A/N: Woah, we've got one long chapter here. Originally, I planned the whole Christmas Eve to be in one chapter then I realized it'd be way too long.

Big thanks to Ruby for taking the time to beta-read and for the brilliant ideas she contributed. I really enjoy working with her.

Varil is reminiscing = italicized words, just so no one gets confused.

I hope you guys enjoy the chapter. Hopefully, the next one will be coming up soon. Please, take the time to review. It'll really mean a lot to me.

P.S. Does anyone know when Golden Sun on DS is coming out?

~O~

Varil opened the door of his room and placed his spear on its stand. He had just won another match and was another step closer to being a Craftlord. He lay on his bed exhausted. The match itself wasn't much of a fight but he had been roaming the labyrinth for hours trying to find some summons for training, a task which had surprisingly gotten more difficult since the labyrinth was practically devoid of any strays. Most Craftknights had to get to the lower levels just to even get one encounter. Now that he thought about it, Varil did notice that there had been a gradual decrease since the earthquakes.

Speaking of earthquakes, there was another one the night before Varil's match – the same night they paid respects to his mother. He remembered standing behind the door of their sitting room while his father sat in front of the fire while talking to Nigelle about it.

"…I don't sheeee why people are complaining," said Master Libody, "It's easier…finding ores this way."

"Even so…people think it's strange," whispered Nigelle careful not to stir the household this late at night, "…probably rattled by last year's chain of events…"

He could only hear bits of their conversation then. How could he not help but eavesdrop at that time when he was wondering about this for so long? He stared up into the ceiling trying to recall last night's verbatim.

"The earthquakes probably drove all – out all ofrrrr the strays," mumbled Libody. His words slurred and he spoke in uneven tones. It was obvious that he was drinking over the death of his wife, something he had done every year.

Nigelle cleared the sitting room table of the vintage wine bottles and continued speaking with Libody. "Well despite all that, I'm glad that no more gems have been stolen in all this chaos."

"Hmrph! Thief cou – couldn't probably handle the new security! Thaat showed him… stealing shummonite gems and whart doesh he get?! He's gotten none the richer and we've got a feneshtival…fair to show for it! Heck, I'm still richest…betcha thaaat…"

"Master Libody, I would request that you keep your voice down. You wouldn't want to wake up young master Varil…he's got another match tomorrow you know."

But instead of lowering his voice, Libody broke into nearly incoherent sobs and said, "And what do I have to show for that?! A dead wife and a boy…my boy, haaaates my gutsh…"

Nigelle remained silent as he cleared the table. Familiar he was with this yearly script, he knew better than to interrupt.

"Oh, you know I'm right, Nigelle! Thinks I let her – let her die…maybe, if I…maybe, I did…on – on that day."

That was the first time Varil had ever heard his father talk directly about his mother's death. Varil had gotten a general picture of what happened by squeezing out tidbits of information from Nigelle. From what he gathered it was that his mother was pregnant, his father's a coward and he was born. He turned on his side and looked out the window as he remembered his father wallow in his own self-pity.

Nigelle replied, automatically knowing he was going to be interrupted, "You couldn't have done any–"

"I couldn't have done anything! Eshactly!" said Libody thumping his fists on the table, "Not a – nothing! Eshactly…nothing."

Libody lay his head on chairs cushions as he stared into the flames in the fireplace.

"Varil, my boy…smart lad he is probably knowsh…knowsh all about it! I washn't…washn't good enough to be a Craftlord, trueee that. Never been ash good ash her – she's where Varil gets it from, I'm suure."

Varil pulled the covers up; the room had gotten colder. He still hadn't changed but he was too tired to go get up. His eyelids fell droopily and his heart beat began to slow yet he still battled with the comforting temptation of sleep. He shouldn't be feeling so sleepy this early in the afternoon.

"Shtill…it wouldn't have taken a Craftlord to save her on – on that day. Leasht I could do was save our boy…Yes, our boy is safe. Safe…"

Finally, the wine had gotten to Libody and he had dozed off. Seconds later, he jerk back awake and back to his sense.

"Urhm!" said Libody, shaking his head vigorously as he tried to stay awake, "Well, I think – I think it's time for bed, don't you Nigelle?"

