The good thing is that I got around to write again. The bad thing is that, hell, I have no idea what I am even writing anymore.

Still, I hope you'll enjoy these approx. 7000 words of whateverness.

Christmas Special:

Three Times Christmas (2) - Mistletoes and Misfits

Edinburgh, Scotland, United Kingdom – December 1847

"You have promised me a fine restaurant," Cloudia said, looking around.

"Unfortunately, fine restaurants are not open at such unfine hours," Cedric replied and happily buried his fork into a piece of chocolate cake.

Today was December 24.

Two hours earlier, I had hidden in a false altar and attacked a kidnapper, probably disgracing holy ground in the process. One and a half hours earlier, I had rescued Joseph Parks and reunited him with his father Ladarius.

But as if my night had not been long enough, right after wrapping up the "Parks Kidnapping Case," my not-entirely dead business partner Cedric had decided to drag me to a restaurant – a fine restaurant to clarify.

And to his fortune and my bad luck, he had even found a little place which was still open at this bewitching hour.

"We are in a small tavern in the middle of Scottish nowhere. It's close to midnight. There are six persons in here – the owner, two men at the bar, three more playing cards a bit farther away. The owner looks rather shady. The two men at the bar look shady – the redhead more than the other. He is holding a box with odd symbols on them – what do you think they mean? The other one just seems nervous but what if he's just playing a role? And I am certain that, just now, I saw a card-player cheat, and a knife flashing from the pocket of another. We are standing out in our nobles' clothes – and even if it may not seem like it, these people are clearly watching us. Waiting and watching and – how did you even get a piece of cake in a tavern like this?"

"I've asked nicely," Cedric answered, pleased with himself and the world. "Duke, the owner, may seem a bit intimidating but he is actually quite nice. And you are being paranoid, Countess. Nobody is watching us."

Cloudia sighed. "It has been a long day. I don't want to be involved in a petty fight with low-class alley cats. We should go."

"You are not going to be involved in any more fights, Countess, I assure you. Should I ask for some cake for you too? Or do you want something else?"

"I want to return to the hotel and…"

And what exactly? Part of me told me that I should just go to sleep, but…

Two hours ago, I had hidden inside a box and outsmarted a kidnapper – but this and the following fight against his accomplices had been… boring. Unsatisfying. Even after two hours and a short bath when we had stopped at the hotel to change, my senses were still at full blast, yearning for more.

I wanted a mystery, a riddle, a puzzle. Just like I had told Cedric, I did not want a petty fight against random drunkards for nothing at all.

I desired a true fight – a challenging fight. Might it be a fight of wit or of fists. I needed something to spend all this excess energy which was running through my body.

I needed a task, any task, a distraction, something which could keep my restless mind busy, which could put me at ease, which could satisfy my heart yearning for more, which…

"It seems that we are constantly drifting closer, Mylady."

"Countess? Countess!"

Cedric's voice tore her out of her thoughts. Cloudia blinked at him and clutched her hands beneath the table.

"Yes?"

"You started a sentence but didn't finish it. Then, you did not respond to me. Is everything all right?" Cedric asked, genuine worry shining in his green eyes.

"Yes, yes. Everything is all right," she said.

"I was simply focused on everything and nothing."

"I just thought about something and it caught all my attention. I wanted to say 'I want to return to the hotel and not spend any more time in this tavern.'"

Cedric mustered her for a while, his face oddly serious before he shook his head and let the matter go.

"I see, but we will not return to the hotel before you have eaten something," Cedric firmly said, his gaze darkening. "I know that you haven't touched my biscuits."

Cloudia rubbed her eyes and sighed. "Very well. I will eat exactly one piece of cake and then, we'll go."

The cake was wonderful. It was soft but not too soft. It was spongy but not too much. It was creamy and sweet. And Cloudia had no idea what kind of chocolate Duke had used but it was phenomenal – Cedric had told her that Duke had admitted that he had baked the cake himself. Cloudia made herself a mental note to ask him for the recipe when Cedric wasn't looking.

