24th December

It was cold. Even in the warmth and safety of the cabin Emil felt the numbness penetrate through the windowsills. The air smelled of spice and cider, and a tiny rumble in his stomach served as a reminder that he had not eaten apart from one meager meal in the morning.

Lukas would not be proud of him.

Good.

Standing up from the plush sofa, he walked past the flickering fireplace, turning up the electric knob to increase the intensity of the flames. The sudden surge of heat send tendrils of warmth into his stiffened bones, and he nodded, satisfied with himself.

The kitchen floor burst open suddenly, and Tino trailed out, humming as he placed a fresh tray of cookies on the dining room table. The friendly nation was always preppy this time of year, even more so when the date is what it is today.

Grabbing a cookie, Emil took a bite, mumbling his thanks while ignoring the startled advice of the baked treat being too hot to actually be consumed. The scent of ginger wafted into his nose as he ascended the stairs, chewing loudly. The three oldest nations had not reached in the family cabin yet and his puffin had left to waddle by himself, so the house was silent and peaceful.

Not for long though, and Emil heaved a sigh. Still, he cannot help but acknowledge a small part of him looking forward to the festivities this time every year, if only to bask in the atmosphere and see her face when she opens that up.

Her face... Emil swallowed heavily as he thought of the wrapped package he had posted a few weeks ago. Air travel and delivery in his country took much longer than his other Nordic brothers, but surely, surely she must have received his gift by now.

He pictures how her face would look like when she opened his package and felt a flush rise to dust his cheeks red. Chastising himself, he entered the room that he had claimed as his (many many years ago the five of them had decided to get the cabin together; the memory still makes him smile) and zip opened the carrier that held his belongings for the stay here.

Taking out his laptop, his switched it on, and watched the blank screen flicker to life. Fingers tapped the keys gently, and in a minute Emil found himself staring at a minimised blue tab with fluffy clouds adorning the sides. Fixing the screen until the camera was angled towards him, he pressed a few more keys before entering his message. There was no reply in the minutes following the tiny tinkle his computer had made confirming that his message had sent, so he reluctantly stood up, leaving his laptop on the unblemished bed.

Emil was patient, as it would only be a matter of time before he got his reply. He left the room, heart beating in anticipation at the thought of the response that would await him. Hours later, he returns, warm, full and tired from cider, cookies, dinner and his family being insufferable family when he notices the tiny blinking icon on his computer screen.

One glance at his watch and he sighs in relief. She had read his message.

Pressing the charger on, he clicks the icon and watches the screen maximise to show blue skies and white sand. The caw of gulls was strong in the background of sloshing waves against shore. Emil could almost smell the scent of salt and feel the grains beneath his feet, but that wasn't what caught his attention. The camera view angles to the left, and he feels his lips pulling up at the sight of some familiar clips he had held in his hands two weeks ago in brown hair.

The personification of the Republic of Seychelles stares back at him in utter delight, and he finds himself mumbling a hello, butterflies in his stomach as he watched the purple clips that reflected the colour of his eyes glimmer under the summer sun.

She really did look beautiful in them.

25th December

The heat was too much. The party was in full swing everywhere Mei went, from the screams and high pitched hollering in the pool to the loud pumping Christmasy songs blasting from within the halls. It was too much to take, and the fact that she was a little more than tipsy didn't help.

It wasn't her fault really. How was she to know that the punchbowl was spiked with more than just a little eggnog? Judging by the sight of a stumbling rambling familiar looking older brother with a mussed ponytail near the toilets, it seems like he didn't know either.

Yao cannot use this excuse to chide her again. The thought makes her uncharacteristically happy, and Mei giggles as she walks lopsidedly outside to get a breath of fresh air. When she turns the corner, she feels her nose hit something firm and instinctively she takes a step back, her nose bouncing along with her movements.

Peering up, she finds her glasses wearing host staring back at her, smiling through teeth. America grins at her widely, launching into a talk on how successful his Christmas party had come to be. She nods along as she listens, and feels a smile curling around the corners of her mouth. The loudmouthed nation had a reputation of sticking his business into where it didn't belong and generally pissing others off, but he has always been kind to her, offering to soothe her worries and to take her away from her political headaches for a short break. To Taiwan, to Mei, America was a friend, someone she could trust.

Maybe it was the alcohol in her system, but she feels her pulse speed up the longer he talks to her. He was still so close (none of them had thought to create distance after the initial bump), she could feel the heat through his 'ugly Christmas sweater' as he had jokingly put it, and smell his cologne. Did America ever used cologne? For the longest time she had thought that he wasn't the kind to use it. He had never seem to be that kind of man.

She must have been quiet for too long for the next thing she realised was that her mouth was closed and America was waving his hand over her face because she had been staring blankly at a spot on his sweater. (At one of the cutely knitted Christmas trees to be precise; it was knitted rather nicely.) He looked mildly concerned as he did so, which was odd. She decides that she did not like the face he makes as he pulls her to the kitchen to get some water (or was it the bar?). She doesn't quite grasp his words yet; through the buzz of alcohol colours looked funny and voices sound muted.

They never get to their destination. Mei vaguely remembers passing by the TV when a huge ruckus starts. There were shouts, and she feels America's grip on her hand tighten gently as he answers back. There was rustling, and she wobbles to her right, unknowingly dodging the flying piece of object that was aimed clumsily at her host's head.