"Of course, sir," Nigelle acknowledged as he helped his intoxicated Master out of his chair.

"No need,I may be drunk but I can still…you know – urm – walk by myself. Hmph…I'm so drunk I'm beginning to sound like Bron! "

Varil sniggered in his bed as he remembered his father passing through the doorway while laughing at his own joke, not even noticing that his son was behind the door. By now his eyes were completely closed and he wasn't sure he could fight of the drowsiness any longer.

Nigelle cleared the table top of any wine spills. He grabbed the empty bottles and headed to the doorway. Just when only the door separated him and Varil, he stopped for a moment and said, "You better go to sleep to young master."

Before he knew it, Varil had already dozed off.

~o~

Pratty entered her mother's home covered in snow, with Kutty right behind her. She hung her coat and put down her bag of weapons as her mother just went out of the kitchen holding a big pot of soup for their Christmas Eve dinner. Pratty hurried to help her carry it to the table that was already laden with dishes of cured roasted ham, freshly made eggnog and the other basic Christmas dishes.

"Pratty, Kutty," said Amariss as she wiped her hands on her apron, "You're a little early. We don't eat until another three hours. And besides, shouldn't you be in a meeting with the other Craftlords?"

"I just came from the central tower," said Pratty, "The earthquake today had everyone very worried. We went down the labyrinth again but didn't see anything strange. We didn't see anything, in fact. The labyrinth was practically deserted."

"How are you feeling today?" asked Amariss with concern: "Is your stomach still hurting? Do you need warmer clothing?"

"I'm fine, mom." answered Pratty: "The wound still hurts a little. But otherwise, I'm perfectly okay. Right, Kutty?"

"Kutty!" said Kutty in total agreement.

"Really…" added Pratty seeing her mother's unconvinced face.

"I know that as a Craftlord you have to look out for the people of Wystern, but please don't forget to look after yourself. Okay, Pratty?" said Amariss with a tinge of sadness in her voice.

"Of course, mom." said Pratty. Pratty knew that her mother was probably thinking about her father, Shinetsu, who sacrificed his own soul for the City of Swords. Pratty never thought how her mother felt about that until now. She had always liked to think that Amariss had been very proud to be the wife of the hero of Wystern. But perhaps she was unhappy that he had picked to leave his family for the people of Wystern.

Kutty floated above the table, taking in a deep breath of all Amariss Christmas cuisine. Kutty sighed and gave Amariss and Pratty a look that obviously meant he wanted to be fed.

"Not yet, Kutty," said Amariss sternly, "You have to wait until everyone gets here for the Christmas feast."

"Oh yeah," said Pratty as she began sorting through the Christmas presents, checking for gift-wrapping defects and making sure the cards were in place, "Master Rondeau had said he'd be happy to eat with us tonight."

"That's wonderful!" said Amariss, happy to know that Master Rondeau won't be spending Christmas Eve alone, "What about the other Craftlords? Is Sakuro coming to Wystern for Christmas?"

"No. He sent us a card saying that he won't be able to make it. Um, I think I have it here."

Pratty rummaged her bag for the post card from Master Sakuro and handed it to her mother.

"Happy holidays," read Amariss: "Seashell-collecting has been going great. Hugs and kisses, Sakuro."

Amariss paused for a bit, digesting the words that were written on the picture of Sakuro holding a big fish.

"Hugs and kisses?" she finally asked with obvious amusement on her face.

Pratty merely giggled: "Master Ureksa says that he hasn't changed a bit."

"Oh right! Will Ureksa be coming?"

"No, he already went to Vance to celebrate with Master Rumari and Master Tyram. He said they'll be coming for the fair, though."

"I wouldn't expect him to do any less. At least, Rondeau and Kouren will be coming. I better make more eggnog just in case."

Amariss rushed back into the kitchen to continue cooking. Pratty resumed the task of double-checking the presents as Kutty watched. She reread every card, making sure that she had written in the right Christmas wishes. She smiled when picked up Razzy's gift.

"Kuu…" said Kutty, trying to get a peek of the card.

"Kutty, can you check if I've written it alright?" asked Pratty.

"Kutty!" the guardian beast replied, hovering around in the air with excitement.

