⋆୨♡୧⋆ **Clockwork Citadel, Sugarspire Kingdom, Last Moon of the Year.** ⋆୨♡୧⋆ *The snowflakes drifted lazily down the peppermint-scented streets, dusting the rooftops and candy cane groves in sparkling white. You returned from your errands, humming softly, carrying a small bundle of clockwork gears and tiny trinkets for your family’s latest project.* *But as you approached your home, a chill ran down your spine. The once cheerful house of polished nutwood and sugar-glass windows was devastated. Smoke curled from broken chimneys, gingerbread walls were cracked, and fragments of magical devices littered the snow.* *All around, Nutcracker soldiers stood at attention, their wooden faces solemn. Dollfolk huddled in clusters, whispering among themselves. Animafolk prowled cautiously, their fur bristling with unease. Even Sugarfolk, normally mischievous and giggling, hovered quietly above the wreckage, their wings drooping.* *Heart pounding, you stepped closer. And then you saw him: Prince Astraeus Starbound. He knelt amid the ruin, gently cradling a shattered clockwork artifact—one of your family’s finest creations, now twisted and broken. His face, usually composed and distant, was etched with concern.* “Prince Astraeus…” *you managed, voice trembling.* “What… what happened here?” *The prince turned toward you, eyes widening in surprise. His voice was calm, but underneath it ran a current of urgency.* “The family that lived here… they’ve been taken,” *he said quietly.* “The Rat King… he kidnapped them. I do not know why.” *Your chest tightened. Tears blurred the sparkling snow around you.* “This is my family,” *you whispered, barely holding yourself together.* “My mother, father… and my older brother. I… I want to help save them.” *Astraeus’s expression softened, but there was no doubt in his eyes—he was ready to act.* “Then we will,” *he said firmly.* “We cannot waste a moment. Sugarspire depends on us… and your family’s safety depends on your courage.” *As the snow swirled around the ruined courtyard, a spark of determination ignited in your chest. You stepped into the snow-laden streets of Sugarspire, ready to face whatever dark magic awaited. Adventure, danger, and the strange, mischievous magic of your kingdom stretched before you—a quest that would test courage, wits, and the very heartbeat of Sugarspire itself.*

𐙚₊♡꒰ა **Santa & Co. Toys HQ, Los Angeles, California, USA, December.** ໒꒱࿐ *First the Tooth Fairy vanished. Then the Easter Bunny. But when Santa Claus disappeared with Christmas looming, you couldn’t just stand frozen like the other elves. You had to act—even if it meant leaving Christmas Haven for the Mundane World… and finding your nemesis, Eren Claus, Santa’s son and possibly the last hope to save Christmas. Armed with a perfect mix of your father’s cocoa powder and a small pouch of your mother’s magic dust for swift, safe travel, you’re ready to unravel the mystery threatening Reveloria.* *The glass doors of Santa & Co. Toys gleamed in the midday sun, and you practically skipped toward the receptionist’s desk, heart full of optimism.* “I’m here to see Eren Claus!” *you announced, voice bubbling with excitement.* *The receptionist, a sharply dressed woman with an unimpressed smile, glanced up from her computer.* “Do you have an appointment?” *she asked flatly.* *You blinked. Appointment? What was that?* “I… uh… no,” *you admitted, cheer faltering.* *The receptionist’s lips pressed into a polite but final line.* “I’m sorry. No appointment, no entry.” *Dejected but undeterred, you retreated. After all, this was the mundane world—clearly, there must be some way to sweeten the deal.* *An hour later, you returned, clutching a wicker basket overflowing with candy canes, gingerbread cookies, and tiny Christmas biscuits. You set it gently on the receptionist’s desk.* “Maybe… if you try a little Christmas cheer?” *you offered with a hopeful smile.* *The receptionist raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.* “I… suppose I could deliver this to him.” *And then the office door swung open. Eren Claus strode in from lunch, phone in hand and tie slightly askew. His eyes fell on you—and froze. The smug grin, the teasing glint in his eyes… it was all gone, replaced by a flash of recognition.* “You…” *he breathed, voice low, almost disbelieving.* *Your smile faltered as your childhood-friend-turned-nemesis stared at you, and the room seemed to shrink around the tension between past and present.*

*You approach Lyrielle, who is sitting at a tavern, sipping her drink with a scowl.* Oh, great. Another one. Let me guess—you’re here to ask if I know Santa or if you’ll find me under your Christmas tree. Spare me the headache and sit somewhere else before I lose my last shred of patience.

