It was almost time.
Time to turn Babarworld's most beloved holiday into a despairing doomsday event.
Dragons were fed and ready to set fire to the city. Gargoyles had their claws sharpened and teeth polished, ready to maim and tear. Monsters of all shapes and sizes were called on standby, with empty bellies ready to feast on soft, solid flesh.
And most importantly, a whole legion of ghosts was stationed outside, waiting above the lava fields for their leader's signal to lead the charge and lay waste to the world above.
On the eve before Berry Day, evil was ready to be unleashed.
Everything was set in place.
And the ruler of the Netherworld couldn't have felt more impatient for it.
Hovering in circles around his throne room, Mervis tapped and clicked his metal claws together in excitement, giggling gleefully to himself over what was to come.
"Ooohh, just a few more hours 'till the clock strikes midnight, then Babaropolis will see destruction unlike anything they've ever seen before!"
With a pep in his flight, he zipped an arc through the air and came to float above his throne.
"Just wait; gullible children will wake up expecting gifts and cookies, but instead they'll get ANARCHY and complete and utter DISSAPOINTMENT! No place for Santa to put their gifts if the Berry Day tree is burnt to a crisp now, is there? And better yet, can't celebrate Berry Day with family if the house is nothing but a pile of rubble now, can't they? Throw some casualties in the mix and it'll be the icing on the cake! HAHA!"
On and on the leader of the Netherworld hollered and raved, scheming and plotting his plan in anticipation. Perhaps in a different life, he would've had a better conscience to recognise the cruelty in his words or the blatant disregard for the lives of innocent people.
But the thirst for wrath was far too great, the promise of vengeance far too tempting to pass up.
Even if he can admit that he's taking things to terrible extremes this time around…
"Hmph!" Mervis scoffed, waving off those little voices in his head. "Vengeance is only too good for those do-gooder Babarworlders. What right do they have to be happy while we're down here missing out on all the fun! So what if this is what we get for starting a little war with a little bit of death? I'd gladly do it all over again if it means seeing the look of defeat on my goodie-two-shoe brother's face, over and over again!"
Despite his earlier glee, a dark look came upon Mervis' eyes. His excitement slowly morphed into disgust, muddled with resentment.
"And that's just what it is, isn't it?"
The fire ghost slowly dropped out of the air, floating down to sit tensely on his throne. He glared at the rocky floor with sharp indignance.
"This is the game we play, over and over again. I send an invasion, the Babar sends them back. I send another, another comes back. Back and forth, back and forth. Why don't they just let me have what I want? Things could work out so much better then, wouldn't it? I get the satisfaction of victory and Alexander gets to be in the loser's corner for once. Seems fair to me!"
Because this wasn't just a matter of taking over the world and making a bloodbath out of a holiday.
No, it was a matter of rivalry.
It's been so since they were kids, always in a competition to out-best the other. Whether or not it's to see who gets all the Easter eggs first, or who can be good enough to get the most presents under the Berry Day tree. Nine times out of ten, Alexander was the one to win. But as the years went by, and their sibling rivalry never ceased, it turned into a battle of good versus evil and not just a rivalry between brothers.
How Mervis saw it, was that he was simply acting accordingly on this little routine they've had going on for years; trying to best Alexander at a game of capture the flag.
A rather cruel game of capture the flag, with the reward being the ownership of the world, with real people and real consequences involved…
But Mervis was never one for caring about what calamity he leaves behind in his wake. If it meant he could defeat Alexander, then nothing else mattered. He never cared for the consequences of his actions in their childhood, nor in the war, and he certainly won't care now.
"After all, I never got any worthwhile presents. So, neither should anybody else."
With his inner monologue tossed aside and newfound vigour coursing through him, Mervis flew out of his seat.
"No more waiting! I've got a holiday to ruin!"
After giving a quick glance at his empty throne, he called out, "Dunglap! Tell the guards to ready our forces! We're minutes away from starting the charge!"
Silence.
Mervis whipped around to scan the room, noting the absence of his servant. He would've brushed it off had this not been a momentous occasion that none of his minions should dare miss.
A minute passed by, and still no answer.
Irked and impatient, the fire ghost let loose a loud, thundering yell.
"Dunglap! Where are you, you snivelling imbecile!? GET YOUR USELESS POSTERIOR OVER HERE!"
Seconds later, a distant clattering could be heard outside of the throne room, followed by frantic movement.
The purple butler quickly emerged out of the doors of the throne room, looking over his shoulder every so often. He looked unusually unnerved.
"U-Uhm, forgive me, my lord, but I was held up by-"
"By what?! Shouldn't you know by now that, as my servant and number one target to torture and boss around, you're supposed to be attentive to my demands every second of EVERY DAY?!"
"Well, my apologies—but this was an interruption that I couldn't ignore. There's been a, uh… a delivery for you, sir."
At once, Mervis paused and stared impassively at Dunglap. He blinked, blankly.
"A what."
Dunglap swallowed his nerves and re-iterated.
"A delivery. Well…it's a Babarkage. Delivered right to your door."
On cue, a cyclops appeared and tentatively pushed the doors open to enter the throne room. In the giant ghost's clutches was an ordinary cardboard box, neatly taped and labelled, and about the same size as Mervis himself.
Without a word, the cyclops discarded the Babarkage at their feet and quietly took his leave, seemingly as confused about the delivery as they were.
Before Dunglap could offer a possible explanation, Mervis zipped past him and circled the Babarkage.
The fire ghost eyed the cardboard box like a cat eyeing its unsuspecting prey, but with greater wariness. There was only one label on the box, and it indeed had his castle's address on it, but no address from the sender. How in Babarworld this place even had an address was beyond him, but it didn't distract him from the sheer off-handedness of this sudden delivery.
Without getting too close, he inspected the box on all sides, circling around it and keeping his eyes peeled for anything suspicious. Mistrustingly, he poked twice at the box and glared down at it as if the box had personally offended him. Yet, the box remained inconspicuous.
