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The Nutcracker And The Mouse King Production
(A Wonderworld Fanfic from the minds of Cocomocomochi and Anthro7.)
“Ladies and Gentlemen, please take your seats! We are about to begin!” Balan called from the stage. He disappeared behind a velvety, red curtain.
In the pit, the conductor was having the musicians tune their instruments, and the sound coordinator was checking her equipment.
In the third row of the stalls, the guests (as well as some of the production staff) took their seats. Several series-adjacent persons had been invited, if not to participate, then to at least watch. They were all keen to see The Theater’s rendition of The Nutcracker and The Mouse King.
The house lights went down and the music came up. Reala stepped up to an elaborately decorated podium from the wings. He was all dressed in a proper waistcoat, stylized leggings, and fancy boots. A monocle sat perched in front of his one eye.
“How is that even staying there?” NiGHTS whispered in the audience.
Reala heard it, however, and coughed loudly. “Our tale begins on a cold winter’s eve. The night before Christmas, as it were. Our curtain rises on the Silvertree family, as they begin their yearly Christmas festivities.”
Behind him, the rich curtain drew back to reveal a scene with tall windows, elaborate furnishings, and a Christmas tree that was almost taller than the proscenium arch. Guests in classical garb mingled and greeted one another in a party setting at the Silvertree house.
Elliot and Claris had accepted the roles of Mr and Mrs Silvertree. Since growing up, the youths didn’t visit Nightopia as often as they used to, so they thrilled at the opportunity to participate in something with new and old friends alike.
“Upon this evening, young Marie Silvertree was wishing she could be anywhere else than at this particular gathering.”
Emma, playing young Marie, trailed behind Elliot and Claris with her head down – also in a dated dress. She managed to be shorter than her elders, though it was likely that the costume designer had given the older kids taller shoes, while Emma probably had dancer’s flats.
“In her recent year of lessons, young Marie had become somewhat shy of her classmates, and even her friends had noticed she was becoming withdrawn. Her parents, hoping to bring her back out of her shell and into the social world properly, had made sure to invite the parents of all of her schoolmates to their yearly party.”
The trio bowed and curtseyed to a number of guests, but Emma kept to the rear of her parents, until one or the other of them would push her forward toward whichever guest they were meeting.
“Several of Marie’s friends were very excited to have been invited, because they were well aware that Marie’s godfather, Herr Drosselmeyer always brought glorious presents for all of the children in attendance. They’d heard tale told of the mechanical wonders the eccentric old man was capable of creating. No one was quite sure if he was a genius or a magician.”
Reala held one hand out wide to the side. Across the stage, Helen and Will raced in along with several other youths – conscripted from who-knows-where, and at the tail end of the group came Leo. Helen went right to Emma’s side and grasped her friend’s hands. They were just about the same height these days, shoes or no.
“Marie! Thank you so much for inviting us along! It feels like it’s been forever since winter vacation began! I’ve missed you so much!”
Reala continued his narration. “The girls congregated to one side of the room to chatter and exchange presents. The boys went to the opposite side of the room and began horsing around. It was the nature of children, though most of them were a bit old for horseplay.
“Finally,” he continued, “Herr Drosselmeyer arrived on the scene!”
The sound tech boomed artificial thunder and the orchestra switched from a merry party sound to a dramatic and eerie background.
Dr Eggman stepped onto stage with a flourish in a dark suit with a top hat and cape. He laughed loudly.
“GREETINGS, PUNY HU-er, I mean, FRIENDS AND FAMILY!”
“The children all raced over to crowd around the man they referred to as Uncle Drosselmeyer,” Reala explained. “He brought three packages, almost the size of some of the children, out into the living room, then shooed the children back to the edges of the sitting areas where their parents sat them down.
“BEHOLD!” Eggman announced, clearly loving his moment in the limelight. He yanked at the ribbons on each package and their front panels fell away to reveal large, colorful creatures. “MY LATEST ANIMATRONICS!” He bowed.
A blue hedgehog, an orange fox, and a red echidna marched robotically out of the boxes. Each had a large windup key at their back. They trod to the middle of the stage and did a brief little dance, to the glee of the guests and children. At the conclusion of their number, they each headed back into their present boxes.
