WARNING: This chapter contains AkuRoku, Xemnas/Saix, Vexen/Marluxia, Larxene (enough said...), men in ballgowns, and nostalgic old guys. You have been warned.
The Three Ghosts of Christmas
That Christmas Eve morning, the houses, stores and streets were full of warmth and happiness as families all over town got ready to celebrate Christmas.
Except for one particular case.
One man, a moneylender, was still working in his shop, even though practically nobody came. In fact, it is believed that the two of them—this moneylender and his employee—were the only ones working that day.
His assistant sighed and brought himself closer to the small fire glowing in the fireplace. Since his boss was a very stingy and cheap man, he wouldn't even purchase more firewood to help enlarge the flame. Even so, the poor man couldn't help but smile at the gentle glow that the fire emitted, for it made his workplace a little more…bearable.
The cold silence was soon interrupted by a knock on the door. The boss sighed, and shouted, "Come in!"
A jolly young man burst through the door, his exuberance practically filling the entire room with light. "Hello all," he exclaimed, his cheeks flushed with excitement, "and Merry Christmas!"
The employee smiled, and replied, "Merry Christmas, Mr. Demyx, sir!"
The employee's boss simply growled at the young visitor, and continued his work.
Demyx approached the old miser, and smiled. "Why, Uncle Vexen, aren't you going to wish me a Merry Christmas?"
This time, Vexen actually looked up at Demyx giving off sour vibes. "Bah, humbug!" he grumbled, and tried to focus on his papers.
Demyx put on a fake pout. "Bah humbug?" he said mockingly. He propped his elbows up on Vexen's desk and brought his face up close to his. "Wouldn't you like to come over to my place for our annual Christmas Party?" he said, batting his eyelashes.
Vexen shoved his nephew's face away from his own, and looked him straight in the eye. "I wouldn't attend one of your Christmas parties even if you paid me!" He cried, which was saying something since he loved money more than anything in the world.
Demyx cocked his head to the side like a lost puppy. "Pleaaaaaase?" he pleaded.
"No!" said Vexen.
"Pretty please with a crumpet on top…?"
"I said NO!" Vexen got up abruptly from his chair, and started pushing Demyx out the door. "I have no time for your silly games or your stupid parties!" he shouted.
He finally shoved his nephew out the door, and looked down on him. "And I absolutely HATE Christmas!" He slammed the door shut with a loud BANG, started walking back to his desk, paused, and then opened the door again and shouted, "And I think crumpets are totally LAME!"
He slammed the door shut again, and was just about to go back to his desk when the he took out his pocket watch and noticed that it was already four-o-clock—closing time.
He sighed, and looked at his assistant, who was still warming himself by the small flame. "It's closing time, Mr. Axel," he said sadly.
Axel leaped up from his seat and grabbed his coat and scarf off of the coat rack. As he slipped on the worn and tattered coat (he was a very poor man, after all), he stopped for a moment, and looked up at his boss. "Umm, Mr. Vexen, sir?" he asked timidly.
Vexen did not look at the man. "Yes, Mr. Axel?" he asked, facing him with a rather bored expression.
Mr. Vexen was a very bony, queer looking man with thinning grayish-blond hair and a permanent sneer on his face. Basically, he wasn't the prettiest daisy in the garden.
Axel swallowed, and then continued. "Well…it's Christmas Eve, sir, which means that tomorrow is Christmas Day…"
Vexen raised one eyebrow suspiciously. "What's your point?" he asked.
Axel looked down at the floor. "Well, would it be alright with you if…I spent Christmas with my family back at home, sir?"
Vexen's face turned red with anger. "C-Christmas?" he shouted. "You want to spend Christmas Day with your family?"
Axel shuffled his feet nervously. "Y-Yes," he said meekly.
Vexen exploded. "Wha—I thought you were my loyal employee!" he screamed, throwing his arms up in the air. "I already gave you Thanksgiving break, and Easter break…"
"N-No, you didn't…"
"Yes I—I didn't?" asked Vexen, a look up surprise on his face. Axel shook his head in dismay.
Vexen sighed, and took out a slip of paper, which happened to have all the work days and hours penciled in. He looked at the box for 12/25, and rolled his eyes.
"Fine," he said, marking an X on that date. "But I expect you to come in an hour early the morning after, otherwise…"
Axel jumped up and down with joy, and clasped Vexen's hand in his. "Oh, thank you, Mr. Vexen!" he cried, shaking his hand vigorously. "You won't be sorry, I assure you!"
Vexen closed his eyes in annoyance. "Young man, you are cutting off the circulation in my…"
Axel didn't hear him. "Oh, just wait till I tell the Mrs.! She'll be so excited!"
With that, Axel wrapped his threadbare scarf around his neck, and hopped out the door, singing a little jingle as he ran home to tell his family the happy news.
Vexen grumbled to himself as he wrapped himself in his expensive mink coat, extinguished Axel's small fire just by looking at it (hehe, glare of ice, get it?), and locked the door behind him as he headed towards home.