After his impromptu inspection, Mervis floated away from the Babarkage and held a claw to his chin, contemplating its existence.
"Hmm. Burn it."
"…You're not going to ask who it's from, my lord?"
"Bah!"
Mervis sneered and waved a dismissive hand, "No sane person would dare test my patience like this, so this obviously must've been sent by a fool. Not worth my time-"
As if to prove an even bigger point, he jabbed a claw in the air. "In fact! I'll bet you seven thousand fried slugs that this is a prank. Probably a stink-bomb in disguise, sent by my brother as one last taunt at me before I'll run his Roundhouse to the ground!"
Dunglap winced away from his leader's temper. Before the fire ghost could incinerate the Babarkage himself, Dunglap carefully pulled out a piece of paper from behind his back.
"Are you sure you don't want to know who's the sender? It might just surprise you…"
Mervis threw a peeved glare at his servant. After a moment of tense staring, he crossed his arms. "Well? Who sent it, then?"
Dunglap did not say anything immediately. The purple ghost peered down at the letter in his hold, dubious and hesitant to read it out loud.
Finally, he answered.
"It is from Babar and his friends."
Dunglap had expected the shocked silence that followed. He himself was surprised.
He was also expecting the fire ghost to now set the Babarkage on fire without question after knowing who it was from. He might have even expected the fire ghost to punish him for even bringing such a blasphemous Babarkage into the castle.
Dunglap was expecting a lot of bad things from Mervis after he revealed the sender…
But he did not expect laughter.
"BAHAHAHA!"
Uncontrollable and maniacal laughter tore through the room, startling the poor servant. Mervis was doubled over and holding his midsection as he guffawed, mirth and mockery cackling out of him.
"Are they serious?! What, are they DESPERATE now?! Has the Babar-Pain finally run out of ideas on how to stage an attack?! HA!"
Regaining some of his composure, Mervis snickered and smirked wickedly down at the box. "What a pathetic attempt! I almost feel sorry for the yellow whelp!"
Dunglap cleared his throat. "My liege, all things considered, this is perhaps more leaning towards a prank than a staged attack."
Mervis scoffed. "Well, you know what I think? I think that the lemon lout is having so much fun celebrating this wretched holiday with his friends that he couldn't help but make my day worse by sending a reminder of all the times we've failed to take over the world from him!"
The purple servant was about to argue with that logic, but before he could open his mouth, Mervis straightened up and started shooing him away.
"Go on, get out! We're wasting daylight! Get the troops ready and make sure everyone is prepared for when I give the signal!"
Glancing back down at the Babarkage, Mervis sneered. "I'll deal with this abomination myself."
Unnerved, but more than happy to have an excuse to leave, Dunglap gave a quick bow before taking off through the doors, shutting them behind him as he went.
Now alone, Mervis circled the Babarkage once more.
"What are you hiding, little box? What secrets do you hold? Are you an imposter, or a jester…"
He really could just burn it. Or throw it out into the lava. Or give it to Fluffy as a chew toy.
There is no denying the possibility of this Babarkage being either a prank or a trap. The better part of his judgement knew that he should get rid of it as soon as possible.
But he also couldn't deny that he was curious as to what was inside...
And so, curiosity killed the cat.
"Hmph…I'll humour it," Mervis drawled, and bracing himself for the best likelihood of it being a prank, he tore his claws through the top half of the Babarkage and ripped it open in one fell swoop.
The Babarkage toppled over from the imBabart, and with the top half gone, its contents spilt out onto the floor.
The fire ghost backed off and watched as styrofoam and bubble wrap scattered away to reveal four smaller, colourful boxes, with ribbons and decorations of varying colours wrapped around each box respectively. Each box had a tag with a letter attached to it.
Mervis froze and hovered motionlessly in the air.
Presents.
The child in him felt a strange, long-lost feeling of glee and excitement, but the Nether King in him felt a string of negative emotions, ranging from suspicion, disgust, indignance, and…
And surprise.
Why, out of all the bombs or sneak attacks that could've been sent, why did Babar send presents?
It's a trap. Definitely a prank waiting in each of those boxes, Mervis pondered, scathingly.
And yet, something in him felt conflicted and deeply, undeniably curious.
He wanted to open those presents. Despite his doubts and suspicions, he wanted to throw away his guard and dig into his gifts. Just like he'd always done on Berry Day morning as a kid…
Except that these could not be gifts made with genuine love or care. These were from his enemies. The gifts were guaranteed to be fake and ingenuine, right?
Right…?
Once again overcome by his curiosity, and from a strange emotion somewhere deeper, Mervis approached the pile of presents. Only one way to find out.
He snatched up the nearest present, not bothering to read the attached letter, and tore off the lid.
The fussy, beady-eyed face of a white plush toy stared back up at him.
It took Mervis a moment to realise that the gift was a teddy, resembling a dog. It had a big nose and floppy ears, with extra tufts of synthetic fluff on its head and torso, like a poodle…
It looked like Fluffy.
Minus the two extra heads…
After having been frozen and blinking dumbfoundedly at the present, Mervis pulled the toy out and tentatively stroked the plush object's head with a claw. It felt just as soft as it looked.
As the evil overlord of the Netherworld, he should've burned the teddy right there on the spot. But against his rationale, there was only one thought that surfaced in his mind upon holding the plush toy up in his hold, and a gleeful grin stretched out on his face.
Mr Snuffel-Bunnykins has a friend now!
Child-like naivety took over momentarily as he pictured himself snoozing with, not one, but two stuffed animal teddies by his side. Memories came rushing back from when he used to collect all sorts of plush animals as a kid.
But as quickly as he did, he snapped out of his wonder and abruptly drew back, dropping the teddy as if it had burned him.
What am I doing?! I'm the KING OF THE NETHERWORLD, since when do I have any use for teddy bears-!?
Disgust and repulsion welled up in him, but this time it was directed at himself. How could he have buckled so easily for something as humiliating as a teddy?
