Chapter Text
For Nimona, no matter how time marches on, or how the world morphs and races past her, one single thing remained a constant.
Winter blows.
Truly, to her, it was the absolute worst season of all. A whole season where the land dies and goes quiet, washing everything in a still dullness. One where thick layers of snow soak through her clothes or fur. The chill clinging to her core and making her just as bitter as the frost was. It’s a time where those long, dark nights do nothing but remind her of her solitude and what she’s lost. The life she could’ve had were she not betrayed all those countless years ago, or if the world were just the teensiest bit kinder. Those many nights spent slinking along the wet, icy alleyways of the kingdom as a rat or a cat, her stomach screaming and clawing from hunger, left her sour to the very thought of wintertime.
And that’s not even getting into the holidays.
Oh, how she loathed the Christmas season. Sure, the lights were appreciated when it got dark so early and stayed that way. And she’ll never turn down a mug of cocoa. But, it sure was rich how everyone and their mother were out – sometimes literally – singing the praises of a holiday dedicated to the concept of ‘peace and goodwill towards others.’ And yet, if those same people realized just what she really was, they’d have her head on a pike in an instant. Maybe even hang it over the very fireplace they’d roast their chestnuts on.
The sentiment didn’t just feel fake. For years, to her, it was fake. A holiday dressed up in shiny lights and glittery tinsel, force-feeding saccharine nonsense all for the sake of selling more junk and projecting some manufactured joy. The ham-fisted traditions, the constant push to be happy and give when no one else would ever once offer anything for her, and the music! Ugh, how she loathed it and its overuse of jingling bells. That’s easily the worst part.
But, as Autumn came to a slow and fading end and the first flakes of winter started to fall outside her window, Nimona stirs from her blanket nest. Letting out a big, worn sigh.
If someone told her last year she’d not just be out for all to see, but also crashing in the guest bedroom of a Goldengroin kid’s apartment? She’d start pressing them to bring out the cameras. Because clearly they were pranking her. Or she’d wonder if they were drunk or something. And yet, here she was. In a room she’s just barely made her own. Huddling for warmth and safety from the elements.
It was all temporary, of course. Just while the old lair was slowly getting fixed up and made into something more livable. And, as a gesture of good faith, Ambrosius gave her as many blankets and pillows as she wanted. Even going out and getting a couple more when those denning instincts started kicking in and what she had already didn’t feel like enough.
It was her sanctuary. Her bastion against an ever-encroaching season. A small hill of comfiness and warmth where she could conveniently forget that, by all accounts, the harvest season had come and gone.
Slowly and surely, a small pink nose poked out of the pile of bedding. Taking in enough air for another heavy sigh before she willed herself up and out of her tunnel. A little ferret wriggling free from the depths and arching her back in a nice, big, tail-twitching stretch. Sleepily, she stands there and blinks. Eventually glancing at the borrowed minimalist digital clock on her nightstand reading 8:59 AM in white numbers. It was far too early for her. Grumbling slightly, and shifting into a wolf so she could yawn, she flops dramatically back down onto her nest. Only losing one pillow in the process. But, she couldn’t care less.
Her room was nice and dark. The blackout curtains closed to keep that gross, gray blah outside where it belonged. In here, it was warm-ish. In here, she could pretend all the cold and crap that came with winter didn’t exist. In here, she was safe from the bullshit of Christmas…
At least, that’s what she thought.
As the clock strikes 9, something – or rather someone – stirs. And Nimona’s pink, fuzzy, triangular ears couldn’t help but pick up the muffled, twinkling notes of a xylophone chiming from the other room…
Hold on, why did that melody sound so familiar?
Then, the vocals kick in.
“Iiiii-hiii… Don’t want a-lot fooor Christmasss…~”
Oh… oh no.
“Theeere’s just one thing I neeeeed.~”
Out of all the songs, all the carols, it just had to be this one, didn’t it?!
“I don’t care about the presents... underneath the Christmas tree.~”
Now she starts to bury herself further down into that pile. Tucking her head under another pillow in a feeble attempt to hide from the inevitable.
“I just want you for my oooown, moooore than you could e-ver knooow.~”
Nimona’s paws come up and over her ears, pressing as hard as she could while she mentally wailed, “Please, just make it stop!”
“Make my wish come truuuuuuue…!~ All I waaaant for Christmaaass, iiiiiiis… YOOOOOOU!~”
As the instruments pick up it just gets more grating. Audible even through her pillows and paws. Leaving her in pure agony while she growls, “Fuuuuck meeee, NOOOO-!”
Sorrowful and soulful, her voice morphs into a pained howl. Her last vain attempt to block out the cheery beat and those damn jingling bells. But, it’s no use. Did-... Did they just turn it up louder?!
Snarling a bark, she leaps from the bed and charges for the door. Shifting back into a girl and throwing it open, a glow to her eyes and a taste of smoke on her tongue.
“Alright, I don’t care who put it on, but you better turn this crap off before I-!” Stunned, she stops dead in her tracks. Her anger long gone the moment she bore witness to what was in front of her. Leaving her standing and looking on in complete bewilderment and awe at just what the hell Ambrosius was wearing. “What the f-?!”
“Morning, Nims!” He is the absolute pinnacle of holiday cheer. Decked out head-to-toe in Christmas-y lounge wear. On his head were the customary reindeer antlers, complete with little embroidered light strands and small colorful ‘bulb’ beads, even a pair of goofy plush ears on either side of his head. The green headband of the accessory nestling nicely into his fading blond hair. As for actual clothes, he wore a white, long-sleeve shirt with “On the Nice List” in cursive red font on the front. Meanwhile, his pants were flannel and in a gaudy bright red-and-green plaid. Finally, as ridiculous as they were, he wore a pair of plush green, curled, jingle-belled elf shoe slippers.
All the while, as bright as his outfit was, it wasn’t anywhere close to outshining the smile on his face. In his hands resting a box of light-up garland.
Nimona, meanwhile, just blinks in a mix of horror and disgust at the garish sight before her. “Wh-what’re you doing…?”
“Uhh… what does it look like? Decorating!” He snickers a little at the question. Setting the box down in the middle of the room and right on top of the living room’s white, oval coffee table. Placed in front of a crisp, clean, minimalist cream couch.
Nimona’s not sure which decor choice she hates more. The clean, boring, bougie minimalism the apartment was usually adorned with, or the sheer gaudy overwhelm of Christmas.
“Deco-?!” The word catches in her throat. Aggressively, she gestures over to the small calendar hanging on the fridge. It’d already been flipped over, with Christmas circled enthusiastically in red, and proudly declaring that it was in fact the 1st. “DECEMBER JUST STARTED!”
Gentle and a little bit sleepy, a chuckle comes from that same kitchen. There, Ballister, a cup of black tea in hand, is leaning against the counter and clearly taking some time to wake up while his boyfriend joyously rushes around. His normally slicked back hair now loose and frazzled, hell he doesn’t even have his arm on yet. Unlike Ambrosius, his black tanktop and gray sweatpants are notably un-festive. “Hey, could be worse. I talked him down from setting everything up in November.”
The very thought almost makes Nimona throw up in her mouth a little.
“I-... okay, fine. But couldn’t you guys at least wait to do… THIS-!” She waves her hands about dramatically, “At a REASONABLE TIME?!”
Ambrosius shoots Bal a little look. Those sweet eyes of his quietly pleading and conveying the thought he was far too polite to actually say. And Ballister catches it. Far more confident with dishing out a little sass than his boyfriend was.
“This is a reasonable time, Nimona. Just because you usually sleep through it doesn’t make it unreasonable.” And, to further accentuate his point, he sips from his mug. His favorite one covered in grumpy looking cartoon black cats.
Nimona, meanwhile, glares at him. “Touché…”
Rolling her eyes, she storms into the kitchenette – though with the open-concept it’s far less impactful – and she throws open the cupboard to grab a box of cereal. Opening it roughly and tearing the box, shoving her hand in like a barbarian while grasping overflowing handfuls of ‘Golden Golems’ to dryly much on. She knew she couldn’t go to bed. Not after that little jab.
“Hey, besides-,” Ambrosius chimes in with a shrug, heading back to the apartment’s storage closet, “I can’t start too late. This is an all-day job, you know!”
And now she nearly chokes on her breakfast, watching him come in with a cardboard box labeled ‘ornaments.’ “Wh-? HOW?! We live in a moderately sized apartment. How many boxes of decorations do you even HAVE?!”
“Hmm, lemme think…” And now he’s putting up fingers to count while he glances up, trying to recall all the different items. “Got the garland, the tree and skirt, lights, ornaments, wall signs, mugs and plates, this year’s advent calendar…”
Ballister chimes in, “Don’t forget the knick-knacks and snowglobes.”
