merry chrismas darling

} arm pulling them along he rows and rows of stalls.* "COME ON COME ON , We have to get some pretzels!!"

}. His finger hovered too close to the trigger, knuckles white, chest rising fast.* O-Okay—okay, listen dude *he blurted, voice cracking despite the snarl he tried to force into it.* We don’t gotta do this. I’ll— I’ll leave. Right now. Clean exit. You pretend you didn’t see shit. *He swallowed, jaw tightening, trying—and failing—to look intimidating.* Just—just let me walk outta here, yeah? And I won’t uh.. *he gestured vaguely with the gun,* y’know. Blow your brains all over your nice festive carpet. Deal?

*The space outside the house welcomed a new morning, brimming with the spirit of Christmas. From above, shimmering green rays of light gently curved like delicate silk ribbons, the aurora borealis reflected everywhere, and the thick layer of snow outside seemed to be adorned with millions of tiny, shattered diamonds. The wind blew incessantly, then suddenly subsided, revealing the Christmas tree and inspiring gifts. At that moment, from the front gate of the house, gentle hands parted the bright red velvet curtain. Ariana Fidelia, the young and graceful maid, appeared amidst the magical light... Her snow-white hair was neatly styled in a bun, Secured by a luxurious hair clip with delicate gold trim, she dons a warm winter Christmas outfit—a sophisticated, form-fitting white dress paired with a crimson apron adorned with exquisite lace trim. Her dark brown stockings are pulled up, creating a harmonious, alluring, and elegant contrast to the luxurious attire. At that moment, you gently descend the marble steps. You reach out, catching the snowflakes outside, blown by the wind, sparkling in the sky. Ariana Fidelia gently turns to look at you, Her amethyst-pink eyes sparkled with a beautiful, admiring, and warm light, like exquisitely polished natural gemstones, harmonizing with her radiant, naturally fresh complexion, like a goddess. Upon seeing you, Ariana Fidelia, she offered a gentle, friendly, and sincere smile, then gracefully turned and bowed, and before gently straightening, her full, firm breasts subtly rose beneath her soft, form-fitting white dress, her stunning red apron swaying softly, and the air around her filled with the captivating, luxurious scent of Marciso Rodriguez Pure perfume.* "Ah, master, you're already awake and preparing for Christmas? Good morning, master!... Look! Even the night sky is donning its most magnificent cloak to welcome your presence." *She spoke in a clear, surprised yet gentle voice, full of warmth and care, sweet as honey poured into your ears... She moved a little closer to you, the sound of her shoes gliding lightly on the polished floor, and Ariana Fidelia's relaxed breath forming a thin mist... She watched the snowflakes melt slowly in your palm, then continued with a gentle expression.* “The snow this morning is so pure and beautifully sparkling, but be careful, the cold might numb your hands. Ariana has prepared a state-of-the-art New Evergreen Pinecone bio-heater, and there’s even a steaming hot cup of cocoa on the table… Would you like to stay a little longer to see the aurora borealis? I feel… time is flying by, and you’ll feel warm this winter.” *Ariana Fidelia spoke with a gentle, warm, and considerate smile, adjusting her gorgeous red apron that accentuated her full, toned, and alluring figure, her pinkish-purple eyes sparkling with warm admiration as she looked at you expectantly.* "Master, this Christmas morning is truly special, isn't it? Outside, there are so many mysterious and attractive gift boxes standing out against the sparkling white snow, waiting for us to discover... And I, Ariana, Ariana Fidelia, am honored to be the first servant to open this door and welcome you to the most wonderful Christmas of the year... Master, is there anything you would like me to prepare and serve? I am ready to do anything special for you on this joyful and bustling morning." *Immediately afterwards, you gently nodded and offered her a soft, warm, sincere smile, your eyes sparkling with affection as you looked at her… then you stepped closer and gently placed your left hand on Ariana Fidelia's cheek, making her blush, before you gently lowered your right hand to brush away the snowflakes… Then you walked towards the table, your shoes gliding lightly on the polished floor, and you began rubbing your hands together to warm them, your relaxed breath forming a thin mist… not long after, you and Ariana Fidelia happily exchanged radiant smiles and strolled outside together in anticipation, After you and she carefully locked the house to ensure no burglars broke in, and both enjoyed a hearty and nutritious meal, you and Ariana Fidelia eagerly stepped outside under the beautiful blue sky, with the aurora borealis reflecting brilliantly everywhere... Now both dressed in warm winter clothes with scarves, your radiant smiles and Ariana Fidelia's are more genuine and warm than any Christmas lights... A gentle breeze blew through, carrying snowflakes sparkling like tiny shattered diamonds, creating a vivid, surreal scene, As you and Ariana Fidelia continue strolling together, immersing yourselves in the bustling Christmas atmosphere outside until nightfall, the sky remains incredibly beautiful. After resting, attending Christmas service at church and admiring the magnificent decorations, you both continue your walk through the wide, bustling streets, famous for their shopping malls and cafes, hospitals illuminated by dazzling neon lights, and modern buildings exquisitely decorated, brimming with the warm and joyful energy of this wonderful Christmas night...*

} curiously, wondering what the reaction will be.

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.”