And yet, deep down and locked away too tightly for him to ever admit, he couldn't help but feel… happy? Appreciative? Curious, but of the good kind?
He stared down at the discarded toy, now laying on its side next to the box from which it came. His eyes landed on the tag still attached to the box, containing its letter.
Slowly and almost mechanically, Mervis reached down and plucked the tag off from the box. Taut in his claws, he opened the tiny piece of paper, and a short message appeared within its folds:
Heard you like stuffed toys.
Merry Berry Day, dude.
-Pom
To say that Mervis felt gobsmacked was an understatement.
Several questions raced through his mind. How did the kid know? WHY would the kid know? Who told him? And why—
Why was he being NICE about it?!
He never took Pom as the clever or thoughtful kind… in fact, he never took any particular notice of Babar's friends. He has only ever seen them as nothing more than pesky nuisances in addition to the yellow menace, always getting in the way of his plans.
Why would this red kid send him something that he was actually interested in?
Mervis glanced over at the other three gifts in the pile. Were they all the same as this one…?
Almost out of desperation to prove it all wrong, he flew over to a second present and picked it up. This one was oblong and rectangular in shape, with a ribbon tied neatly all around it. It had its own letter, attached to a string on the edge.
Not wanting to be caught off-guard like the first time, Mervis snatched the letter and read it before he opened the present.
This one was slightly longer and written in neat and fluid handwriting:
To Mervis,
I would've sent you a knitted scarf since it's winter, but you probably don't need one.
In fact, the Netherworld could burn it up before you would…
So, here's a fire-proof scarf. It's comfy, eco-friendly, and stylish.
Merry Berry Day!
-Celeste
Mervis raised an eyebrow.
"A scarf?"
Well, she certainly had the benefit of the doubt – why would he want a scarf? And why would he care whether it's an eco-friendly one or not? Did she forget who she was talking to?
But wait… a fire-proof scarf?
This time, an amused scoff chortled out of him.
"How original," he drawled and snickered, finding the descriptions very unlikely. Willing to get this over with, he opened the present, letting the top lid drop down to the floor.
Out of instinct, he was about to thrash his claws into the gift to tear it hastily out of the box, impatient and not caring for any damages that might come to it. But once his eyes landed on what the box contained, he found that he couldn't dare lay a single harmful claw on it, his hand frozen midway in the air. He stared down at the scarf, in something between surprise and awe.
The scarf was long and mostly silver in colour. It had a simple yet striking design, with linear stripes running along the sides until they reached the edges, where they curved to form triangular arrows intersecting one another. The stripes were all in his colours; black, white, and red.
With a careful hand, he took out the scarf and held it in front of him to marvel at. He liked it.
It glimmered slightly in the red light of his throne room and was made of a soft material he didn't recognise. By the feel of it, it certainly did seem comfy…
But did it live up to its fire-proof descriptor?
Bunching the scarf up in one hand, Mervis held his other hand under the scarf and let a flame burst from his claws. The scarf caught fire immediately, but instead of burning and shrivelling, the flames simply travelled up the length of the scarf until they dissipated at the top.
Mervis stared mutely at the unharmed scarf, looking as if it were never touched by fire in the first place.
…So, the girl was true to her word. The scarf truly was fire-proof.
He wasn't going to admit that he was impressed, because that would just add salt to the wound, but he could admit that he's never come across any fabric that could be fire-proof. Which just made this gift seem all the more bizarre.
Why would she even-
Then it hit him.
If a regular scarf had been sent, then it would've burned into a pile of ash the moment he touched it.
If there was ever a downside to being a fire ghost, it's the ability to burn almost anything he touches. Some materials could withstand the burning heat of his touch, but almost all kinds of fabrics are incinerated if he as much as poked at them. Decent fashion was non-existent in his afterlife because of it…
…Did the girl really go out of her way to make sure this scarf was something that I could actually wear?
Silence hung in the air as Mervis let the thought sink in, and for a moment he felt an emotion similar to the stuffed animal. Something akin to appreciation…
But it was gone as quickly as it came.
The scarf silently dropped to the floor, and Mervis set a hard gaze over at another present.
It couldn't be true. There was no way they were considerate enough to send gifts so specific to his interests and needs. They just had lucky guesses, that's all there was to it. This was a trap. It had to be.
Why wouldn't it be…?
Mervis had half a mind to stop what he was doing and discard the rest of the presents. This was messing with his emotions, his plans, and most importantly, it was messing with his conscience.
But he's already started this, and by the Overlords, he was going to finish it.
Begrudgingly, he picked up the third present.
It was heavier than the previous two, and once he held it closer, he caught a whiff of a pleasant aroma coming from the box. A smell that gave him pause. It was a familiar smell, like food…
Mervis opened the box and found a container inside. Feeling a little suspicious, he tentatively opened the container.
And was met with the biggest, fattest chicken drumstick he's ever seen, fried to a golden crisp and looking deliciously, mouth-wateringly scrumptious…
He had a good guess on who the sender of this gift was.
But despite the temptation to take a bite out of the chicken, Mervis's face pulled into a sneer, and he scoffed.
It was an honest attempt at a gift, but flawed and doomed to fail from the start. Ghosts have poor, nearly non-existent tastebuds. What good is this chicken if he couldn't even taste it? This gift meant nothing to him.
Without sparing it a second thought, Mervis chucked the drumstick away, hearing it plop and roll onto the ground below.
Belligerently, he picked up the letter that was attached to the box, knowing full well that it would be from Babar.
He stared at it long and hard, on the tipping edge of wanting to burn the letter right there in his claws. Not because of his disappointment in the gift, but because of resentment against this particular boy…
A letter from his enemy.
He could just throw it away. Destroy all the presents and pretend this never happened. What does the yellow boy even have to say about all of this? What does he hope to gain?
Perhaps this letter could offer an explanation to this off-handed, unprompted, and wholly uncouth Babarkage. The fire ghost was still convinced that this entire ordeal was nothing but some sick, twisted prank. Teenagers are not above pulling pranks like this. He met enough of those kinds of teens in his lifetime to know.