As the approached the front door of his house, he sighed to himself as he fumbled to find his keys.
He looked challengingly at the knocker on his door, which resembled the face of a lion. "You think you're so hot," he said, sneering.
Suddenly, the face of the knocker transformed into the face of a man, his old business partner, in fact.
The man screamed at Vexen angrily. "GRRRAAAAAAHHHH!"
Vexen leaped back from the doorway, stumbling and crashing into the snowy street behind him. He shook the snow off of his hair and blinked a few times, not quite believing in what he just saw.
But the knocker had already changed back into the appearance of a lion's face by the time the old man had taken a good look at it.
Cursing, Vexen peeled himself off of the snow, unlocked his door very carefully, and quickly scuttled inside, away from the unwanted cold.
Once back in his cold, dark house, Vexen put on his best night gown—ur...robe, and sat himself down in his hardest arm chair by the fire.
He reached next to him and grabbed his dinner off of the table. Taking a large scoop of the unidentified gray slush, he raised the spoon to his thin lips and tasted it.
It was cold and bland, just the way he liked it.
He took another spoonful of the mixture, and was just about to take another bite when he heard a mysterious noise from below the floorboards.
"Ooohhhhhhh..."
Vexen paused and waited as the room became silent once more. Nothing.
The old man shrugged and continued to eat his "Christmas dinner", until he heard the groan again, followed by the sound of footsteps.
"OOOooohhhhhh!"
Creak! Creak! Creak!
Vexen stopped once again, his heart thumping in his chest. There's nobody else here, he thought. Nobody...
CreakCreakCreakCreakCreak...
The footsteps grew louder and louder as they came closer and closer. Vexen's breathing started to quicken as the fire in the fireplace went out; the grandfather clock by his bed started to ring; the bell above his front door tinkled; and the pots and pans in his kitchen all crashed to the floor.
CreakCreakCreakCreak!
Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Cuckoo!
Dong! Dong! Dong!
Crash! Bang! Clang! Clatter! Crash!
CreakCreakCreak!
Vexen squeezed his eyes shut, beads of sweat dripping down his face. It'll go away! It's just some rotten prank!
And then the noise stopped, revealing a deafening silence.
Vexen opened his eyes, and took a deep breath. Relaxing his shoulders, he stirred his watery gruel and continued to take another bite.
"VEXEN!"
"GAAAHHH!" Vexen flung his dinner across the room in fright and looked in front of him. "W-W-Who's there?" he called, not seeing anyone.
The voice sighed. "I'm behind you," the voice said, exasperated.
Shaking, Vexen slowly turned his body around to face whatever had just spoken to him. There, standing in the center of the room, stood Vexen's deceased business partner, with chains weighing down his semi-transparent arms and chest.
Vexen slowly approached the man. "Z-Zexion?" he whispered. "Aren't you supposed to be d-d-dead?"
Zexion picked a speck of dust off of his shoulder, which didn't make much of a difference since he had been dead for about seven years. "Oh, I'm fine, thanks for asking!" he said sarcastically. "How are you?"
Vexen didn't find Zexion's old sarcasm very funny anymore. He sat down, his hand clutched over his chest in precaution to a heart attack he could feel coming on. "Why are you here?" he asked, getting straight to the point.
Zexion sighed, and pulled on some of the chains that where partially stuck in the wall behind him. As the other ends came out, check boxes, safes, and piggy banks attached to their ends came crashing to the floor.
Zexion sat down on one of the safes, his chains chingling as he moved. "Because," he said, looking up glumly. "When I was alive, I used to be just like you, Vexen—the only thing I cared about was making and saving money. After I died, instead of being sent up to that big bachelor pad up in the sky..."
Zexion shook his head and looked up longingly. He shook the chains surrounding his body. "I got stuck wandering the streets alone, with nothing to do except drag around what I used to love the most."
He kicked one of the check boxes lying on the floor, and turned to Vexen. "Which is why," he said, a softer tone in his voice. "I have decided to help you avoid the same fate as mine."
Vexen scrunched up his face in confusion. "That's unlike you," he said.
Zexion could only shrug. "You learn something after nearly a decade of servitude," he said. He snapped his fingers, and a golden pocket watch appeared, so expensive looking that Vexen had to refrain from reaching out and touching it.
He glanced at the time. "You are to be visited by three other ghosts," said Zexion, not looking up.
Vexen's eyes widened in horror. "No," he said. "No, no, no, no..."
Zexion didn't listen. "When the clock strikes one," he said, "you will be visited by the Ghost of Christmas Past."
"B-But what does this have to do with—"
"When the clock strikes two," said Zexion, ignoring him still, "you will be visited by the Ghost of Christmas Present."
"Really, I don't think this is necessary—"
"And when the clock strikes three," Zexion drilled on, "you will be visited by the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come."
