Winterdream

by Chantal Gadoury

  “We’re remembered for the sons we bear. Perhaps even the men we marry...” My voice drifted to silence as I peered away. I had never been so forward before. I had never felt confident enough to say such things aloud. But the Nutcracker watched me, slowly nodding.

  “It seems,” I continued, “we must sacrifice something of ourselves, give something to be exalted enough to be remembered.” I shivered at the thought. “And it frightens me. It frightens me to think that perhaps one day, I could be her.”

  “That will never happen,” the Nutcracker said slowly, taking in my words. He shook his head as he continued, “I would never forget you.”

  Tenderly, he took my hand and squeezed his fingers around mine. Despite his wooden form, there was warmth found in his hands.

  “Come,” he said, tilting his head toward the doors. “The garden is just beyond those doors.”

  We walked quietly together across the hall until we reached the large doors.

  He paused for a moment, watching me, before he carefully turned the latch. A smile flashed over his lips as he murmured, “After you, Lady Clara.”

  My eyes took in the sight of the darkened garden, only set aglow by the full moon overhead. Snow laid fresh around a gathering of pine trees. In the other part of the garden, long blades of green grass grew with beautiful, blooming marigolds and tulips. How was it possible that such things could grow so closely to the snow and cold?

  “How is this possible?” I asked, surprise filling my voice.

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he replied. I found myself nodding.

  “It’s one of my favorite places,” he continued.

  “Pytor said the same thing.”

  He pressed his hand against the small of my back as he guided me toward the snow-covered pine trees. I could smell the sweet musk coming from the branches as we walked by. In the thicket of the large pine trees, I saw a stone wall lingering in the distance.

  “What is this?” I asked curiously, peering back to the Nutcracker. He extended his hand, inviting me to explore. I strolled along the path until my fingers brushed against the cold, gray stone. As I followed beside it, the stone gave way to a lovely, arched doorway. There was nothing but darkness within. Peering over my shoulder, I looked to the Nutcracker again.

  “Can I go inside?”

  “Of course,” he said softly. “You needn’t ask.”

  With a small smile, I slipped into the dark passage, allowing my fingers to blindly guide me until I could see a sliver of light in the nearby distance. As I pushed myself out from the other side, my eyes were met with an untamed garden; vines were twisted about along the wall and stone floor. They were alive, blooming with a range of flowers and colors. In the far corner, flower beds of English primrose were blossoming in a soft hue of yellow and orange, covered in a layer of snowflakes.

  Amidst the tangled greenery on the stone wall, winter jasmine grew in matching shades of soft honey along with branches of holly berries. Taking a step deeper into the garden, I brushed my fingers over the black and blue hellebore petals. The stone walls were tall, looming around us, opening up to the beautiful night sky above. As I tilted my chin upward, small, intricate snowflakes fell onto my cheeks. Everything in this garden seemed so magical, and frozen.

  As I peered back to the Nutcracker, I smiled.

  “What is this place?”

  “A forgotten garden,” the Nutcracker explained. I could hear his footsteps close behind me, his boots crunching against the gravel path. As I explored further, I noticed a looming figure in the middle of the bed of winter honeysuckle and vines.

  “Nutcracker?” I asked, breaking the heavy silence all around us. I felt his hand on the small of my back as he approached. “W-What is that?”

  “Come,” he whispered, guiding me toward the looming shape. As we approached, I found it to be a statue, surrounded by dying greenery. It was of a tall, broad man, who wore anger and cruelty on his features, even in stone.

  “Who. . . who is he?” I asked as I reached out to touch the cold stone with my fingertips. The man had a strong nose, stern lips, and a curled moustache. His features somehow reminded me of Lord Yakov. The stone man wore fine clothes, engraved with similar embroidery that the other servants wore on their uniforms.

  “He was the king of Winter Dream,” the Nutcracker explained. “His statue is now forgotten in the cluster of vines, weeds, and stone, as you can see.”