Once again, the children gathered round the crazy old man with the giant mustache to see if he would produce more mechanical wonders for them to play with. Ready to impress, toy robots, video games, dolls that could talk and walk, and all other flights of fancy were produced from a sack of presents the man carried behind him.
“Those don’t seem period-appropriate,” NiGHTS whispered to the theater’s writer.
She whispered back, “He brought new ‘toys’ every time we rehearsed. No matter how many times we tried to correct him, he just made it worse.”
Reala picked up with his narration again. “For young Marie, her kindly, old godfather” (there was a blurt of laughter from backstage) “got her a live, little mouse – a pet to keep her company while she spent her hours alone.”
On stage, each of the children came forward to show off to the audience what kind of neat present they had received. Marie came forth with a tiny glass box to examine her new pet mouse.
“Near to the end, the inventor even brought forth a present for his nephew, Hans. It was a red-clad nutcracker soldier, with a little toy sword.”
“Uncle,” Leo said, “Aren’t I a little too old for toys like this?”
Eggman patted Leo on the head. “You’re never too old to dream, my boy,” he said. “If no one else, confide your dreams to this brave little soldier and allow it to guard them.”
Leo shied away from his strange uncle and went to find himself someplace to sit on the opposite side of the room.
“As a young man,” Reala explained, “Hans thought things like dreams were for children and not worth his time. But as he stared across the room at his former best friend, Marie, he began to wish they could once again sit in each other’s presence without the awkwardness that being young adults had brought.”
Several of the audience members “aww”ed in response.
On stage, Leo stared across the stage at his friend, then considered his new nutcracker. “So, you’re brave, huh? Wish I was brave. Then I could march over there and talk to her like we used to, and it wouldn’t be weird at all.”
“In what felt like another world,” Reala sighed, rolling his eyes, “Young Marie was withdrawing into herself. Her friends were still around her on all sides, chattering amiably, but her attention was almost solely focused on her tiny, pet mouse.”
“I’m glad you’re here for me, little friend. You won’t ever leave me, right? All my other close friends do. In the end, they all leave me alone. Even my so-called ‘best friend’ walked away from me. You know… When we were little kids, we used to pretend we would grow up and get married one day. Just like a prince and princess in a fairy tale. But not anymore…”
Reala lurched at the podium and covered his mouth, then shut his eyes and stuck his tongue out in a gag. After a moment, he recovered, took a deep breath, straightened his tie, and continued.
“As the party drew toward its end, the guests began to leave. The host and hostess, as well as their daughter, saw everyone out as they left.”
The cast left the stage in duos and trios until only a few people were left. Marie left her tiny mouse in order to go see some guests out. Hans, seeing her go, set down his “toy” and raced to try and catch up with her.
“Ever the schemer,” Reala went on, “Herr Drosselmeyer crept back into the room and went to each gift that had been left behind. Before anyone was the wiser, he was gone again.”
The sound tech loosed the thunder sound effect again as Drosselmeyer left the scene. There was a darkening of the scene lights and an accompanying flash, then the lights returned to normal.
“Unbeknownst to the masters of the house or their guests,” Reala said, “Drosselmeyer had once again put his creative magics into play.”
In the audience, NiGHTS leaned sideways to the playwright again. “Bum-bum-buuuuum.”
From near the glass case, a dark figure rose in a mote of purple fog. The shimmers of a crown became visible in the lighting as it dissipated and lifted. Across the room, white fog and shimmers of gold had overtaken the area where the toy nutcracker had been set down.
Reala adjusted his monocle. “Little Marie had no way of knowing that the mouse she had received as a present was actually a mouse of distinguished royalty.”
Lance emerged from the dark fog, wearing a black and gold king’s robe around his shoulders, and a sparkling crown upon his head. Across the room, Balan – clad in the nutcracker’s red military outfit and dark hat – stood up stiffly, as though a toy soldier just awakening from a long sleep.
“We meet again, old friend,” Lance said with a dark smile. He drew a sword from his hip and charged across the room.
“Ha!” Balan drew his own sword and met his foe with a metallic tang. “Has it been so long?”
“You know, a good paraloop does wonders!” NiGHTS called from the audience.