"Now hang on just one moment!" screamed Vexen. He marched right up to Zexion and waggled his finger in front of the apparition's nose. "I am most certainly NOT going to sit here and wait for three ghosts of Christmas-whatever so they can teach me lessons about 'morality' and 'kindnesses!' I am most certainly happy just the way I am!"
Zexion raised his eyebrows in disapproval, and suddenly grew two feet taller, so that he was now looking down at the cranky old man. His gaze darkened. "You WILL be visited by three ghosts," he boomed, his voice ringing throughout the room.
And before Vexen could protest again, Zexion snapped his fingers, and disappeared in a puff of smoke.
Vexen coughed and sputtered, while trying to push away the smoke as best as he could. But as he pushed the fog away, he came to realize that he was very, very sleepy.
So without another word, Vexen fell back onto his hard arm chair, and fell fast asleep.
Dong!
Vexen woke with a start as the grandfather clock struck one.
He slowly sat up, rubbed his eyes sleepily, then froze as he looked around and saw where he was.
True, the grandfather clock was still there, but the rest of the scenery had changed. Instead of his dark, creaky house, he found himself sitting at a long, white table in a small white room, with drawings and illustrations covering the walls. Thin white curtains swayed in front of an open window, allowing a gentle nighttime breeze into the room.
He blinked a few times as he studied the room, not even noticing that someone else was there with him.
"Vexen," said a small voice.
Vexen raised his eyebrows in surprise as he saw a young girl sitting at the other end of the table, her blond hair cascading down her shoulder like an angel. "Who are you?" he said, a little spooked.
The girl put her hand to her heart as she introduced herself. "I am the Ghost of Christmas Past," she said. "But you can just call me, Namine."
Since Vexen lived in a small, dark house on a pretty much abandoned street, he didn't get to see young women very often. Especially young women with short white dresses.
He gave her a creepy smile and leaned forward. "Well, how about I call you, Nami, or how about NeNe, or—"
Namine cleared her throat. "Just Namine," she interrupted, leaving behind an incredibly awkward silence.
Vexen half nodded, then sat back down in his seat.
After what seemed like forever, Namine finally broke the silence by standing up. "Well," she said. "Come along, then."
Vexen gripped his chair nervously, and gave her a look. "Where are we going?" he asked.
Namine walked over swiftly, and grabbed him by the hand. "You'll see," she said. Slowly, she walked over to the open window, and stepped onto the ledge, still holding onto Vexen's hand.
Vexen tried to pull his hand away, but it seemed as if her hand had hardened into steel. "What are you doing?" he cried, trying to yank himself away. "Let go of me!"
Instead of answering, Namine leaped out the window like a bird, taking the old man down with her. But, instead of falling down, they seemed to do the exact opposite—they started to fly.
Vexen gasped as he felt another heart attack coming on. "Wha-What kind of witchcraft is this?" he shouted, wiggling around in the sky.
Namine used her free hand to open up a doorway of light in front of them. The door suddenly opened. "We're traveling to your past, Mr. Vexen," said Namine. And so, the two of them flew into the doors of light, which shut quickly behind them.
Inside Vexen's past, night suddenly turned to day as they soared above forests, houses, and buildings.
Namine lowered them down so that they were hovering next to the second floor of a workhouse, and pointed at one of the windows. "Take a look," she said softly.
Curiosity got the best of Vexen, and he peered inside. There, making tools with all the other boys, sat a childhood version of Mr. Vexen himself.
Vexen gave a little cry of surprise. "Why, that's me as a little boy!" he cried happily. "I worked in this shop every day for ten years!"
Namine nodded. "You worked here, and saved up your weekly salary so that one day, you could become the wealthy man you always dreamed of being. Now, come," she led him away from the window, and traveled a little farther until she led him through the front door of a large mansion.
She gestured at the party going on around them. "Does this seem familiar?" she asked.
Vexen glanced around, and gave out another gasp of joy as he recognized familiar faces. "There I am!" he shouted, pointing at a handsome young man in a rich green tuxedo.
Looking around some more, he spotted two men standing at the front of the room—one had long, silver hair and a deep blue tuxedo with ruffles, and the other had luscious, blue hair and a rich, custom designed pink dress that drooped a little off the shoulders.
"And that was my boss, Mr. Xemnas, and his wife, Saix!" yelled Vexen happily. "You know, those people were the richest I've ever known, and yet every year they insisted on spending it all on their annual Christmas parties!"
Vexen couldn't help but smile a little and look down at his hands. "And they were wonderful parties," he said quietly to himself.
Namine pretended not to hear that part, and took him by the hand again. "Hurry!" she whispered. "There is still much more to see!"
Namine led the reluctant man out of the room, and back into the sky they rose. Farther and farther they flew, until landing on the fluffy snow in a park.
Vexen was just about to exclaim that the older man standing near the park bench was another younger version of himself, but paused as he noticed the man who was standing next to him.
"That's…" he murmured, unable to finish his sentence.
Namine put her finger to his lips, and beckoned him forward in order to hear the couple's conversation.
