A/N: Presenting my newest story just in time for Christmas! If anyone here watches me on deviantArt or Rockfic, I've been writing a rather long AU involving Def Leppard titled Your Royal Highness [a Prince and Knight AU] and as I've been having a little trouble with chapter 3 [smut yo] and random inspiration that I can't remember where it came from, I decided to start on a Christmas Carol AU for Amnesia. For future reference, a lot of characters here are OCs. They are from a similar Prince/Knight AU being written by Kaliedo-Star. The character of Xaniel was created by Bluethemoonwolf on Tumblr/deviantArt. So here begins the story. Weyer's bad streak is established, things start to go wrong! Then he gets a little visit from the Ghost of Christmas Past.
Amnesia: The Dark Descent (c) Frictional Games
A Christmas Carol (c) Charles Dickens
Muses used (c) Kaliedo-Star and Bluethemoonwolf
~Christmas Eve, 1843~
It was another cold and bleak Christmas Eve in London. Despite the atmosphere, the people bustling about during the day and night were full of cheer and goodwill, getting together the final touches for their individual Christmases the next day. However, not everyone was anticipating the joyous tomorrow. One store owner, a man named Johann Weyer, grumbled under his breath as he set to work on paperwork. Stupid Christmas, he thought. Why must it exist? Weyer did not like the Christmas season one bit, though it wasn't his only fault. Over the past few years, he had gained a reputation of being one of the worst human beings to ever walk the planet. For a man who was only 26 years of age, one would think that would concern him, but he wasn't bothered in the least. If anything, it was possible the Dutchman wasn't even aware of his reputation at all.
A man walked into the store and greeted the clerk, Daniel, before making his way towards Weyer. "Good evening, Weyer."
Weyer looked up from his paperwork, a disgruntled look on his face. "Ah, Malo. What are you doing here?"
Malo smiled, "Just passing through. Well, not just. I've decided to put together a grand Christmas dinner at my house tomorrow, and I am personally inviting as many close friends as I can!" He wheeled around to face Daniel. "Daniel, even you can come, and you can bring Xaniel and Hazel, too! How is Hazel, by the way?"
Surprised at the sudden invite, Daniel scratched his head. "Still sick, I'm afraid," he replied, "but she has been getting better. I do hope she'll be well enough to come along."
"Excellent!" Malo turned back to Weyer. "I do hope you can come as well. I've already talked with Agrippa and Dimitri. They'd be delighted to come. Also," he purred, "I've been in touch with your brother Arnold. He and your parents are coming too, and they're bringing along Agatha, and the twins, Hans and Schultz. Surely you remember them."
Weyer's eyes widened in surprise. It had been some time since he had seen his old friends or his family. He quickly shook his head. "Malo, you are a good friend, indeed, but I'm afraid I will have to decline."
"Whatever for?" Malo's shocked expression turned into a knowing one. "Ah, I know. Still being a grump about Christmas, I see."
Rolling his eyes, Weyer simply replied, "You know why I hate Christmas, Malo. You need not continue to question me about it. I am not going."
Malo sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "Suit yourself." He headed towards the door, but stopped for a moment to face his friend, a warm smile played on his lips. "I'm sure by tomorrow, you'll have changed your mind. Merry Christmas, Daniel, Weyer."
Daniel returned the festive greeting. Weyer grumbled, "Humbug," and returned to his paperwork.
An hour later, Daniel shrugged on his coat, gathered his things, and came up to his employer. "Weyer?"
"Yes?" he answered without looking up.
The young Englishman shifted on his feet. "As tomorrow is Christmas, and the store will be closed, will I be needed to come in?"
Weyer replied, "No." He thought for a moment before he continued, "Consider this a... Christmas gift. I'll let you have tomorrow and the 26th off, with pay."
Daniel beamed, "Thank you, Weyer."
"Go on, head home. Best wishes to Hazel."
"Ah, right. Mer-" He stopped and corrected himself. "Good night, sir."
"Good night, Daniel." Once Daniel left, Weyer groaned aloud. Letting him off for a couple of days with pay wasn't an issue. The clerk was well-paid for a working class man, and Weyer wasn't exactly a miser, unlike other store owners. He just simply wanted to be left alone, especially during Christmas. If he could go at least one Christmas without being bothered by carollers or invitations and such that would require him to participate, he would consider it the best Christmas ever.
Half an hour later, he finished up the paperwork, slipped his jacket and top hat on, then left the store, locking up behind him.
It was unusually windy when he began the walk home. The cold nipped at any exposed skin with the added wind chill making his face feel a little numb. All around him, the sights and sounds of Christmas were prominent. Salvation Army workers ringing bells on nearly every corner, carollers going from door to door, passersby wishing him a merry Christmas, poinsettia displays in front of doors. The passing smells and scents were equally prominent. If there was one thing Weyer didn't mind about Christmas, it was the associated scents. Freshly baked gingerbread, peppermint sweets, oven-roasted turkey, mince pies, even Christmas cakes!
So Weyer liked food. Who doesn't?
Soon, he finally arrived home, the warm interior greeting him as the fire roared in the fireplace. A man emerged from the kitchen, an apron wrapped about his waist and a dusting of flour covering his face, hands, and hair. "Johann! You're finally home!" He ran up to Weyer and hugged him, transferring some of the flour to the taller man's clothes.