  As I took a step back, I heard the soft cooing of a bird as it flew overhead. Landing on the man’s shoulder, I was faced by a pure white owl. Its black eyes watched mine with a sort of fierceness that frightened me.

  I quickly took a step back, bumping into the Nutcracker and his warm hands.

  “Look at him,” the Nutcracker whispered closely to my ear. “Look at how the owl watches us.”

  “His eyes frighten me,” I admitted.

  “He won’t harm you,” the Nutcracker explained. And as if on cue, the owl’s wings spread open and he flew from the shoulder of the statue of the late king. We were left in the moonlight, the cool air making our breath visible in front of us. As I turned on my foot, I glanced up at the Nutcracker, biting my bottom lip.

  “What will happen to the palace now that you and the Mouse King have returned?”

  “As it were, Lady Irina has already been preparing the courtiers for a confrontation,” he said with a sigh. “She had heard of stories from other lands—mice appearing and killing the townsfolk.”

  “Why?”

  The Nutcracker shook his head. “I’m not sure, Clara. Can evil ever truly be understood?”

  He was right.

  In all the evil things I had heard to happen in Russia, I never understood it. I never understood how human beings could be so cruel to one another. I shuddered at the memory of my Uncle Drosselmeyer telling Fritz and I stories of when Napoleon invaded Russia. The sights he described, the families who suffered. The Nutcracker must have noticed, for he tugged off his newly-cleaned red jacket and placed it around my shoulders.

  “Enough of battles and danger for now,” he said softly, and took my hand gently. “Come, let me show you something.”

  Chapter 17

  He pulled at my hand, drawing me away from the statue, away from the forgotten, secret garden. He guided me further into a gathering of pine trees; tall and majestic. It was as if the palace had its own forest. Our shoes crunched into the crisp, white snow.

  “This is my favorite place in the garden,” he said, glancing to me.

  In that moment, he appeared more human; eager even, and I found myself relaxing into his excitement. Nearby, I could see six white pillars standing tall with a wrought-iron dome above. The glass of the roof glistened in the moonlight. I paused, my eyes wide with wonder at such beauty.

  “It’s. . .” I whispered breathlessly.

  “Come,” he laughed as he tugged me along. “Come see, Clara.”

  I hoisted the skirts of my dress and rushed to keep up with him. On the other side of the stone gazebo lingered a frozen lake. I slowed as the pillars drew closer, and then I grasped one to catch my breath. Gazing at the landscape, my heart began to swell. Everything seemed so familiar, as if I had been here once before. I knew it was impossible, but I wondered. Had I once dreamed of this place? Long after my dream with the Nutcracker?

  “I feel as though I’ve been here before,” I admitted softly, peering out upon the frozen lake. “As though I know this place.”

  “Anything is possible,” the Nutcracker said with a smile as he watched me carefully, waiting. Slowly, he turned and sat upon one of the stone steps, facing the frozen lake. I took a step forward and came to sit beside him.

  “Why is this your favorite place in the garden?” I asked softly as I laid my hands in my lap. The Nutcracker lifted his hand toward the landscape.

  “I suppose it’s because of how peaceful it is here,” he murmured. “The few times I’ve been here alone. . .” I watched as he paused and swirled
his finger in the air.

  “There’s something about it. Something that helps me to think more clearly.”

  As I sat admiring the frozen lake, I found myself mesmerized by the beauty and tranquility of it. It was truly silent in this place—a spot meant for thinking and time away from the buzz of life. I found my mind drifting back to the forgotten garden, back to the statue of the long-ago king.

  I wondered why he wore such a fearsome expression. He was a king, after all, bound to be worshipped and loved by all. Had he been brought down by the Mouse King? Nutcracker had not specified his demise; only that he was king no longer. What if he had failed to dispose of the Mouse King? And what of Lady Irina’s plans? Would the Nutcracker disappear too, just as the king had?

  Suddenly, I had so many questions. . . so many things I wanted to know.

  “Clara?” Nutcracker’s voice shook me from my own thoughts.

  “Yes?” I blinked.

  Nutcracker considered my expression. “What’s on your mind?”