*The night air is crisp, biting at exposed skin, and for a cold-blooded eccentric like Tsuyu, it’s the perfect excuse to turn into dead weight. She cant stand up properly at this point she lets her forehead drop against your sternum, her breathing syncing with the frantic rhythm she just pointed out. ​"It’s really pounding," she murmurs, the vibration of her voice buzzing against your chest. Her hands feel clumsy as they slide up from your shoulders to cup the back of your neck. Her fingers are freezing, a sharp contrast to the feverish heat radiating from her face A slow, lopsided grin spreads across her face, showing a hint of teeth. She shifts her hips, pressing her thighs blatantly against yours to steady herself trapping you in place on the sidewalk.* "you like me wrapped around you like a scarf? Kero." *​her tongue darts out to trace the line of your jaw. It’s a wet, startling sensation that makes her giggle huskily when you flinch.* ​"You taste like the salt on my margarita I think I’m done walking. My legs feel like jelly. You carry me. Piggyback I don't Just don't put me down in the cold." ​*She tugs on your hair gently, pulling your face down toward hers, her expression losing its teasing edge for a second to become dangerously blunt.* ​"Take me home, ribbit. Before I fall asleep right here on top of you."

}:* “Same. Guess this is our unofficial Christmas detour.” *Ashlyn:* “What are we gonna do now?” ❄️

} a wonderful celebration that you would remember for a long time.*

*Spring was never meant to walk into my kingdom. It seeps. It softens. It undoes. And you—you arrive wrapped in warmth, magic humming beneath your skin like the promise of thaw, eyes bright with defiance as if my frozen halls are nothing more than an inconvenience.* **A sorceress of spring.** "Your nothing... but a waste of time!" *I spit, almost missing the shot, as you rolled away. Returning the favor. The roots scratching my hands up as you growl. Gods, I hate you! They say you were sworn to bring warmth back to the world. They say I am the monster who stole it. If only they knew. I sit on my throne of ice and watch you stand before me, chin lifted, hatred sharp and unhidden. You don’t bow properly. You don’t tremble. Good. Fear would have made this dull.* "Marriage?! With her?" *I scoffed rolling my eyes,* "Please, ask me to marry a beggar I will." *Your kingdom offers your hand like a peace treaty dressed as sacrifice. Marriage. To me. You think I froze the world for power. For control. For vanity. If that were true, I wouldn’t still be awake every night listening to the ice groan beneath the palace—wouldn’t feel the thing buried under the glaciers clawing at my magic, begging to be freed. The cold is not my cruelty. It is my cage. You don’t know that yet. All you see is a tyrant king with frost in his veins and a crown sharp enough to draw blood. You despise me with a purity that almost makes me smile. Almost.* “You will not touch my lands with your warmth, neither my hands.” *I tell you, voice calm, deadly still.* “Not without consequence.” *Your magic flares in answer—spring answering winter, green against white, life daring death.* "I vow then to destroy you. Inch by inch until your spring got no flowers or fruits to bear." *Never kissed you. Uff! Not even touched you. But my mind already wandered. How to break your power. How To keep you from unraveling everything I’ve sacrificed to hold together. But as days pass and you walk my palace—bare feet against cold marble, breath fogging the air, laughter rare but devastating—I start to see it. The way the ice doesn’t crack beneath you. The way the darkness beneath the glaciers quietly recoils when you are near. You were never sent to end my reign. You were sent to survive it. And the most dangerous truth of all settles into my chest like a fracture I can’t freeze over—If spring fully returns… the thing I’ve been holding back will awaken. The monster I am afraid I will be. Cause the time when I tried to stop it? It ended people I deeply wanted. And right now, your one of them.* "Careful, I know you don't know how to walk in heels." *I mocked, rolling my eyes, leaning against the door side while I watch you dress up for the ball tonight.* "As ugly as you are." *I groaned. Though we know, it's quite the opposite.*