"It's odd," Cloudia said after finishing her third piece, already missing it. The tavern had lost a few of its customers in the last hour. The red-haired man and his nervous companion had vanished into the night one after the other, and one of the three card-players had left as well, but his friends did not seem to mind the loss and casually continued to play.

"A bartender named Duke, baking cakes and distributing them only when being asked. Don't you think it's odd?"

Cedric shrugged. "Perhaps, all he wanted to open a bakery but all he can do is making chocolate cake. After all, bakeries offer more than one product."

"But what happens if nobody asks him for cake? Does he eat it all by himself, then? How many cakes does he even bake per day?"

"You could ask him," he said, nodding towards Duke who was polishing glasses behind the counter. "You ask him about the cakes, and I ask the two men back there if I can play a round." Before Cloudia could shake her head and reply something, Cedric grinned, said "Let's see who is more successful," and promptly headed towards the two men in the back. Cloudia sighed and walked towards the bar.

From his physique, Duke reminded Cloudia of Newman but while Newman was a timid person, always staying in the background, always walking as quietly as someone with his stature was possible to do, Duke was intimidating and his sharp eyes seemed to see and catch everything happening in his tavern.

Despite that, Cloudia approached him as casually as she would approach almost everyone.

"Good evening," she greeted him, sitting down at the bar. "Your name is Duke, right? I am Cloudia, and I just wanted to praise your cake. It was wonderful."

She leaned her elbows on the counter which was as insanely clean as everything else in the tavern. "And I wondered why you don't put your cakes on display? They are fantastic and would earn you a lot of money. Of course, this is a tavern and not a bakery or an afternoon tea club, but the cake could still fit with the other dishes and spirits."

Duke put away the glass he had been polishing. It was shining like a crystal in the tavern's dim golden light. "I am not baking them for profit, Miss."

"I have realised that myself. My question is, why are you even distributing them in such an odd way if you aren't baking them for profit? It feels like a chocolate cake black market."

He mustered her, his green-eyed gaze lying heavily on her. "I have a daughter," said Duke slowly. "She is my daughter but not exactly – we are not related by blood but I took her in nine years ago. A few weeks before we met, her father tried to sell her but she escaped and eventually tried to rob me in an alley. Her thin shoulders had been shaking, and so had her hand with which she held her knife – but her eyes were steady and determined.

"In the end, I let her rob me, but she realised that and, somehow, she managed to find my tavern. She came inside and quickly returned what she had stolen from me before she left again. In the next months, I saw her around my tavern more and more often, and eventually, I took her in."

"What is her name?" Cloudia softly asked.

A little smile, which seemed so foreign on him, hurried over Duke's face. "Dahlia. She likes chocolate cake the most, and so, I spent the last nine years finding the ideal recipe. I bake one for her every few days if she does not annoy me too much."

He spoke about his daughter with so much love in his voice, and I couldn't help but wonder if my father had done the same when people asked him about me.

"But if the cake is for her, why are you giving it away?" Cloudia wanted to know, fighting back her presentiment and her other saddening thoughts.

Duke glanced at Cedric who was still trying to talk to the two men who masterfully ignored him and kept on playing as if he wasn't there.

I guessed I had won.

"Your friend came to the bar and asked for a cake which is not even listed on the menu. And when I told him that we don't have any cake, he did not stop talking."

"I am deeply sorry," replied Cloudia.

"He made me want to say sorry to my daughter for ever calling her noisy."

"You have no idea how well I can understand your suffering."

"You are wearing fancy clothes – but he is not behaving fancily at all. He knocked over a glass."

"Not everyone born into fancy clothes is actually fancy as well." Cloudia straightened on her seat. "I will pay for the glass."

Duke shook his head. "No, you don't have to, Miss. He knocked it over but I caught it before it could fall to the ground and break. Nobody dirties my tavern."

She nodded. "Very well. Then, I will promise to train him better."

"Thank you, Miss."

Cloudia took a deep breath. "And why did you give him your daughter's cake?"

