The palace doors being wide open to all, Stella and Duman just walked right on in. The decor was worlds different from the crisp, streamlined elegance of Aurora's palace, but no less beautiful. Everything smelled so good that Duman's stomach cried out for a taste, and he happily obliged, snapping off a piece of the staircase and happily snarfing it down.

'Duman, this is someone's house.'

'And it's delicious!' He offered her a piece and, with a quick conspiratorial glance around, she snaffled it down, licking her lips clear of gingerbread crumbs.

'My god I wanna live here…'

'Then screw Christmas; text your clique and tell em it's been fun, but you've found where you truly belong.'

Stella opened her mouth to respond, then paused, eyes shining. A moment later, she shook it off, but he knew she'd been living that fantasy…they could move here, get a gingerbread condo…create all kinds of sweet shenanigans…

'You sure…?' he checked. As Stella thought it over, he sighed. 'You'd probably miss your stupid boyfriend though, wouldn't ya?'

'Mhm.' Stella smiled. 'And you'd miss yours…'

Duman rolled his eyes, but had to concede. 'Yeah…I could so not bring Gantlos here, everything's too breakable. He needs stone rather than sugar. Plus he doesn't really like candy, so…'

'He doesn't?!' Stella seemed bordering on genuinely shocked. 'How do you make the relationship work??'

'Eh. Maturity.'

Stella quirked an eyebrow, and Duman laughed. 'What? I can be mature. When I want to be. And Gantlos requests it.'

'What about when Ogron requests it?'

'Do I sleep with Ogron?'

'I don't know.'

'…Does it make me a bad friend that I'm kinda offended by that implication?'

Stella dissolved into giggled, and Duman rolled his eyes.

'Let's just find the thing before you suggest I'm shacking up with Anagan too.'

'You could do worse. That's what I told Flora when they were flirting.'

'They'd be so good together.'

'I know! Flora says 'I have a boyfriend', and she just won't listen when I say that Anagan and Helia would get on great too, so have a thruple! People never want to take my dating advice.'

'Ehhhhh…but then pacifist artist boy would be hanging around our secret base…and I don't want that.'

'What's wrong with Helia?'

'He's really boring.'

'You just don't know him yet.'

'Or ever.'

They rounded the corner, and were hit with cinnamon-scented chaos. Gingerbread folks ran every which way, setting up what seemed to be….baking supplies and television equipment? In the centre of the madness, a petite, beautiful woman with long purple hair and shimmering, sugary wings directed it all, calling out things such as, 'Can we move camera two, please?' 'Has anyone seen the oven gloves?' 'Could somebody help get Karl out of the oven?'

'Think that's the Sugarplum Fairy?' Duman asked quietly.

'Think so…' Stella eased her way through the crowd, carefully avoiding the pandemonium as best she could. Duman just barged through however he pleased.

'Excuse us!' Stella waved up to the Sugarplum Fairy, politely waiting for her to finish removing Karl from the oven.

'Yes?' Her voice was as soft and sweet as powdered sugar, like a character from a Christmas movie.

'Can we have your fancy cinnamon?' Duman asked, before being elbowed in the stomach and given a glare.

'Sorry about him. Miss…um, Fairy, we're in the middle of a crisis, and in order to save Christmas, we need some of your hearth cinnamon, please.'

The Sugarplum Fairy shook her head regretfully. 'I'm terribly sorry, but I can't. There's only one jar a year, and it can only be earned by winning the gingerbread bake off.'

Stella and Duman exchanged a look as Duman's stomach slowly started to sink. Baking wasn't a good area for him…

'Baking contest?' Stella repeated, and the fairy gestured around them. Now that he was in the heart of the storm, Duman could see that things had been set up with benches and baking supplies. Oh….this wasn't going anywhere good…

'We hold it every year,' the fairy explained, helping Karl get out of the electric mixer. 'And it's televised across the Christmas Lands.' This place had television? Huh. Duman couldn't decide if having the ability to binge watch all the Jason Bourne films made this more or less of a magical experience. …He was going with more, he kinda got bored sometimes and needed his short attention span catered to.

Stella bit her lip, surreptitiously adjusting her hair as a camera passed them by. 'Oh…but, we really, really need some…couldn't we just have a pinch?'

'I'm afraid not; it must be won by proving yourself in the kitchen.'

'But we have to save Christmas! Santa's counting on us!'

'Santa has won this on many occasions before; he respects our tradition. Now, you are quite welcome to join in on the contest, anyone is welcomed, just sign up with Karl.' The Sugarplum Fairy moved on to go help some camera people who seemed to be stuck in their own cables, and Stella and Duman turned to each other.

'I suck at cooking!' Duman burst out. 'I'm banned from kitchens!'

'My skills don't go beyond cooking instant ramen! And even then, sometimes I just give up and eat it like a crunchy snack!'

'Right, well, we're obviously stealing this cinnamon.'

Stella didn't even object, already looking around. Seemed even she knew her limits.

Thankfully, the cinnamon was hardly difficult to locate. The issue came in thanks to the tough sugar bars all around it, and the rather hulking fruitcake security guards that looked set to kill people in a decidedly festive fashion should anyone try anything.

'…So…are we risking our lives, or our dignity?' Stella asked quietly.

Duman sighed. As much as he wanted to go screw with that security to the very best of his ability, maybe lose a limb in the process, whatever, he'd shift on a new one, there was a zany shenanigan and there was just jumping into lunacy. And…this was crazy important to Stella for heroine reasons, so…

'Dignity…but I didn't have much of that in the first place.'

Stella paled. 'Of all the times I want you to be insane…'

'I know, right?' He glanced around, spotting Karl, now freed from his various crises, scribbling names down on a clipboard. 'Oi! Mate!'

Karl glanced up, quirking an eyebrow at their inedible bodies but rolling with it nonetheless. 'Yes? May I help you?'

'Put us down for this contest thingy; we'll be winning that cinnamon.'

'Certainly. Names?'

'Stella Allbright and Duman. No last name.'

'Is that Duman with no last name, or Duman No Last Name?'

'…That needs to be clarified? I don't have a last name, it's just Duman.'

'Alright then.' Karl scribbled it down, before gesturing to a bench. 'Get yourselves set up, we'll be starting in a minute.'

Duman pulled on an apron, managing to get his hands tangled in the string before deciding to screw it, he didn't care if he got food stains on his clothes.

Stella, meanwhile, somehow wound up looking like a tv chef; he could only hope she'd have the skills.

'Okay!' yelled a gingerbread man in a director's chair. 'We are going live in three! Two! One!'

Duman was almost blinded by spotlights, growling slightly at the assault on his retinas, while Stella slapped on a smile to hide all her terror.

'Denizens of the Christmas Lands, and that one guy in Colorado whose tv arial somehow picks up these signals: welcome to the annual Land of Sweets Bake Off! Today, our talented contestants will put their skills to the test, creating…gingerbread people!'

Stella and Duman exchanged a glance. …Say what now?