pleasant to gradually turn into the toy –soldier…then again being a pitiful soldier does come naturally doesn't it?"

Fakir glared to him behind his agony.

"Anyway, it seems that if you want all this pain and what not to go away all at once for Fakir, then well there's only one thing I want in return." Nesumir's eyes darted from Fakir to Ahiru.

Fakir's persist was muffled by a moan as Ahiru nodded apprehensively.

"I want to have that swan, the swan princess that was once so peacefully dancing upon the water before a knight disturbed her. I want her to return, and this time beside me." He held out his hand, and suddenly Nesumir had a long cape that wore like a coat that had grey fur trim, a dusty green high collared jacket and black pants. His head held a black crown, with red jewels, thin, loose around his head.

Ahiru reached out and then hesitated. What did this mean? If she was his … If Fakir was okay after this…could she depend on him to save her? Or was she asking too much of him…or worse, what would happen if this trade couldn't be undone?

"I don't mean to rush you, but if you want to wait any longer-" Nesumir looked past her.

Ahiru looked back to Fakir whose agony rose as the wood-nutcracker-spell paralyzed his legs as his hands were gritted into the ground, bloody as if grasping for his life. Fakir hated his own incapable predicament and Autor frankly didn't have any answers for this dilemma.

Ahiru swallowed. "Alright." She placed her hand in Nesumir's and in a swift motion she was Princess Tutu again.

She turned to see Fakir, and her stomach dropped.

His pain had gone, but…

…the struggle had only just begun.