“SHUT IT!” Reala shouted, then coughed to correct himself before resuming his narrative duties. “The sounds of fighting drew the attention of young Marie. She returned to the living room to find a sight she could not believe nor comprehend.”
“What is going on here?!” Emma cried, hands flying to her mouth in shock.
“My dear,” Lance called over his shoulder, “I have come to rescue you from this lonely life and take you back to the Mouse Kingdom to be my queen! Never again will you have to be saddled with such frivolities as silly parties like this!”
“You won’t be taking the girl without a fight!” Balan grinned against his enemy.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Emma said, annoyed. “And I don’t recall agreeing to be a queen of anything.”
Reala coughed again. “Also hearing the noise, young Hans returned to the living room.”
“Marie, are you okay? I heard a commotion and-” Leo stopped short. “Is that… my nutcracker?”
“They appear to have come to life while we were elsewhere,” Emma said, holding her forehead with one hand. “Either that or I’ve eaten some bad food at the party and am having a horribly dramatic dream.”
The Mouse King and nutcracker clanged swords across the stage, leaping over stray presents, dodging around the Christmas tree, and struggling over pieces of furniture.
Leo grabbed Emma’s arm and tried to pull her away from the combatants before they got too near. The only place to go, however, was by the fireplace. The adversaries were now between the youths and the door.
“Give it up, you rat!” Balan grinned. “Your reign is as good as over.”
“Maybe another day,” Lance retorted, grabbing a tray of pastries from a nearby table and hurling them at his foe. A danish hit Balan square in the face, which elicited laughter from not only the audience, but the cast as well. Perhaps it was unrehearsed.
“Oo, raspberry. Not bad,” Balan said, wiping his face off.
But Lance dodged around him, forcibly shoved Leo aside, snagged Emma round the middle and disappeared through the fireplace. Her screams echoed as though descending a long corridor.
“Marie!” Leo cried. “We have to go after her!”
“Wait!” Balan said, taking the boy’s wrist. “It’s too dangerous to follow that rat into his hole without being prepared. You should stay here. You’re not trained to fight.”
“My best friend was just kidnapped by a mouse monster; I’m not going to stand by and do nothing!”
Balan considered for a moment, then snapped his fingers. “I know! We’ll make a quick visit to one of my friends. Then we can go rescue the girl.”
“But she could be in danger right this moment!” Leo cried.
“Then we’d better leave quickly!” He pulled his hat off, swept it around in a vortex of sparkles and smoke, and sucked himself and Leo through it.
The curtain closed.
“Meanwhile, down in the Mouse Kingdom,” Reala said.
The curtain reopened and showed a stone castle with a dark night sky behind it. Several costumes, re-costumed to look like rats or mice, danced round the stage in circles. Lance entered the scene from one side, carrying Emma in a fireman’s carry over his shoulder.
“Put me down, you beast!” she cried. “I don’t want to be a queen! It’s too much social anxiety!”
“You’re rather ungrateful, you know,” Lance said coolly. “A short time ago you were all, ‘I’m so lonely! Everyone leaves me! Whaaaaa!’ I come along and offer you my love and loyalty, a kingdom full of subjects who will adore you, and for what?! You to complain about mental health problems instead of saying ‘Thank you’? I should chain you to this throne.” He tossed her unceremoniously onto what appeared to be a “queen’s” throne, next to a much bigger, more ornate one. “Sit there and don’t make a fuss!” he instructed, then turned to the scene of dancing mice.
“HEAR ME!” Lance proclaimed. “Tonight, we celebrate that I am taking a queen! She will be-”
A dancing-shoe hit him in the back of the head. Several costumed mice sniggered.
Lance leaned down, picked it up, and examined it, trying not to lose his cool. “Did you really just throw a shoe at me?”
“Meanie!” Marie sneered. “And to think, when you were a tiny mouse I had called you adorable. I take it back!”
Lance took a step back, wounded. “That hurts. No supper for you.” He turned to a nearby costumed mouse and said, “Remind me to call Jareth and check how he coerced his lady love.”
Another shoe hit him in the head.
“Knock it off!” he shouted, spinning around.
Emma, however, was busy stomping away, nose in the air.