"Because I wanted him to be quiet and go without having to throw him out – throwing out people always leaves such a mess. And because the cake was getting cold…" Duke trailed off and absentmindedly took another glass to polish. "Dahlia… She is a free spirit, a wanderer – always everywhere and nowhere. She can't stand still, always has to wander around and explore. That's why I made her run errands for me. They send her to every corner of London, and I guess, it satisfies her to some extent. But… but her errands for today should be done and she should be long home."

"I will search for her," Cloudia said immediately, and Duke raised an eyebrow. A question lingered in this movement, but it wasn't "A girl like you?" but "Can I trust you with this?", and this made her endlessly happy.

Cloudia smiled. "It is part of my occupation to find people. The idiot who accompanies me is my assistant. I will gladly find your daughter, Mr Duke. I was bored anyway."

First Joseph and Ladarius, and now, Duke and Dahlia. Even if my blood was not yearning for more, I would have offered Duke my help. It was Christmas, after all. And you should never spend Christmas alone.

She hopped off the chair. "So – how does your daughter look like? And what were her last stations for today?"

"I could have sworn that you wanted to return to the hotel right after finishing your cake and asking all your questions," Cedric said when they walked through the streets of Edinburgh a few minutes later. The men at the tavern had just kept ignoring him, and Cedric was still a little bit sulking because of that.

"Oh, you're surprisingly right on that," replied Cloudia. "But the last question for today isn't 'What is the mystery behind Duke's cakes?' but 'Where is Dahlia Duke?'"

Duke had told me that his daughter – short brown hair, brown eyes, skinny, wearing an old black top hat, about my height – never came home late. Even if she was gone for days, Duke knew about her extended explorations beforehand. She had a wanderer's soul but still, she always found her way back to Duke's tavern.

Dahlia's last few stations for today had been Armchair Books, John Menzies – I hoped that this place wasn't involved in her disappearance –, and a ship docked at the shore in Leith.

We went to Armchair Books first. It was already closed, but we were able to wake the owner who was living in an apartment above the second-hand bookstore. He was sleepy but friendly enough to answer all our questions.

Had Dahlia Duke been here? – Yes, she had.

Had she behaved oddly? Had something seemed to be out of place? – No.

She hadn't been in a hurry? – No.

Had there been anyone suspicious watching or following her? – Not that I had noticed.

Had Dahlia said something about going somewhere? – She had only said that she had to go to Menzies now.

Anything else you might want to tell us? – Uh… No.

Then, we had headed to 61 Princes Street.

John Menzies was closed when Cloudia and Cedric arrived.

John Menzies was a bookstore which also sold magazines and stationery, and the only reason why I wished that Dahlia's disappearance wasn't connected to this place was the fact that in 1834, Menzies had been the only store in east Scotland which had been allowed to sell Dickens' novel The Pickwick Papers.

It was a silly, unprofessional thought to have, but, to me, Dickens meant everything good to me. And even if it was about something like that, something so marginal, I did not wish for it to be tainted in any way.

Unlike the owner of Armchair Books', the owner of Menzies wasn't conveniently living upstairs, and as the store was closed and the hour so late, they weren't able to contact, even less question, him. Of course, they could always refer to the next police station but as the Watchdog usually operated solely in England, the police in other parts of the United Kingdom often did not know about this special position. This meant that as long as they weren't so lucky to find a station with a working police officer who knew about the Watchdog, they would lose a lot of time with explanations. After all, who would easily believe that a girl like her held a position like that?

And so, they decided to go to Leith first.

When we arrived, I closed my eyes and breathed in the salty sea air for a moment.

I had never left the British Isle and doubted that I ever could. After all, my life was bound to it. And while I had accepted this a very long time ago, a small, forever-hopeful part of me screamed out her wish to travel, every time I was at a shore and smelled the air of freedom.

Of…

"You're especially absentminded today, Countess," Cedric said, pulling her out of her thoughts.

Cloudia looked at him – and her heavy thoughts were blown away when she saw him struggling with his hair which was caught by the wind.

"In need of a haircut? Lisa is a wonderful hairdresser – she always cuts Newman's hair and the tips of mine. Even Armstrong lets her touch his hair and he is very vain when it comes to that."

Cedric pushed away his ponytail which had been slammed into his face – only for streaks he hadn't been able to grab to whip into his eyes. At least, they were protected by his glasses.