America catches it with his free hand, and she hears the hollering and cheering grow in volume, voices both drunk and sober egging him on to do...something..? She does not remember. What she does remember though, is a wobbling Netherlands wearing a red clown nose and reindeer antlers on his head, giving her a thumbs up.

Hearing an awkward cough, she turns to face America..before paling immediately at the object in his hands. Even in her tipsy state the implications are undeniable; white berries and round leaves. Often overshadowed and mistaken by a similar red berried cousin, but this was the real deal, the real thing. She couldn't deny it if she tried.

The cheers and hollers become chants, and soon the room was a collective voice nudging her host to do the deed. Alfred, Alfred, they kept repeating. Was that America's name? He has a wonderful name. Standing face to face with the taller nation, Mei suddenly feels shy. Her pulse jumped once, then twice. She can see the specks of blue tint in his eyes.

America himself wasn't faring so well. He was flushing, and the heat emitting from beneath his sweater grew hotter than she thought possible. His eyes could not meet hers, and somehow the sight of him being bashful in front of her escalates the flutters in her heart.

The mistletoe still laid in his hand, berries flashing different colours under the multicoloured lights.

She can see him speak, his mouth forming sentences of apology for himself and for his friends' behalf. Subconsciously she leans in closer, and halfway through he ceases his mumbles and does the same. She cannot hear him anymore.

Kissing him was like dancing among the stars. There had been a connection, undeniable to both as his slightly chapped lips met hers timidly. When they part he pulls her to him again, the mistletoe falling from his hands to land on the ground. He makes sure to ask for permission this time, blue eyes bright and gentle (still gentle) as he waits for her consent.

Mei tugs at his sweater, clarity and the beginnings of soberness returning to her eyes, and Alfred smiles.

26th December

It might have been the fresh layer of snow from last night, because Elizaveta could have sworn that the trip to Gilbert's house had been much easier two weeks before. Grumbling her way up the slopes of the wilderness (and by wilderness she means fallen branches and slippery snow), she craned her neck hoping to spy the tall roof of his house.

At least it was his house, before he had moved to stay with Ludwig. Now it is a vacant cottage, too far from civilisation to be considered an attractive place to stay in. Gilbert still comes here sometimes, which is why she is here now.

Roderich had wanted to accompany her on this journey, the sweet man. Regrettably she had turn down his offer; she had wanted to visit him herself, and god knows what would happen if these two long bickering rivals met. Clutching the tin of biscuits-a belated Christmas gift for him, she walked down the now visible path to the short brick wall separating house from path.

Pushing open the door, she frowns at the smell. Carefully she observes the area and much to her relief, finds no mould. The air stank of dust and what sparse furniture looked unused, so straightaway Eliza knows he hasn't been here.

Still she flicks on the light and places the tin of biscuits on the table, entering the kitchen in search of a broom. Damn Prussian was going to owe her so much...

Cleaning the dust off the floors proved to be easy, because after a while Eliza realises that the amount of dust was not as much as she had thought; someone had definitely been here cleaning the place before, even though the used to be owner of the house has not entered its premises for a long while.

Ludwig. A smile crosses her face the more she thought about it. Only someone like him would be so kind as to help clean a vacant house that held memories for his brother. Leaving the broom against a corridor wall, she grabs the biscuit tin and makes her way outside. The air outside is crisp and fresh, smelling of snow. Eliza pauses and renters the house again, opening a window before coming back down the back porch.

The garden was bare and covered with a blanket of snow. Besides a frozen fountain, the only other thing that marred the smooth levelled white ground was a stone monument. Gently she stepped into the snow and made her way to it, stopping just in front and lifting a hand out to brush away the snow that had gathered to rest on top of the structure's curved edges.

There was still no sign of Gilbert.

Placing the biscuit tin down, Eliza sighs softly, her breath coming in puffs of white. Perhaps another day.

Suddenly the prospect of waiting around seemed too much. Maybe she should have let Roderich come with her. Perturbed, she decides to leave the biscuit tin on the monument. Maybe Gilbert could enjoy it, when he comes back.

What a laugh she thinks, and a tiny piece of her heart breaks.

Could they have been? The two bickering, violent, cocky couple? Perhaps, but even perhaps is a little too late now.

She turns back once on her way down, and sees it. A flash of a specter with lingering shadow, but there was no mistaking the snow white hair, the same annoying grin. His eyes had been shadowed, but that was enough for her to know, to wonder.

Eliza squints, and in an instant he is gone. Off to cause trouble again, most likely. Shaking her head, she walks back the way she came, smiling ever so faintly. Away from the empty house, from the headstone that bears his name.

It was just a trick of the light after all.

A/N

This story was literally planned and written in the two days before Christmas. My brain is shit for torturing me like that and making me drop literally everything to go through with sudden surges of inspiration.

Many of you should also be able to tell that this is based (inspired actually) on 'A Christmas Carol', the story of Ebenezer Scrooge. I made Christmas day the present, so the days before and after it are past and future respectively.

I don't have a reason why I used these three ships, only that I wanted to use girls I seldom write about. (Meaning all girls but Ukraine and Seychelles.) As you can see, I broke the rule hahaha.. Icesey is seriously underrated and Ametai is just virtually unknown except for 5 pieces of fanart please join the ships help a fan out here. Pruhun gets the saddest ending cause it is too popular and I'm trash. Nah jkjk. (I'm not sorry though.)

Also, you guys can take this fic as a sign that I'm back. My inspiration is flowing again, and I'm loving every second of it.

This is a great improvement over my Christmas series last year. (That reminds me, I have to edit it too.) Merry Christmas everyone.