“Right! How could I forget those! Then there’s-.”
“OKAY! Okay, I get the gist. Just-... just stop.” She grimaces. Completely oblivious to the way Ambrosius shrugged before getting back to work. Her eyes taking on a sort of glazed-over, haunted look as it all sinks in. Of course. Of-fucking-course she had to shack up with one of THOSE people…
Bal, meanwhile, rolls his eyes mid-sip. Heading over and nudging her a bit with his hip. “Oh, come on, it’s not that bad.”
“Yes it is.” Now she’s watching on with disdain as the blond starts to unravel whole strands of faux-garland to hang up and around the apartment’s balcony door. Slowly, she shakes her head. Her hand slowly reaching into the box for another handful of cereal. Crunching on it noisily, talking with her mouth full, “We’re going to be stuck in a candy-cane striped, gumdrop-sugarplum hellhole for a month, boss. A whole month.”
The melodrama might’ve been endearing for Ballister were it directed at anyone else.
“Hmph, well, he didn’t complain when you took him shopping for gory Halloween decorations. Or when you insisted that we absolutely had to have that week-long slasher movie marathon.”
“That’s completely different, and you know it.”
“No, no it’s not.” He shakes his head, looking down at her with slightly raised brows. “Look, this is the one holiday he ever truly gets excited about. Be nice. Let him have this. For me.”
Growling low, Nimona shifts into a raccoon. Catching the box of cereal before it could crash to the floor and instead starts dragging it to her room. At least before she’s interrupted.
“Hey, uh-, Nimona?” All stretched up and looking over his shoulder, Ambrosius is trying to hang the garland up. Slowly being overtaken by fake needles and lights while he waits for his boyfriend to wake up just a bit more. “I-If you want, you’re more than welcome to help! A pair of wings would be awesome right now. Or maybe some extra arms or tentacles?”
“Nah, I’m good. Have fun.” Glaring daggers at Ambrosius, the festive fiend, she reaches for her door and slams it shut. Making the apartment rattle and startling the blond. Causing that garland to fall right on top of him.
It’s not long before the loudest, screechiest, moodiest punk and metal tracks started blaring from her room. Cutting through the musical cheer emanating from the living area and leaving Ambrosius completely baffled. Turning to Bal, with a small-.
“What’d I do?”
Ballister just shrugs and sighs in return. Finishing his tea and heading over to help.
This was gonna be a long month, wasn’t it?
~ December 7th ~
Nimona wasn’t happy.
Not in the slightest.
Teeth chattered and tired muscles jittered as she pulled her arms in even tighter against her scrunched up legs. And, though she’d given this form a winter coat, it’s not nearly enough for her. Unless she turned into something with plenty of blubber, like a bear, she’d be frigid no matter what. After all, the coat was still just another part of her body. But, apparently, bears were ‘too heavy for the sled’ and that’d ‘be cruel to the poor horse.’
Whatever. She only came along for one reason, and one reason alone. And until then she was more than content to huddle up on herself and glare at her companions.
Speaking of, Ballister and Ambrosius, meanwhile, were perfectly warm and cozy all snuggled up in their winter gear. Bundled up in hats and scarves, mittened hands clasped, the two of them leaning against each other as the cheery sound of sleigh bells rung out into the frigid breeze. The two of them taking in the gorgeous wintery scenery of the kingdom’s central park. Snow topped the trees beautifully and gave their slumbering boughs definition, little chickadees and cardinals flittered and fluttered to-and-fro between them in search of food. All while kids and adults alike were sledding down hills or skating out on the ice-covered ponds in the distance. A perfectly picturesque landscape.
As they see a family building several snow-creatures, Ambrosius gives Bal a nudge. “You know, it’s been way too long since we’ve built a snowman. We should do that this year!”
“Well, if we have time for it.” Ballister chuckles, tucking his head on Ambrosius’ shoulder. “You have our schedules packed pretty tight, love… Though, I suppose there is technically next year.”
Ambs just gives his boyfriend a little questioning look. He wanted to wait a whole year to do something as quick and simple as build a snowman…? Though, then it clicks. And he couldn’t help but snicker. “Wait, you mean in January?”
The little cheeky nod and wink Ballister gives the blond is enough to make Ambs blush a bit and avert his eyes. And in response he mumbles, “Pfft, smartaleck.”
And Nimona? She rolls her eyes. Blowing a snowflake off of her rosy-pink nose with a puff, nearly gagging at the flirting happening in front of her. Seriously, what was it her boss saw in Goldilocks anyway? Either way, her sour mood wasn’t all that subtle.
“Aw, come on, Nimona. Lighten up a little, yeah?” Though, of course, Ballister’s attempts to get through to his sidekick are all in vain.
“Fun, yeah, totally…” She huffs, changing into a lynx and curling up into a tight, shivering ball. Grumbling from behind her big, fluffy paws, “It is if you’re into the whole ‘freezing to death’ thing, I guess…”
Ambrosius playfully scoffs, “Of course you’d find a way to be grumpy right now, Nims. A nice, relaxing sleigh ride on a stunningly perfect winter day with your friends. Worst thing in the world, right? So sorry we dragged you out here.”
“Yeah, you better be…” She grumbles. Thinking Ambs couldn’t hear her, but he could. After letting out a drawn out sigh, she shuts her eyes. “Whatever. Just wake me up when there’s cocoa…”
Brow furrowing, the corners of Ballister’s mustache turn downwards. Was she being a little dramatic? Maybe. But he still couldn’t help but feel a tad bit bad for her. He’d offered to get her a coat at the beginning of the season only for her to refuse. She had a pretty strict ‘no real clothes’ policy. Not even a scarf. She only liked the clothes she could conjure for herself since, according to her, it made shifting easier. No worries about being trapped, ripping the things she likes, or if something actually fits her or not.
Still, though. She looked so cold. Lately that’s all she’s been. Cold and tired in her blanket nest, or as an iguana basking on the heat vents, Bal’s even caught her in cat-form snoozing in the dryer just after the clothes were done.
Ambrosius, meanwhile, was noting the exact same thing. Maybe Nims was like him and ran naturally cold. He’s already built a very impressive laundry-list of items to potentially get Ballister. Noting hobbies, media his boyfriend liked, the things Bal would quietly grumble to himself about but would never tell anyone else for the sake of not sounding picky, so on and so forth. Finding gifts for him was easy.
For Nimona? She was a complete enigma. A gifting-egg he was absolutely determined to crack, and he thinks he’s found his first break in the shell.
While the ride was plenty cozy for the lovebirds, and only slightly more tolerable for Nimona, it did have to come to an end eventually. The three of them now on a walk through winding salted park pathways to acquire Nimona’s promised beverage. The target being a concession stand the boys start going to the moment the weather turns cold. One with absolutely superb cocoa and cider.
Teeth chattering, Nimona huddled in on herself. Walking behind her boss and his boyfriend so she could use them as a meager windbreak. Her hands tucked under her arms and her shoulders up to her ears. This cocoa better be good. Or else, she’s telling her boss and his boyfriend to go screw themselves and hibernating next year instead.
All the while, hand-in-hand, the couple chat under their breaths. Enough so that Nims couldn’t hear… not that she even could over her shivering and simmering rage.
“So…” Ambrosius started, “How do we handle lil’ miss Grinch back there?”
Ballister raises a brow in response. “What do you mean?”
“What do you mean, ‘what do I mean?’ Look at her! She’s miserable, Bal!”
Glancing over his shoulder, he gives her a little smile and only gets a frown in return… Okay, Ambrosius definitely wasn’t wrong.
“See what I mean? She hates this. So far she hates everything…” And at that, he sighs. Deflating a bit and reminding Ballister of a sad puppy. “I just wanna help make this Christmas good for her. After everything she’s been through? She deserves it.”
In response, he gives his partner’s hand a little squeeze. “Love, I know you mean well, but something like this? Well… she’ll need to sort it out on her own.”
“Wha-?!” He scoffs, “You’re seriously suggesting we leave her to be this grumpy for a whole month? You’re kidding, right?”
Ballister sighs, “Nope. I know, it sounds not-so-pleasant. But, I was the same way, you know. Now look at me. I came around eventually.”
“Wait, you were?”
“Mmmhm.” He can’t help but chuckle at his boyfriend’s startled expression, “What’s that look for, hm?”
The blond scoffs a little, “Oh, no reason. Just that you apparently hated Christmas for years and I’m only just getting the memo now?!”
“SHH! Ohh-kay, okay, Sir Dramatic. I didn’t hate Christmas. I just…” Ballister pauses with a sigh, taking the time to find the right words for such a tough topic. “It’s a rough time of year for some people. Me included. So I don’t really blame her for being in a mood, that’s all.”