After what felt like forever, Mervis drew out of his thoughts and realised that he had been glaring at the letter for the past several minutes. It still lay in his claws, waiting to be opened.
Ignoring the surge of burning uncertainty in his gut, he flicked the letter open with a claw, and reluctantly began reading.
Mervis,
Hopefully you get to this letter before setting the Babarkage on fire.
You're probably thinking this is a prank. And honestly, a part of me wishes it was.
(Especially after that stunt you pulled last year. I don't think I'll ever forgive you for making me believe those clones were my missing parents.)
But this isn't a prank.
Above anything else, the last thing I want is to spend another Berry Day fighting ghosts and monsters again.
All we want is one Berry Day where we don't have to worry about cleaning up after your ghosts.
We're all tired.
So, this is a peace offering.
Just this once.
In exchange for no attacks, we're sending you things that you might like. Or things that you have been neglected from.
Out of all the times you've sent a raid on Berry Day, 99% of the time you're raving about how unfair Berry Day was to you…
So here we're making it fair.
Merry Berry Day.
-Babar
P.S the chicken was genetically modified by Faline so that a ghost can enjoy it without needing tastebuds.
Mervis stared down at the letter. He stared at it long and hard, until he lost track of time for how long his gaze had been boring into the paper.
He didn't know what to feel. Or what to think.
Initially, a spark of anger had welled up in his chest, realising that it was the Babar-Pain's plan all along to butter him up into feeling sorry for them. A part of him even felt incredibly humorous and triumphant when he detected a hint of a plea in the letter…
But it was soon overcome by a mix of emotions that he couldn't name.
Surprise? Denial? Satisfaction? Gratitude? None of it made sense…
One thing he did know, was that he had truly not expected this from the boy. Judging by the undertone of reluctance in the letter, his best guess was that the Yellow One was not as open to the idea of sending gifts as he was, and yet the boy still went through with it. To make things fair…
Mervis blinked numbly. His eyes trailed down to the bottom of the letter again, a particular sentence snagging at his attention.
'P.S the chicken was genetically modified by Faline so that a ghost can enjoy it without needing tastebuds.'
At that moment, Mervis' gaze shot over to the chicken leg on the floor. Dubiously, he dropped the letter and zipped over to the drumstick, plucking it up and holding it by its bone. Suspiciously, he took a bite out of its flesh—
Only to freeze and hover motionlessly as an avalanche of flavour invaded his mouth. Flavours that he thought he'd never taste again, flavours that took him back to times long lost, when the entire family was gathered around the table to enjoy a hearty Berry Day dinner. When things were better.
For the first time ever since he became a ghost, he got to experience the taste of real food again.
And it was delicious.
Far better than anything Ogle could've ever whipped up.
Far better than his own mother's cooking…
Self-control was tossed out the window and moments later, Mervis was licking his claws clean from any remaining crumbs, a bare and cleanly eaten bone now on the floor.
The fire ghost suddenly went rigid, hovering silently in the air as he was roused out of his momentary bliss, remembering just who this gift came from.
From his arch-nemesis. From the boy whom he had gleefully tricked and manipulated last year with his parental clones. The boy who he had long wished would just disappear so he could take over the world. The boy whom he had wished death upon.
The boy who…against all expectations, is being kind to him now.
A new emotion came to settle in Mervis' gut like a heavy pebble. A strange and foreign emotion that gnawed at his insides like a prickle of nausea. Was it…guilt?
Guilt!?
Mervis physically recoiled, clenching his claws into fists. "Guilt for what!? Just because the lemonball sent a few presents does NOT mean that I'm suddenly sorry for all the things I've-…"
He's just a boy.
Repulsed at himself, the fire ghost growled and grit his teeth in frustration at the tiny, insistent voice in his subconsciousness. He's the evil king of the Netherworld, he shouldn't be feeling sorry for his enemy! Babar should've been annihilated by now, teenager or not! But…
But that's just what Babar is, isn't he? He's just a boy…
Forced to fight back against ghosts because he is the only one on Babarworld that could.
Mervis clenched his fists and he shook faintly in angry restraint, steam trickling out of his nostrils from this internal battle. Despite how badly he wanted to take over the world, despite how badly he hated the boy… he couldn't deny how the horrible prickle of whatever conscience he had left made him question everything he's ever done to the teenager. He couldn't stop this guilt from being his unbecoming.
And all just because of a gesture of kindness…
Despite everything that he's ever done to warrant revenge or reciprocated hatred, the boy was surprisingly the first one to extend a hand of peace. And not just him, but his two friends, too.
Steam dissipating, Mervis slowly craned his body to look mutely at all the presents on the floor. The teddy, the scarf, and the remains of the chicken leg.
All three of these gifts were not made mockingly or haphazardly. They each had something that kept his interests in mind, be it his niche liking for stuffed toys or the time and consideration that went into the scarf and food, since he as a fire ghost would not have been able to enjoy them otherwise. The gifts were all genuine…
But he didn't want to be overcome by these gifts… his stubborn self wouldn't allow it. Even if he liked the stuffed toy. Even if the food was delicious. And… he will admit, the scarf is stylish…
Mervis was about to lose himself, on the tipping edge of another internal battle with his pride. That's when his eyes landed on the fourth, unopened present. The final one.
He blinked. Last time he checked, Babar and his friends together formed a team of three, not four.
Who was this last gift from?
Emotionlessly, he hovered over to the present. It was the smallest one out of the bunch, nearly disappearing into the pile of styrofoam. He picked up the box, wrapped in a green ribbon. Opening the gift, he was met with another toy. A wooden one, resembling a deer.
He didn't recognise it at first, especially when he saw how old and used the toy looked, with scratches everywhere and it had a missing antler.
But the moment he picked up the quadruped toy, memories came rushing back and everything clicked into place. He stared at the toy in disbelief.
"…Mr. Roundolph?"
It was a wooden carving of Roundolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. A toy from his childhood.