Young Vexen looked deep into the other man's eyes with worry. "My darling, what is the matter? You're shaking all over."
The other man brushed his pink locks behind his ear, and sighed. "I've come to give you this," he said, bringing forth his hand.
Everyone leaned forward to see a sparkling diamond engagement ring in the palm of his hand.
Young Vexen gasped in surprise. "Marluxia," he began.
Old Vexen turned away, for he knew what was going to happen next. "I do not wish to see this memory, spirit," he said coldly. "Please, take me away."
But Namine did not take his hand. Instead, she turned him towards the couple again.
Marluxia took a deep breath, and continued. "It has come to my attention, Vexen that you care more about your money than you do about me!"
Young Vexen took him by the shoulders. "Of course that's not true!" he said sternly. "I'm saving money so that we can live in luxury! It's just…taking a little time…"
Marluxia pulled away. "But I don't want your money!" he exclaimed. "I wanted you!"
Young Vexen nearly laughed. "But what is love without something profitable?" he said.
Marluxia shook his head bitterly. "Your heart has hardened, Vexen," he said. "And I want no part of it!"
He pressed the engagement ring into Young Vexen's hand, and started to march away.
Old Vexen ran forward. "Marluxia, wait!" he shouted, even though she couldn't hear him. He reached for his arm, but his hand merely passed through it like a fog. Angry, he turned to Young Vexen, and shook his fist at him. "What is the matter with you?" he cried madly. "Go after him!" Tears swelled up in his eyes as his past life failed to run forward.
Namine winced. "Ooooh," she said. "Rejected!"
Vexen turned to her, a look of pure sadness on his wrinkled face. Namine cleared her throat. "Umm, we should be going," she said. "There's still one more memory I need to show you."
A few moments later, they entered the shop in which Vexen worked in presently. Inside, a middle-aged Vexen sat behind an empty counter, alongside his old companion, Zexion.
Young-ish Vexen grinned as he counted their money. "Look how much profit we've made today, Mr. Zexion!" he said happily. "Almost enough to buy a second house!"
Zexion nodded, but stared off into the distance, as if distracted by something else. Finally, he slid off of his stool, and grabbed his hat and coat. "I think I shall leave early for the day," he said. "I…I'm not feeling very well."
Young-ish Vexen did not look up from counting his cash. "Alright then, suit yourself!" he said.
Zexion slowly started to head out the door, but stopped halfway there. He gasped, and clutched his chest as his knees gave way. "V-Vexen!" he breathed, and collapsed to the floor with a THUMP.
Vexen immediately ran to his side, trying to revive him with face slaps. "Zexion!" he cried. "Zexion!"
The room became dead silent as everyone realized the death of his employee. Old Vexen sighed and held back tears. "He was my only friend," he said.
Namine, realizing that their tour was about over, snapped her fingers, and the scene vanished.
Vexen opened his eyes, and realized that he was back in his house, in his hard armchair. Turning this way and that, he noticed that the room was almost empty, except for a lit candle standing next to him, wax dripping as if it had been burning for hours.
Vexen reached for his candle extinguisher, and was just about to put it out when the fire transformed into the Ghost of Christmas Past.
"I told you," said the ghostly flame. "These were the shadows of things that have been. They are what they are, do not blame me!"
Angry with the gentle spirit, Vexen took his extinguisher cap, and pressed in down upon the small light, pressing himself into darkness.
Dong! Dong!
Vexen woke with a start as he realized that he had fallen asleep again, only this time he was back in his own home.
He looked at the clock; it was 2-o-clock, meaning it was time to be visited by the Ghost of Christmas Present.
Vexen sat there waiting, expecting the worst; but the ghost did not appear in front of him like the last one.
Puzzled and tired still, Vexen fixed himself to go back to sleep, when he heard laughter coming from the bathroom. "Ho-ho-ho-ho-ho!"
Interested, Vexen quietly slipped on his slippers, and crept into the next room, and gasped for the third time that day.
Instead of the tiny latrine he always had, the room had been transformed into a room the size of a grand ballroom, with bright golden wallpaper and a glorious Christmas tree.
In the center of the room lay a pile of food that nearly reached the ceiling. Turkeys, chickens, fish, bread, cheese, ham, corn, grapes, apples, potatoes, cranberries—all the food you would have an expensive Christmas feast.
On top of the pile sat the source of the boisterous laughter; a tall man wearing a soft, velvet red bathrobe with gold and green sequence on the sleeves and collar. On his head he wore a prominent Santa hat.
He laughed again. "Why, hello there Mr. Vexen, and a Merry Christmas to you!"
Vexen, still mesmerized by the mountains of delicious food, swallowed hard and managed to mumble a quiet, "Umm...bah humbug?"
The man laughed again. "Ho-ho-ho! Bah humbug, you say? Why, it's Christmas time! A time for love, merriment, joy, peace on Earth; good will toward men!" He snapped his fingers, and a large bottle of fancy wine appeared in his hand. Instead of pouring himself a glass, he put his lips to the bottle, and drank it down in gulps.