"This one is for Razzy: 'Congratulations on getting well so fast. Hope you like your present. I picked it out especially for you. From, Pratty.' I got her some the tulip seeds. I decided to give the marigold seeds to Master Rondeau instead. I'm sure they'll like that for their flower garden."

"Kutty!" said the guardian beast with much enthusiasm.

"I'm glad you think so too. Ok, this one's for Sanary. I gave her some of the Dragon Ore I found in the labyrinth. I remember how she would go on and on about going to labyrinth and spending hours there just to find some Dragon Ore."

"Kutty," agreed Kutty remembering the moments of Sanary and her obsession with top grade ore.

"The card says, 'Nice work in the tournament so far. I'm sure you'll find some use for this. From, Pratty.'"

"Kutty…" said Kutty thoughtfully until he finally nodded his head approving of the card.

Pratty then proceeded to look for another present. She grabbed the nearest one and then noticed that it had no message on the card; it only had the name of the receiver and the giver.

"Kutty?" said Kutty noticing the lack of words on the card that was attached to the smallest box in the pile.

"This one's for Varil. I had a really hard time finding out what to get him since his birthday was just yesterday. I gave him a boam."

"Kuuu?!"

"I know it sounds lame," said Pratty rather embarrassed, "You'd think someone like him would have a lot of boam. Yeah, he has a lot of boam but he doesn't have a single boam."

"Kuu?" Kutty was getting confused.

"I mean he doesn't have the kind of boam that you can throw in the fountain. You know, just one small boam. Did you know that he's never made a wish despite being at the Park all the time?"

"Kuu…"

"Yeah, it still sounds lame," sighed Pratty, "But I guess it'll have to do."

"Kutty," said Kutty pointing to the card.

"Oh right! Thanks, Kutty. How about 'Merry Christmas'?"

Kutty frowned at her generic greeting.

"Okay…umm…here." Pratty grabbed her pen and read the greeting as she wrote it down, "Now you can make a wish. From, Pratty."

"It's not that bad, right?" Pratty asked hopefully.

Kutty hid the small box behind the others in reply. He seemed to think that all hope is lost.

~o~

The snow fell gently on the gray pavement of the City of Swords, making it look like a holiday greeting card in monochrome. But then the colorful Christmas lights would shine again, reminding us that everything needn't be in black and white. The snow's muted white seemed to make everything more colorful in comparison, even in a town of soot and steel such as Wystern. The footprints in the snow left faint reminders of those who trudged its path, perhaps hurrying to get to the family reunion or cramming to buy that forgotten Christmas gift. For Pratty's case, it was running to the inn to get a whole pot of gravy before their guests arrived.

Pratty entered the inn with her hair and coat covered with flakes of snow. She half-heartedly tried to brush them off before going to the counter where the innkeeper was.

"Master Pratty," said the innkeeper with a wide grin, "What brings you here – during Christmas Eve, no less."

"Hello, Sam," greeted Pratty, "My mother ordered some gravy a while ago. She sent me to pick it up."

"Ah, yes! Amariss' order is ready in the kitchen. Wait right here," said Sam as he went through the door at the back of the counter.

Pratty seated herself in the nearest chair and waited patiently in the empty inn. Aside from the inn's resident cat, everyone who Pratty would usually see in the inn had probably gone home to their families to celebrate the holidays. That was what Pratty thought until the door opened and a familiar figure with ruby-red goggles entered with a dragon in his arms. The good-natured smile she gave Flynn as he entered seemed to perplex him so much that he stood there for quite some time before he could open his mouth to speak.

"Master Pratty," he said with awkward reluctance, "Er…how are you? Are you feeling okay after the…um…"

"No, it's alright," she replied, "I'm fine."

There was a moment of brief silence between them that was only interrupted when Sam came out of the kitchen holding a huge pot. The thick, brown liquid sploshed as he put the pot down on the counter.

"Phew!" breathed Sam as he wiped the sweat of his brow after doing that heavy-lifting, "A huge vat of gravy for the lady. Can't have Christmas without gravy."

"Thanks Sam," said Pratty, "What about you, Sam? I'm sure Mom'll be happy to have another guest to help finish off all this gravy."