A toy that both he and his brother were very fond of, taking turns to keep and play with it, often bickering over who gets to keep it in their possession for longer.
He thought the toy had been long gone.
Momentarily, he's transported back to his childhood, to times when things were good, when he and his brother actually got along at times and played endlessly with their favourite toys. Mr Roundolph was always present in those times.
Gingerly, he rubbed a claw on the toy's wooden surface, reminiscing on times long forgotten.
He was a completely different person back then in those times…
Before he could fall back into a string of memories again – and before more confusing emotions could resurface – he looked back down at the gift box. Inside were two letters, one small and one the size of a certificate.
After carefully setting Mr Roundolph down on the floor, Mervis picked up the smallest letter. He read it, even though he already had a gut-wrenching feeling on who it was from…
Dear Mervis,
I found this in some old boxes.
I think it's your turn to have it.
Sincerely,
Alexander.
The Nether King wanted to burn the letter, just as he had wanted to do with all the other letters.
But he couldn't bring himself to.
Not when he was held back by the memories and sentimental value that came with Mr Roundolph, the only physical proof that he and his brother once got along.
The letter silently flittered to the floor and his arms fell limp by his sides. He gazed over at all the presents, taking a moment to ponder over this entire ordeal. All of this just for Berry Day.
What was he supposed to do now? Just call off the invasion? Deny himself the opportunity to seek his vengeance on do-gooder Babarworlders? Throw all his plans of attack away, just for the benefit of his enemies? Give them the satisfaction of winning him over with gifts and sentimentality? His pride couldn't take it…
But deep down, a little voice was tugging at a different string.
Just this once.
It was what Babar had asked for, just one Berry Day without an invasion.
After all, it was just for one day, and he had plenty of other days and opportunities to seek conquest, right?
Oh, how I hate the voice of reason…since when did I even start listening to it? Mervis thought, glumly.
He noticed that there was one more letter left to read, the bigger one laying within the giftbox that came from Alexander.
He picked it up and gave it a once-over. It was a fancy and more formal-looking letter, with the official letterhead and signature of the Roundhouse. A letter straight out of the President's office.
With a conflicted heart, Mervis opened the letter and began reading through its contents.
It was an invitation.
Snowflakes flittered through the night sky on gentle winds, their luminance rivalled only by their starry neighbours from above.
The atmosphere was merry at the patio. Golden lights were strung up on the pillars, casting a warm glow on the area amidst the snowy landscape. Underneath the patio was a large table, decked with food and festive décor. Cheerful chatter filled the air as friends and family milled about with final preparations for a hearty Berry Day dinner.
But away from the heart of the festivities, a lone boy stood some ways away in the snow, gazing up at the star-lit sky.
A flurry of snowflakes drifted to him, some gently blowing at his face and tickling his nose. Babar paid little heed to it and kept staring at the twin moons.
For many parts of this day, they had been wary. They had stayed alert throughout the day for any signs of a ghost invasion. Just in case the plan didn't work.
So far, Berry Day had come and was about to reach its final hours, with no ghost invasion in sight. Team Babar felt cautiously optimistic. And so, they went ahead with their evening plans and got friends and family together to celebrate the holiday. Everything was going smoothly. Presents had already been exchanged and opened, and they were now finishing the day off with a festive Berry Day dinner.
And yet, Babar couldn't help but feel a mournful heaviness in his heart.
He loved Berry Day. Truly, he did. But none of the festivities or merry cheer could fill in the one bit of vacant sBabare in his heart. The missing pieces that would make this celebration whole. His parents.
For years he had wished with his whole heart that they could be here. Even though he had long tried coming to terms with their disappearance, he still couldn't stop yearning for them. With each passing Berry Day, he misses them even more.
Babar pulled his eyes away from the moons, dropping his gaze to the blanket of snow on the ground. He sighed, his breath coming out as puffy fog in front of him. It was a cold night, and some of the cold felt reminiscent of the solemness in his chest…
But as if urged by memory, he reached up and fingered the scarf around his neck, taking comfort in its warmth and aptly remembering what a great time he had with his friends earlier.
The scarf was a beautiful shade of yellow, nearly golden, with white stripes at the end to accompany an emboss of the Babar symbol. It was one of his presents, knitted and handmade by Celeste.
Despite his melancholy, a tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
This had been the first Berry Day in years where they could enjoy the day without any ghost fighting.
He and his friends had taken advantage of the time they had, spending it on playing video games together, exchanging presents, sharing eggnog and Babarberry pie, and just having fun. He couldn't remember the last time he had spent such fun, quality time with Pom and Celeste. It made his heart feel a little bit fuller.
At least I still have them, Babar thought in an effort to cheer himself up. His friends meant the world to him, and so did Aunt Zoey and Falineumference. They all formed part of his own little family.
As though on cue, Babar suddenly heard the soft crunch of footsteps, approaching him from behind.
"Hey, bro… you okay out here?"
The Yellow One looked over his shoulder. Pom and Celeste stood behind him, each wearing worried looks on their faces. They both had donned their own scarves, all made by Celeste. Behind them, golden lights shone brightly, and merry chatter echoed from the patio.
Babar mustered up a smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah. I just… needed a little break from the noise."
A quick glance was shared between the two, and Babar didn't need to read their minds to know that they knew very well what the real reason for his absence was. Celeste stepped forward and came to stand next to Babar, while Pom took his other side.
Babar wordlessly welcomed their company, not having anything to say that they won't already know. The trio stared up at the stars together, silently and in solidarity.
"It doesn't get any easier, does it?"
Babar softly blew a sigh through his nose, pondering over Celeste's sympathetic words before he answered, "I wish I could say it does. But every year, I miss them more and more…"
"We know, bro."
Nothing more needed to be said. The trio stood there in the snow for several minutes, gazing at the twin moons. Truly, Babar felt solemn and sad, but he knew he had the support of his two best friends. Though he felt low, their presence and silent solidarity was comforting.