“HEY! Get back here!” Lance went racing across the stage as the curtain fell again.
In the audience, NiGHTS whispered to the next person over, “That was kinda a short scene.”
“Shh!”
“Elsewhere,” Reala said from the podium, “In the Sugar Kingdom…”
The curtains reopened on a scene that appeared to be covered in snow, but at closer inspection, it could have been frosting. A castle made of gingerbread rose in the background, and tons of costumes dressed as sweets pranced around.
Balan and Leo appeared from the nutcracker’s hat on one side of the stage.
“Here we are! The Sugar Plum Fairy will be able to help you prepare to save your princess!” Balan announced.
“She’s not my princess – she’s my friend,” Leo grumbled, turning a little red.
“To-may-to, to-mah-to,” Balan shrugged. “Ah! Here she comes, now!”
The orchestra started playing sugar plum fairy music.
The concession stand gal, dressed in a tutu, came tiptoeing out onto the stage. On her head was a large cupcake hat.
“Wait, what?” Balan said. “I thought you were the sugar plum fairy.”
“Mmm, nah. I’m the cupcake fairy this week. Cupcakes are the superior sweet.”
From the podium, Reala called, “You can’t just change the script in the middle of the production!”
“I’m the Cupcake Fairy and I’ll do what I want!” Purr said, hurling a cupcake at Reala. “Now, what can I do for our brave Nutcracker and his little friend?” she smiled.
“I’m not little, he’s just absurdly tall,” Leo said.
Balan patronizingly patted Leo’s head. “The young master’s ‘best friend’,” (he made air quotes), “Finds herself in need of rescue from the Mouse King. However, he’s in no state to save his fair maid.”
“Ooooh,” Purr nodded, smiling, “So you’re here for help. Don’t worry. I know just what to do! Leave it to my fairies!”
The orchestration picked up and several costumes of sweets scooped Leo up under his arms, then carried him around the stage and behind a piece of scenery. The cupcake fairy came ’round front and started to do a dance to the sugar plum fairy music.
“I don’t know why they cast her,” Pose, the playwright whispered to NiGHTS. “She’s usually the klutziest thing in-”
As though jinxed, the cupcake fairy tripped and went face-first into the orchestra pit.
“WHOA!” Reala shouted. “Um, curtain? Maybe?”
The stage manager sped out of the wings and to the front of the stage. “Are you okay?”
Balan, ever the showman, picked right up on the spot where the sugar plum fairy music would have left off and started doing an improvised dance.
“I’m okay!” Purr called from the pit. Several of the musicians were shouting and trying to untangle the cupcake fairy from their instruments.
“Just, close the curtain!” Inish, the stage manager called. “Cut this scene short!” He waved angrily to the stagehands in the wings and the curtain quickly began to close on the scene of dancing sweets.
The theater’s accountant, Incor, and costumer, Porate, had raced down to the pit to rescue the fallen fairy dancer, and were now escorting her out of the auditorium.
“I see dancing donuts!” Purr was heard to say, as she was dragged out.
In the seats, the writer just shook her head. “I don’t know her. I don’t know her. I don’t know her.”
NiGHTS had been laughing the entire time.
Reala once again cleared his throat and continued his narrative. “AND SO IT WAS, that the Cupcake nee Sugar Plum Fairy bestowed magical gifts upon our hero, Hans, to help in with his quest to save his beloved.”
“SHE’S JUST MY BEST FRIEND!” Leo shouted from behind the curtains.
“With the nutcracker leading the way, the heroes made their way from Candy Land-”
“We edited that name out three scripts ago! It’s copyrighted!” Pose, the writer called from the audience.
“Well, maybe someone should make sure the narrator gets an updated script before opening night!” Reala snapped. “The heroes made their way from the Sugar Kingdom, down to the dark depths of the Mouse Kingdom.”
“Bum-bum-buuuuuum,” NiGHTS said again.
The curtain rose on the Mouse Kingdom set, where Emma was now tied to the second throne at her wrists, with a gag keeping her mouth shut. A smaller crown had been placed on her head.
“And on Tuesday, I decree it will be Brie Day! Wednesday, we shall celebrate Camembert, and Thursday shall now be known as-”
“HALT! STOP YOUR FOUL SCHEME, RAT-MAN!” Balan shouted from the edge of the stage. Leo was at his side, now in a matching red-and-black soldier’s outfit.
