Vriska had been the first to forget.

Nepeta had been the last.

At least that is what Karkat would always claim. And when he was asked when he had 'forgotten' he would always curse and shout and eventually say, 'Sometime after Vriska but before Nepeta,' and then refuse to say one word more on the subject of 12th Perigee Night and of the Welcomed Stranger who invaded homes just to leave his stuff behind.

Gifts they were supposed to be called. The brightly wrapped, tightly ribboned and often odd shaped things trolls got on 12th Perigee were gifts, but once enough of his friends had forgotten, those gifts became the droppings of a stranger too old, senile and fat to take everything with him.

To hear his 'friends' thought the gifts of the Welcomed Strangers were shit, to know they had forgotten when, every year, he was reminded of the truth, it made Karkat so angry, so enraged, and so sad. So, every holiday season, sometime between the Haunting of Sweet but not Soporific Substances and 12th Perigee, Karkat was always louder, grumpier and more irascible than any other time. His friends figured the reason was because Karkat really cared for his friends but was horrible at showing it and hated to love the effort he went through to give gifts. For once, his friends were wrong.

Karkat didn't hate loving the effort needed to buy, find or make 11 presents. He didn't hate the caroling, the decorations or even the stupid ass tradition of kissing under the Quadrant-Grid. What he hated was that his friends had forgotten that the Welcomed Stranger was real. That, every year on 12th Perigee Night Eve, that old, 'senile' and fat troll brought gifts to all the good at being naughty troll children.

While he understood why his friends had forgotten the truth, he couldn't accept it. So what if Vriska had snuck into her lusus's cave when she was three and a half sweeps old and had seen the spider webbing up her gifts? So what if she had told Tavros, who had gone on to tell Gamzee who had gone to Eridan and said two of his friends didn't believe in the 12th Perigee Miracle? So what if Eridan had destroyed the hopes of the seven other trolls who still believed there was an adult troll in the world whom still gave a crap about the troll children? None of that meant there was no such thing as the Welcomed Stranger. None of that meant his friends had to joke and laugh at what might really be magic. Sure, most of magic was fake, but not 12th Perigee. Never 12th Perigee.

Of course, Karkat had an advantage no one else did. Despite knowing Crabdad wrapped his presents every year, despite having watched his Lusus wrap the gifts he would later open, despite staying up all night and never seeing any stranger, welcome or otherwise, Karkat believed he existed and in the magic the Welcome Stranger brought. He believed because every year on 12th Perigee, despite knowing his lusus wrapped his presents, despite often knowing what those presents were, and despite not getting any sleep on the eve of the holiday, Karkat always got a present his lusus nor any of his friends could take credit for.

Though the content of the gift would vary from year to year, it was always wrapped in the same lime green paper, practically wrapped again in the same lime green colored ribbon and then taped with at least a mile of clear tape. It was, by far, the most annoying, frustrating, aggravating present to open, but it was always just what he had secretly wished for when he wasn't wishing he wasn't a loser, mutant who would probably have been better of culled sweeps ago.

Even to this day, when Alternia was a half forgotten memory, when he had failed so many times the only miracle there was, was that he wasn't dead, when even the humans admitted the no longer believed in the Welcome Stranger, they called him Santa Claus, Karkat still got the ridiculously wrapped, lime green present that not even the god tier seers could explain.

The gift was a mystery, but not one that Karkat wanted to solve. He was happy to believe that, despite how much of a fuck up he was, someone or something cared enough to let him still believe miracles and magic could exist.

Miracles and magic could still exist. Karkat Vantas knew that better than any other being in existence. He knew because he had always known, had made SURE that he had always known. From the time Eridan had told his past self that the Welcome Stranger was just his Crabdad lusus, Karkat, the future, grown up version, had made sure younger Karkat would have a lime green headache to open up, love and cherish each year.

The fact that he was his own Welcome Stranger had never made any version of Karkat upset. Despite knowing his Welcome Stranger was himself, Karkat couldn't help but smile. Even when he had first found out, his future self had told his past self of the truth because, eventually, that is what his past self would remember happening, Karkat knew there were still miracles and magic. His future self just made them happen a little easier.

Karkat, all versions of him, knew this because none of them alchemized the wrapping paper or the presents that they would deliver to their past self. None of them even knew where the paper and presents had come from, or had even known lime green was a color one could use to wrap Perigee presents. After all, the tradition was to wrap presents in the color of your blood. Of course, Karkat wrapped the gifts he was giving in gray, but as always, he had been the exception to the tradition.

The real source of the present and paper was a mystery, a miracle and some very welcome strangeness in worlds that often made no sense at all. And they weren't the best part of the mystery. The best part of the mystery was the holiday the humans called Christmas.

Christmas, the human equivalent of 12th Perigee. So similar were the holidays that they fell on the same day, and the traditions were the same. Unlike the constellations in their sky, unlike many of their myths, Christmas wasn't something the trolls had indirectly created. It was something Alternia, Beforus and even the Furthest Ring celebrated with or without anyone there to see. It was the holiday that had always been there, and always would be. It was the sign of hope, happiness, peace and giving. It was the sign that things wouldn't be grimdark forever because somewhere, somewhen that bright red color would light up the darkest and coldest night and allow even the most lost of souls to once again see.

Karkat wasn't sure how his blood color had become associated with Christmas, and later on, all the versions of the holiday, but for once, he was very glad to know people knew the color and loved it with all their hearts. After all, that meant his first wish, the one he had always carried deep within his heart, had come true: his blood didn't make him a loser mutant who should have been culled sweeps ago but an immortal hero who lead all the worlds to something better.