"No, despite everything, I am very fond of the length of my hair – also, while I don't doubt Miss Greene's abilities, I don't want her to get too close to me with scissors in her hand. I am not sure if you have noticed this but she is not particularly fond of me."

A grin found its way onto her face. "I am not so dense, Undertaker."

He grinned back at her before he said, "Back to your absentmindedness, Countess – what did you think about? Or are you just tired? It was a long day, after all."

I guessed I was tired – or, at least, my bones were but my blood was burning. My mind was spinning and restless.

"Just a silly little thought managed to sneak into my head. Nothing of importance," Cloudia ultimately said, passing by the ships which were kissed by silver moonlight and rocked to sleep by the waves.

"Do you want to let me in on it?"

"Of course, not. To everyone their secrets, Undertaker. And now, let's see if we can find Miss Duke."

According to Duke, his daughter Dahlia had been tasked to tell the ship's, the Merry Thousand's, owner, Lucas Renn, that he still hadn't paid for numerous the crates of alcohol he had ordered and bought via Duke's tavern. And said ship – a beauty in white and yellow and brown – was docked on the other end of Leith's port.

But Cloudia and Cedric didn't have to walk all the way to the Merry Thousand and interrogate Renn who was living aboard his ship.

Because they found Dahlia Duke sitting on a bench only a few metres away from them. And with her was the red-haired man who had been in Duke's tavern earlier. But when they had last seen him, he had been talking with his nervous-looking acquaintance and playing with an odd box – and now, he was lying unconscious on the bench with his head on Dahlia's lap.

And there it went – all my hopes to find something which could bring my mind to rest.

"Miss Dahlia Duke?" Cloudia said when she and Cedric approached her. Dahlia, who had looked up and narrowed her eyes when she had noticed them walking towards her, now frowned.

"How do you know my name?" she wanted to know, and something about her voice and posture told Cloudia that Dahlia would have attacked them if an unconscious man wasn't lying on her lap.

"Your father sent us," Cloudia replied. "He is worried because you still haven't returned. And because my companion" – she nodded towards Cedric – "ate your chocolate cake, we offered him our help."

"You ate almost as much of it as I did," he protested but Cloudia ignored him, and Dahlia still glared at him before turning her gaze back to Cloudia.

"It took quite a lot of time to get the money from Renn," Dahlia told her. The moonlight and the dim light of the streetlamps brought out the bruises and cuts on her face. She grinned nonetheless. "But I got it in the end. I was just on my way back when I ran into him in a nearby alley." Dahlia looked at the man whose head still rested on her lap. He looked even more battered than she did.

"He had to lean against a wall while trying to walk, and I wanted to ignore him – but then, he suddenly lost consciousness and fell over, and I caught him. I didn't want to leave him in the alleyway like this, but I am slightly injured, and he is quite heavy so I was only able to drag him to this bench. I hoped that he would wake up soon, but, well… I am sitting here for an hour now."

"We saw him in Duke's tavern a little bit over two hours ago," Cloudia said. "How did he even manage to get here and into a fight in this timeframe? He must have found trouble almost immediately after leaving the tavern."

Dahlia shrugged. "I don't know. His name is Cas, and he is a regular at Archie's tavern. The only thing I know about him besides that and his name is that he is some kind of street magician. I often see him perform card tricks and other small tricks."

Cloudia frowned. "Archie?"

"Archie Duke."

Cedric started to giggle, and even Cloudia had to chuckle. "Archie Duke? Like Archduke?" Cedric said and laughed.

"I am the only person who is allowed to call him by his first name," said Dahlia. "I think I am even the only person who knows it. If you ever refer to him by his first name, he will make you clean up the tavern for all eternity."

That would be quite a catch. After all, for Cedric, an eternity was an eternity.

"Very well… We will help you carry him to the tavern."

Some time later, they arrived at the tavern – Cedric having carried Cas all the way. They left him there with Duke and Dahlia before they said their goodbyes and slowly headed back to their hotel.

