Chapter Text
The snow fell down in soft kisses. In the city of Nuremberg, the lights were all lit, reflected in the white that had buried it in a glimmering sheet. It was late December, the city was filled with lights to brighten the dark nights of winter. The Christkindlesmarkt was already set in the Old Town in front of the Frauenkirche church.
Not too far away, a mother and daughter walked out of the theatre into the cold night. The mother was tall and blonde. Her hair was set in rows of braids that fell to her shoulders, wearing a long-sleeved red velvet bodice gown under her long winter coat.
Her six-year-old daughter’s pulled back hair now twirled with her in the light of the streetlamp. Her little fur cap almost fell off her head.
“That was a lovely ballet!” Clara exclaimed. Her cheeks flushed pink from joy. “The way the girl became a doll and fooled the Doctor. And the dolls came to life!” The girl’s mother smiled gently, listening to her eldest child go on and on about the performance of Coppélia they had just seen. It had been a gift for them both for the Third Advent while her husband looked after their little Tommy with the nursemaid back home.
Clara danced among the snowflakes, twirling to her heart's content in the street, jumping lightly from one side of the empty cobblestone street to another.
“What do you want to do when you are grown up?” her mother asked her as they turned a corner towards the small shopping street.
The girl turned, making a quizzical face. “I don’t know. Maybe a nurse or an adventurer like Aunt Elizabeth…” Her eyes suddenly caught a glimpse of something pretty in a shop window. She ran to it, her eyes widening.
It was a porcelain Christmas decoration of a dancer in a pirouette. Its long leg up to the knee, its arms gracefully in place and wearing a beautiful tutu. Her mother walked to her, asking what had caught her eye. Clara pointed towards the decoration in the window.
“Mama, can I have it, please?” she asked. “It’s so pretty!”
Her mother looked at the decoration and then at her child’s face. She saw how much her little girl’s eyes sparkled. “But you have already had your Advent present?”
“But that memory will fade eventually. I want to remember the dance, I want to remember the stage and the lights and the claps–– Everything! But I also want to remember you for taking me there. Oh please, Mama, can’t I have it! I promise I won’t ask for anything from Saint Nicholas this Christmas.”
Her mother chuckled. “Alright, darling. Let’s see.”
Both of them stepped from inside the shop, thanking the shopkeeper as they left. Clara held the box containing the decoration tightly against her chest. Her mother patted her on the head.
“Thank you, Mama,” said Clara. “I want to remember this night. My first ballet…when can we go see another? Didn’t you say there was one about a swan?”
The mother took her little girl’s hand.
“I am sure we shall see many ballet’s together, my darling.”
Ten Years Later
The silver hour of the early winter morning could not make them cold even if it tried. Frost had painted itself on the glass. A snowman watched from the garden as the two lovers danced in each other’s arms.
She looked into the eyes of her king who had come. A smile upon both of their lips. The gentle morning light came through the French windows of the parlour, cutting through the cold into their warm hearts. They waltzed to their heart’s content. Eyes dazzled at the sight of one another.
Clara laughed as he twirled her, keeping her close enough to catch her as she fell towards him. Her hand against his chest. The dance ended as he kissed her hand once again.
“If we don’t join your family soon they might worry,” he said. “But do not worry, we will see each other soon.”
“The evening will come slowly today. Hard to imagine as soon as we have met you have to leave.”
“We will have the rest of eternity. What is a day compared to it?” he said, reassuring her. Grandfather Drosselmeyer came then, trying to calmly send him on his way. Reminding Clara that she should go and change for the day and that her aunt was waiting in the breakfast room.
She waved through the window to him as he left into the cold morning. He set his hand on his heart and bowed. She placed her own hand upon the golden heart, smiling lovingly at him. Clara could hear her grandfather clear his throat, but she didn’t heed. Eric left through the gate, disappearing once again.
“A most unusual gentleman,” remarked Grandfather Drosselmeyer.
“He is no gentleman, Grandfather. He is a King.”
He stood there dumbfounded for a moment as Clara left towards the breakfast room. Tommy was already busy eating the porridge. “Is he gone?” he asked. Clara nodded.
“Good. I can go and play. Aunt, I’m finished. Can I go?”
“Perhaps you should ask your grandfather first.”
As expected, the answer was no and so Tommy spent the rest of the breakfast watching the clock. Clara ate slowly, her fingers playing with the locket on her neck, wondering and waiting.