From the bottom of my heart, I want to wish all of you happy holidays. May you have a wonderful time and may your hearts be filled with joy and laughter. This story is a little gift for all fans of the Fortemps family. Hope you enjoy!

Love,

Kari

No one could claim Honoroit wouldn't prepare Emmanellain's breakfast with sincerest dedication. He always made sure to provide an assortment of foods that were as palatable as they were healthy and took care to present them in a visually appealing manner - Halone knew his charge could be… finicky about his meals. In this spirit, Honoroit displayed great diligence as he arranged today's plate: Two slices of whole-grain bread, one with cheese and one with that liver pâté with onions that Emmanellain fancied so much, carrot sticks and a few slices of cucumber accompanied by a soft boiled egg and a fresh cup of coffee.

Alas, none of his dedication and effort prevented Emmanellain from putting on the most gloomy pout when Honoroit set the plate in front of him.

"Carrots?" the young Fortemps peeped, the simple word filled with utter repugnance. He craned his neck and regarded Honoroit with a frown, patently wavering between disbelief and disgust. Not awaiting Honoroit's answer, he bent over his plate and poked - physically poked - one of the carrot sticks with his finger. Honoroit resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Heavens, that man was worse than a child… As if vegetables were poisonous.

"My lord, I must remind you that we had an agreement," Honoroit chided sternly. "You eat two servings of vegetables at breakfast and lunch, and I will no longer oppose if you treat yourself to a piece of cake in the afternoon."

Every afternoon, to be precise, and far more than one piece most days. Otherwise, Honoroit wouldn't have had an issue with Emmanellain's penchant for all things sweet in the first place - the Fortemps were one of the four High Houses, and if Lord Emmanellain wished to have a pastry, he had every right and means to indulge himself. But since the holiday season had started, Emmanellain had taken to eating far more sweets than could possibly be good for him. On some days, his diet had consisted of naught but gingerbread and candy canes and hot chocolate...

Emmanellain peeked up at him with what Lord Haurchefant, Gods rest his soul, had commonly referred to as 'the world's most pitiful puppy dog eyes'.

"But carrots?" the lordling whined. "Can't I at least have tomatoes instead?"

"You had tomatoes yesterday," Honoroit called his attention. "Variation in your menu is of great importance to your health. I may get you some celery though if you prefer?"

Emmanellain paled, aghast enough that he all but jumped from his seat.

"No! No! Carrots are perfectly fine!" he hurried to assure. Anxious to prove his compliance, he grabbed a carrot stick and bit off a large chunk.

"Thwee?"

Honoroit did his best not to chuckle - a hopeless endeavour, given the circumstances.

"Yes, I see," he acknowledged gently. "Still, Lord Emmanellain, pray have a care and chew your food properly. I believe your father and your brother would regret losing you on Starlight Eve of all days because you choke to death on a carrot."

He realised a moment too late that his remark was greatly out of line - Lord Edmont and Count Artoirel were at the table, too, after all, and they might not let his quip slide as easily as Emmanellain was wont to. With a pang of nervousness seizing his chest, he glanced over at the two high-born men, but to his relief, neither of them appeared to be affronted. On the contrary, Artoirel measured Emmanellain with a long, inscrutable gaze and sided with Honoroit with a solemn nod.

"Honoroit's right. Pray do us the favour and at least wait till after the holidays before you die by virtue of your utter lack of manners."

The mockery was a tad too harsh in Honoroit's opinion, but Count Artoirel's lips parted into a faint grin and if Honoroit hadn't known better, he would have said the man stifled a bout of laughter by the time he ducked out of the way of the carrot stick Emmanellain threw at him. With a sigh, Honoroit went to pick the half-eaten piece of carrot off the floor while Lord Edmont gave his sons a thundering tongue-lashing. By the Fury, these people were impossible!

He discarded the vegetable remains into the table waste bin and resumed his position at Emmanellain's side. Emmanellain and Artoirel were still subject to their father's reprimand and had their heads dipped in a meek display of submission, but Honoroit could tell they secretly kept bickering in the form of silent gazes. They had always done that - engaging in elaborate arguments with naught but covert glares and scowls and smug grins. Honoroit assumed it was one of those 'sibling things'. Their mute conversations were tremendously difficult to spot, moreso for outsiders, but Honoroit had lived with them long enough.

The corners of his mouth rose.

Yes. They were impossible, ridiculous, and he absolutely adored them.