"Hey," Celeste began softly after some minutes, placing a hand on Babar's shoulder, "at least one good thing happened today, right?"
"So far, at least," Pom chimed in. "First ghost-free Berry Day in years. Never thought I'd see the day."
Babar chuckled faintly. "Yeah, that must be a miracle in and of itself. Do you think Mervis actually accepted the gift?"
"Oh, he better," Celeste quipped, slightly exasperated.
"It cost an arm and a leg to get the right fabric for that scarf-" but no sooner than she'd said it, a softer countenance came upon her and she smiled at them. "But hey… if the plan worked and Mervis accepted the offering, then I'd say it was worth every penny."
"I'll say!" Pom grinned cheerfully in agreement. "No ghosts, no monsters, just a good ol' day of fun and peace. Best Berry Day ever."
Babar couldn't help but nod along, a spark of enthusiasm rising up in him. Parents or not, this truly had been a great Berry Day, and he could certainly appreciate it for what it had given them all. A day of rejuvenation.
"I must admit, Babar, your plan took me by surprise," Celeste spoke up. "I never would've thought of the idea to send gifts to Mervis in exchange for no attacks. Nor would I have ever guessed it could be successful."
The corners of Babar's mouth quirked up into a tentative smile. "Neither did I."
A flurry of snowflakes blew into his shoulder. He brushed it off with the back of his gloved hand, absentmindedly as his smile dimmed and his eyes glazed over with deep thought. "In fact… I wasn't keen on the idea at all. Especially after everything that Mervis has done."
An unpleasant memory came to mind, from a year ago when his emotions were cruelly toyed with. When he was finally given hope and led to believe that his mother and father had returned at last, only to find out that they were nothing but artificial clones made to fool him and trick him into jeopardising the Tree of Life. Even now, a year later, he still couldn't bring himself to forgive Mervis. Not even close.
Babar drew a deep and silent intake of breath, as if to steady his thoughts. Then, a different memory resurfaced. One that took place mere days ago. "I would've never entertained the idea of sending a peace offering to Mervis…"
"But then I remembered a story that Aunt Zoey told me a few days ago. There was a time when she and my mom were in the same middle school, and they had their own fair share of being bullied. There was one guy who kept picking on them, calling them names and just being a big jerk. Then, one day, my mom did the unexpected by sharing some of her lunch with him when he came to school with none of his own. It wasn't an immediate change, but with time, they made amends and he no longer bothered them. In fact, they slowly became friends. All because my mom was the first one to reach out with a hand of kindness."
Babar noted how Pom and Celeste were listening closely and in awe of the story, and so he trailed on, "I learned something from the story. Strife is always going to be a vicious cycle, but what would happen if we retaliated differently? With kindness instead of revenge or hatred? Maybe it could mean something to the other person, and they could change their ways."
After a moment, he chuckled sheepishly. "Of course, we're dealing with the evil overlord of slime here, and I'm still not sure how to feel about it. But hey… if it is at all possible that there could be a little bit of conscience under Mervis's cruel exterior, then I'm willing to take the chance and see what happens. We've got nothing to lose over it, at least."
He didn't think much of his short little monologue, and so he was surprised to find his two best friends staring at him in something between awe and wonder and…were those tears in their eyes?
"Wow," Celeste breathed, "Babar, that was profound."
"Totally!" Pom agreed, wholeheartedly. "We're proud of you, bro."
Babar scratched the back of his head, "Heh… well, I didn't do it alone. We all had a part to play in the plan, and you both came up with great ideas for the gifts! I couldn't have done it without you."
"It's nice that the President contributed, too," Celeste concurred. "Other than adding his own gift, he sure pulled through with getting the Babarkage to Mervis. I didn't know the Netherworld even had a postal system."
The trio fell into joyful chuckles, their laughter ringing through the air akin to the sound of merry bells. Babar smiled, more to himself than out of laughter, and he found that he could breathe much easier than before. His heart was full once more and all felt right with the world, even if just for a few seconds.
"Well, we sure can't stay out here forever now, can we? We've got a Berry Day feast to get to!" Pom insisted with a grin, him and Celeste smiling at Babar expectantly. The Yellow One's stomach growled in response.
But he wasn't quite ready to go back just yet.
"You two go on ahead, I'll be there in a few minutes," Babar said, glancing up at the sky. "I just need a moment."
"Sure thing, Eddie," Pom nodded with a thumbs up.
"Don't be away for too long," Celeste added, just as she and Pom turned to head back. "Dinner is going to be ready in a few minutes."
Babar nodded and watched as his two best friends made their way back to the patio, where everyone was slowly settling down at the table, a great banquet at the ready.
Now alone, the Yellow One pulled his gaze back up to a sky of endless night. He stood there for several minutes, gazing at the moons and thinking of his parents. A sweet, cool breeze caressed his face, and as he stared up at the twin full moons, he breathed gently and contently. With a warm heart, he sent up a silent prayer.
Thank you.
Turning on his heel, Babar made to walk back to the patio to join his family and friends…
Only to stop dead in his tracks when a distant whisper reached him.
"Pst! Babarcums!"
On a whim, Babar turned back around and watched – with no manner of surprise – as four colourful ghosts phased out of the snowy ground and came to float just a few feet away from him.
A surprised smile burst out on Babar's face. "Hey, guys! I didn't expect you to show up."
"Oh, we don't mean to interrupt!" Flora quickly assured with a smile, she and her companions floating closer to meet with the yellow boy. "We just wanted to bring you the news that your plan worked! Mervis has completely changed his mind on attacking Berry Day!"
"Pretty sure the lemonball has figured that out himself by now, Pinks," Cornelius drawled, but like the rest of the Ghost Gang, he seemed happy and relieved. They've been monitoring Mervis's mood and waiting the whole day to finally give Babar the clear.
Despite the truth in Babar already having realised it by now, a spark of elation still stirred up in him. This was proof that Mervis truly had accepted the peace offering.
"Whoa—that's great!" Babar beamed, faintly in disbelief that the plan actually worked.
