In Manehattan, during the winter, the city was a festival of bright, blue lights that gleamed over snow and sleet. It commercialized the whole appeal of a cold evening, and in every window you could see the newest trendy item on sale, whether that be a scarf or a handlebag. People would litter the streets in great droves wearing anything from parkas to down coats to T-shirts if they were from further up north. Most wore smiles. The streets and sidewalks were always clear, and one would only find piles of snow on either the corners or the Grand Central Park.

Manehattan’s biggest attraction was always the humongous tree that stood there year-by-year. Artificial and covered in tinfoil decorations and thin beads of light, it could light up seven blocks with the amount of illumination it provided, meaning that virtually most of the streetlights that regularly turned on were largely unnecessary. Ultimately, though, it was the sentiment of seeing a tree, even a fake one such as that, light up and provide a beacon for the residents, that made it the one of the most cherished object for tourists to see.

Manehattan was a city of splendor; this, Artifex knew well. He’d spent many winters admiring the neatness of the streets, the crowds of people all gathered around to partake in the holiday festivities regardless of belief. Truly it was the melting pot of the world.

But here and now, somehow, someway, Canterlot had his former city beat.

He’d never noticed how pretty snow was under a simple, copper lantern, how it sparkled and glinted like little stars on the ground. Without so many lights around, he could actually see the wintry sky, grey and magnificent, gently releasing its bountiful storage of snow. Without the screeching of tires, the blaring of horns, and without the white noise of thousands of strangers, he could actually enjoy the act of simply walking and breathing in the cool, night air. It was crisp and cleaner than Manehattan’s, and rejuvenated his spirit. Something about it smelled of new beginnings, of new stories, of better days and even better moments.

It helped that he was in the company of some of his best friends.

“Artifex, aren’t you even the slightest bit cold?” the boy next to him asked. Artifex turned to him. He had taken measures to ensure he would not freeze to death, wearing a bright-blue, woolly jacket that made him look much larger than he actually was. Even as he spoke, Artifex saw his lips tremble. Not from emotion, but from the (admittedly) frigid air.

He nonchalantly shrugged. “Eh. It’s almost as cold as Manehattan’s air, Clue. I’m rather used to that kind of temperature.” He offered a smirk. “Besides, coldness is in my name, isn’t it?”

No Clue frowned at that, though he seemed more worried than displeased. “Are you sure? That’s a pretty thin coat you’re wearing. I could lend you my hat. I mean, you’re not even wearing something to cover your head!”

“Or my mittens,” a female voice behind them chirped up. It was Sunset Shimmer, wrapped in a scarf and brown coat. She let out a breath of cold air. “Brrr. Though, to be fair, I’d be hesitant to part with them. What about you, Soul?”

Soul Writer, her boyfriend and among the first people Artifex had met, could only shake his head. Looking back, Artifex saw that the poor boy could not stop shivering. “I-I w-would g-give y-you s-something, Arty,” he stuttered between clattering teeth, “b-but I th-think I might d-drop them in th-the s-snow before y-you’d g-get them. Achoo!” He covered his face and turned away.

Artifex offered a well-meaning shrug and a small smile. “Don’t worry about it. You guys need it more than me.”

Sunset remained unconvinced. “Are you really sure? Even Francis looks cold.”

Looking down, Artifex saw his apricot-coated pet was indeed shivering. His face had scrunched up, and snow coated his whiskers. Fluttershy had offered once to knit him a hat, which he now wore without shame, but even then he looked absolutely miserable.

Francis looked up and saw Artifex peering. He meowed, and Artifex nodded. He bent over. “All right, come here.” Placing an arm under the cat’s body, he scooped him up and cradled him neatly in his arm. “There you go. Man, I spoil the heck out of you, don’t I?”

The display got the others to warmly laugh, and he joined in with them.

His foot caught on an uprooted section of sidewalk. Falling forward with a sharp gasp, he managed to stop himself by throwing his cane out and landing on it. “They’ve really got to flatten that thing,” he said. “That’s got to be the fifteenth time this year!”

He meant that as a joke, but then he winced; he’d put an unwelcome amount of pressure on his left leg. Sunset was quick to notice. “Do you need to lean on someone?” she asked.

He graciously shook his head. “No, I’m good. It’s just the cold makes it more susceptible to pain.”