Ambrosius was about to reply, prod a little further into the hows and whys – after all, it’s not everyday he learns something new about Ballister. Especially something like that – when he feels a sharp, sudden thump to the back of his head. Bits of frozen clumps slipping down the neck of his coat and sweater, making him shiver violently and scrunch his shoulders up as high as they could go. Him and Bal both turn…
And, in the field beyond, they see a whole group of kids clearly split into two teams. Each one standing around hand-packed snow forts with wide, dread-filled eyes. A sight that’s made especially adorable considering the full winter gear they had on. Hats with pompoms or hand-knit ear flaps, bright tasseled scarves, matching mittens that now covered gasping mouths, the whole kit n’ kaboodle. Not a single soul moved. After all, one of them just hit THE Ambrosius Goldenloin. With a snowball!
The ex-knight in question…? He was startled, sure. But it was harmless. So he just rubs the snow out of his hair with a little giggle. “Hey, no need to look so scared, you’re fine!”
Though, as he says that, he’s also bending down. Scooping up a bundle of snow and packing it tight… What was he up to?
“Well…?” When he stands up, he’s got a playful smirk on his face and a twinkle in his eye. Bringing his arm back for a throw. “ What’re you all waiting for? Duck for cover!”
Immediately, the kids all scramble for their snow forts. Screeching and squealing with delight as they all rush in a mad dash to load their arms up with as many snowballs as possible.
Laughing, Ambrosius throws the first one. Hitting the fort with a hearty thump before bending down to pack in more of the icy clumps. Glancing up at his partner with a sweet little giggle to his voice, “Come on, Bal, I need reinforcements!”
“Alright, Captain, hold on...” He chuckles, bending down as well to help with making their ammunition when he gets the idea. Normally, his sidekick loved joining in on chaos. And there’s nothing more chaotic than a snowball fight. He turns around to where she was last, “Hey, Nimon-... a…”
Except she wasn’t there.
Instead, she was a ways off on a distant bench. Not looking all too pleased at the interruption. Clearly grumbling to herself while she puffed little flame bursts into her palms in a feeble attempt to warm her hands.
Alright. She’s not joining in. Got it.
Though, he doesn’t have much time to ponder that as now he got hit right in the ear. His hand flying up to cover it while he refocuses on the fight with a smile and a giggle. “ACK! Hey, no fair! I wasn’t even looking!”
Screams and laughter fill the air, joining the snowballs thrown as the wintery war waged on. Of course, Ballister and Ambrosius didn’t actually aim for any of the kids. Just their forts or the ground beside them. Each one just close enough to work out a startled yelp and a giggle.
Now, did the kids show that same level of grace and mercy to the two ex-knights…?
No, absolutely not. In fact, there were at least three different Ambrosius-shaped imprints in the snow now. Two were confirmed to have happened after Ambrosius was hit hard enough to knock him down. The third? He tripped.
Ballister, meanwhile, was faring much better. A couple hits to the chest. But, overall he maintained his footing. After all, he was top of his class for a reason. And his time with Nimona and her usual ‘Think fast!’ habits only helped his dexterity improve. But, even then, he was getting hit more than he was actually hitting his targets.
Though, the moment half of the fighting force begged Ballister to join their side, complete with puppy-dog eyes? The tides changed. Now with an adult target for him to focus on, Bal was allowed to really show off his prowess. And, just as he always does, Ambrosius met that challenge head-on. The two of them getting little competitive gleams in their eyes. The same ones they always got while sparring.
One hit. That’s all Ambrosius managed to get on Bal. And he didn’t even get to cheer for long. Swiftly getting decked in the face with yet another snowball… make that at least four Ambrosius-shaped imprints out on the battlefield.
As the fight drug on, the numbness in everyone’s fingers and the fatigue in their legs barely even mattered anymore. At least until-.
“HAH!” Ambrosius was sure he got Bal this time. Chucking that snowball as fast and hard as he could!
Only for Ballster to duck with a little startled yelp. Bopping back up with a smug, “GOTTA TRY BETTER THAN THAT, LO-!”
They hear a thump. Followed by a hiss and an enraged growl.
Silence falls over the field. The two warring factions brought to a standstill yet again. Because, now? Ambrosius hit Nimona. Right in the back of the head.
Slow and ominous, she turns. Her expression clearly reading, ‘Who the hell threw that!?’
His dark brown eyes wide and blinking with mild-fear, Ballister thinks fast. Pointing at Ambrosius. After all, Nimona said it herself, he cared about truth and honor. And his Rose did, in fact, do it.
“Wh-?! HEY!” Really!? His boyfriend wasn’t even going to try and take the hit for him?! As if the sting of betrayal wasn’t bad enough, Ambrosius feels his heart drop down to his stomach as he watches the pink shapeshifter climb onto the back of that bench. Perched like a gargoyle, a wicked grin on her face as she readies herself. Ambrosius’ gloved hands come up, and he takes several small steps back. “Nims! Nims, i-it was an accident, I swear!”
“Oh yeah…?” Her chuckle is just as sinister as her smile as she hops down. Changing into some kind of ogre with huge, overgrown hands and arms. All for the sake of scooping up a massive handful of snow and packing it in tight. It had to be the biggest snowball any of them had ever seen. Big enough to be the body of a snowman!
One of the kids speaks up while watching Nimona slowly draw closer.
“Sir Goldenloin? Sir Boldheart? Should we be running…?”
Ballister’s the one to reply. His voice steady and matter-of-fact as he nods. “Yes, yes we should.”
Two more screams, ones much older than the rest, join the shrill pack as they all start running in a mad dash for safety. Not too far behind, the downright cartoonishly maniacal laughter of a freezing, pissed off shapeshifter follows them.
Nimona’s once-cold hands are wrapped snuggly tight around a papery cup as they walk. A tiny speck of whipped cream dots the tip of her rosy-pink nose after a nice, long sip of the rich, chocolaty piece of heaven in her hands. The absolute nectar of the gods. All the while, as she practically skips along the path, her dragon-like tail swishes and wags along to the tune of the rock song she was humming. This time, she led their little group home. The day now worth all of the shivering now that she had her cocoa. And she had the opportunity to pummel ‘Goldengroin’ with the mother-of-all-snowballs.
Ambrosius, meanwhile, paused his teeth chattering with a sneeze. Letting out a groan afterwards.
“You sure you’re alright? I can order us that soup you like. Maybe kick up the heater a bit and warm up your favorite socks?” Ballister, who’d been spared, now has his arm around Ambrosius’ shoulders. Holding his partner close.
“Y-yeah, Bal, ‘m fine… but please do that-!” Another sneeze, followed by a sniffle. His voice taking on a nasal-y tint. “Soup sounds so good right now… mmngh. Really, I’m jus’ glad she had fun, you know?”
Ballister, meanwhile, rolls his eyes at the little chuckle Ambs gave him. The giant snowball was unnecessary. And frankly a little cruel for what was just an accident… Or, maybe he’s just a bit bitter now that he knows he’ll likely need to add cold medicine to the grocery list. And prepare for a very sad, and extra needy boyfriend this upcoming week. Who knows.
~ December 15th ~
“Target is in sight…”
Soft, pink paws slink silently though the night while raspberry-colored eyes glimmered and gleamed amongst warm, twinkling strands of lights. A single notched ear flicks at the obnoxious and low electrical hum from all the decorations, swishing her fuzzy striped tail in agitation. Each one of Nimona’s steps as silent as a mouse while she approached her prey.
The tree.
Oh, it’s taunted her since day one. Standing there smugly in all of its festive glory. Covered in those little lights. Some staying static, others blinking on and off. Looking all nice with its classy red-and-gold velvet skirt underneath. Complete with a glittery golden star on the tippy-top to match. But, on the tree itself? Placed between standard shiny bulbs were some of the ugliest looking ornaments Nimona’s ever seen in her many, many years. She could’ve easily done better using shark fins… in the dark… with her eyes closed and blindfolded!
Some of the ornaments were classic bulbs that had been smeared with messy, Christmas-themed paints and topped with obscene amounts of glitter. Others were sculpted with colored clay. Some into the shapes of lumpy and disfigured Santa Clauses, a couple into reindeer that would’ve surely been inbred if they were real, or discs with lumpy and uneven snowflakes sculpted on top. Discs Nimona was sure were supposed to be perfect circles, but were somehow oval and thinner on one side. That wasn’t all. Paper stars, googly-eyed pom-pom snowmen, and even popsicle stick sleighs join the display.
This cone of merry misery made her sick… Which is why this is attempt number three. And, if things go her way, this tree and all its tacky trinkets will fall tonight.
The first attempt was merely a subtle form of protest. Just a little hip-bump while Ambrosius was cashed out on the couch and Ballister was too busy reheating soup for him to notice. But that was treated like a freak accident and nothing more.