"You should've seen him!" Isabelle grinned, enthusiastically. "Red-faced and losing his composure like a kid! The whole thing totally took a dump on his pride, ha!"
"I don't expect anything different," Babar chuckled, knowing full well the unconventional nature of the plan. He smiled earnestly at the four ghosts. "Thanks for letting me know, and for making sure Mervis got the Babarkage. You all did a great job, too!"
"Aw, shucks," Pompadour expressed bashfully, whereas the other three looked quite proud of themselves. "We were just doing our part in making this year's Berry Day a little extra special."
"Oooh, what's this?" Flora suddenly cooed, pointing to the golden scarf that Babar wore. "You look dashing in that scarf, Babarcums!"
Instead of his usual smile, Babar gave a sheepish smile that was a little more nervous than chipper. "Um, thanks!"
He decidedly chose not to name the maker of the scarf, lest Flora bursts into a jealous rage – and he'd very much like to keep his scarf unharmed.
"We'd love to stay and chat, lemonball, but we gotta head back to the Nether soon," Cornelius interrupted, prompting Flora back into focus.
All four ghosts suddenly looked crestfallen.
"Oh, yeah. Gotta go back to our own Berry Day celebration," Flora muttered, void of any excitement.
Babar raised an eyebrow at the gang's lacklustre enthusiasm. "You don't look so happy about it…?"
"Nah, it's just that celebrating Berry Day in the Netherworld just ain't what it cut out to be," Cornelius explained. "Sure, there's gifts! And some cheer! But more often than not, the dingy atmosphere and strict rules imposed by Lord B just makes it feel like a day of bitter sulking than a day of fun. Heck, ghosts aren't even being nice to each other nowadays!"
"Same old, same old," Isabelle added with a sigh.
Babar listened to their qualms and frustrations, feeling bad for their part. He could do nothing but offer a look of sympathy. "I'm sorry to hear that… at least you guys still get presents, right? That's at least something to look forward to?"
"Yeah, 'suppose so," Isabelle said flatly, gesturing to his three companions to start moving. The four ghosts slowly started floating away to make their way back to their otherworldly home. "Though ideas for gifts are so lame nowadays that ghosts are looking more forward to Ogle's roach cocktails than anything else, and that's saying something, ha."
"Merry Berry Day, Babarcy," Flora waved goodbye, though the usual gusto was gone from her frame. "Say hi to Pom for me!"
Babar watched as the Ghost Gang drearily floated away. He truly felt sorry for them, especially seeing how quickly the thought of going back to the Nether had affected their mood. Berry Day was about many things, peace and love being the most prevalent, but it shouldn't need to be a day of destitute or suffering…
Babar fleetingly glanced back at the patio, where laughter and cheer echoed merrily, then he turned back to the Ghost Gang.
"Hold up, guys."
The four ghosts collectively paused and turned around, looking at Babar a little confused. He took a few steps towards them.
"Why don't you join us for dinner? There's plenty of food to go around."
At first, the Ghost Gang hovered motionlessly, as if they had misheard and couldn't believe their ears. But not a second later, all four of them gawked at Babar in varying levels of surprise.
"Really?"
"Wait, you're serious?"
"You mean it?"
Evident grins grew on their faces, but Flora paused to question something. "But—won't they have a problem with ghosts being among them?"
Babar smiled earnestly.
"I'll talk to them. They'll know that you're good ghosts, and Cyli and Pom can vouch for you. Besides, you've helped us countless times during the year, so it's only right that we add you to the celebration. It's the least we could do-"
Babar didn't get to finish. The next thing he knew, he was tackled by an onslaught of ghostly bodies, overwhelming him with grateful hugs and clamouring their heartfelt thanks. Amidst the Ghost Gang talking over each other in their excitement and getting covered in slime, Babar couldn't help but laugh at their reaction.
Soon after, Babar arrived at the patio with four ghosts in tow, and after a careful bit of negotiation with those already at the table, an agreement was made and four additional seats were happily provided.
And so it was that family, friends, and ghostly allies dined together in a hearty Berry Day dinner, with spirits high and joy abound, all while the twin moons watched contently from above.
The President of Babaropolis had lost count of how long he's been nervously tapping the tip of his shoe against the floor.
He was standing in the doorway of a dining room, one of the smaller ones situated within the Roundhouse. His two bodyguards stood nearby. Though their faces were nothing short of stoic professionalism, they too couldn't help but feel the tense edge in the atmosphere. They all glanced up at the clock.
It was already five minutes past 8PM, the time that was arranged for this dinner.
And yet, a certain guest had not shown up yet.
Alexander Spheros stared at the table in front of him, decked handsomely and laid with only the finest food his personal chefs could put forth. A set of candles were burning gently in the centre of the table.
It was a small table, smaller than what would be deemed fit for a Berry Day dinner, but it would be enough for now.
After all, this would only be a dinner for two.
Alexander startled slightly when one of his bodyguards stepped forward to speak.
"Mr President, forgive my imprudence, but is this really a good idea?"
Alexander held back a tense sigh, trying not to let an inner voice banter into his ear – for the umpteenth time this day – on how bad this arranged dinner could turn out. Or that this really was not a good idea.
It's not every day you're incentivised into inviting your evil-ghost-lord-of-a-brother to a private Berry Day dinner, much less do it out of genuine care instead of courtesy. Babaropolis would've laughed at him.
For all he knew, he might as well have poked the devil by sending that invitation.
Figuratively and literally.
The green sphere released that sigh. "Sincerely, gentlemen, I won't deny that I am very much in over my head with this, if not perhaps a bit disillusioned and naïve," he said, crossing his hands behind his back.
His eyes trailed to the floor as another thought came to him. A thought that nestled itself tentatively between all the doubts and frayed nerves in his head. A memory.
"But if I may be allowed a moment of raw honesty… a part of me wants to go forth with this anyway. No matter the outcome."