  I took a deep breath and sighed loudly. I didn’t want to press the issue of the Mouse King any further, but I was too curious. I wanted to know what they had talked about, Nutcracker and Lady Irina. I had enjoyed my tour, but my mind was busy with their conversation that I forgot almost everything Pyotr had told me.

  “A great deal,” I said. “I’m here, but I don’t feel like I’ve been of any help to you.”

  “How can you say that? You’ve saved me.”

  I snorted, laughing at myself nervously. “Oh, Nutcracker, I’m no general or captain of your Guard. What more could I possibly do?”

  “You’ve done plenty, Clara. Please—”

  “Then why couldn’t I sit in on your conversation?” I quipped eagerly, looking up into his eyes. He turned away almost as quickly, saddened. “If I am so important, then why send me away?”

  “I—” he trailed off, lost in thought. “It’s not as complicated as you might think. I simply don’t want to overwhelm you.”

  “If that’s all,” I started quickly, “Then you must trust me. I can help. I want to help.”

  “I know you do.”

  “Your home, Nutcracker… It’s beautiful. It is singularly the most fantastical thing I have seen in my life,” I said, hoping that he would hear the plea in my voice. “If I do have to go home, then I want to make sure that I do everything in my power to help.”

  “You’re very brave, Clara.” Nutcracker nodded, chuckling quietly. “I thought if you were thrown into the fray, you might panic and ask to leave straight away.”

  “I don’t know how anyone could ever want to leave this place,” I said, smiling at the Nutcracker. His blue eyes lit up by my words, and he squeezed my hands gently.

  “Clara. . . would you wish to stay if you could?”

  If I could. . .

  Home had always been in St. Petersburg, where my family lived. My mother, my father, and Fritz; they were all there, waiting. A new life. A life I would spend no doubt married to Viscount Yakov Petryaev if my father had his way.

  Would that I could stay in Winter Dream, but what about my family?

  I pressed my lips together as I pondered his question. The sudden thought of leaving my Nutcracker now filled me with a sort of dread. I had seen so much of his world, and yet, there remained a mystery beyond his castle and the Sugarland Forest. I had met Mother Ginger and Marzipan, but there were people that I wanted to meet still. If I stayed, I would have that chance.

  An opportunity to travel within a realm separate from my own.

  Despite the lurking danger surrounding us, his world had seemingly enveloped me. While I had only been acquainted with him for a day, I felt a connection that was unexplainable. I had known him in my dream. We shared something, the two of us—a longing for more than what we had. If I left now, I knew it would break my heart in a way I never imagined was possible.

  “If I could,” I began, “I think I would stay.”

  It seemed my answer was surprising, but pleasing to him. His eyes widened, and his smile grew larger. But he didn’t question my reasoning. I was afraid he might ask me if I loved him. I was afraid of not being able to give him the answer he deserved.

  To love. To be loved.

  “Perhaps you could,” he said, drawing me closer to him.

  His arm slowly wrapped around my waist; I could nearly feel his warm breath on my cheek. We were so close. It was so easy to feel myself falling into the idea of staying; of never returning to my own world. I didn’t even know how to get back. . . if it was even possible. Perhaps I never could go home. Perhaps I would remain here with the Nutcracker and his courtiers forever.

  “I will defeat the Mouse King,” the Nutcracker said, breaking the silence between us.

  “I want to help you,” I replied, sliding my hand to his arm, doing what I could to keep myself close. He stared at my hand and carefully took it in his own.

  “When Winter Dream is safe, I wish—hope for you to stay with me. I know you could be happy here, Clara.”

  My heart thumped hard against my chest.

  I know you could be happy here, Clara.

  I realized I how much I truly wanted the same thing. I wanted to be happy. I wanted to be free from the duties I faced in my own world. I didn’t wish to be tied down to a man I didn’t like, let alone love. And all for his money? For his title and connections? If I never had to return to the life that awaited me, to my inescapable responsibilities—if staying meant I could forever live in this strange but beautiful dream, I would.