And just when they left the sleepier part of the city and returned to the part where, at least, some houses were still awake and lit up, Cedric grabbed Cloudia's arm, and she wanted to punch him for it but then, he pulled her on a bench and quickly let her go.

"Okay, Countess," he said. "What is wrong?"

"You made me sit down on a bench without cleaning it from snow first," she replied, annoyed. "Obviously, my dress is wet now. Great thanks. You are lucky that there are barely people on the street right now."

"That's not what I meant. You are even more absentminded than usual. You were sulking on our way back to Duke's tavern. You were even sulking when Duke gave you the recipe for his chocolate cake as thanks."

"I don't sulk."

"You were sulking."

"I wasn't."

"Duke's daughter and I think otherwise. We exchanged some meaningful, puzzled looks when you weren't looking which wasn't that hard because you seemed to be deep in thought and were sulking too much to notice anything."

"For the third time: I wasn't sulking, Undertaker." Cloudia wanted to stand up but Cedric took hold of her hand. She scowled at him.

"What is wrong?" he asked. "We saved Joseph Parks. We brought Dahlia Duke home. Are you still mad at me for not bringing you to a proper fine restaurant? Even though you loved Duke's cake and his tavern is incredibly clean?"

Cloudia shook off Cedric's hand and sat back down, leaning against the cold backrest with a sigh. "I am not sure. It's just that I am restless ever since I took down those kidnappers. It's like I've tasted blood and was ready for everything, and then, everything was over so quickly, and I was left with too much energy and no way to get rid of it. I was hoping that the search for Duke's daughter would be able to calm me, but it didn't. And now, I am feeling even emptier than before."

"I see," he said and stood up, brushing snow from his clothes. She frowned at him. "What are you doing?"

"Well… the night is still young, and you have picked two activities for tonight but I've only picked one. It's my turn to pick where we are going now."

"You can't seriously count a Watchdog case as a 'jolly night-time activity.'"

Cedric stared at her. "Countess, we should hurry up and go where I intend to go for our last activity today."

"Why? Because I must be crazy to defy you?"

"No, because you've just said 'jolly,' and this isn't a word used by the normally thinking Countess."

She rolled her eyes and stood up. "I am going back – you can go alone wherever you…" Cedric cut her off by taking her hand and starting to run.

Mental note to myself: Finding a way to kill the dead.

"It seems that we are constantly drifting closer, Mylady."

I flinched but Cedric didn't seem to notice, and only kept on going – and I let him. He grinned while dragging me through the streets of Edinburgh – and who knew? Whatever he had planned, I might enjoy it.

"You can't be serious."

Cedric grinned at her. "Come on, Countess. It will be fun. It's Christmas, and we have no place to celebrate…"

"But we can't just intrude into a Christmas celebration!"

We were standing opposite a villa in which a Christmas party was still going on quite lively. There were hundreds of guests – and Cedric wanted us to sneak into the party.

"You are a Phantomhive. When did you start doing things which were completely and absolutely right and just?"

"I am also a noblewoman and have a reputation to protect," Cloudia snapped at him. "And right now, so do you, Duke Underwood!"

"We don't have to go as Lady Phantomhive and Duke Underwood," he replied. "We can go as someone else."

"And as who?"

"I don't know – just who we need to be. Come, Countess – if we can haunt the Lincolns with zucchinis, we can sneak into a party."

"We were sleep-deprived on that day!"

"And now, we are restless. Or are you afraid, Countess?"

Cloudia took a step towards him and narrowed her eyes. "I am not afraid of anything."

"That's a lie – right now, you are afraid to go inside this house where nobody will know you," Cedric said. "We are in Edinburgh, not London – what are the chances that we will meet someone who knows us? Improvising is a rather important part of the art of acting – and isn't that the best opportunity to practice?"

"Is that a challenge, Undertaker?"

"It sure is."

She grinned.

Well, I did think that I would accept every challenge.

Cloudia extended her hand. "The first one who is discovered to be an uninvited guest and gets thrown out loses and has to wear false reindeer antlers on their head for the entirety of Christmas."

Smiling, he took her hand. "Challenge accepted, Cloudia Phantomhive."