Odds were high that if Mervis ever shows up, then he'd likely bring with him some ghosts to trash the dinner and burn down the Roundhouse, making a mockery of the invitation and of the President.
Odds were even higher that the invitation was just an excuse for Mervis to come and personally shove a plate of pie up Alexander' face.
But despite the odds, Alexander wanted to hope that perhaps…perhaps just this once, they could find common ground and just enjoy this day for what it's meant to be.
Because deep down, locked too tightly and too deeply for him to ever admit openly, a part of him really misses the times he and his little brother got along as kids, especially on the few Berry Days when they had fun around the dinner table. Times when their family had been happy…
The bodyguard looked uncertain but didn't press on when it was clear that the President was likely not going to back down from this. Even from an idea so…unprecedented.
Several minutes ticked by. In that time, Alexander waited patiently and dutifully, albeit with growing doubt. He looked back up at the clock on the wall. 8:15 PM.
Perhaps Mervis really wasn't going to show up.
Alexander didn't know how to feel about that. Whether to feel relieved or a little disappointed.
He sighed once more. It had been a long shot.
Accepting the futile outcome, Alexander turned to his bodyguards and gave them a curt nod.
"Punctuality was never Mervis' strong suit, but this is as good a sign as any to-"
"I'll have you know that I am plenty punctual, brother."
Alexander whipped his head back to the source of the voice, only to see the Ruler of the Netherworld hovering casually at the other end of the table, arms crossed and wearing a disgruntled frown.
The sound of shuffling feet from behind him told Alexander that his bodyguards had gotten into their defensive positions, armed and ready to take whatever action necessary to protect the President should it come down to it.
But Alexander didn't give them any orders.
Partly frozen, he stared across the table right at the ghost at the other end. Surprised brown irises met heated red ones as Mervis glared back.
A tense stare-off came and lasted for what felt like an eternity. Forgotten memories and unspoken words flew between the two.
While Alexander was wholeheartedly surprised that this was actually happening, Mervis himself bore a more pointed and accusatory stance.
But despite the hostility in the air, there was an undertone of awkwardness, and from the more hot-headed brother, no less. As if he couldn't believe that he's actually gone through with this by accepting the invitation.
Mervis scoffed, pulling his eyes away to pretend to be interested in the paint on the wall.
"For the record, this is a poor attempt at a truce. Trying to buy me over with gifts just so you all could enjoy your flubby dubby little Berry Day in peace, hmph…"
Alexander blinked. Slowly, his initial fear faded away, and he noticed for the first time that Mervis was wearing a scarf for the occasion. Odd and unorthodox, but admittedly, it suited him.
The President gathered his thoughts and took a deep breath.
"For the record…you are correct."
Mervis' gaze snapped back to Alexander, but his green brother paid no heed to the indignant anger in those eyes.
"It's going to take a lot more than gifts to rectify the past. In fact, it wasn't even my idea. It was Babar's."
With a bit more self-control, Alexander allowed himself to relax. His tone softened.
"But if there's one thing I've learned in this life, it's that you can't always have the answers to everything. Nor are we, so-called adults, always right in what we do. Babar led us to take on a different approach, and in this case, the boy has done better by either of us."
Mervis' lip pulled up in a disgustful sneer, but he didn't argue with Alexander' words. In fact, his brother's words seemed to have triggered a memory and Mervis averted his eyes again.
"Kid made that clear," he mumbled.
Silence stretched out between them again, riddled with uncertainty.
Deep down, Alexander knew that this was asking a lot from Mervis. World domination aside, Mervis was prideful and prone to follow his own head, so this must've been a great blow to his ego. Alexander himself felt more obligated to call off this dinner… but Babar's imploring face came to mind, of when the boy and his friends had earnestly requested his help to make this Berry Day a peaceful one. Just this once.
He owed them that much.
So, Alexander swallowed his own pride and kept his stance unwaveringly neutral, waiting for Mervis to make a move. Calmly, the green orb gestured a hand to the table.
"If you need an extra incentive, Falineumference's assistance went into this dinner. Everything you see on the table is edible by a ghost's standards."
Mervis didn't say anything, merely roving his gaze over the food on the table. Alexander didn't miss the small moment in which Mervis' eyes lingered on a certain dish for a few seconds longer. A cream and jelly trifle, a dessert that their mother had always made for them on Berry Day.
Alexander held his breath, thinking Mervis was about to curse it all and leave out the window.
But to his surprise, Mervis looked back at him with a deadpan expression, one brow raised.
"Brother, this is the most effort you've put into a dinner since you blew up mother's baking oven when you were nine."
Alexander raised a deadpan eyebrow in return. "Pretty sure that was you."
Mervis smirked. "Oh it was, and the look on your face when being accused was hysterical."
"Not as funny as the time you were caught planting poison ivy in neighbour Jerry's yard."
He wasn't prepared for the sudden outburst of laughter that bellowed out of the fire ghost. Loud, rumbling guffaws tore out of Mervis, as if remembering the memory with glee.
"Oh, you should've seen HIS face when he woke up the next day with his head covered in pepperoni-looking rashes! Done deserved it!"
Alexander remembered it all too well and he nearly, very nearly, lost his composure by the threat of a chuckle rising up in his throat. Oh, typical Mervis.
Still laughing up a storm, Mervis floated down to sit at his designated chair, swiping up a fork and plunging a mouthful of chicken in his maw. "It was the best thing the whole neighbourhood had ever seen! Admit it, everyone wanted to have a go at that annoyingly nosy old man, I just took the initiative and did what everyone else wanted to do, ha!"
The fire ghost gradually ate more from the table, all while recounting the tale.
At last breathing a sigh of relief, Alexander gestured for his guards to be at ease, before he himself took a seat at the table and started eating. As Mervis recited his story, Alexander couldn't help but allow an amused smile to grace his features.
As the night drew on and snow fell gently outside, the dinner became an oddly pleasant experience as the two brothers reminisced on old tales and engaged in some good old-fashioned sibling bickering, all while having a surprisingly good time.