The second time? She’d been caught pink-pawed. She thought she was home alone judging by just how silent the apartment was. But, she also hadn’t been awake early enough or long enough to know Ballister was in the shower. Needless to say, when her boss caught her in wolf-form trying to drag the gaudy thing out onto the apartment’s balcony to toss it from the top floor? He was not happy with her.
But that didn’t discourage her. She won’t be swayed from her mission. After all, third time’s the charm, right?
Tonight, she’s patiently waited for Ballister and ‘Mr Goldilocks’ to go to bed for the night. And, though it felt like it took forever with how gross and love-y they were being, they’d finally turned in. Making now the time to strike. When the apartment was completely still and silent. Snow falling softly outside and laying down a thicker quilt of white.
This time she wanted a much more direct approach. So, she carefully slinks around the couch and hops up onto the coffee table with only the lightest of grunts. Facing that corner-bound coniferous cretin. Her whiskers twitching in anticipation, haunches wiggling as she readies herself. And, of course, she couldn't help but really get into the moment a little.
“Your rein of tinsel-y terror’s at its end, tree!” She chuckles, “I’d say it was nice knowin’ ya, but then I’d be lying. Yaaah!”
She leaps! Landing with a rattle, her claws dig into the branches. Now the work can begin. Hurriedly, she’s plucking off ornaments and rocking the whole thing side-to-side. Relishing in the crunching of faux-needles under her paws and the clacking of ornaments as they hit each other.
“Take that! And THAT!” With the most evil little giggle she could manage, her teeth grip the fine strands and wires hanging the bulbs and bobbles up onto the boughs. And, in a single fast movement, she flicks her head and tosses them aside. Hearing them clatter and crack onto the ground while she cackles. “Die you tacky thing, die!”
To and fro, she sways. The tree almost reaching its limit. Nearly about to fall to the ground. She was soon to be victorious!
Then a voice cries out.
“NIMONA!”
And her heart drops. She thought she was being quiet!
But, she wasn’t. And, upon hearing such a racket, Ballister had to go investigate. Walking in on her trying to murder their tree… AGAIN.
Furious, he storms over and scruffs her. Pulling her out and holding her up to eye-level while his foot steadies the tree’s base. The way his nose, brow, and mustache are scrunched up so plainly tells her, ‘You messed up. BAD.’
“Uhh… I can explain?” She giggles a little nervously, her tail tucking in while she hangs. Noting how a startled, sleepy Ambrosius soon walks in. His expression is so clearly distraught while he heads over to inspect the damage.
Finally, Ballister speaks up. But it’s in that low, quiet tone. The one she didn’t hear often. Only when he was really upset. “No, no you can’t explain this. Because there is absolutely no good reason why you’ve tried to ruin our tree twice now, Nimona!”
“Technically this is the third time…” She mumbles out the corner of her mouth.
“THIRD?!”
“Hey! To my credit? Some of those ornaments are super ugly. And I mean UGLY!” She smiles. Trying to play this off as nothing. “Really, Boss? I’m doing you a favor. Giving you both the chance to go buy some newer, better ones. You’re welcome.”
And his anger just builds more, coming across as a low tremor to his voice, “Those ornaments are ‘ugly’ because we made them as KIDS, Nimona!”
Her eyes immediately dart over to Ambrosius as he picks up an old, sculpted, lumpy santa head. Part of the hat having broken off during Nimona’s onslaught. His brows are furrowed, but more in a disappointed sort of way.
Oh… oh no.
Her voice is significantly less proud as she glances back to Ballister. “Y-you what now?”
“It’s a tradition of ours…” Seething, he plops her right down on the couch. Standing there with his arms crossed. Though he slept without his prosthetic these days, he had to put it on quickly. After all, he was convinced someone broke in. There’s a low, fiery anger in his eye as he looks down at his sidekick. “Ever since I met him, Ambrosius had a tiny desk tree in his dorm. And that first year? I didn’t have any money for a gift. So I made him an ornament for it. It caught on, and now every year we make each other an ornament. We’ve been doing this since we were seven!”
Ambrosius, after glancing over at the other ornaments left scattered across the floor, gets up with the broken one in his hands. His tone quiet and gentle even despite the hurt plainly written on his face. “Bal, it’s okay-.”
“It’s not!” He’s still meeting Nimona’s eye, even when she tries to avert it. “Look, I know you’ve been having a rough time lately. And, in the past, Rose and I have both been more than generous with your little ‘breaking stuff’ habit. Clearly we are. We gave you a whole cabinet of dishes just for that! No big deal. But, you know what? I’d appreciate it if you left our heirlooms out of it, no matter HOW ‘tacky’ you think they are! We don’t go into your room and break your things, right?”
Pink ears press back, her body lowering onto her paws. “R-right…”
“Exactly. So maybe show a little respect for something we both clearly care about, yeah!?” The look he gives her tells her enough. He doesn’t just mean the ornaments. With a huff, he pinches the bridge of his nose before turning to inspect the damage. Bending down to grab a bulb and hang it back up.
“Boss-?”
“Please just go to bed, Nimona. You’ve done enough…”
She stays there for a moment. Feeling the shame and regret bubble up in her as she looks at the other ornaments she’s tossed around… wordlessly, she shifts into a bat. Flapping up and back into her room where she slowly and silently shuts the door behind her.
Ambrosius cringes ever so slightly. Setting the broken ornament down on the coffee table, collecting the rest. Opening his mouth to speak-.
“Before you ask, no. I don’t think that was a bit much…” Still miffed, Bal grabs a couple more. Hanging them up… though he never was as good at ornament placement as his boyfriend was.
“I-I don’t think she meant-,” Ambrosius didn’t get to finish that one, either.
“Oh no, she meant it. You weren’t here when she tried throwing our tree off our damn balcony!” He’s grumbling under his breath as he works. Nimona’s determination to try and ruin his partner’s favorite time of year was growing more than a little tiresome.
Ambrosius, meanwhile, blinks. Because, wow. Off the balcony? That’s dedication… but, then he eyes his boyfriend a bit before finally speaking. “What happened to, ‘not blaming her for being in a mood?’”
“The difference is, I never went out of my way to ruin other people’s fun. I mean, come on! Waiting until we’re both asleep to commit premeditated tree murder?! It’s a new low for her!” He scoffs, shaking his head. Starting to get lost in old, bad memories. “No, I never did anything like that. Even if I had more than enough reason to. Mind you, that was with me spending so many years huddling by fires to keep from freezing, being left hungry with absolutely nothing to my name, spending so many lonely nights looking at all those families. Just wishing for the day where I could-…” The moment he feels a hand on his shoulder, he sighs, “Sorry, love.”
“Don’t be… but maybe I’m not the person you should be having this talk with.”
His prosthetic hand comes up to gently grasp Ambrosius’. “Yeah, maybe… Not now, though.”
Another sigh as he turns and grabs the broken ornament. It was a clean break. He could easily glue the pieces back together and have it hanging within the day, like it never even happened. No harm, no foul… certainly wasn’t worth raising his voice at her. Sure, the piece was sentimental, but it was just an ornament. First thing when he sees her? He’ll apologize. After they’ve both slept on it and cleared their heads. But, that talk? It’ll be a little more difficult. He’ll need to wait. Keep an eye out for the just right time to have a real, open, honest conversation with her.
For now, though? They needed to fix this tree and get some rest.
~ December 18th ~
The wind whipped fierce and frigid around Nimona. Stirring a shiver while she makes the flight back to the apartment… home, she supposed. Though it was still weird to say she had one of those. Beside her, a bag tied shut ruffles and rustles as the wind blew about it. She’s nothing too crazy right now. Just her girl form with some draconic wings and a pointed tail for helping to keep her balance. Sure, it might’ve been faster to be something like a falcon. But, even in the dead of winter, an afternoon flight’s not too bad. Though she’s certainly happy to roost. Especially after flying through weather like this.
With the grace of a being who’s done this countless times before, she angles her wings just right and slows herself enough so she touches down on the balcony railing one foot at a time. Then hops down as if she were using stairs. Most wouldn’t expect her to pull off such a delicate landing. But, Nimona was a lot of things. And delicate was one of those… when she wants to be. And lately she’s actually wanted to be careful. Especially around things in the apartment.
Yeah, she still felt bad about the whole ornament ordeal. Even despite how her and Ballister hashed things out the morning after.
With a huff, she opens the sliding glass door and heads inside. Her heightened senses immediately assaulted by the pungent, slightly sour and smoky scent of burnt sugar. The tang of it made her grimace. And, as she steps further into the apartment, she’s keeping her hearing alert. Waiting for the ever-familiar crackle of flames. Instead finding a TV playing cheesy Christmas movies and an empty couch.
“Uhhh… Boss?”
“In here, Nimona! Welcome back.”
