The Nutcracker Prince and The Mouseking

Chapter 6: Reunited

Clara wakes up with a gasp, sitting bolt upright. The memories of last night's events slam into her mind and she freaks. Clara jumps out of bed, pulls on some shoes and dashes out of her room. He had to still be in the cabinet, he had to,

"Clara?" Ingrid calls, stepping out the way, taken aback by the panic on her daughters face. Clara doesn't respond, she hauls open the living room doors and slams her hands against the glass of the cabinet and gasps again at the empty spot where he should be, standing tall and proud,

"Clara, what's wrong?" her father asks startled, putting down his newspaper. She doesn't reply and runs into the hallway to grab her blue coat. She puts it on as she sprints out into the cold morning air, almost knocking into her older sister with her boyfriend. They call out to her, only to be met with a frantic,

"I've got to go!"

The only place where he could possibly be, was inside Uncle Drosselmeier's shop. At least she hoped he could give her some answers. The whole ordeal felt too unreal, she thinks, careening through the trees, their branches turning the pale sky into a mirror of her own mind. She dashes into the marketplace, her breath fogging up in puffs in front of her face. She slams on Drosselmeier's teal door, knocking hard and demanding for answers, tears falling down her face. She didn't care how many people stopped to stare at her, their eyes drilling bores into her back. All Clara wanted were some answers and her Nutcracker.

Nutcracker stirs and rolls over. He groans as he feels his sheathe digging into his side and sits up, his hat falling in front of his eyes. He pushes it back up and blearily looks around. A warm, wood panelled room with a large grandfather clock in the corner, ticking softly; a plush bed underneath him with a chest of drawers opposite it made from a deep oak, all bathed in a winters dawn light. His first thought came to mind: Clara. He freezes and hurriedly gazes out the window to try and see her or the living room. A gothic, snow covered town is outside, shops just waking up for a busy day ahead. This was no dollhouse,

"Where am I?" he ponders to himself. A sound beyond the door makes him freeze, solid footsteps encroaching on the door. The handle turns and he is ready to fight. In walks an old man in a grey pinstripe suit, long grey hair tied up, an eyepatch over one of his light blue eyes and a steaming mug in one hand,

"Oh, now then young man, no need to be on guard," he says, a slight chuckle in his voice,

"Who are you?" Nutcracker asks as the old man steps closer,

"Mr Elias Christen Drosselmeier, at your service," Drosselmeier replies. The nutcracker pauses, that name was familiar,

"Now, have a drink of this," Drosselmeier says, handing the mug to Nutcracker. He takes it flinching at the hot ceramic. Shaking away the pain, he realises how much easier it was to move again. He takes the mug back and pauses at the smell of hot chocolate reaching his nose. This was a new sensation, he couldn't smell things before,

"Where am I, Mr Drosselmeier?" he asks, watching the steam rise from the mug,

"The spare room in my toyshop, my boy, back to normal too," he replies. Back to normal? Back to being... Nutcracker gasps, setting the mug down and pulling his hat off. Drosselmeier watches him curiously as he pulls off a glove and half gasps- half laughs. Nutcracker flexes his fingers and ruffles his hair, joy filling his face,

"We- we did it, my – my curse is broken!" he laughs, tears of joy rolling down his face, and his expression melts into panic,

"I need to find her!" he starts to leave. Drosselmeier puts a hand on his shoulder,

"Slow down. If her love is strong enough, she'll come back to you. Now drink up, you must be thirsty," Drosselmeier orders, placing the mug in Nutcracker's hands. He leaves and heads downstairs into the main portion of the shop. Nutcracker sips at the hot chocolate, it soothes his dry throat and makes him feel warm. He sets it down again and pulls his glove back on. Agitated by waiting he starts to pace around in the room, his dark braid whipping around with him.