She nodded, though he could tell that neither she nor the others were quite willing to let him go that easily. He would have rolled his eyes at their extravagant display of care.

But then again, it was a welcome burden compared to the years of loneliness and silent anger he’d had to endure.

No Clue puffed out a few more clouds of white air. “Man, how far away is Treble’s house? I don’t think I can keep walking in this weather!”

Artifex smirked and turned to him. “Eager to see Aurora again, are you?”

The boy’s resulting blush was enough to thaw the ice crystals that formed around his eyelashes. “H-hey! We’re just really good friends!”

“Aww, but that’s how all relationships start out,” Sunset said with a smile. “That’s how ours did, anyway. Right, Soul?”

“You said it, babe.” Soul then squinted at Clue. “And no offense, No Clue, but your crush is pretty obvious. When are you going to ask her out?”

“Wh-what? C-crush? What are you talking about?” He let out a nervous laugh. “I don’t have one of those!”

“You’ve got a present addressed to Aurora Veil in your bag,” Artifex pointed out. At Clue’s surprised look, he added, “I saw when you were packing.”

“Oh.” He rubbed the back of his head. “W-well, maybe it’s just a friendly gift, that’s all.”

“Sure it is, big guy.” Sunset giggled. “Don’t worry. I hear Treble’s gonna put up a whole bunch of mistletoe around the house.”

Here, Clue’s face turned bright red. Artifex glanced back at Sunset. “In that case, I’ll be sure to avoid any arches that might come into view.”

She smirked. “Why? Trying to avoid kissing a certain someone?”

“Trying to avoid getting kissed by certain someones. Sometimes I feel like Sonata just really, really wants to make me flustered.”

“Maybe she likes you.”

“She’s been eyeing that Warhawk fella. I’m pretty sure she’s just teasing me at this point.” He sighed. “Ex-sirens.”

Francis purred into his sleeve. He sounded needy. Artifex rolled his eyes and said, “Yes, yes, we’re almost there, Francis. I promise. It’s just up the next hill.” He then shot a glance at Clue and whispered, “Probably.” The other boy groaned.

Minutes passed. The next hill approached. They quickly ascended it, boots stomping into the snow. When they reached the top, they finally saw it.

It stood high, founded on brick pillars, and was as large as Canterlot High. They could see multicolored lights beam through the wide windows. Rows of trees ran alongside a cobblestone path, and they were blanketed in not just snow but colorful lights and tinfoil trinkets.

Clue let out a whistle. “Dang! It’s about as big as Blueblood’s!”

“Better not let him know that,” Soul said. “He might get mad.”

From their point on the path, they saw several other people walking towards the massive doors. At first, they didn’t recognize any of them, but as two stopped in the middle to exchange a quick kiss, Sunset quickly realized who they were.

“Hey, Rarity!” she shouted, cupping her hands over her mouth.

They weren’t that far away, so the girl easily heard her. She turned, and Artifex saw her signature, violet hair bobble. “Oh my gosh! Sunset, darling!” Rarity cried with a gasp.

She and her companion stopped while the others caught up. Closing the distance between them, Artifex then saw that it was Clyde that was next to Rarity. The boy greeted the other with a calm smile. “Hey, Artifex, Soul, Clue. How you doing?”

“C-cold,” Soul stuttered.

“F-freezing,” Clue said.

“So we’re fine,” Artifex snarked. “Though it’s a bit cold.”

“I see you’ve got your presents,” Sunset said, nodding towards the cubic packages in Rarity’s arms. “So you’re ready for the Secret Santa exchange?”

“But of course!” Rarity tossed her hair, throwing some snow into Clyde’s face. “Oops, sorry!”

“It’s okay, Boo.” He jiggled his own presents. “Got mine, too. Hope they like it.”

“What about you, Sunset, dear? Who’s your recipient?”

“Come on, Rarity. You know I can’t tell you that. It’s a ‘Secret Santa,’ remember?”

Rarity pouted. “You’re not even going to give me a hint?”

“Maybe once we’re inside,” Sunset replied with a giggle. “And we should get inside real soon. I don’t want Soul freezing to death out here!”