"Challenge accepted, Cedric K. Rossdale."

This is ridiculous, I told myself when I stepped inside. There were people everywhere. There were laughter and chatter and the soft whisper of gossip. And I seemed to vanish beneath the surface of life and joy.

"May I take your coat, Mylady?" asked a servant, and Cloudia reluctantly gave him both. She didn't want to part with them as she didn't know how long she would stay but walking around in a coat would only make her stand out.

Cloudia snatched herself a glass of champagne and found her way through the masses, smiling to the left and right. Cedric was elsewhere – they had gone inside separated –, and she wondered what he was doing. She would have awaited to meet him at the buffet, but when she arrived there herself, he was nowhere to be seen.

She was just eying the food when someone approached her.

Oh, hell.

A young woman with brown hair in pinned-up curls and in a red dress gave her a warm smile.

"Hello, there are so many people here – I guess, we still have to be introduced? I am Lady Rosa de Santa Espina y Blackmountain. It's an honour to meet you."

"I am Lady…" Cloudia subtly let her gaze wander around. "… Varanda."

Rosa frowned. "Your name is Veranda?"

"Varanda. My parents like odd names. You don't want to know my full name."

She chuckled. "I see. You have quite an elegant English accent. What are you doing in Edinburgh?"

"I am visiting family. My cousin Callisto was invited to this party and was allowed to take someone with her – that's why I am here now."

"Where is your cousin now?" Rosa asked, looking around.

"I am not sure," Cloudia answered. "She left me alone in a sea of strangers and went away. Callisto is always like that.

"By the way, what are you doing here? Aren't you from Spain or…?"

"I am from Mexico," said Rosa, smiling. "Last year, I was married to Lord Marcus Blackmountain. At first, I was not very enthusiastic about it, but after getting to know Marcus, I am rather happy. He is a wonderful person, and I am glad that I married him. And even if he had turned out to be terrible, I would have found a way to endure it. For my family, for duty, for society. You know how things are."

Cloudia nodded.

"And you, Lady Varanda? Are you engaged or married as well?"

"No. Until now, nobody has asked for my hand in marriage."

They kept on talking about nothing in particular before Rosa was dragged away by a blonde woman who wanted to show her something. Cloudia downed her champagne which she hadn't touched before, put the empty glass on the tray of a passing-by servant, and counted to ten before throwing herself into the crowd.

In order not to blow her cover, Cloudia held onto the story she had told Rosa and kept telling everyone that her name was Lady Varanda and had come with her cousin Callisto who was, coincidentally, never to be seen or, well, ever heard of. On top of that, Cloudia piled lie after lie.

She told a man named Lord Chestnut, who had a cute, friendly face, that she, despite being a girl, loved to climb mountains and wished to climb the Mount Everest one day.

She told a woman named Ladana that she had once travelled through Romania all alone on horseback.

She told everyone who spoke to her that she went here and there and told them all she knew about these places from books.

Lady Varanda, the traveller; Lady Varanda, who could not sit still; Lady Varanda, who saw the world and wanted to see more. Lady Varanda who seemed to be able to do everything.

If someone proudly announced that they had created twenty seaweed scrapbooks, Varanda had completed fifty and they – as they were things of beauty, of course – had been showed in a gallery but not under her name. They had been displayed under her brother Wandow's name instead.

If someone boasted that they had once shot five birds, which had been flying rather high, one after the other without a real pause between the shots, Varanda appeared at the people conversing in a circle, nonchalantly swirled her wine glass, and said that she had broken their record when she was a child who had learned to shoot in the secret of the night.

In no time, every guest was thoroughly annoyed by Cloudia – Varanda –, and she herself enjoyed every second of it. But after a while, she decided that she had had enough and went to the cloakroom to fetch a handbag.

If there really was a Santa Claus, he would fill my entire manor with coal.

After finding a nice one, Cloudia took the contents out of the bag and went back to the main room and straight to the buffet. And every time, nobody looked, she put a muffin or a biscuit or anything else inside the bag, wondering when she would be caught and, most importantly, how much she could fit into this small bag.