‘Here’ being in the kitchen where Ballister and Ambrosius were currently hard at work. The two of them bent over half-blackened sugar cookies, squeezing on thick layers of colorfully oversaturated icing through plastic piping bags. Both men were somehow covered in flour, powdered sugar, and bright smears of icing all over their hands, arms, and even faces.
Nimona just blinks in complete befuddlement. “What’re you two doing?”
“Decorating cookies…” Ballister replies with the same sort of flat, matter-of-fact tone he usually takes on while working on his commissioned prosthetics. Except, this time, instead of delicately calibrating tiny screws so robotic fingers can move perfectly, he’s tracing a char-pointed star with yellow icing.
And that earns him an eyeroll from his sidekick. “Okay, yeah, I can see that. But they’re burnt.”
“Yeah!” Ambrosius chirps merrily and with that sweet, dopey smile Ballister loved so much. Looking up from the Santa-hat shape that he was scandalously coloring green instead of the classic red, “That’s why we cover them in obscene amounts of icing. To kinda, sorta, not really cover up the burnt flavor!”
“That burnt flavor also keeps us from eating an obscene amount of them.” Ballister doesn’t even look up as he swaps bags. Now flooding the middle of the cookie with slightly runnier yellow icing.
Even though they were charred in rather confusing spots, Nimona’s definitely had worse. Hell, she even chars some of her food on purpose. Gives a nice flavor to her grilled cheese or toast. So, she yoinks one from the “finished” pile and takes a bite. A candy cane decorated with red and green sprinkle stripes on white… and crunching through a cookie she was sure was supposed to be soft.
“So, lemme get this straight…” She mumbles through the bite, “You’re making cookies that you know kinda suck, and that you also know you’re not even gonna eat?”
“Yup.” Now Ballister’s adding little white sprinkles to his cookie. His face is the absolute pinnacle of seriousness.
“Okay… and you don’t see this as a complete waste of time, how?”
Ambrosius shrugs nonchalantly, “Because it’s fun. And then I get to spend more time with my favorite person.”
That finally gets Ballister’s face to crack. A little smile turning the corners of his mustache up while he rolls his eyes and chuckles, even shaking his head. “Hmph, flatterer.”
In response he gets a playful nudge… once he was done with his cookie, of course.
“Seriously, though,” Ambrosius sets his green piping bag aside, stretching his back for a moment and unknowingly getting green frosting on the back of his mustard-yellow sweatshirt. “It was something we tried out when we first moved in here. It went horribly, of course, never baked a day in my life. But we had a laugh about how bad and ugly they were and the year after we tried again. Still didn’t go well. But, at that point? It kind of evolved into a little tradition of ours. Sure, if we actually wanted cookies we could find a hundred different bakers in the kingdom who can do leagues better than we could, or look up tips on making better cookies, but that’s not really the point. You know?”
As the shapeshifter finishes the candy cane she looks down at all those burnt cookies. Plenty with wobbly lines or smeared colors. Uneven patterns and illfitting sprinkles… and a part of her regrets not being here for it. She had a good reason, of course. But still. It did seem kinda fun.
All the same, she’s also a bit too proud to admit it. Wanting to cling to her distaste for this time of year so tightly. So she shrugs as well.
“Nope, can’t say that I do.” She grabs two more of the finished cookies and starts to slink back to her room, calling over her shoulder and waving with her tail, “Have fun with your burnt cookies, dorks.”
And her door shuts.
After a moment of silence, Ballister sighs.
“Okay, maybe it wouldn’t kill us to get at least a little bit better at baking these.” He’s set the star aside to dry, getting up to wash the frosting off of his hands. Taking extra care with a small brush to get between the grooves of his prosthetic hand.
“Pfft, okay, sure…” Ambs looks up. And when Bal starts to leave the kitchen he reaches out to brush against Bal’s flesh-and-blood hand, bringing it up to his lips. The rough callouses on Bal’s knuckles, formed from many long years of training, rasping lightly against the soft skin of his lips while he pressed little gentle kisses. “Where’re you going?”
“To go talk to her. Now, are you gonna let me do that, or are you determined to take this hand, too?” Ballister winks. Maybe Nimona’s rubbed off on him a little too much. But, he just couldn’t help himself. He also couldn’t help but chuckle low and with a hint of mischief. Especially at the deep, faux-offended gasp that came from his partner.
“Really?! You’re going there, you’re really going there?”
“Ohh, yes I am.”
Ambrosius shakes his head, chuckling. “Unbelievable. I’m gonna remember that for our next appointment, you know!”
“Fine by me, love.” To make up for his morbid teasing, he leans down to give a sweet little peck to his lover’s lips. The kind that always left Ambrosius a bit dizzy and leaning forward to steal just a second more. But, as short as it was, it was a fair enough trade. The kiss is broken, and Bal’s hand is freed.
Ambs hums slightly. “I’m gonna clean up then I’ll order a pizza. Sound good?”
“Perfect.”
With a pat to Ambrosius’ shoulder, Ballister starts to head towards Nimona’s room. Hearing a rustling of sorts from the other side, followed by some humming. Just as he always does, he gives the door a knock.
“Nimona? Can I come in…?” At first? Nothing. Then he gives the door another, firmer knock. One she couldn’t miss this time. Though, he couldn’t help but furrow his brow at the slight gasp and frantic rummaging coming from within. Only barely catching his sidekick’s voice a moment later.
“Yeah! Sure. Whatever, Boss!”
He gives her a couple seconds further, then heads inside. She’s at a little desk in the corner, a light on over it while rock music blares from the headphones around her neck, and she’s spinning ‘round and ‘round on the chair she was in. She seemed strangely frazzled. But also like she was trying to play it cool.
“Look, if it’s about the cookie thing-...”
“No, no. It’s not that…” Crossing his arms, he leans against the doorframe while shaking his head. “I’ve just been meaning to check in on you.”
Nimona blinks a bit. Taken slightly aback. At least before she remembers the whole ‘play it cool’ thing.
“Check in…?” She snorts, waving a hand at him, “Why? I’m doing great! Seriously, go have fun with your boyfriend or whatever. That movie sure is interesting, right?”
Ballister simply raises a single brow. Hitting her with the, ‘I know you’re not seriously trying to get out of this,” look.
“Oh, come on! What?!” She’s stopped spinning in her chair, now subtly using that tail so that she could further shove the bag of craft supplies under her desk. “I’m fine!”
“Nimona, you and I both know you haven’t been fine. You’ve been moody at best since mid-November and it’s only gotten worse as the season’s gone on. I mean, you walked by a perfectly fine opportunity to make a mess and you didn’t take it. That’s not the sidekick I know.” He waves a hand in her direction, “So, come on. Out with it. Is it Ambrosius? I know the looks you give him and the little names you call him when he’s not around and you think I can’t hear. So, is his joy really that irritating to you?”
The shapeshifter sighs. Realizing now that there really was no getting out of this one now. “You want me to be honest about it, ooor…?”
“Yes, Nimona, of course I want you to be honest.”
“Okay, then… yeah. Well, no. Not really. It’s not just him-...” She rolls her eyes a bit, trying to find the words. Until she finally bursts. Fidgeting and spinning around in her chair. “UGH! It’s this stupid holiday, okay?! The overly sweet songs, everyone tryna bullshit everyone else into being happy, all the stupid ads everywhere telling you to buy more useless crap that no one needs and that they’ll throw away later, AND WHY IS IT ALWAYS SO DAMN COLD?!”
She stops herself, growling low as she feels dragon’s fire rise in her throat. Snuffing it out and snorting out two smoke rings instead while she crosses her arms. That tail of hers flicking and twitching like a pissed off cat’s.
Ballister waits a moment, then asks, “You good? Or should I go grab the fire extinguisher?”
“No, ‘m fine, I won’t set anything on fire this time…” She sighs, looking off to the side while she collects her thoughts. “It’s just-. Look, you know I’ve been around for a while. Year after year after year of being surrounded by all this cheesy-,” She gives herself a mocking little voice and some jazzhands, “‘Peace on earth! Goodwill towards men!’ crap? After everything I’ve been through?!” Now she scoffs while slumping back into that pouty, slouched position. “It’s all bullshit! I’ve been forced to stay on my own, freezing my ass off, not knowing a moment of peace for centuries. So, yeah, sorry Boss! I’m not feeling all too festive, right now. Sue me!”
She throws her hands up before crossing them again. Grumbling and glaring a hole in the floor.
Ballister, meanwhile? He just sighs. Pushing off of the doorframe and heading over to her bed. Quietly, he shuffles some of the blankets and pillows aside to make some room. And, as he leans back, he’s waving his hands a little with his arms wide open. “Come on, kid.”
She looks up. Her expression is just a bit softer than it was a moment before, and a part of her hesitates. Wondering if he could see what was behind her, but… oh, what the hell. Why not? A hug sounded really nice right now.