If there was anyone he could stand to be around during Christmas, it was his lover, Heinrich Cornelius Agrippa. The man was at least twice his age, nearing 50, but he still looked very young. Being with Agrippa on Christmas was about as good as being alone. But this year, it wouldn't be just the two of them. Some time ago, they had adopted a young boy, Dimitri, as their son. To Agrippa, he was an absolute angel. To Weyer, however, he was a menace. The two did not get along at all, though attempts to be civil were made.
A burning smell reached Weyer's nose. "Heinrich, what were you doing in there?"
Agrippa smiled, "I know how much you love gingerbread, so I thought I would try and bake you some."
Oh, hell. The two returned to the kitchen to find flour and smoke filling the room, Dimitri hastily pulling the burnt gingerbread cookies out of the oven. Weyer coughed as he tried to waft the smoke from in front of him.
"Sohn von ein Hündin!" the German moaned, exasperated. "I thought I had the recipe right this time!"
Weyer facepalmed, grateful that the smoke covered his face. Agrippa could not cook or bake to save his life. "Clear out, you two. I'll handle this."
Agrippa led their son out of the room and left the apron on the counter. "I'm sorry, meine liebe. I tried all afternoon."
"Don't worry, Heinrich," the Dutchman reassured him, giving him a quick kiss. "You tried. That's all that matters."
Agrippa gave him a warm smile before leaving his lover to attend to the burnt confections. Weyer opened the kitchen window, then removed his jacket to waft the smoke outside. Once he could finally see what he was doing, he put on the apron, then began to put together the ingredients for the cookies and baked them.
Soon, they were ready, hot, fresh, and thankfully, not burnt. This was why, Weyer reflected, that he was the one that did the cooking and not Agrippa.
The smell of the fresh gingerbread cookies enticed him. Damn his sweet tooth. Looking around to make sure no one was watching, he slowly made to grab one before anyone noticed. However, a small slap to his hand told him he was caught.
"Ah ah ah," Agrippa gently chastised him, then wrapped the cookies up in a basket. "Those are for tomorrow."
"Tomorrow? What for?"
"Malo's Christmas dinner. I'm sure he told you."
Oh. Weyer sighed. "I take it you want to go."
"Of course," Agrippa beamed. "What is the matter?"
"I'm not going."
The German was shocked. "What? Why?"
Sometimes Weyer wished his lover would just get the hint already, but it seemed like it wasn't going to happen. "Is it too much to ask to spend Christmas alone? Just with you and no one else?"
Agrippa sighed. He should've seen this coming. "What about Dimi?"
"W-well, him too," he stammered.
"Johann," he began, hushed so Dimitri wouldn't hear, "I know how much you would like for just the two of us to spend Christmas together, but we have friends. We have family. We cannot just shy away from our close relations like this."
"And I'm supposed to care?"
"What has gotten into you, Johann? You're acting like a scrooge today. Don't you like Christmas?"
"No, Heinrich. I don't!" Weyer retorted. "I cannot stand it. I've put up with it long enough for your sake! I'm tired of dealing with the Scheiße that comes with this bloody holiday. For once, on Christmas, I just want to be left alone!"
Agrippa stood there, nearly speechless. Immediately, Weyer regretted revealing that to his lover, but it was too late to take it back. "I see, then..." he replied forlornly a moment later. "Well... I'm going to head to the orphanage... I'm taking Dimi with me... Don't expect us home early..." Before Weyer could say anything, Agrippa had shrugged on his coat, had Dimitri ready to leave, then left the house with son in tow.
Weyer knew that after a scuffle, Agrippa would soon get over it, but at the moment, that tidbit of information slipped his mind. For once, he thought Agrippa was going to leave him. If not leave him, then just continue to be angry or disappointed in him. He would've chased after them, but he had long forgotten where the orphanage even was, and he was quite tired from a long day's work.
Eyes welling up, he changed clothes and resigned to bed. At this point, he felt there was nothing he could do. He just hoped, as sleep began to claim him and tears slid down his cheeks, that he could blame his outburst on his tiredness.
Sleep was uneasy for Weyer. All he could think about was his fight with Agrippa and the possible ending of their relationship. He awoke with a scream, bolting upright in bed. It took him a moment to gather that it was only a dream, but Agrippa was still not home yet. That meant, he assumed, neither was Dimitri.
"Finally awake, I see."
Weyer's head turned towards the window so fast, he could've given himself whiplash. That shock of ginger hair was unforgettable. "Heinrich! What are you doing by the window? And why is it open? You'll catch a cold!"
The figure turned his head in Weyer's direction, a more warm expression on his face than usual. "Whatever makes you think that I am your lover, Weyer?" Before he could answer, the figure jumped down from the windowsill. "My dear man, I am the Ghost of Christmas Past!"
"Christmas Past?"
The spirit nodded. "I only appear to you as your lover as he is someone from your past, even into your present, whom you first truly loved."
Was this an attempt to appeal to his senses? Weyer rubbed his eyes. "I must still be dreaming."
"Afraid not," Past replied, suddenly appearing in front of his face, floating in midair. Weyer gasped in fright, causing the ghost to roar in laughter. "Come along," it spoke as it took his hand, "let's take a trip down memory lane." The spirit pulled him out of bed, then out of the window as they floated to a nearly forgotten place and time.