Vexen, with no doubt in his mind that this man was more than a little drunk, stepped forward. "I assume that you are the Ghost of Christmas Present?"
The Ghost of Christmas Present laughed again, to the extent of which Vexen really wished he would stop. "No need to be so formal, my good man!" shouted the spirit. "Friends call me Luxord!"
Luxord undid the belt that held his robe together, revealing a forest of blonde chest hair. He threw the robe-belt down to Vexen. "Touch my robe!" he shouted happily.
Vexen's face turned bright red with embarrassment. "I-I'd rather we just remain friends, thank you!" he called back.
Luxord laughed again, and threw down a pear, which hit Vexen on the head.
"Ow!" muttered Vexen, rubbing the lump on his scull which had just developed. He frowned at the ghost, but eventually gave in and wrapped his hand around Luxord's robe-belt.
Laughing his ho-ho-hos, Luxord snapped his fingers, and the group suddenly appeared in town square, where everybody was hustling and bustling in order to get ready for Christmas.
Luxord, now carrying a large torch in one hand, motioned at the crowds of people as they walked to a particular destination. "You see these poor folk?" he said, pointing. "They have no money, no riches, and yet they still provide for large families during the holiday season."
Vexen watched as women bought food at the local grocer; he watched with slight ease and delight as father and son together carried large pine trees into their small homes; and he admired the choir as they stood and sang Christmas carols, their noses red with cold.
Luxord glanced at Vexen suspiciously. "You're frowning. Why?" he said.
Vexen looked away. "It's just...I've never contributed to any of these poor singers and workers," he said. "And I think I should've."
The spirit suddenly stopped in front of a particular cottage with cute green shutters and a small chimney. The two of them silently walked through the front door, even though no being could see them.
Inside, Mr. Axel's wife was running around in her kitchen like a madman, cutting carrots and dicing onions and baking bread.
A small girl with red hair came running up, her eyes wide with excitement. "Mother, mother!" she shouted.
She did not look up from her continuous chopping. "Kairi, can't it wait? I'm trying to get the feast ready before your father comes home!"
Kairi shook her head, her small body bouncing up and down with joy she couldn't possibly contain. "But mother, I just saw Xion coming up the hill!"
Mrs. Axel stopped what she was doing. "Xion?" she cried. "Where is she?" She frantically wiped her hands on her apron.
As if on cue, Xion burst through the door, snow flying off of her hair and clothes. "Here I am, mother!" she cried happily.
"Xion!" her mother cried, scooping her up in a big hug. She seemed to be asking a million questions. "How are you? How's the factory? Are you cold? Are you ill? Are you safe? Is there anyone else with you? Please stop interrupting darling I can't even fit in a complete sentence..."
"Hey!" shouted a small boy with silver hair. "I thought I just saw father coming!"
Mrs. Axel looked out the window herself, and gasped. "Riku's right! Everyone be very quiet!"
Kairi grabbing onto Xion's sleeve. "Come on! You must hide!" She pushed her sister under the table.
Vexen looked at Luxord, confused. "But why are they...?"
Luxord pushed his finger against Vexen's lips before he could finish his sentence. "Shhhhh..." he whispered.
The door burst open, and Axel entered, carrying a medium-sized package under his arm. "Merry Christmas, everyone!"
Kairi and Riku ran up and grabbed each of Axel's legs. "Daddy, daddy!" they cried happily.
Mrs. Axel came running as well. "Axel, dearest darling!" she greeted, nearly knocking him over with her wild embrace.
Axel gave his wife a loving hug. "Hello, Roxas dear!" he said.
Vexen's heart melted as he watched the family's display of affection.
Axel continued to smile. "Where's Xion? Is she coming?" he asked hopefully.
Roxas put on a face of sadness and sighed like an actress. "I'm afraid she can't make it this year," she said.
Axel's face fell. "She...she's not coming? On Christmas day?" he said, on the brink of tears.
Xion burst out from underneath the dinner table. "Hello, father!" she yelled.
Axel's face lit up at the sight of his eldest daughter. "Xion! You were here the whole time!" He gave her a warm, fatherly hug. "I'm so glad you could make it..."
"Isn't everyone forgetting about me?" shouted a small voice from the top of the stairs.
Everyone turned to see a small boy leaning on the top of the stairs, his spiky brown hair matted down from taking a previous nap.
Axel detached his legs from his other children, and ran up the stairs to give the boy a hug. "How could we ever forget about you, Sora?" he said softly in his ear.
Vexen watched in sadness as Axel helped the crippled boy down the stairs, setting him down gently on the ground. His father then gave the boy his crutch to help him walk by himself. (There weren't any crutches small enough for him, so his father made one himself. It worked well, but its shape oddly resembled a house key.)
While the other children were showing Sora the talented group of choir singers by their window, Axel helped his wife set the table.
"How was he in church earlier today?" Roxas asked.