"Thank you for the offer Master Pratty, but running an inn is a year round job. I'd offer to help carry that if I didn't have more orders to handle."

"Don't worry, I can carry this myself," said Pratty, giving a big heave as she lifted the pot from the counter, "What about you, Flynn? Do you have any plans for tonight?"

Flynn, who was about to go upstairs to his room, was rather startled that she had remembered him.

"Um, not really. No," he answered with nonchalance.

"Flynn," exclaimed Sam, "Didn't notice you were there! Since you don't have any plans, why don't you go with Master Pratty? She makes amazing curry."

"Yeah, Mom doesn't really like the idea of someone spending their Christmas alone," chimed in Pratty.

"I don't think that's the best ide –" Flynn began.

"Nonsense!" said Sam, "You can help her carry the gravy. You just leave your guardian beast here; I can look out for Peere for you while you're gone."

The next thing Flynn knew, he was being pushed out of the door by the innkeeper, helping the Craftlord of Iron hold a pot of gravy.

~o~

Rays of red-orange light peaked behind the clouds as the sun slowly lowered itself over the horizon. A faint spotlight shone on Varil as he slept peacefully on the huge bed of his sunset-illuminated room. His blue eyes squinted at the light and then flew wide open in blatant realization – he was late! His fought with his bed sheets in the flurry to get up and leave as soon as possible. No way was he going to excuse his tardiness, not when he had complained to Pratty so much about hers. He struggled with his shoes before he rushed out of his bedroom and into the hall where he ran into his father and Nigelle.

"Woah, boy!" said Libody, "What's the rush?"

"Not now, father," panted Varil, "I'm going to be late for Pratty and her mother's Christmas feast."

"Oh, I see," said Libody with a rather weak chuckle, "Don't let me keep you then."

The two men watched Varil dash out of the door. Christmas celebrations at their house were always subtle with usually just Varil, Libody and Nigelle as most of the servants were gone for the holidays. The Christmas feast was undeniably extravagant yet the Christmas festivities themselves were practically non-existent, so it was understandable that Varil wanted to spend Christmas Eve someplace else. Libody had even encouraged Varil to go, but that doesn't mean it made him less disappointed and unhappy.

"Looks like it'll just be you and me this Christmas, Nigelle…" muttered Libody with a sigh.

"Shall we begin the celebrations by making some eggnog, sir?" suggested Nigelle.

"That'll be nice," said Libody still not taking his eyes of the doorway where his son had momentarily just exited.

~o~

The snow crunched under Varil's hurried footsteps. The snow was too deep for him to run in but luckily, Nigelle had already left the Christmas gifts just outside the porch. If he hurried, he could just make it in time. When he finally made it to the stairs, he saw a ruddy, old, man holding a huge sack dressed in traditional Christmas red.

"Master Rondeau?" said Varil, moving closer.

"Varil," said Master Rondeau, "Going to Amariss' place too, are you?"

Varil nodded slowly, still flabbergasted at Master Rondeau's outfit – a red overcoat with green fringes on the sleeves, a green and red striped scarf and to top it all off, the traditional Santa Claus hat.

"I see you've taken notice of my Christmas garb," said Master Rondeau twirling back and forth to show the full affect, "I haven't had a chance to wear this in years."

"I can see why," murmured Varil under his breath.

"So shall we go," invited Master Rondeau as he slung his sack over his shoulder making him look like a poor semblance of Father Christmas.

Varil let out a sigh of relief as they went down the winding staircase. Even if they were late, no one would put that against the Craftlord of Diamond, no matter how ridiculously dressed he was. They walked without any conversation, only Master Rondeau humming Christmas carols to himself and Varil double-checking in his head whether he had brought everything he needed. It was already dark and the streetlights lit up as they walked past. By the time they got to Amariss' house, they could see shadows of recognizable figures in the window and the sound of familiar voicing chatting, wishing each other a merry Christmas.

Varil gathered his bearings and pushed open the door, ready to partake in the Christmas cheer. He did not expect to be completely taken aback by who he saw – Flynn, the Craftknight who had almost killed Pratty, hesitantly sipping a cup of eggnog.

~O~

To be Continued…