After exchanging a few more words, they all formed a large group and headed towards the doors. Artifex noted with a bit of awe that the lights on the surrounding trees became brighter when they were next to them. His gaze circumvented around. Even the bushes and the fountain were decorated in Christmas-themed items, and he saw a few snowmen built in the fields.

They reached the massive doors, which were made of solid mahogany. They could hear music—likely Vinyl’s—playing. Rarity pressed the doorbell.

“Wait,” Clue said between chattering teeth. “Do you think they can hear over the noise?”

His question was answered by the sound of someone rushing down the stairs. A moment later, the door was thrust open, and there stood before them a girl with reddish pigtails. Her eyes widened when she saw them. “Oh, hey! You guys are here; awesome!”

“Hello, Gaige, dear,” Rarity said. “We’re not late, are we?”

“Nah, you’re good. The author just decided to have you guys show up at the perfect time.” Seeing Rarity’s confused look. Gaige sighed. “Nevermind. Just come on in!”

The couple went first, followed by Clue (who Gaige teased by saying, “Don’t got gunning after Aurora immediately; at least wait till after eggnog!”), and then Soul and Sunset. When Artifex was about to enter, Gaige’s eyes narrowed. “Oh. It’s Artemis.”

“Hello to you, too, Tool,” he dryly replied. That got a little smile out of her, though it was brief and was quickly replaced with a frown. “Yes, I was invited. Surprise, surprise.”

“Ah, whatever. I guess you can come in.”

“Truly, your hospitality knows no bounds, oh-girl-named-after-a-valve-piece.”

“Baka.”

He walked in, then set Francis down. The cat shook himself to get rid of the snow, then let out a content meow.

It was warm inside the mansion. The others stood in front of him, taking off their boots, scarves, and coats. They put the boots near the door and hung their coats and scarves in a closet.

Noticing that Artifex had only a simple jacket, Rarity asked, “Did you walk here just in that?”

He shrugged. “I’ve had colder springs in Manehattan. But the snow’s at least prettier here than up there.”

Francis meowed, and Artifex let out a light chuckle. “All right. I’ll take your word for it.”

“What did he say?” Rarity asked.

“That the snow here is thicker.”

Behind him, Gaige huffed. “I still can’t get over the fact that you can somehow talk to your cat.”

“Don’t you talk to your robot?”

“Yeah, but that’s normal.”

He paused. “You sure about that?”

“Dude. We all go to a school that has to fight magic crap. Not to mention, we’re all fictional characters. I’m pretty sure me talking to my robot is the most normal thing of all.”

Ignoring her odd comment, he replied, “Well, I’d argue that talking and understanding my cat is not as strange as magical anomalies every year, Gaige. There are probably more people in this world who have a pet and can understand them than there are people with giant, floating, killer toasters.”

“Deathtrap is not a toaster, you baka!”

“You keep saying that and I still don’t understand what it means!”

Soul interrupted their arguing. “Um, where should we put our gifts?”

“Oh, right!” Gaige walked away. “Here, follow me. We’ll put them under the tree.”

Artifex was about to join them, when Francis meowed. He peered down at his cat. “What do you mean you like her?!”

The cat meowed again, and he had a somehow-cheeky look on his face. Artifex sighed. “Yeah, yeah, okay, I’m not one to talk…”

A moment passed. “Artifex? You coming?” Clue asked from around the corner.

“Yep.” He looked around at the mansion, then at the door. He didn’t know how many others would arrive. Another moment passed; then he followed after them.

It had been a long time since Artifex had forgotten to keep track of the time. Presumably, much time passed; yet he cared not for the seconds nor the minutes nor the hours. He was living a golden experience, here in Treble’s mansion. His vision was quick to become dotted by numerous shapes and colors, and his ears were filled with the laughs and songs from friends and strangers alike. All of the sensations pooled in front of him and fell into a singularity. With each blaring of Vinyl’s DJ machine, they all jumped out in prismatic delight, and they danced and spun and whirled around him like a beautiful symphony.

He ate eggnog and fried cookies. He drank cold milk and hot chocolate. Cinnamon tickled his nose and warmed his stomach. Flashes of red ribbon sometimes trailed across his vision, jumping from banister to banister, railing to railing, even table to table. Green complimented them and went even further, jutting from the space between the rails and hanging from the fireplace. Some hung from the walls in circular, decorative wreaths that had little holiday sayings on them (Pinkie’s idea, not Gaige’s or Treble’s).