Axel smiled warmly at the memory. "As good as gold, and even better," he said. "Somehow he gets thoughtful, sitting by himself so much, and thinks the strangest things you ever heard. He told me, coming home, that he hoped the people saw him in the church, because he was a cripple..."
His voice trembled as he continued, while Roxas was desperately trying to hold back sobs.
"And...And it might be pleasant to them to remember upon Christmas Day, who made lame beggars walk, and blind men see..."
Both had stopped trying to set the table long ago, and were now just standing there, utensils and napkins still in their hands.
Before they could mention it anymore, Sora and the others came back into the room. "Mother, father, you should have heard them singing!" cried Sora, his face bright and happy. "It's beautiful!"
"Why, I'm sure it was," said Roxas, who made a fast recovery. "Come on then, let's all sit down for dinner!"
Soon everyone was sitting down at the table, talking amongst themselves. Axel finally unveiled the package, which happened to be a small chicken, just barely big enough to feed the entire family.
But before they family could start stuffing their faces, Axel tapped his fork against his glass to get everyone's attention.
Everyone turned respectfully to the head of the house as he prepared to speak. "Everyone," said Axel. "I would like to propose a toast!"
The whole family raised their glasses high into the air. Axel smiled. "To Mr. Vexen, for providing us with this lovely meal! If he weren't around, then we wouldn't have a feast to sit around!"
Vexen's mouth gaped wide open as he realized that this poor family was toasting him on Christmas day, when he had acted so poorly towards his employee...
Roxas set down his glass in protest. "Merry Christmas to him? Ha!" He shook his head bitterly. "If I were you, I'd have a few other words I'd like to say to him..."
Axel cleared his throat nervously, his eyes motioning towards the others sitting at the table. "Umm, dearest, what about the children? Christmas day?"
Roxas looked at his happy children, and sighed. "Well, alright! Merry Christmas Mr. Vexen, wherever you may be!"
Out of everyone sitting at that table, Sora was the one who raised his glass the highest. "God bless us, everyone!" he shouted. Everyone around him laughed and smiled.
A single tear escaped Vexen's eye. "Spirit," he said softly. "Will Sora..."
The ghost's face went dark, and for the first time in this whole story, he was not laughing. "I see a vacant seat in the poor chimney corner," he said darkly. "And a crutch without an owner, carefully preserved. If these shadows remain unaltered by the Future, the child will die."
Vexen whirled around and looked at the ghost, horrified. "No, no! Please, kind spirit, tell me the boy will be spared!"
Luxord did not answer. Instead, he walked out the door. "There is one more family I still need to show you," he said to Vexen.
Vexen, not wanting to leave, followed slowly behind the ghost. After walking farther and farther down the street, they came to a wealthier side of town, where they appeared in front of a grand house, the size of a small mansion.
"This is...my nephew's house?" said Vexen. He recognized the wreath on the front door. Since the ghost did not answer, Vexen stepped through the front door and took a look for himself.
In the sitting room by the fire, Demyx and a few friends and family members of his sat in comfy armchairs around the room, while each person had their own glass of Champaign.
Demyx laughed merrily as he seemed to tell his guests a joke. "He said Christmas was a humbug too!" he cried, holding his sides.
Vexen's face fell as he realized that they were laughing at his own words. As the room exploded with laughter, one voice spoke up.
"I'm sure he did!" exclaimed Demyx's wife, Ariel. "That old man does nothing but spends his days counting his money!"
A friend of Demyx's cut in. "Yeah, and he doesn't even spend it, either! He'll just keep saving and saving until the day he dies!"
The room burst into laughter again. Finally, Demyx sighed. "Now Xigbar," he said to the man who spoke before. He turned to his wife. "Ariel," he said adoringly. "I still can't help but feel bad for him."
Everyone in the room, including Vexen, stared at him. Demyx plowed on. "Although I've never really had a decent conversation with the man, my mother seemed to love him very much. And even though I never got to meet my mother, my guess is that under all that money, there is a true and honest man underneath."
He raised his glass into the air. "To Mr. Vexen!" he shouted. "I hope he's having a Merry Christmas at his own home."
"Even though he decided to miss an extraordinary party like this!" said Ariel. The people around them laughed, but toasted Vexen nonetheless.
Back outside again, Vexen shook his head in wonder. "All these people...are toasting me..." He looked at Luxord, who was staring off into deep space. For the first time, Vexen realized that the spirit's blond hair was now a wispy grey, and his face had bore wrinkles.
"Spirit?"
"...My time here is ending fast," said Luxord. He turned to Vexen sadly. "Look now," he said. He undid the last of the buttons on his robe, and opened the skirt.
There, clinging to each of the ghost's legs clung two children: a boy and a girl with hungry, cold, dead looks on their faces. Their hands resembled claws and their teeth were pointed and jagged.
Vexen stepped back at the sight of them, appalled at their monstrous appearance. He choked. "You have very...nice looking children," he managed to say.