*She takes a look outside and inside the igloo* Seems spacious enough... You better keep me warm and cozy while we're here though, mister... *she smirks*

𐂂⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆⋆꙳❅**Your house, Chelsea, London, UK, December**⋆꙳❅‧͙❆ *Riley is at the kitchen island pretending to read the financial section, which is impressive considering the paper is upside down.* *You’re pretending to text the school parent group, except your phone keeps buzzing with encrypted alerts.* “Busy morning,” *Riley says casually, sipping coffee.* “Very,” *you reply, equally casual, while deleting a message labeled **XENO–URGENT**.* *Tallulah squints at both of you.* “Why do you both look like you’re lying?” *Riley smiles.* “We’re not lying.” *Elliot tilts his head.* “You just didn’t answer.” *You and Riley exchange a look—too long.* *Riley clears his throat.* “Daddy has… work things.” “And I have… lawyer things,” *you add quickly.* *Tallulah nods thoughtfully.* “That’s funny.” “Why?” *you ask.* “Because Daddy’s watch just beeped when you said ‘lawyer,’ and your phone beeped when Daddy said ‘work.’” *Riley’s smile freezes. You choke on your coffee.* *Elliot climbs onto a chair.* “Also,” *he adds helpfully,* “Daddy checked the windows twice and you hid something in the biscuit tin.” *You and Riley speak at the same time.* “That’s normal.” “It’s called adulthood.” *The twins exchange a look that says we know everything.* *Tallulah grins.* “Okay. But if this is a surprise for Christmas, we want a puppy.” *Riley exhales in relief. You nod immediately.* “Deal,” *you say.* *As the twins run off, Riley leans closer and murmurs,* “We’re raising tiny interrogators.” *You smile tightly.* “Yes.” *Both your phones buzz again.* *You both ignore them.* *For now.*

*You were never meant to touch me. That was the rule I lived by. Touch invites weakness. Weakness invites death. And you—you were warmth in a war room, sharp-tongued, stubborn, infuriatingly alive.* “You stink,” *I snapped once when your hand brushed mine as you stumbled.* “And I don’t touch what stinks. Stay away—especially you, brownie.” *Cruel words. Precise. Effective. You flinched. You were one of the most trusted Minister in the Kings cabinet. And the king? Had faith in you. And I was the general, of the same army. And all we ever did was fight. Steel against steel. Words against wounds. You were sent to make me fall in love with you—how laughable that sounded when I could barely stand the sound of your breath. And yet—The curse loomed. An ice storm circling your kingdom like a wolf. A red string binding your fate to mine, glowing faintly every time you were near. Before Christmas ends, the bond must be fulfilled. Love or a kiss. From me—to you—or to someone of your knowing. And I gave you nothing. So, when your friend Patricia stepped forward, chin high, confidence sharp enough to cut, I didn’t stop her. She said she was related to you. That she could break the curse. You nodded. God help me, you nodded cause you knew I hated your touch but no others. She kissed me like it was easy. Like touching me meant nothing. And I—damn me—I kissed her back. Not because I wanted her. Because I didn’t understand what I was losing. I didn’t look at you while it happened. If I had, I think I would’ve shattered.* **The king called you a failure.** *A hero doesn’t cry. A hero doesn’t ache. So, he told you to leave. I find you in your chambers, folding your life into bags with hands that tremble just enough to hurt to watch.* “Packing already?” *I ask. You don’t look at me. I close the door behind me. Lock it.* “I have something for you,” *I say, voice low. Controlled. Lying to itself. You scoff.* “Open it,” *I murmur.* “Headache.” *You hesitate—then tear the paper. Inside is not jewelry. Not silk. It’s a thin band of crimson thread—warm, glowing, alive. The red string. Ours.* “I never let anyone touch me,” *I say quietly.* “Because when they do… they matter.” *You finally look at me.* “I didn’t kiss her because I love her,” *I continue, stepping closer. My voice breaks. Once. Enough.* “—It was just to break the curse. Not out of love.” *The storm outside howls. The curse's gone, and now? Your going too.*

*Light filters through red and green wrapping paper. The world is muffled, soft. You shift, and the paper above you rustles.* “Do you hear that?” *A voice, sweet and curious.* “It’s coming from the big one.” *Faye, the elf girl, leans in, her bells jingling softly.* “Did we forget a present?” *Noel, the reindeer girl, asks, her tone warm and nurturing.* “No. That one… wasn’t here last night.” *Frost, the blue-haired girl, states coolly, her analytical eyes narrowing.* *Suddenly, the paper above you is torn away.* *Light floods in. Six faces surround the box, peering down at you with wide, stunned eyes.* *Lumi, the silver-haired caretaker, her icy-blue eyes soft with concern, is the first to move. She reaches a hand down.* “Are you… alright?” *Faye bounces on her heels, her grin erupting.* “A person! We got a person! Best. Gift. Ever!” *Ember, the dark-haired guardian, places a steadying hand on the box’s edge, her gaze protective yet intrigued.* “How did you even get in there?” *Belle, the pink-haired heart of the group, smiles, and it feels like sunrise.* “It doesn’t matter. You’re here now and ours.” *Noel nods in gentle agreement, her antlers bobbing.* “You must be freezing. Let’s get you out of there.” *Frost simply watches, a faint, curious tilt to her head.* “Logistics aside… this is statistically improbable. Fascinating.” *Together, their hands reach down—gentle, eager, warm—pulling you from the box and into the glowing heart of their Christmas morning.*