So, with another grumble, she hops off the spinny-chair. Gracefully shifting into a wolf so she could leap up onto the bed and plop down right into Balliser’s lap. Even letting out a great, big, wolf-y sigh.
“There…” his chuckle is soft and sweet while he reaches up to pet Nimona’s fuzzy, triangular ears. “You wanna know a little secret?”
Curious, her raspberry eyes peek up at him.
“I used to feel the exact same way you do now. Before I started my training? I had nothing. No home, no family, no money or food… no future, really.” He takes a breath, his expression turning somber as he remembers those days. “I used to live at the orphanage when I was really little. The kids there and the adults could be cruel. The only person I had was my friend Meredith. Eventually, though, she aged out. Had her eyes set for bigger and brighter, too. And she couldn’t take in a kid. So, then it was just me. And it… it wasn’t safe to stay anymore.”
“What happened to her?”
Ballister’s quiet for a moment… “I don’t know. Never heard from her again after that.” When he feels a fuzzy wolf head bump into his hand, he knows to continue. His fingers lightly scratching and petting. A soothing enough distraction. “But, I had plenty of Christmases just like the ones you’re talking about. Cold, hungry, lonely. I’d look in through windows at families all warm and smiling, or maybe opening presents. Forget toys or games, all I’d wish for was that. For a dry bed, a good meal… for someone who cared about me. Every year it was like the world was grinding salt in the wound.”
She turns her head a little. Meeting his eye. “But…?”
“But, things changed. I took a leap of faith and it paid off. The Queen sponsored my training, I suddenly had steady housing and food… and, though it was different, I got my wish. I had Ambrosius to lean on. And, every year, the Queen would invite me to have dinner with her on Christmas. She never had any heirs, you know, and she was the last of her line…” He shrugs, “I think she was a bit lonely, too.”
She huffs lowly, thinking she knew what was coming next. “So, you got everything you ever wanted and that magically made you love Christmas, right?”
“PFFT! Fuck no!”
And that caught Nimona off guard. Making her ears press back while her eyes grew wide. “Wait, what?”
“Yeah, because then I started feeling guilty about it. Here I was, warm and fed, meanwhile tons of kids just like me were still down in The Danks. Shivering and starving while I literally got to dine with the Queen! Ambrosius would take me out to have fun, or we’d make and get each other gifts, but none of it made me feel any better. If I had to guess, it was some sort of survivor’s guilt.”
“So… Do you still have it? Still hate Christmas…?” She’s not quite sure what lesson she was supposed to glean from that.
“Ehhh, yes and no. To both of those. I don’t hate it, but I don’t feel as guilty about what I have, either. Or, at the very least, I found a way to use it. Turn it into motivation to make the world better for someone else. I went out there, volunteered. Sometimes helping to sort and give out toys for drives, or making supply kits to help people survive the winter, things like that. I -still- do. I had the means to help someone else in a bad situation, to make their lives just the tiniest bit better and show them the care I never had. It’s a slow process, but it helped. It really did…” He smiles down at the wolf in his lap, giving her head a ruffle. “Maybe it’ll help you, too.”
“Agh-!” Giggling, she pushes his hand away with her paws. “So, what? You’re saying I should go and peel a bunch of potatoes for a kitchen or something? That way I can magically start liking Christmas and stop ‘harshing Goldilocks’ mellow,’ or whatever?”
Ballister snorts, shaking his head. “No, you don’t need to peel potatoes if you don’t want to… besides, those places get flooded anyway… n-not the point. I’m not saying this because I or Ambrosius think you need to love Christmas or anything like that. We’re just a little worried about you, that’s all. Really…?” He shrugs in that, ‘subtly trying to convince you,’ way he has, “I think it’ll do you some good. Give you something to look forward to each year…” And now he smirks a little. “Especially with what Ambrosius and I actually do on Christmas.”
Intrigued, Nimona tilts her head at that. Leaving her wide-eyed and dragging that first syllable out.
“What’s that…?”
~ Christmas Eve ~
Dexterously, an older woman sweeps around countless hyper children. She’s humming a carol as she goes, her face and hands starting to show signs of age along with the graying streaks in her hair. And yet she’s still keeping up with the work. After all, she needed to get the cleaning done before she and her fellow caretakers got to work on tonight’s dinner and the prep for tomorrow’s feast. And what a thought that was. A Christmas feast. She never had those growing up. As she’s tidying up after the children – picking up toys, blankets, and socks – she takes a moment to pause.
The orphanage has come a long, long way from how Adeline knew it as a girl.
Over the years, several generous donations from anonymous benefactors helped to fund much-needed structural repairs. Now, the place wasn’t so drafty as it was before, the floors reinforced and no longer sagging, appliances and utilities replaced, so on and so forth. And now they could afford to finally get rid of those slab-like beds they used to have. The ones that were surely the reason why her back ached so much nowadays. Speaking of medical issues, supplies. While before there wasn’t that much in the way of first aid, now their supply closet was fully stocked and the pantries stuffed with fresh, healthy foods for hearty meals. As the children rushed past her – no longer stuck in thin rags – they were able to don brand new coats, mittens, and hats before they could go out to the backyard.
Smiling softly, she sighs at the sight. What a triumph this place has become. When she was growing up, she could only imagine these luxuries. And seeing the next generation have a much easier time than she did, knowing they’d have warmth and comfort this season, even in spite of their circumstances? It filled her with so much joy.
Just then, she catches the sound of the main doors opening. And, judging by the delighted cries of the kids? She knew just who was here to visit.
“Ballister’s here, Ballister’s here!”
“Sir Goldenloin!”
“Hey, Merry Christmas, everybody!” There, in the cozy lobby-slash-foyer, the blond wheezes little laughs as little kids practically tackle him. Grabbing onto his legs to give him little weights to sluggishly drag around in big, heavy steps. “Oh my g-, whuf! You’re all getting heavy. What’re they feeding you here, lead?!”
The resonating giggles and cooing, “Nooooo!”s coming from the kids is infectiously cheerful. Seeing how warm, happy, and healthy the kids here were nowadays? It fills Ballister with a sense of pride. Of wrongs finally made right.
“Ohh-kay, okay, give Ambrosius a break, he’s carrying enough as-is.” He chuckles softly, especially as a few of the kids he’d met years prior tackle him for a hug, too. Him and his boyfriend had been visiting the orphanage for years now. Not just during Christmas, but all throughout the year. At this point? They might as well have been these kids’ uncles. Even getting letters from those who’d been adopted.
Though, it’s not just them this time. They brought a friend. One whose hooves click-clack on the hardwood floors, whose reins jingle-jangle with little silver bells, and whose currently donned a thick, pink hide and distinct dark-maroon antlers. A rosy-hued reindeer.
Once the kids recognized just who they brought along, pandemonium broke out.
“NIMONA!”
The shapeshifter had to admit, she couldn’t ever get enough of just how excited kids get now when they see her. Little kids, all wide-eyed and awestruck, some bold enough to ask her to change into their favorite animal or for her to give them little rides as one creature or another. And as they all gather around her buzzing and giddy, for what seems like the first time this month, she laughs. A genuine, warm laugh. Even rearing up and flourishing with a little spin right there in the foyer. “Heck yeah! Now, who wants a ride first?”
“OOH! ME!”
“No, no, pick me! Pick me!”
“Don’t worry, you’ll all get a chance…” Though, she gets a little glimmer in her eye as she drops back down. Chuckling mischievously, “After I race ya! Come on, squirts! Last one to the backyard’s a rotten egg!”
She leaps over the crowd of kids in a single bound. And with hooves skittering and sliding, she’s racing out the back door where some of the other kids were already going outside to play in the snow. Other voices crying out-.
“Hey, no fair! I don’t have my boots on!”
“Wait for me! I gotta get my coat!”
“Slow down Mi-mo-ma!”
Adeline, who’d been watching under the archway leading into that lobby, smiles softly as she watches all her little ones race out to go play outdoors with the festive shapeshifter. Nodding in gratitude to the two ex-knights as they set down the large red velvet bags they were bringing in. Both bags are filled with stockings stuffed with candies, toys, and other small goodies. Each one made specially with a particular kid in mind. She hums at the sight of the bags, knowing that her kids would have an extra-special Christmas this year. “Well, this sure is a surprise. I wasn’t expecting any reindeer games today.”
With a charming and almost boyish smile, Ambrosius starts to take the bags into the grand living area. Where the orphanage’s tree was. All the while looking unbelievably goofy in his reindeer antler headband and an ‘ugly’ green-and-white sweater. “Yeah, that was Nims’ idea!”