On occasion, he saw combinations of red-and-green, and these were small and dangled from arches and doorframes. He made good on his word and did his best to avoid them. To this, Sonata visibly deflated. “Don’t you want some of this?” she had asked, forming a V with her arms and pointing down. He did not, and politely told Sonata that she was a good friend. “But I wanna tease you!” she said. He told her that that was someone else’s job but that she was almost good at it.

She’d attempted to follow him wherever he went, and he’d almost been trapped beneath one mistletoe, but somehow he’d been lucky enough to avoid getting a sapphire-smack to the lips. Poor girl needed to get a boyfriend fast. Artifex didn’t know how long he could keep her at bay, even if it was for a little joke.

He’d seen other couples beneath the mistletoe. Soul and Sunset had a quick kiss, but they were virtually the only ones. Rarity and Clyde had a long kiss, while Pinkie and Swift entered into a highly passionate state—Treble had made it clear that the room upstairs was free and could be locked from the inside. Fluttershy had gotten a quick peck from a dark-skinned boy whom Artifex did not know, and Applejack had even gotten a kiss and a blush from a taller, grey-skinned teen. Clue and Aurora were definitely the shyest and had on the most intense of blushes, but they nonetheless managed to join in the festivities with a brief, though cute, one of their own. Only Gaige was the other person to successfully avoid getting caught beneath that plant; as Flash had closed in, she’d picked up a wandering Francis, threw him at the boy, and made a break for it.

Using his cat as a weapon annoyed Artifex, but Francis didn’t seem to mind. He didn’t like Flash, either. Poor kid.

Now Artifex stood at a table, a red paper cup in one hand, while the other absentmindedly stroked a snowdrop tucked in his chest pocket. The flower had been placed by his mother, while his father had helped him with his suit. It brought the family together quite nicely, now that he thought about it. Inside the cup was some sort of juice; though, to be honest, he didn’t feel like drinking.

In front of him was a group of people playing Pin The Tail On Deathtrap. Originally, it’d been Pin The Tail On The Donkey, and several people had gone already, but then Treble got the brilliant idea to roll out a killer death robot, dress him up with makeshift donkey ears, and then prop him right in the middle of the room and have someone attempt to place a leathered item on its back. While Treble laughed at his idea, Sunset and another girl—Hazel, Artifex would later learn—had to hold Gaige back.

He put the cup down and crossed his arms, smirking as he watched Sonata, now up, get spun around several times. Her eyes were covered with a blindfold. The ex-Siren let out a nervous giggle when they stopped spinning her. “Haha, he won’t shoot me, right?” she asked.

“Only if you piss him off,” Treble said. “But don’t worry! Deathtrap is as cool as ice. Or as frosty as our two frosty boys over there!” He pointed to Artifex and Lone. They exchanged confused looks.

“It makes sense for you, but what about for me?” Lone asked.

“If I knew, I would have told you a long time ago,” Artifex replied. They turned back to the game.

“O-okay,” Sonata said. “Umm… Deathtrap? Please don’t shoot me, and I’ll… feed you some raisin cookies later, okay?”

The robot beeped affirmatively (at least, it sounded affirmative in nature), even though Gaige protested, “YOU IDIOT! HE HATES RAISIN COOKIES! THEY’RE LIKE COOKED LIES!”

“Gaige!” Sunset scolded. “If you keep shouting, Deathtrap might turn hostile and shoot Sonata!”

“SO?!”

“Then you’ll go to jail for assisted murder and then you won’t be able to see Flash again and then my ship will sink into the bottomless ocean!” Hazel answered breathlessly.

“WHO GIVES A F*CK?!”

“IT’S MY SHIP, GAIGE! I REFUSE TO LET IT SINK!”

… I wonder if they’re friends?

“H-here I go,” Sonata said. She took a tentative step forward.

Aria was next to Artifex. “If you get shot,” she huffed, “I’m not cleaning up after you.”

He gave her a half-lidded look. “Way to be supportive.”

“Shut up, Frosty.”

“Ouch. Where’s your holiday spirit?”

“Back home, under warm covers. Now shut up and let me watch my sister fail.”

“You are just the epitome of supportive siblings.”

