At some point since Frisk had fallen into the Underground, Mom had gotten a calendar. It hadn't always hung on the fridge, with neat diagonal lines crossing out each passing day. The picture on the top of this month—December—showed a snail in a tiny red santa hat. Did Santa visit monsters, too? Frisk didn't see why he couldn't, but the Ruins were blocked off from the rest of the Underground. Frisk wouldn't count on him visiting here.

They were pretty used to Santa forgetting about them, anyway.

It was weird, though. Despite the festive theme on the calendar, there was no mention of Christmas on the twenty-fifth. Instead there was something called "Gyftmas," which was a few days later.

"Gyftmas?" Mom blinked behind her reading glasses when they asked. "Oh! I have not yet explained it to you, have I? I know this is your first holiday here… it has been rather long since I celebrated, myself." She closed her book and smiled a little sheepishly.

(Goatishly? She'd appreciate that pun, if they could find a way to make it work out loud.)

"I would not deprive you of a holiday celebration, of course. I only expected to be more prepared." She glanced up at the ceiling, looking a little wistful. "There is so much more to keep track of, now…"

"You don't have to do anything special just because of me." Frisk fidgeted with the ends of their sweater sleeves. Orange and blue, hand-knitted just a few weeks ago. If Gyftmas was anything like Christmas, Mom had already given them more than enough presents.

"I am not doing anything special." She set her book on the chair's arm, leaning forward to ruffle Frisk's hair. "Your being here will make Gyftmas more special than anything, my child."

Their face warmed, but they smiled. When Mom said things like that, she meant them. Frisk wasn't a burden to find a toy for, or a nuisance to pawn off while the adults went and did… whatever human adults do.

They were going to have a real holiday. Like a real family. Frisk could practically vibrate out of their sweater with excitement.

"I suppose I should tell you about the history of Gyftmas, hm?" Mom smiled, standing and approaching the bookshelf to swap out 72 Uses for Snails for a thin red-colored book from the top shelf. "This holiday actually dates back to just after… well."

"Just after what?"

Even after these past weeks without Chara, Frisk expected to hear a vague non-answer in their mind. But there was just Mom's regretful silence.

"This is a happy story," she eventually continued. "I should not spoil it."

"Spoil it with what?" Frisk pressed, again wishing Chara was here. Chara could be annoying about not sharing answers, but at least they were worse at keeping secrets than Mom was.

"Another day," she replied firmly. "I will tell you. Honestly, it is… irresponsible of me to continue putting it off."

Putting what off? they wanted to ask, but if Mom said another day, there was no changing her mind. They could be patient a little longer.

"Now." Her smile returned as she sat back in her reading chair and patted her lap. "How about an exciting Gyftmas story?"

Frisk rushed to hop up into her lap. At least one of their questions would get answered today.

Mom laughed and pulled them close. Then she cleared her throat to begin reading.

"Once upon a time, in the monster town of Snowdin, there lived a family of reindeer monsters…"

It was a happy story, in the end. This family of deer monsters brought hope back to a town that was "falling down." Frisk could only guess that was the kid-friendly phrase for dying. It seemed a little weird for Mom to call it that though, considering Frisk already knew the Royal Guard wanted to kill them, and that Dad had killed kids before. Maybe she just didn't want to spoil the good mood.

Either way, no one fell down in the end. A monster named Gyft Holiday crafted tiny presents with her own hooves, leaving them under trees that she lit with twinkling beacon lights. Frisk thought that had to be the coolest magic ever—besides Mom's, of course.

Though small, the gifts filled the town with a sense of unity. Frisk remembered how they had felt when Mom gave them their crayons, and imagined that feeling spreading across a whole town. Gyft must have been like the first monster Santa Claus.

Apparently "Gyft Holiday" wasn't her original name, but she'd gone by it ever since. Her children and grandchildren carried on the last name and legacy, even today.

"At least, they did," Mom said, closing her book. "It has been quite some time since I visited Snowdin. Rudy was the acting Holiday at the time, though… oh, nevermind. You do not need to hear the reminiscing of an old woman."

"I like to, though." Frisk rested their head in the crook of her elbow. "Monster stuff is cool. You're cool."

"Hee hee. I suppose I cannot argue with the 'coolest' person I know." She kissed their forehead. "I hope I can be half as cool as you, my child. But I assure you, the rest of that story is quite boring… except for the part where I once threw a pie in Rudy's face at Gyftmas dinner, I suppose."

Frisk's eyes widened before they burst out laughing. "You did what?"

"I may have had too much eggnog that year," she admitted with a wry smile. "But the look on his face, and Asgore's…! I was certainly sober enough to remember that!"

This was the first time Frisk had heard Mom mention Dad while smiling. Frisk's smile stretched even wider in response.

"Are we going to see them for Gyftmas?" they asked.

Mom's face sobered immediately. Dang it. They'd pushed their luck too far.

"I believe it will be just the two of us, this year." Her voice was stiff, but she did try not to scowl. That was nice.

"Okay."

It was too bad her friend behind the door couldn't come, and that Chara wouldn't be here. But Mom couldn't make ghost food. Just the two of them would be fine, anyway—better than fine.

Frisk had a Mom who loved them. It was going to be the best Christmas—Gyftmas ever.

XXX

A decorated tree stood in the corner of the living room, a safe distance from the crackling fireplace. Frisk wasn't sure why Mom worried about that. Even if the large leafless branch did look pretty flammable, she controlled all the fire in the house. It couldn't burn anything unless she wanted to.

Paper ornaments Frisk had colored hung on the otherwise bare branches. Some ornaments were plain red and green circles, while others had pictures drawn on them. Mom holding their hand. Them and Napstablook in a pile of leaves. Flowey smiling.

Even Asriel and Chara, the way they looked in Mom's photo album. Frisk had pretended not to notice her crying when she saw that one, or when she discreetly moved it to the back of the tree.

Warm smells of cinnamon and butterscotch filled the house. Mom was finishing up the pie for dessert, and then it would be time for Gyftmas Eve dinner.

In the meantime, Frisk lied upside-down on Mom's reading chair, watching the fireplace flicker and soaking up its gentle warmth. There was no ice or snow outside like there might have been during Christmas above ground. Frisk didn't care. They would trade all the snow in the world to feel just like this—safe, happy, loved.

"My child, would you please set the—"

"Knock knock," a voice interrupted her from the front door.

Frisk bolted upright—or tried to. They ended up tumbling off of the chair, scrambling to their feet, and rushing to the door.

They knew that voice. They didn't know how, or why, but it was here, loud and real enough for Mom to hear.

"Who could be visiting tonight? That doesn't sound like the Migosps who sometimes come caroling…" Mom followed Frisk a calmer pace, but by the time she caught up, they had already thrown open the door.

Revealing two smiling ghosts, holding a plate of translucent cookies.

"Merry Gyftmas, Frisk," Chara said, as if they'd never been gone at all.