Waking up has a way of making people feel stiff.

Jayce should know; a few moments ago, he was still made of wood, stiff like a board, with hardly any mind to think at all. So the shift had been brutal, to say the least. Even now in the midst of fighting, he was still trying to shake some feeling into his arm. And while he did, it gave him some time to reflect on where in the world he was--and what in the world had happened to him.

Everything felt terribly blurry. Jayce vaguely remembered a man, carrying his poor little nutcracker self to a Christmas party. That, at least, was normal. He vaguely reminisced the snow, the warmth of the hearth, and the gentlest hands picking him up from under the tree, and the softest voice exclaiming 'Oh, isn't he just lovely?'. Then a fight, perhaps. A pain in his arm? And those gentle hands again, trying to fix him as best as possible.

Everything after that sunk back into a haze, until something snapped him awake. Maybe it had been magic, maybe it was his own will. Maybe he had always been a handsome young prince, and being a nutcracker was just a... Stroke of bad luck? He hadn't had much time to ponder it, because evidently he hadn't been the only one transforming.

Rats, rats everywhere. That was where his memories finally started. Not the cute kind, either, no. Big rats, mean rats--and the softest voice, from a corner, crying for help.

It hadn't taken much more than that to spring him into movement. He recognised that voice, yours, the first he has ever heard. And he'd be damned if these rats stole you away to their sewers, and even more damned if that awful rat king laid his dirty rat hands on you.

So, obviously, because Jayce was a handsome prince and a galant knight, he fought the creatures tooth and nail. And that's where we will start our story, thank you very much.

Steel was meeting claw with sharp, ringing strikes, his blade far lighter than it had any right to be, as if whatever magic had woken him had decided he ought to know how to use it as well. The rats swarmed in chittering waves, snapping teeth flashing in the dim light, but his body moved faster than his thoughts. He stepped, turned, struck, again and again, until splinters of broken spears and fallen vermin littered the floorboards around him.

Now to the rat king--Jayce stepped forward, ready to take on the beast. It was a hulking creature, too many heads, too many eyes. Their swords clashed once, twice, a third time, the force of it rattling up his arm, the same arm he dimly remembered being broken earlier that night. For a split second the weakness returned, a tremor running through his grip, and the Rat King surged forward, claws reaching.

Jayce tried to take a step away again, but there was no need to. He heard you again, but this time it wasn't a soft coo, or a panicked scream. This time, he heard you let out a loud yell, and both he and the rat king turned to look at you.

And you threw your slipper at the rat king, hitting him square in the face. Wow. Nice.

It gave Jayce enough time to run the beast through with his sword, barely flinching when it thrashed and screeched. It collapsed a moment later in a heap of blood and flesh, and with that, the fight was over.

For a moment, nothing happened. The remaining rats scattered, the king lay still and dead, and he finally let his breathing slow down. Only then did he notice the slipper at his feet. It was a delicate satin thing, rich and not meant for battle, but it had flown true.

"Thank you for your aid. I suppose that in my haste to save you, I found myself in greater need of saving." Jayce bent to pick it up and handed it back to you with a small bow and a smile. "I would still feel better if you were far away from here, there could be more of those creatures lurking. Would you come with me to the land of sweets?"