“Why don’t you banter with someone who actually cares? Like Adagio.”

He looked away, both because he was interested in seeing how Sonata fared, and because Aria’s words made him pause. Adagio caring… who would have thought?

And speaking of Adagio, where was she? He hadn’t seen her so far, but Sonata had said she was around. Perhaps she was just lurking.

His gaze returned back to the game. Sonata had not moved from her spot, and Deathtrap was visibly impatient. He let out another beep that made her jump. “Eep! Okay, okay!”

Her slow steps returned. Gradually approaching the robot, she audibly gulped. She was just about to pin the item onto Deathtrap, when:

Pinkie suddenly gasped. “SONATA, NO!”

Sonata shrieked and dropped the tail. She dove to the side and curled up in a ball. “AAGH! PLEASE DON’T SHOOT, MR. DEATHTRAP!”

“Pinkie!” Rarity scolded. “Why did you shout?”

“She was going too far to the right! She would have missed!”

“So for that you had to scare her?!”

“It was a crisis!”

As they were arguing and Sonata remained on the ground, petrified, Artifex looked back to Aria. “Shouldn’t you go comfort her?”

She sighed. “Fine. If you’re so insistent… twerp.”

She put down her cup (Was that beer? Where’d she get that?) and stepped over the others, making her way over to Sonata. “Sonata,” she called, only to be met with whimpering. She sighed. “Sonata!”

“Agh!” Sonata sat up and bumped her forehead against Aria’s face, causing the other ex-Siren to fall back. “OH GOD PLEASE DON’T SHOOT—mmph!”

Her voice was cut off by Aria’s hand covering her mouth. A red spot was forming right over her eye. “Shut. Up.”

She took a deep breath, bent down, and grabbed the leather tail. “Here,” she said, pressing it into the blindfolded girl’s hand. “Get up.”

She got up, slowly, and Aria helped her to her feet. She set her right in front of Deathtrap. “Now walk,” she ordered.

“A-Aria? Are you sure about this—”

Aria suddenly pushed her, causing Sonata to let out another “Eep!” “Just get going!” she shouted.

As Sonata began the slow plod back over to Deathtrap, Aria returned to where she had stood before. She sat on the table and sighed. “Satisfied?” she asked Artifex, giving him a glare.

He offered a submissive chuckle. “Hey, if it works, it isn’t stupid.”

“Oh, screw you.”

Though she was being dismissive of the situation, Artifex noticed that Aria’s gaze was firmly set on her sister, and her hands had clenched into tight fists. There was no doubt that if something happened, she’d be the first on the scene.

Sonata stretched out an arm, biting her teeth and letting out another nervous whimper. “Come on, Sonata!” Clue cheered from the far left. “You got this!”

The others began to join in, and this seemed to calm her down. She gulped, then resumed her walk.

She inched forward, slowly, until her arm was only mere centimeters from Deathtrap’s body. She wavered; her arm shifted left, then right, then up, just barely missing the robot’s shoulder. She paused and gulped. Her arm fell. She pressed forward. “Oh please oh please oh please oh please—”

When Deathtrap let out an affirmative, squeaky beep, she jumped back. But the belt wasn’t in her hand.

“You did it!” Pinkie cried. “Nice job, Nata!”

“Huh?”

Pinkie came over and undid the blindfold, allowing the ex-Siren to see. Sure enough, there, pinned to Deathtrap’s back, was the leather item itself.

The weight of what had just transpired finally began to sink in, and Sonata rocketed up, laughing and crying with relief. The room broke out into more cheers. Aria looked particularly happy, though Artifex refrained from mentioning it.

Throughout those gathered, he recognized the playful cackle of Adagio. He looked around, at first not seeing her; then she appeared from around the corner, holding Francis, scratching his chin. The cat appeared content and sleepy. She saw Artifex looking, and nodded and smiled at him; he returned the gesture.

The game went on without interruption. Each time his friends went up, Artifex was there to cheer them on. When it was his turn, they all cheered as well, and it made him feel warm and tingly inside. He’d missed the holidays and spending it among people he loved.

But it—the game—had to end eventually. Deathtrap was moved to the side, near Gaige (at her insistence), and the space was cleared. The presents and gifts they each had brought were placed on the ground. They came in an assortment of greens and reds and whites and blues; on each was the recipient’s name, but not the giver’s.