“When we told her about our visits, she couldn’t stop talking about it. I even caught her looking in the mirror to make sure her form was just right.” Ballister chuckles, setting his bag down and crossing his arms. He didn’t have antlers, or a hat, but he was wearing a matching red-and-white sweater. And, at the sight of the kids hooking Nimona up to a sled, some of them hopping onto that while others fumble and clamor up onto her back… well, he’s just glad they finally found something even she could get excited about during the holidays.
Adeline sets her broom aside, brushing her hands on her work apron. Looking to Ballister with a small, appreciative smile. “Well now, hope the three of you are prepared. I think they’re gonna be bouncing off the walls for the rest of the day now that you’re all here.”
“Not to worry, we’ll take it from here. Though, we do have an idea for tonight.” Ballister smirks, eager for Nimona’s other idea, “If you don’t mind, of course.”
The kindly caretaker raises a brow. Wondering just what it was the trio had in mind.
~ Later that Night ~
The moon hung full as the cold, still night drug on. The whole kingdom seemed to hold its breath as they waited for Christmas morning. The orphanage was no different. Each child tucked snugly in bed, some of the children holding their fluffy pillows tight while they slumbered. In the hallway, an ancient grandfather clock ticks the seconds away until 12 chimes ring out. Nothing unfamiliar to the children who live there.
Though, while the place was at rest, something stirs.
Quick and quiet, a rosy-colored mouse slips in from a hole in the wall now that she was absolutely sure the kids were finally and deeply asleep. Not that she didn’t have a contingency plan for the odd chance that a kid did wake up.
For now, she makes her way down, down, down into the dark basement. Heading to where a third velvet sack was stashed. And, coincidentally enough, it’s not long before a portly man decked out in big, red robes with fuzzy white trim started to creep through the halls of the orphanage. That bag, now slung over his shoulder, heavy and chockfull of packages. All decorated with colorful paper and topped with glittering ribbons and bows. Each one accompanied with a tag reading, “From Santa.”
The floorboards barely creak while he carefully makes his way towards the common area. Seeking out that grand evergreen tree. The one with a woven burlap treeskirt underneath and humbly adorned with paper chains and popcorn garlands alongside handmade ornaments. Some sculpted or glued, others painted, all with names and dates of children either still here or adopted out.
“Bingo.” A smirk crosses his lips while he chuckles rather mischievously. The expression itself partially hidden by that full, glorious, well-groomed and snow white beard. Gently, he sets the sack down so as to not jostle the contents, and he gets to work. Pulling each one out one by one and stacking them carefully. Aiming for a pile that looks as big as possible, a stack with the biggest ‘wow factor’ he could imagine. He wanted these kids wide-eyed and with their socks knocked off when they woke up this morning…
Well, he got his wish. Just a little bit earlier than expected.
“Santa…?!”
Startled, the pom-pom of his hat jingling as it swings, he turns with wide eyes of his own. Blinking at the three kids standing in the hallway leading down to their bedrooms. There’s a little girl with short black hair in bumblebee pajamas rubbing her eyes, likely about five if he had to guess. Another’s an older kid, curly chestnut-colored hair and probably 9, in a gray tshirt paired with red buffalo checker pants. Then there’s the third, standing right in between the others. Another girl, possibly 7. One with long, wavy blonde hair and blue snowflake pajamas. The pink roaring dragon slippers on her feet are plush and warm. And, judging by the fact that she was the one to speak, she was apparently the one to lead their little scouting mission.
Immediately, the only thought running through ‘Santa’s’ mind was, “Oh shit…”
The kids, meanwhile, were a bit confused. Since when did Santa Clause have raspberry-colored eyes?
Regardless, the old man clears his throat and stands tall. This is what the contingency plan was for. He could do this. Speaking soft and gentle. “Now, what’re you three kiddos doing up? Shouldn’t you all be in bed or… or something?”
The blonde speaks first, “I heard somethin’ funny and I said it was you! Fern said that it wasn’t ‘cause you don’t exist. But, I knew they were wrong!”
The eldest, Fern, clasps their hands together. Begging. Pleading, even. “L-look, I didn’t know I swear! Please don’t put me on the Naughty List for not believing in you!”
“Woah now, woooah…” Santa’s mitten-covered hands come up, motioning for them to settle, “No one here’s on the Naughty list. Barely even use that ol’ thing nowadays. So relax, okay? You’re all fine and you all have totally awesome, extra-special gifts waiting for you in the morning. But it’s late. You kids need to go lay back down and catch some Zs. That way you can have more fun tomorrow, right?”
The kids look between each other. Something still seemed a little off. And it’s as if they were all contemplating that… At least before the blonde girl meets Santa’s eye again. Nodding matter-of-fact and in a way that seemed so mature for someone her age. “Alright. Makes sense to me.”
With a chuckle as sweet as candy canes, Santa smiles. “Atta girl. Now, come on. Off you go…”
Quietly, he ushers the trio back to their room. Which, thankfully, they shared between the three of them. It would’ve been much, much more difficult if he also had to worry about not waking any other kids. Humming softly, he’s making sure each one of the little scouts were tucked back into bed. Nice and cozy. And he’s a little surprised to see the older two fast asleep or on the verge already. It has been a long day, though.
He’s patting the head of the youngest, feeling a little nervous knowing the longer he stays the more complicated things might get, when he actually hears the voice of this little girl for the first time today. Not even just now, but earlier too. Her voice is softer than a mouse’s squeak, and he needs to strain his ears to hear.
“Santa? Can I ask something?”
He’s a little surprised. But, he couldn’t deny her that. “Sure thing, kiddo. Fire away.”
“Well… you never visited me n’ mommy last year. Was I being bad? Is that why you didn’t come?”
And that little question just ripped his heart right out of his chest. But not just that. It took his heart, threw it on the ground, stomped on it, and smashed it with a hammer for good measure. He could feel a bit of cynicism bubble up at it, too. No kid should have to ask themselves that. Not getting a gift shouldn’t make this girl feel guilty or like she did something wrong. But, for now, his voice is as low as it could go.
“I had some trouble. That’s why.”
“Trouble…?” She tilts her head so sweetly, it just weakens him more, “What kind?”
“W-well, um…” now he’s mumbling as he quickly comes up with an appropriate made-up excuse. “Th-the elves! Some of them didn’t agree with their hours and working conditions, so they all unionized and went on strike. But we worked out a deal, and-...”
She just tilts her head. Clearly very confused with the words he was using.
Right, maybe the concept was a little too complicated and abstract for a 5-year-old.
He shakes his head, “Look, all you need to know is that we didn’t get to making and wrapping everyone’s toys that year. Some kids got things, others didn’t. It wasn’t just you. And it definitely wasn’t because you were bad. You’re a pretty good kid. And I promise it’ll never happen again. Okay, Ellie?”
There’s a twinkle in her eye as she gasps. Santa knew her name! Of course, she didn’t know that ‘Santa’ had met her earlier. But, for now, the illusion had been maintained. That Christmas magic strengthened just a bit more. And now she happily snuggles back into bed with a huge yawn for such a small kid. “Okay, Santa. I believe you… don’t forget… the… cook-...”
And like that, she’s asleep.
“Don’t worry, squirt. I won’t.” Chuckling softly, he gives her a little head pat. Then gets up to slink his way back to the tree. Hurrying up the present-distributing process before anyone else rose from their beds.
~ Christmas Morning ~
The early morning sun warms Nimona’s back as her legs dangle and kick off of her tree branch. Her draconic tail swished from side-to-side as she waited, chickadees chipping and cardinals whistling around her. Her breakfast was a bit unconventional – being a mishmash of sugar cookies, chocolate chip cookies, and peanut butter blossoms plus the milk, of course – but the ‘meal’ was more than appreciated as she waited out in the cold.
She wouldn’t miss this for the world.
She’s a ways off from the orphanage. Just out of range to where they couldn’t see her, but also providing a good enough vantage point so that she could get a clear view of the chaos that was just about to unfold. It seems the workers were still asleep…
At least until the kids awoke.
And, sure enough, who did she see leading the pack? None other than that girl with the crazy blonde waves. Enthusiastically rushing towards the tree to hand wrapped gifts out to all her friends. One-by-one, the underside of the tree is emptied. Little hands ripping viciously into those packages, and Nimona could just barely make out their screams of delight all the way from here.
Nimona couldn’t help but wonder, was that blonde girl spreading the word? That she and her roommates saw the Santa Claus in person? Who knows.
But, what she does know is that the gifts were appreciated. Her and Ambrisous really went wild this year. Getting plenty for everyone to keep and for the orphanage to share. Action figures and dolls, toy swords and crossbows with foam bolts, stuffed horses or bears or dragons, coloring and sculpting supplies, board games and even the latest gaming console. Complete with games fit for all the kids to play with together.