“Foul sche- what?” Lance gaped. “I’m creating a week-long celebration for the coronation of my new queen. There’s no scheme in that! Everyone loves to eat cheese, here.”
“Yes, yes,” Balan said, stroking his chin, “But something smells rotten.”
Lance stared at him, eyes unimpressed.
Leo poked Balan in the side. “Um… I think that’s still the cheese.”
“Oh. So it is. NO MATTER! YOUR FOUL SCHEME TO WED THE GIRL WILL BE FOILED, NO LESS!” He drew his sword and turned to Leo. “Go, now, young hero! Save your friend,” he made air-quotes again “while I distract the Rat King.” He winked encouragingly at the youth.
“It’s MOUSE King, not Rat King!” Lance shouted. “En guarde!” He drew his own sword and leapt from a center-stage dais down onto the main stage, where he met Balan’s blade in a flurry of tings and tangs.
From the wings, various costumed sweets and sweets-fairies poured out with giant lollipops and candy canes, which they used in place of swords to engage the Mouse King’s army.
Leo groaned and made his way around the back of the stage, up and over various pieces of setting and scenery that brought him down by Emma’s side. He theatrically drew a dagger from his belt and began cutting the girl loose.
“Wot ho!” Balan crowed, parrying a lunge from Lance and turning it into a disengage. “You fight like a poorly trained extra, you crude beast!”
Lance ducked out of the disengage and swung low so Balan had to jump back. “Well, you dance like a titillating peacock!” Lance shot back.
There was laughter from the stalls.
“I beg your pardon!” Balan stood back up at guard, frowning with annoyance. “I perform precisely as the choreography calls for!”
Lance moved to take a slice off the brim of his hat, but Balan blocked it.
“And I can think on my feet, when called for.”
“You also don’t know when to shut up!” Lance growled. He switched his sword to his off-hand, which visibly confused Balan for a moment, and took advantage of the split-second to punch his companion in the face. Balan reeled back from the blow.
Lanced paused, returning his sword to its proper hand.
Balan held a hand to his face and found his hard-to-see nose was bleeding. “You hit me!”
“Yeah,” Lance said, like that was the most obvious statement ever. “You deserve it sometimes.”
“Hit him again!” Reala called.
“I’m not inviting you to another production here, sir!” Balan called, then quickly had to bring his sword back up to guard another blow from Lance.
Leo finally succeeded in getting Emma free, but as he was finishing a rat warrior approached them from his blind side.
“Look out!” Emma shouted.
Leo spun around with his dagger held high and intercepted the rat’s jagged sword. Emma slipped away past them while Leo struggled to not lose his hold. If his dagger slipped, that rat’s sword would go right into his collar bone.
“Get lost, creep!” Emma shouted, and slammed the rat in the back of the head with both of her shoes like they were cymbals. (It must have been part of the production, because the appropriate sound effect came from the orchestra’s pit.)
“Marie!” Leo gasped, shoving the delirious rat away.
Emma harumphed. “That stupid Mouse King laughed when I hit him with a shoe. I just wasn’t close enough the first time.”
Leo laughed and took Emma’s hands. “Come on, let’s get you somewhere safe.”
“What, and just leave everyone else here to get hurt?!” Emma said, indignantly.
“We’re here to save you!” Leo explained. “If you’re safely away, everyone else can retreat!”
“THERE WILL BE NO RETREAT! I’LL SEE YOU ALL DESTROYED HERE!” the Mouse King called. Lance and Balan had taken their sword fight all ’round the stage and back again, and now were up on top of a tower piece of scenery, getting close to an edge.
“Your kind of cruel rulership will never win the day!” Balan shouted.
“I was assigning new holidays when you decided to crash my party, you lummox!” Lance shot back, slamming Balan’s sword hand so hard it knocked the weapon away off the tower and left its owner grasping at a sprained wrist. “Now I will end your inconvenient interfering!” Lance raised his blade for the finishing blow.
“WAAAAAAAAAIT!” someone called.
Everyone went quiet with confusion.
A harpist from the orchestra began playing a glissando.