“All right, readers and authors!” Treble addressed. “Now that we’ve come to the crux of this bonus chapter, it’s time for our Secret Santa Gift Exchange!”

“Readers?” Swift asked.

“Authors?” Lone asked.

“Hey, are you questioning my sanity again? What did I tell about questioning my sanity?”

“Uh… you didn’t tell us anything—”

“That’s right, OC of Frost Guardian! You don’t question my sanity!”

As Lone’s head visibly rolled, Soul cleared his throat. “Anyway… I guess we should get started. How is this going to work, Treble?”

“Glad you asked, Soul!” He cracked his fingers, adopting an eerily sinister grin. “We each take turns looking for our gift and taking it back to our spots. Once everyone has their gifts, we take a guess on who gave us them based on the package itself! Then we go in a circle and open the gifts and see if we guessed right.”

“That seems surprisingly tame, babe,” Vinyl said from somewhere to Artifex’s side.

“Eh. The author didn’t think it was a good idea to turn Christmas into a chainsaw massacre or something like that.”

“Who?”

“Nevermind that. Anyway, let’s get gift-getting!”

They moved quickly. Each person, even the newcomers, received a neatly wrapped package. Artifex’s was among the smallest, much to his surprise but not disappointment, while Pinkie’s was the largest. He gave his an experimental shake; it didn’t rustle. Pinkie, meanwhile, was busy peering at her gift from every corner. Somehow she managed to shake the huge thing so hard that the ribbon around it partially slipped.

Eventually, they all had their gifts. Treble clapped his hands. “Everyone ready? Good! Then let’s get started!”

He picked his up—it was a cube shape, and seemed a bit heavy. Yet he was able to easily spin it on one of its vertices atop his finger. “Hey, author! Wanna help me out here?”

No.

“No?” He growled. “Fine! I don’t need your help anyway! I bet it’s Rainbow’s!”

He stopped spinning it, then placed a finger on his chin. “Hmm. Or maybe it’s Gaige. Or it could be Soul or Lone, actually. Hmm. Hmmm. Hmmmmmmm—”

“Treble, quit humming!” Soul exclaimed, rubbing his temples. He then picked up his own gift. “Well… usually I’d like to get a gift from Sunset, but… I think it’s Pinkie who got me something.” He looked expectantly at the pink-haired girl.

She giggled, but revealed nothing, and he sighed. “Then again, I’ve been wrong before.”

It went much like that for the rest of the exchange. Pinkie guessed Vinyl; Vinyl guessed Sunset; Sunset guessed Rarity; Rarity guessed Applejack; Applejack guessed Clyde; Clyde guessed Swift; Swift guessed Hazel; Hazel guessed Gaige; Gaige guessed Artifex; Artifex guessed Sonata; Sonata guessed Aria. Aria let out an annoyed huffed and guessed, begrudgingly, Adagio.

“You wish,” Adagio muttered. She cleared her throat, then looked to the dark-skinned boy who was next to Fluttershy. She gave a sultry smile. “Well, I think my guess is obvious…”

The boy blushed. Artifex still didn’t know who he was, but judging by the way he and Fluttershy exchanged embarrassed glances… well, he could certainly make an educated guess regarding who he was to her.

The boy then guessed that his gift came from Aurora; then Aurora guessed her gift came from Clue (predictable, though Artifex admitted it was kind of cute). Clue frowned and looked around. “Well… I guess Treble, then.”

Treble snorted. “Ha! You wish! … Actually, I forget who mine is—I mean, ha! You wish!”

“You already said that,” Aurora said quietly.

“Sorry, who are you?”

“Ouch.”

“Settle down, guys,” Applejack advised. “Now, since we’ve each guessed our gifter, Ah guess it’s high-time we get to unwrapping these, ain’t that right?”

With a flurry of arms, much like the snow flurries outside, paper was thrown and shredded. Boxes were torn open, by hand or by gently slicing the tape, and packages were peeled of their coverings. Soon, the floor was littered in snowflake-covered greens and reds and ribbons and papers hung across the sofas’ arms.

Rarity was the first to scream. “AAAAH! Is this Coloratura’s Prismatic Perfume?” She looked at the card that was attached and opened it. Her eyes went wide. “Wait… Applejack?”

