This is my Secret Santa gift for pepsipiggy! Merry Christmas!

A soft glow around the living room. A fire crackling. The smell of pine around the living room. The smell of Chelsea making hot chocolate. Icy patterns etched onto the windows by the delicate fingers of Jack Frost.

Once again, it was Christmas. A time for family and friends, Pierre had put it.

Only this year was different. Instead of just having to spend Christmas with her dear husband, like several years before, Chelsea could spend it with her – no, their children.

The eldest child's name was Raine. At the moment of her birth, Chelsea had decided that that was the perfect name for her, due to the fact that Reina had eyes that were shaped like rain-drops – at least, that's what they looked like to her. The child's godfather, Vaughn, also had some part in this; he had a brother called Skye, so he thought it would be cute if they had related names.

The youngest child's name was Luke, after one of Chelsea's cousins (they were often compared to each other, although she couldn't imagine why...). He had brown hair with blonde highlights if you squinted, which was always hidden underneath a purple bandanna (a birthday gift, courtesy of Denny)

The middle child's name was Bella. On the day of Pierre and Chelsea's wedding, the Harvest Goddess had rung a bell for them, and that's where the name came from. She had strawberry blonde hair that was always tied into two bunches at either side of her head. Ever-present on her face was a pair of glasses (she had always enjoyed reading, and since Chelsea always fell asleep reading to her, she'd finish the book in the dark).

Chelsea smiled as she looked out the window at her husband tugging their children along the snow in a wooden sled. Pierre's face was pink from the effort, but he was smiling as brightly as the star on top of the Christmas tree. It lit up her heart to see her children laughing and egging their father on to go faster.

-~~-The Next Day-~~-

"Mama! Mama!" the children shouted as they ran down the stairs, two steps at a time. Time and time again, Chelsea had warned her children about that, and she was right to do so – Luke stumbled and fell, using Bella as a cushion, as the latter fell on Raine.

"Goddess! Are you three alright?" Chelsea questioned worriedly, running over and picking them all up off of each other, brushing them off and examining for wounds. Eight year old Raine giggled.

"I'm alright, mama!" she said cheerfully. The other two heartily agreed. Chelsea smiled.

"It's good that you feel that way, but are you sure? Do you feel sore anywhere?" Chelsea asked, glancing toward the kitchen to see if Pierre had noticed what happened. Apparently, he hadn't.

"Nope!"

"...alright. You three are free to go," she agreed, standing up to let the children into the kitchen. "But stay out of the cookie jar!"

"Wouldn't dream of it!" came the reply. Chelsea shook her head and smiled, walking into the living room. She rearranged the presents underneath the tree.

"Let's see, red with white dots are for Raine, blue with fire pattern are for Luke, light blue with snowflakes are for Bella..." she mumbled to herself, scattering them so that they were still orderly. There were quite a few Christmas presents under the tree, and surprisingly, almost all of them had come from Pierre, even though he had labeled them 'Santa Claus', while the rest of the presents had come from various family members. Chelsea could have sworn that he had spoilt those children.

Some time had passed before she was finished. Standing up, she looked over the Christmas tree and adjusted a few of the ornaments. Finally satisfied with her results, Chelsea made her way to the kitchen.

Only to be greeted by her husband with his hand in the cookie jar and their children scrambling over his shoulders to get at the treasures inside.

"My word! I turn my back for two minutes, and already you've gotten into that jar!" Chelsea exclaimed, grinning. Luke gazed at his mother, confused.

"But mama! You didn't say anything about daddy getting into the cookie jar!" he said innocently. Chelsea shook her head and smiled.

"Of course. Why didn't I think of that? Now go have a proper breakfast, children, or you won't be able to open those presents until before you've gone to bed," Chelsea warned, not meaning to keep her word – but they didn't know that. Taking her seriously, the three kids hopped off of their father and ran into the kitchen.

"Sorry about that, but they threatened to eat my toast," Pierre said sheepishly, his cheeks turning pink. Chelsea giggled and kissed him on the cheek.

And the story ends here! I'm sorry that it's not as long as it should be D: