The Nutcracker | [Prince Eric X Reader]

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Their Housemaid, Miss Priscilla Primrose, approached (Y/N) with sloth-like steps, despite her age and low-ranked social status, Miss Priscilla was a ray of sunshine in every which way. "Oh, dear!" The elderly gasped as she put a tiny hand to her large bosom. That caused (Y/N) to turn and look at a scattered gingerbread house and soldiers, each treat with huge bite marks taken out of them. Oh, dear indeed. "The mice have found their way into the Christmas boxes." Observed the Housemaid chronically. (Y/N) reached down, and held up one of the half-eaten gingerbread men between the pads of her fingertips. Her nose crinkled. Ew. A frown kneaded in-between her brows.

Suspiciously, she questioned, "Hmm. You haven't perhaps seen Tommy, have you?" The Housemaid shook her head, dusting off her dirtied Maiden skirt and surveyed the room with her honey-kissed eyes for a moment - that was, until the unpleasant sound of loud, haphazard chewing reached both their ears. (Y/N) made her way to the nearby floral couch, and she leaned over to see Thomas in the act of eating one of the said biscuits. She reached down, and snatched the barely eaten - still warm - gingerbread man from his grubby little hands.

"Hey!" He screeched angrily, folding his lanky arms over his flat chest irritably, the remaining of the crumbs tumbling down unto his newly bought tailcoat. Tommy ran a oily hand through his parted raven-black hair as he narrowed his moss-green eyes into thin slits at her. Caught red-handed. Ha!

(Y/N), one. Thomas, null.

(Y/N) and Miss Priscilla circled the couch and the latter beamed, giggling gently, whilst the former looked down, disappointment evident on her wise features, "Mystery solved!" (Y/N) exclaimed. Moving a little closer, she scanned her little brother's caked face. "You might want to wash off that frosting," she gestured to his general, greasy form, "before the mice take a bite out of you." She was about to wipe some left-over crumbs off the corner of his mouth and cheeks, but he swatted her hand away.

"You can not tell me what to do!"

She grinned a fiery grin, pointing smartly out in a sing-song voice, "Nooo, but I am sure Grandfather will insist on a bath." He then speedily rushed out of the room as if his bottom was on fire.

(Y/N) shrugged her shoulders casually as she turned to gaze at Miss Priscilla with a soft smile. Before the pair could return to decorating, the oak door behind them opened, revealing their wonderful Aunt Elizabeth in all her wonderful glory. "(Y/N)!" Her naturally curly burgundy/brunette hair was pulled into a beautiful updo at the top of her head and her plumped lips was painted the colour that matched her overcoat, which was a contrasted dark, dark brown, almost a dim black.

She pulled the younger girl in for a long embrace, "Aunt Elizabeth!"Their hands still intertwined, the two parted. "You're at least a head taller!" Aunt Elizabeth observed, and (Y/N) felt her cheeks heat up, even though the temperature of Drosselmeyer's humble abode was alike to the snowy storm outside - it did not want to cool down. "I thought you were not coming this year..." She said, blowing past her Aunt's usual array of compliments she received when the woman visited unexpectedly. Elizabeth chuckled deviously, "And miss a chance to visit you...", her tone lowered to a whisper, "...and vex my Uncle? Dear me. I could never pass up such marvelous opportunity!"

(Y/N) giggled delicately.

Behind them, Grandfather Drosselmeyer entered, and having heard the conversation, frowned deeply at them; well, mostly at Aunt Elizabeth. She was the one who had insulted him after all...Rule Number 1: Don't. Just - don't. Ever. "You are already conspiring against me, Beth! Where on God's green Earth are your manners today?" He refuted, attempting to cover up the light blush on peppered across his pasty cheeks. Aunt Elizabeth wasn't finished yet, unfortunately: "Don't fret, Uncle. My manners are on holiday, as is my mind. I shall wait until the dinner party is over, before I will perform my mischief!" She exclaimed gleefully. Fritz ignored her, marching over to the kitchens with a stubborn harrumph.