Meanwhile, caretakers yawned and rubbed at their eyes as they watched. Tired but clearly enjoying the cacophony of joy that was their kids on Christmas morning. Getting ready to pass around mugs of their caffeinated beverage of choice… but what’s this? Presents are even being handed out to them as well. Also labeled ‘from Santa.’ Those surprised looks and confused glances by some of them worked a giggle out of the snooping shapeshifter.
And yet, as she watches, she felt a warmth wash over her even in spite of the cold she was shivering against. Tears pricking at her eyes just a little, especially as she watches a little ‘happy-dance party’ break out in the orphanage. Her boss was right. This helped. This helped a lot. After all, who could be grumpy about something like this? And maybe it’s selfish for her to admit that she was getting a feeling of satisfaction from this, but she didn’t care. These kids were having the time of their life with all their gifts. And what sealed the deal was watching that sweet little girl, Ellie, open her present. Clearly gasping at what she found… and excitedly hugging and nuzzling into her brand new panther plush. Now having a new friend to snuggle with at night.
Sure, the countless winters Nimona’s had to endure were the worst. But, things have changed. And now she had the means to make sure someone else’s Christmas won’t be as miserable as hers were.
Out here, she was still tired and cold, but… what’s the rush? She’ll stay here a little longer. Take in the joy from her perch.
Yawning hard, Nimona’s feeling tears prick at her eyes. Her wings catching the chilly morning currents as she glides in for the landing. This time she’s not nearly as graceful. Her foot caught slightly on the Christmas lights strung along the balcony’s railing, but she managed to right herself before falling flat on her face. At this point she was really feeling the all-nighter she just pulled, and she was more than ready to flop into her nice, cozy bed and sleep the day away.
Of course, her two boys had a slightly different plan.
“Hey, m’ home…” She yawns again while shutting the door behind her.
Ambrosius, meanwhile, perks up. His longer hair tied back and his pajamas matching Bal’s. While Nimona was out, the two of them were busy opening their gifts to each other. Currently, Ambs was looking over a bonus last-minute gift from his partner. A book titled, ‘A Beginner's Guide to Baking.’ At the sight of Nimona, though, he leans back with his arm over the couch. Chuckling slightly, “Hey, there she is! How was last night?”
Nimona actually smiles, especially when she meets Bal’s eye. Though as she mumbles there’s a low, gravely quality to it. “Good! It was good…” She yawns again with a slight, adorable squeak, “Now, if you excuse me-!”
Playfully, she salutes with two fingers. Falling back with a stumble towards her room. But she doesn’t make it far.
“Now, hold on. Don’t you wanna open our gift first? It’s a really good one.” And the way Ballister’s smirking, his brow raised… Oh, he knows she can’t resist.
Sighing, she rolls her eyes and groans. “Ugh, fine. If you insist… But then I’m gonna give you guys mine, too.”
And she’s dipping into her room anyway. Despite playing Santa, she never got a chance to actually put the gifts from her under their tree. But, more importantly, the revelation that she even had gifts for them in the first place was surprising to the pair.
Ambrosius’ eyes get wide as he looks at Bal, “Uhh, okay. Clearly she’s delusional from hypothermia.”
“Rose, be nice.” Bal chuckles while rolling his eyes… Though, when she comes out with two small boxes that were wrapped, then he was really surprised. From the way she’s been acting lately neither of them expected her to actually go as far as to do that. Was it nice and neat? Not really. The work was clearly done by someone who had no practice wrapping gifts. But, still, she went that extra mile for them.
“Here, open them both at the same time.” She passes one to each of them. Both boxes are decorated with mooched candy-cane themed wrapping paper yoinked from Ambrosius’ hoard.
Speaking of, his was the easiest to get open. And when he sees what was behind the paper he snorts a small, confused laugh. “You got me black hair dye? I-I mean, thank you. That’s nice of you, but… why?”
“Aw, come on, Blondie! You know your natural color will look better than the bleached stuff. This is just the start so you don’t have to wait to grow your hair out!” Was it a gag gift? Technically yes. But there was still truth and thought behind it. Ambrosius had been talking about changing up his style. Detaching from his lineage. If he dyed his hair, that’s just one more step to becoming his own man. Not just delegated to being ‘The Descendant of Gloreth.’
He had to admit, the thought was tempting…
But, what Ambs really got out of it was the subtle hint of red to Ballister’s ears. The warmth that wasn’t there before. He was picturing that, wasn’t he? The thought of his boyfriend’s bleach-blond waves becoming blacker than onyx… and when Bal finally looks over, Ambs gives him a wink.
“You know what? That’s a good point! Thanks, Nims!”
Ballister, meanwhile, looks away and grumbles to himself. After all this time, his boyfriend still made him feel butterflies.
“Come on, Boss! Open the next one! Though, this one’s technically for the both of you.”
“Alright, alright, I’m opening it…” Paper rips and crinkles as he breaks through that layer. Whatever she’d gotten him it’d been placed inside a small, flat box. The kind for necklaces and the like. But, when he opens it…?
He blinks. His expression immediately softened at the contents.
“What is it? Can I see…?” Slow and nosy, Ambrosius leaned forward to try and get a better look. Though, the angle wasn’t right.
Ballister’s eyes meet Nimona’s. A deeply touched look on his face as he grabs the ribbon attached to their present. Pulling up a handmade ornament made out of clay. It’s a pink shark. One grinning with pointy teeth and wearing a tiny santa hat on top. All things considered, for someone who’d never worked with clay before, she did a pretty damn good job.
He didn’t need to say a single word. Neither does Ambrosius. Their appreciation was clear enough on their faces, especially as Ballister got up to hang it on the most perfect spot. Right in the middle of their tree.
“So… you like it?” Swishing from side to side, her tail gives away her mood along with the way she fidgeted in place.
Ballister turns from the tree, his chest puffing out a little as pride in his sidekick warmed him from the inside-out. “It’s perfect, Nimona.”
And now she’s almost glowing from the praise, the smile on her face pure and genuine. The happiest either of them have seen her yet this whole month.
Invigorated, Ambrosius reaches down and grabs one of the gifts they got her. Knowing this one would be the one she appreciates the most right now. The rest could wait for later. “Here! Your turn, Nims.”
She takes it, her smile falling a bit as curiosity takes over. First, she shakes it… nothing rattling. And it’s in a box so it’s not like she could guess… then she starts to rip into that paper… her brows furrow while she lets out a confused snicker.
“You got me a UV lamp and a heating rock? Like… for pet lizards?”
And now Ambs is up on his knees. His arms crossed on the back of the couch and chin resting atop them as he takes in every little shift in Nimona’s expression while also feeling so clever for thinking about what she was holding.
“Yeah! You’ve seemed really cold lately, I dunno just a hunch,-” He ignores the slight giggle he got from Bal, “And I remembered how you like to lay in sunbeams as a cat. But, now it’s gonna be cold and cloudy. So, I figured giving you your own portable sunning spot might be nice… Do you like it?”
Nimona pauses, taking in the reasoning… and she’s not sure how to handle this. She’s never really been given a present before. Much less one that actually appeals to her needs. Silently, her eyes are pleading for this to be set up so she could give it a whirl… and she nods.
After an indulgent breakfast of ready-to-heat cinnamon rolls, Ballister’s on the couch and leaning against Ambrosius. Snow falling outside in big, fat, steady flakes. Making the movie they were watching and the freshly made mugs of cocoa in their hands even cozier.
Though, Bal wasn’t paying too much attention to the show. No, instead his eyes flicker back and forth. Here and there. Unable to settle on what he wanted to look at more.
First and foremost, there was that adorable shark ornament. Now nestled between two others. To the left was Ambrosius’. A little hand-carved wooden frame he made. Complete with a selfie he took of the three of them at the kitchen table. Stuffing those stockings and wrapping those gifts for the kids. Then, to the right, there was the ornament Ballister made. A little sculpted snowman made to look like Ambrosius, honoring their snowball fight.
He found himself glancing at them often. Smiling lightly… but then he would also watch over Nimona herself.
Who, currently, was over on a side table by a window where her new sunning spot was set up. She had practically thrown herself across that rock the moment she got the signal that it was ready. She’d practically melted into it, too. As if it were a nice, warm bath. And now? Her snores rung out lightly as she gets her well-earned rest. Currently in the form of a bearded dragon. A small, contented smile on her face as she dozed.
With this gift, granting her heat on her softer underbelly and UV rays for the rougher scales on top, she finally felt warm to her core for the first time this season. And with this warmth, she could already feel her mood lift. Not only that. But she also had a warmth of spirit. Finally, she had ways to beat back the darkness and gloom she usually associated with this season. And, though this may never be her favorite time of year, she had ways to make it better. Not just for herself, but for others…
Maybe, from now on, winter doesn’t have to blow after all.
~ End ~