Reala, from the podium, squinted into the far side’s wing. “Is that… The Sugar Plum Fairy?”
“CUPCAKE FAIRY!” Purr sing-song-ed loudly, prancing onto the stage. “And I come bearing a peace offering!”
Lance lowered his blade and stood up. All the fighting sweets and mice relaxed a little.
“I’ve brought enough cheesecake for everyone! No need to fight anymore!” She waved her wand – which had a cookie at its tip – and plates of cheesecake floated down at various spots across the stage.
Everyone, mouse and sweets-fairy alike, dove for the treats.
“Hey, wait! This isn’t your kingdom!” Lance said. “You can’t just stride in here and declare a holiday! That’s my job!” He looked slightly abashed. “And I sort of enjoy doing it…”
The cupcake fairy swept up onto the tower scenery and twirled around Lance, then shoved Balan unceremoniously off the edge with her butt. He fell with a comical “AIIEEEEE!” followed by a muffled fwoof of what must have been a stunt mat landing.
“Then let us make the declaration of holiday together, shall we?” the Cupcake Fairy asked, batting her eyes at the Mouse King. “Surely you’d rather have a queen who brings cheesecake than a queen who pelts you with shoes?”
“Uh, well, er…” Lance’s face went horribly red.
“Keep the cheesecake! Keep the cheesecake!” Reala called.
“You’re fired!” Balan called weakly from behind the set.
“Hey, Hans?” Emma asked, from front and center stage. “Thank you for coming to rescue me. Do you think we could go home, now?”
Leo smiled and took Emma’s hand. “Yeah. Let’s get back to the party and see if Uncle Drosselmeyer happens to have any gifts that don’t try to solve our problems for us.”
“Hey! I helped!” Balan called, crawling around front of a piece of broken wall. His hat was rumpled from the fight and fall, and he was still nursing his wrist from the sprain.
“My intentions were pure as well!” Lance said indignantly.
“Go home, children!” Purr called, waving her cookie wand. “I send you on your way to awake from sweet dreams on Christmas Day!”
The curtain fell closed.
Reala heaved a great sigh. “Thank the maker that’s over.” He coughed again. “AND SO IT WAS, that the children came to find themselves back in the Silvertree family living room, still holding hands. Their presents, however, had mysteriously vanished.”
The curtain reopened to the original living room set, though only Emma and Leo were on stage, once again in their party clothing.
“Thanks for coming to my family’s party tonight, Hans,” Emma said.
“S-sure, Marie,” Leo stuttered. “I mean, it was kinda fun. And I’m really glad we got to spend some time together.”
“Yeah,” she said shyly. “We should do that more often.”
“Wanna see if we can get our families together tomorrow for dinner?” Leo asked, hopeful.
Emma smiled ear to ear. “That sounds wonderful.”
From off-stage, Elliot and Claris called the kids, saying it was time for Hans and his uncle to head home.
The kids turned to the voices for a moment, gazed at each other and exchanged one last smile, then headed off stage, hand in hand.
Herr Drosselmeyer slipped out from behind a large grandfather clock, seemed to watch the children disappear, then approached the front center stage.
“Did you like my newest creations? Maybe next year I’ll take the children to Toy Land.” He winked to the audience, then let out a cackle of a laugh and disappeared off stage.
The curtains closed. The remaining audience members applauded and cheered. The curtains reopened for the cast to come out and take their bows. Balan was seen to give Lance a sharp pat on the back while he was saying something to the Cupcake Fairy, which seemed to cause poor Lance some pain. But both boys kept up stage smiles (albeit they looked like evil smiles) until they were offstage.
Claris asked if she could come back for another production, preferably with song, and was told she was bound for a callback. Elliot offered to share his business contacts with the producer. Will, Helen, Emma, and Leo all raced to the concession area at the front of house and claimed the best sweets. NiGHTS razzed Reala about the performance incessantly. The playwriter insisted that Balan and Lance apologize to each other for getting carried away with the “play fighting”, and the cupcake fairy gave everyone in the orchestra extra cookies as apologies for landing on them during her scene.
All in all, everyone came away from the production in good spirits. Only one problem remained as they began to say their goodbyes for the night: what production should they do the next year?