Eventually, someone came to compliment her handbag, and Cloudia told them a highly ridiculous and, of course, overly fabricated story how she got it. And after a while, a woman approached her who frowned at the bag and said that she had the exact same one and that there shouldn't be a second one in the world as it had been exclusively designed and created for her.

"Excuse my language, my dear, but I think that it has never been as appropriate and fitting to call someone a 'bastard' as in this very moment and situation," Cloudia said to the woman who nodded at her words and walked away.

Then, Cloudia left the main room and wandered through the villa, the handbag half-filled.

Why was nobody sleepy? Why wouldn't this party end? And where was the host? And where Cedric?

At least, one of her questions was answered when Cloudia somehow found her way to the kitchen and saw Cedric sticking his fingers into a cake which was clearly meant to be ceremonially presented.

"What the hell are you doing?" she said, struggling to keep her voice low.

Cedric turned around and smiled at the sight of her, half his face dirtied by cake. "Countess!"

Cloudia put the bag on a table before walking towards him. "How old are you? Three?"

"The cake is incredible! Here! Taste it!" he said, ignoring her and shoving a cake-covered finger into her mouth.

It had come too suddenly for her to be able to react and bite off his finger, and when her mind formed the thought of biting him, Cedric had already pulled his finger away again, and Cloudia slightly relaxed as the cake truly was delicious.

"Do that again and that will be the last thing you'll do," she said. "And I hope you washed your hands beforehand."

Cedric nodded and continued eating. "Do you want some?"

"We should leave the kitchen as quickly as possible and find the bathroom," she said. "How could you think that it's a good idea to stick your fingers in a gigantic cake?"

"It's strawberry."

"Undertaker."

He licked the cream from his fingers. "I am sorry, Countess, but don't tell me you didn't cause any havoc." Cedric raised an eyebrow in anticipation of her answer, and she sighed.

"I told people lies and annoyed them to no end."

"And?"

"I half-filled a bag with food I took from the buffet until I got bored."

"As a souvenir?"

"Of course, not. It was just for…"

"Havoc."

"… finding something to do."

"Did it help you make you less restless?"

Did it?

"Yes," Cloudia said, smiling.

The sound of steps coming gradually closer alarmed Cloudia and made her drop her smile. She took Cedric's hand, no matter if it was still covered in cake, and dragged him out another door.

"Run," she hissed the moment a scream echoed through the kitchen and the nearby corridors.

As soon as they met the crowd again, they slowed down and exchanged curtsy smiles and nods, pretending as if one of them was not partially covered with cake. And when the coast was clear, they took the stairs up to the host's private chambers.

"I don't think I will get the cake out of my clothes," Cedric said in the master's dressing room while Cloudia was already going through the wardrobe.

"You're something between seventeen and two hundred years old. You should behave your age."

"If you're as old as I am, there isn't a clear guideline how to behave anymore."

"I am not one of those who believe that if you read enough books, you are ready to write one of your own – after all, not everyone who could learn to read will be able to learn how to write like the masters do –, but I would still try to write you a guideline if you ever were to tell me how old you are." She threw a clean shirt and a pair of trousers at him, a waistcoat and a jacket. "Go change behind the folding screen."

When Cedric returned from behind the screen, Cloudia chuckled.

"It's not my fault if the master of this house seems to be giant!" he exclaimed, rolling up his far too long sleeves and pant legs.

"Did you even talk to anyone or were you only in the kitchen?" Cloudia asked when they stepped out of the dressing room.

"Yes, but only very briefly. Apparently, they can't appreciate good humour."

She raised an eyebrow at him while they descended the stairs, making sure nobody saw them. "Good humour? How do you define good humour?"

"Grim Reaper humour."

"And what is Grim Reaper humour?"

"It's undead," Cedric replied, and Cloudia kicked him down the last few steps.

Cedric stood up and said something but Cloudia couldn't hear him as she caught a conversation from the next room.

"What? Your handbag was stolen by a woman called Lady Varanda and you found it in the kitchen filled with muffins?"

Cloudia grabbed Cedric's arm. "We need to leave."

"But what about our challenge? None of us was thrown out until now."