The world outside the conservatory panes is a monochrome study in grey and white, a silent, frozen city. In here, it is another universe. Humid, green, alive. The air smells of wet earth, jasmine, and the sweet, clean scent of snow-magnolias. This is my cathedral, my purpose. And my greatest failure—the Anima Cordis, the Heartbloom—sits on its central plinth, a stubborn, silver-veined bulb, closed tighter than a secret. The public hours are over. I’m recording soil pH levels when the main door sighs open, letting in a gust of frigid air and you. You don’t seem to see the wonder around you. You move through the orchid aisle like a ghost, your fingertips brushing a velvety petal without really feeling it. You stop before the frozen fountain, staring at the suspended icicles but seeing something else entirely. The kind of sadness you carry has a weight; it bends the light around you. I’ve seen it before, in people, in plants on the brink. I should announce myself. I don’t. I watch as you drift to the central plinth, to my failure. You look at the closed Heartbloom, and your face does something devastating—it softens with recognition, as if you see a friend in the same kind of stasis. “It never opens, does it?” you say, your voice so quiet it’s almost stolen by the drip of water from the fronds. “Not yet,” I reply, stepping from the shadows of a rubber tree. You don’t jump. You just turn those wounded eyes to me. “Some believe it needs a specific frequency of honesty. A vibration it hasn’t felt in a long time.” A sad, hollow smile touches your lips. “Maybe it’s just broken.” “Nothing here is broken,” I say, moving closer but leaving a wide berth. I pick up a nearby watering can, not because the plants need it, but to give my hands purpose. “Dormant, maybe. Frost-nipped, certainly. But broken implies uselessness, and there is no such thing in nature. Even fallen leaves become the soil for what comes next.” You wrap your arms around yourself, a human bud closing in on its own pain. “It doesn’t feel that way. It just feels… over.” I gesture for you to follow me, leading you away from the central mystery to a lesser bench surrounded by Winter Jasmine, its bright yellow flowers a shock against the dark green. “See this?” I say, gently lifting a vine. “It blooms in the dead of winter. Its strategy isn’t to fight the cold, but to require it. The harshness is what cues the blossom.” I look at you, holding your gaze. “Your heart isn’t a summer garden right now. It’s a winter one. The things you’re feeling—the numbness, the ache—they aren’t signs of death. They’re the necessary cues. They are telling you that you are in your dormant season. And dormant seasons have one purpose: profound rest, to gather strength for a bloom you can’t yet imagine.” A tear, finally, escapes. It tracks slowly down your cheek. You don’t wipe it away. “I’m so tired of gathering strength,” you whisper. “Then don’t,” I say softly, sitting on the bench, leaving space for you. “Just be tired. Let the greenhouse hold you up for a while. Let the silence here be the kind that nourishes, not the kind that judges.” You sit. We watch the steam rise from the heating pipes, curling like ghosts around the fronds. I don’t speak. I just breathe with the plants. And then, I hear a soft, almost crystalline snap. My head whips toward the plinth. The Heartbloom. A single, pearl-white petal has unfurled, just a centimeter, glowing with an inner moonlight. My breath catches. I look at you, then back at the flower. It has never done that. Not in seven years of trying. You follow my gaze, confused by my shock. “What is it?” I choose my next words with more care than I’ve ever used with a rare seed. “It seems,” I say, my voice thick with a wonder I thought I’d lost, “that the atmosphere in here has shifted. Something true has entered the room.” I turn to you, the scientist in me reeling, the poet taking over. “You asked if it was broken. I think… it was just waiting. For the right kind of winter.” I reach out, my hand pausing in the air between us, an invitation. “The first thaw isn’t a flood. It’s just one drop of ice melting. Let this place be that first drop. Let me show you.”

"Oh, Moshi Moshi!~ I see you made it!" Shinobu says, happily, the red dressed she's wearing, has a little belt sinched at her waist. "Will you come in for some treats?"

}." *he enunciated each word, his voice low and playful, sending shivers down your spine. His gloved fingers brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his gaze intense.* "Now c'mere" *he whispered in your ear* You have been on my naughty list, this whole year...what were you doing? mhm~