Luxord shook his head. "These are not mine, they are Man's. The girl is want, and the boy is ignorance. Beware them both, but most of all, beware the boy. For he forbids doom, unless it can be erased! Do you deny it?" The spirit suddenly became very angry with each word he spoke.
"Uhh...n-no!" cried Vexen. "I cannot!"
"Exactly!" screamed the ghost. He suddenly grew taller and taller until he towered over the poor old man.
Vexen gathered his strength. "But, kind spirit—"
"Kind? Kind!" Luxord laughed, but it was a cold, dark laugh, instead of his usual happy laugh. "I am the Ghost of Christmas Present! I am no 'kind spirit'!"
Vexen went down on his knees. "But Luxord, there is still so very much I wish to see! Won't you show me—"
"Never!" screamed the ghost. He exploded in a burst of gold and green, leaving Vexen sitting alone in his chair again, back in his own home.
Dong! Dong! Dong!
Vexen woke with a bad taste in his mouth and a pounding headache. Dreading, he slowly got up out of his chair...only to see someone peering over the side.
"Aaah!" Vexen nearly fell out of his chair. A tall, slender figure in a black coat stood over him, a hood concealing their face.
Vexen took a deep breath, and continued. "Am I in the presence of...the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come?"
The hooded figure paused, then reached up and pulled the hood off of their face. Vexen almost gasped as he realized that the ghost he had feared most of all—was a young woman.
She sneered at him. "You may call me Larxene, if you wish," she said reluctantly.
He nodded. "Larxene," started Vexen. "I fear you more than any of the other ghosts who have visited me this evening. But if I wish to live out the rest of my existence as a changed man, then I feel it is necessary to follow you into the future. This is right?"
Larxene rolled her eyes. "Sure, whatever," she said. She clenched her hands into fists, and knives appeared between her knuckles. Carefully pulling the hood back over her face, she slowly walked towards a wall, took a few steps back, and ripped a large hole in the wallpaper. But instead of a hard surface behind it, the torn wallpaper flapped lightly in a breeze coming from the dark abyss displayed beyond.
As Larxene motioned for him to step through, Vexen couldn't help but take a look around his room, as if it were the last time he would see his own home.
Finally, he and the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come stepped through the hole in the wall.
As they stepped through, they appeared in the midst of a dark, sketchy alleyway. Vexen looked on as a suspicious looking old man came to greet a crazy looking teenage girl.
The old man came up close to her. "Have you got it?" he said.
"Sshhh!" she snapped. "Would you pipe down, Cid? There are people all over these slums who are dying to get their hands on supplies like this!"
"Supplies?" said Vexen. Larxene gave him a glare, and Vexen shut up.
The girl reached behind her back, and took out an expensive pair of pants and a fancy shirt. She handed them over to the old man, who looked at them in wonder. "You got these...?"
"Straight off the dead man's body!" she said proudly. "Something tells me he won't need them anymore!"
The old man chuckled in a creepy manor. "Yuffie, you're brilliant," he said.
Yuffie blushed. "But I haven't even shown you the best part!" She reached behind her again and took out a comforter and some bed sheets. "Their still warm!" she said, smiling.
Vexen couldn't help but shudder. They were stealing from a dead man! He turned to look at Larxene, only to realize that she had continued to walk on.
Quickly following after her, Vexen paused as he saw two men having a conversation.
"So, it's true then? The old man's really...?"
"Yep, as dead as a doornail. Apparently he passed last night!"
"Finally! It's about time!"
"Yeah...say, how's your wife?"
"Oh, yeah, she's okay..."
Vexen frowned. Were they talking about the same man? Pondering these questions in his head, he ran ahead to catch up with the spirit, who had already made it to the graveyard.
He caught up to her as she stopped. Vexen struggled to speak, but he was so out of breath that he found it hard. "Why...spirit...are we stopping...in a..." He paused as he saw what was in front of him.
Axel, Roxas, and their children stood in front of a small gravestone already covered with flowers.
Vexen counted the children, and almost stopped breathing. "Sora..." he mumbled.
For indeed, the family was still mourning the death of their youngest child. Roxas' lip trembled as he stood in front of his son's grave, and the tears overflowed. Axel reached over and held his wife. The rest of their children joined into the hug.
Vexen turned to Larxene. "Larxene, the people in town, they weren't talking about..."
Larxene shook her head. Vexen let out a small sigh of relief, but paused still. "Then...why did you show me the pickpockets? Or the men in town?"
Slowly, Larxene waltzed over to another gravestone, one without flowers and people. In fact, the gravestone itself was placed in at an awkward angle, as if no one cared about its placement.
Vexen looked at the gravestone, confused. "So, who was this man?" he asked.
Larxene rolled her eyes again, and pointed to the words on the stone.
HERE LIES MR. VEXEN. MAY HE CONTINUE TO SPEND HIS MONEY WISELY
Horrified, Vexen leaped back and looked at the spirit. "No, no, Spirit!" he cried. "Please tell me this is not my fate!"
Larxene did not say anything.