"You are searching for someone who could have damaged Lady Colfield's birthday cake? If my memory doesn't trick me I've seen a man covered in cake cream earlier – he wore glasses and had silvery grey hair," they heard a voice from the opposite direction.

"Forget our challenge. We have to leave now," Cedric said and wanted to go downstairs but Cloudia stopped him.

"We can't go downstairs," she told him, pulling him into a dark corner. Just a moment later, the woman, whose handbag she had taken and who now looked miserable while holding the maltreated bag, and another woman left the room and headed downstairs. "They are searching for a Lady Varanda – which is me – and they went down and practically everyone has seen and talked to me down there. We have to find another way to get out of here."

"Varanda?"

"Don't ask me."

Cautiously, they left their safe corner and went into the now empty room. Cedric closed the door behind them while Cloudia walked around, taking everything in.

"If we were in Phantomhive Manor, we could have taken one of the many secret corridors, but here, I guess, we have to escape the old-fashioned way," she said and went to the windows.

"I still can't fly," he reminded her, and she rolled her eyes at him before tearing down the curtains.

"Uh, Countess," Cedric said while Cloudia knotted the curtains into a makeshift rope.

"Countess," he repeated when she fixated the rope to a cupboard and threw the loose end out of the window.

"Countess," he said again when she made sure that everything held.

"Countess," said Cedric for the fourth time when Cloudia was finished.

"Yes?"

"I hope you haven't forgotten that while I can't fly that I can certainly teleport."

"Of course, I haven't. You are still speaking to Countess Cloudia Phantomhive," she replied. "But they need a story for how we escaped – and I've just provided them one."

Someone opened the door, and Cedric quickly took hold of Cloudia's arm, and she braced herself – but then, he only dragged her into a box room, locking the door when they had entered.

"Now, who is the one who has forgotten that you can teleport?"

"I was panicking and…" Cedric trailed off when something hanging above them caught his attention.

"Oh," he said, and Cloudia followed his gaze to see…

"Hell, who hangs a mistletoe in a box room?!" She sighed and leaned back. "Did you know that this mistletoe nonsense started in the last century? And that the mistletoes were are using are female ones? You can differentiate male from female ones quite easily: Female mistletoes have berries. Mistletoes are parasitic plants – I can't understand why anyone would ever find something romantic about them."

"The goddess of love, Frigg," Cedric said, his voice low, sadness hurrying over his eyes for a split second. "She had a son named Baldr whom she loved more than anything in the world. That's why – of course, that's why, she was his mother and that's what mothers wished – she wanted for him to never be harmed and went to ask every element, went to ask everything which came from the elements, to promise her to never hurt her beloved Baldr. And they vowed to her that they wouldn't. But someone else found out mistletoes weren't bound by this promise – and so they made an arrow of a mistletoe and drove it through Baldr's heart.

"Frigg was devastated and cried – and her tears turned into the mistletoe's berries. And then, Baldr was revived, and in her happiness, Frigg named mistletoes a symbol of love and friendship, of promises and kisses."

"That's not how the story went," she murmured.

"But we can't ignore a century-old tradition and a goddess' will," whispered Cedric and his eyes still shone even though there was barely any light in the box room.

This was ridiculous – but then, everything which had happened today had been ridiculous.

And wasn't I Cloudia Phantomhive, Watchdog and Countess, Mistress and Detective? I had mastered things far more difficult than an unimportant tradition.

But still…

Cloudia took his collar and pulled him down to kiss his forehead.

"I hope this is satisfying," she said when she pulled away again – Cedric not exactly staring at her but looking at her in disbelief and something else she couldn't make out.

"I think we should go now," Cloudia whispered, taking a deep breath. He nodded and put his arms around her waist, but he didn't teleport just now. Instead, he rested his forehead against hers.

"Merry Christmas, Cloudia Phantomhive," he said so faintly.

"Merry Christmas, Cedric K. Rossdale," she replied just as faintly, just as silently. And they shared one last look before they were gone.

As I wasn't able to check it again, I have no idea how coherent everything is. I hope that it was still (somewhat) readable.