  I wondered how my disappearance would ever be explained. What would happen to the frozen time? Would I simply disappear from Mama and Papa’s lives forever?

  “I’m sure there has to be a way,” the Nutcracker murmured with a slight shrug. I was sure Uncle Drosselmeyer could make anything possible. He had, after all, brought the two of us together.

  “Perhaps.” I nodded in agreement. I didn’t wish to ruin our fun with impossible talk of staying or leaving. For now, I was here. For now, I was with the Nutcracker in his kingdom and his hidden garden.

  “Ah! I almost forgot,” Nutcracker exclaimed. “Lady Irina will be hosting a gala dinner in honor of our arrival tomorrow.”

  I flinched at the sound of her name, pulling myself away from his grasp. I could remember her patronizing attitude earlier from dinner, the way her tone insinuated my ignorance. As if I was too naive, too young, to be taken seriously at all.

  “I had hoped you’d be welcome to the idea.”

  “Of course,” I replied. I mentally chided myself for the overreaction.

  It was rude of me to think such things. He had entrusted the care and keeping of Winter Dream to Lady Irina. Perhaps my status as an outsider made her wary of my presence. In a way, I could understand her earlier behavior if that was the case.

  Even forgive her.

  After all, it was kind of her to be so welcoming, though I was quite sure the gala was not meant for me. I would just be a part of the celebration. I was sure she had done a great deal of planning to make the gala special and festive. I would have to wear my very best smile then, no matter what.

  I opened my mouth to speak when the air suddenly rushed out of my lungs. Nutcracker had thrust himself in front of me, nearly knocking me back with the force of his quick movements. He caught me just in time before the fall as his hand grasped my side and pulled me upright.

  “W-What is—”

  He lifted his hand, gesturing for me to keep quiet. There was nothing but silence. It was the first time I took notice of the sounds—or absence thereof. There weren’t even crickets chirping. The Nutcracker released his breath, a thick puff of air from the cold billowing from his lips.

  “N-Nutcracker?” I whispered again as he took a step. “Is it…?”

  “I don’t know,” he replied quietly. “But I think it would be wise of us to go back to the palace.”

  Perhaps the danger was closer than he thought; closer than he or Lady
Irina anticipated. His fingers curled around mine as he began to walk briskly through the dark. The soft call of an owl echoed above us, causing my eyes to wander up to the sky. Overhead, the white owl flew over us. It almost seemed to sparkle gold and silver in the moonlight. And I could hear a faint whisper in the wind: “You must break the spell, Clara. Beware of the Mouse King.”

  “Uncle Drosselmeyer?” I asked softly as confusion creased my brow. Could the owl be Uncle Drosselmeyer? Was he watching me?

  “Look,” I said, tugging on the Nutcracker’s hand. “The owl!”

  He paused and tilted his chin up toward the sky. The white owl circled around us once before disappearing over the tips of the pine trees.

  “The white owl,” he murmured. “They’re said to be symbols of wisdom. They can see things that others cannot. Many believe they hold the power to change shape.”

  “Could it be my Uncle Drosselmeyer?”

  As he glanced to me, I realized I had never asked the most pressing question of them all: How did my Uncle Drosselmeyer find himself with the Nutcracker? I parted my lips to ask, but before I could make a sound, another growl pierced the sky. A scout. The Nutcracker squeezed my hand again.

  “Come, we must make haste to the palace.”

  He began to walk quickly again, which turned into a run. I did my best to keep up. The fear of sharp teeth lurking just behind me kept me on my toes. I felt my heart pounding through my chest as I clung to the Nutcracker’s hand. I knew in all the danger we faced, the Nutcracker would keep me safe. He, with his daring bravery, would face anything.

  The palace was aglow as we came closer. It shimmered silver in the moonlight, reminding me of the fallen snow beneath our feet. Bright candles flickered warmly at nearly every window, as if waving at us. I could not keep from smiling, despite the fact that we might have been followed. Bringing the danger with us.

  “Nearly there,” he said softly from over his shoulder.