Vexen went down on his knees in a prayer. "Please, I am not the man I once was! I have changed!"
Larxene still did not say anything.
"I promise, I will always honor Christmas in my heart from this day forward, and I shall always give to the needy, and I will treat my employees better, and I promise that this future will be altered, I swear!"
The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come crumbled down to the ground in a heap, and vanished from sight.
Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle all the way!
Vexen shot up out of his chair and looked around. To his delight, it was Christmas morning at last.
Vexen leaped out of his chair and began dancing around the room like a loony, doing cartwheels and attempting to do back-flips.
He ran over to his window and opened it, the morning breeze touching his face like it never had before.
He looked down at the choir below him, singing "Jingle Bells". "Hello there!" he shouted.
The whole choir simultaneously stopped singing and looked at him in worry, expecting him to throw something at them like he usually did.
But instead, Vexen smiled. "Merry Christmas to you all!" he shouted.
Smiles crept upon their faces as they realized that they were being greeted. "A Merry Christmas to you too, sir!" they shouted.
Humming merry Christmas tunes, Vexen grabbed his robe and slippers, and bolted out the door.
Once outside, he crashed into a little girl carrying a basket of flowers.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, Mr. Vexen, sir!" stammered the girl nervously. She slowly started to back away.
Vexen got up, and looked the girl in the eye. "Young lady, what is your name?" he asked.
The girl gulped. "Umm, Aerith, sir," he said.
"Do you know what day it is, Aerith?"
Aerith twisted the basket in her hands. "It's...Sunday?" she said, knowing that saying "Christmas" would bring her an instantaneous death.
Vexen laughed like the Ghost of Christmas Present. "No, silly! It's Christmas day!" He laughed again.
The girl looked at him strangely. Vexen stopped laughing, and pressed twenty gold coins into the girl's hand. "Here," he said. "I want you to go to the butcher's shop, and get the biggest turkey you can find with these coins!"
Aerith's eyes grew to the size of watermelons. "You mean...the Prized Turkey?" she asked.
Vexen pushed her along. "Yes, yes, yes! And once you get it, I need you to send it to this address:" He whispered the address into the girl's ear.
Aerith gasped. "Why sir, that's the residence of Mr. Axel and his family!"
Vexen chuckled. "Exactly!" he said, giving the girl a final push. "And make sure the butcher keeps the extra change! Is that clear, young lady?"
The girl nodded excitedly. "Yes, it most certainly is clear, Mr. Vexen!" She ran off in the direction of the butcher's shop, the coins jingling in her pocket.
Vexen rubbed his hands together, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. "I'll have the girl send it to Axel, and I'll make sure it's an anonymous source, too!"
Vexen ran off in another direction, wishing the townsfolk a Merry Christmas as he went.
A few hours later, Vexen marched into the household of his nephew and niece. Creeping up the stairs, he burst through the door of the sitting room, where the couple was still preparing for their guests. "Merry Christmas!" he shouted, for those were his new favorite words.
Demyx jumped back in fright, while Ariel screamed. "Who's there?" shouted Demyx.
"It is me, your Uncle Vexen!" shouted Vexen. He walked farther into the room so that they could both see him. "I was wondering if...it would be alright with you if I spent Christmas here?"
Both Demyx and Ariel went silent as they looked at each other. "Of course!" they both shouted.
So for the first time in many years, Vexen attended a party with friends and family, laughed at good jokes, and ate and drank until he felt like he would burst.
The next day, Vexen came into work on time, and noticed that Axel would be late. He smiled to himself as a plan formed into his head about what he was going to say when his employee got there.
Axel burst through the door an hour late. "Mr. Vexen!" he cried. "I...I'm so..."
"You're so late, that's what!" snapped Vexen, pretending to be his old self. He stood up and marched over to the poor young man. "I hope you know that I am not going to stand this sort of thing any longer!"
Axel started pleading with him. "Please sir; it's once a year sir! It won't happen again, sir!"
"No, it won't!" growled Vexen. "Because...I'm going to raise your salary!" he said, switching to a happy grin.
Axel continued to plead. "But please sir, I have a wife and children and what did you just say?" He trailed off, wondering what exactly just happened.
Vexen gave him a hearty slap on the back. "Merry Christmas Axel, and Merry Christmas to your family as well!"
Axel's surprise turned into joy. "Why, Merry Christmas Mr. Vexen!" he said happily.
And so, from that day forth, Vexen was always willing to give charity to those who needed it, he spent more time with his nephew, he became a second father to Sora (who did not die), and Christmas became his favorite holiday of the year.
The End.
Hope you liked the first story, and sorry for cutting out some characters and famous lines (you know, the charity collectors, the choir in the beginning, the whole "decrease the surplus population" line, the whole "boiled in pudding, stake of holly" line, you get the jest).
Hope you loved the pairings, too! (I couldn't think of anyone good to pair Demyx with, so I just put him with Ariel. You know, he likes water; she likes water; they make a nice couple!)
Please R/R!