The farm girl chuckled. Something in her eye twinkled. “Would you believe that Rara and I are still pretty close after all this time?”

“You’re friends with a celebrity? Oh, I feel faint…”

“That makes one of us right,” Clyde said, before opening his gift. “Huh. New basketball shoes, a jersey… wow, thanks, Pinkie!”

“Teehee! No problem, Clyde!”

One by one, their gifts were revealed, and while most were wrong, their joy was felt and was as true as any other truth. Artifex saw his friends’ gifts and did not, sadly, recognize all of what they were; he had not known them long enough to understand the strange, laser-sworded figuring given to Soul by Fluttershy, nor did he get the significance of the nun outfit given to Treble by Vinyl, or why the boy’s face became deathly pale. But it was clear that all their knick-knacks, their memorabilia, meant much to them, and he could not deny that, strange as some of the gifts were, he felt the same.

He opened his gift and frowned. It was a box of what seemed to be pens. There was a post-it note, addressed to one “Baka,” and he instantly looked up. “Um… Gaige?”

“Just read the label, baka,” she said, holding up a miniature figure that resembled a robot; Artifex somehow remembered it was a gundam. “Huh. Not bad, Soul. At least it isn’t that dweeby Star Wars stuff.”

“Hey!”

Artifex read the label. The pens were no ordinary pens. The ink they spewed came in black and blue and red, and when they touched the paper, they could come out as a 3D pipe-like structure, like wiring. The picture on the package showed someone doing caligrophy with it, and the signature looked incredibly stunning.

As an experiment, he grabbed one of the wrapping papers and signed his name. Artifex Frost came out as a deep blue, and with a flourish of his wrist, he brought the “ost” out and about, so that it was poised in the air and hung like a leaf from a tree.

He smiled. “Awesome,” he said, nodding to Gaige. She, surprisingly, offered him a tolerant smile. They weren’t the best of friends, but they were by no means the worst of enemies.

“We’re not?”

Quiet, Gaige.

Artifex looked over, to where Sunset stood. She had opened her gift and was now reading the card taped to it. Her mouth was moving up and down as she read it to herself. Her brow furrowed, as did his. Was something wrong? Did she not like the gift?

She looked up and saw him watching, and he looked away out of mild embarrassment. Amidst the throng, he heard her approach, and when he turned to look at her, he found her smiling at him.

“Hello, Sunset,” he said.

“Hello, Artifex. Thanks for the gift.”

“How’d you guess? I didn’t sign the card.”

She held the card up. “I recognize a wordsmith when I see one, you know.”

Now he was blushing, and he turned away. “Ha, well, I had a lot to say. Think of it as… a thank-you letter. For, you know, being my first friend and all.”

“And it was a very kind letter,” she said. “You certainly live up to your namesake.”

She stood next to him, holding his gift, and he took this chance to look at it. It was a leather-bound notebook, simply made, with minimal craftsmanship or design to it. Its pages were the color of aged wax. He remembered picking it up in a general goods store while he was with a inky-haired friend and thinking it was a good place to write in.

“Not that I don’t appreciate this,” Sunset said, holding it in front of him, “but I already have a notebook.”

He nodded. “That’s true. But this is for something different.”

“Really? What for?”

He gestured for her to give it to him, and she did, and he opened up to a random page. It was blank. “I know that that journal you have. It’s for talking with that Princess Twilight, right? Inter-dimensional communications.” He searched for the word, again. “A ‘phonebook.’”

She giggled. “Yeah, that’s right.”

“And I’d imagine— correct me if I’m wrong— that you’d use that journal to write to Princess Twilight for advice.” He looked pointedly at her. “Like, for example, if you need to find out a way to defeat a baddie, or for more personal comfort.”

The last point made her visibly wince, but she nodded. “Yeah, that’s right, too.”

He shook the notebook now in his hand. “Well, I thought that there might be a chance that there would be things that you didn’t want even Princess Twilight to know. Things you’d want to work out on your own.” He paused, hesitant. “After all… you said you understood a lot of where I’m coming from.”

She did understand, and she nodded, and he did not need to explain that point further. “So,” he continued, “I figured, maybe it’s a good idea to have a private place, all to yourself, where you can figure out things the way you see fit. Granted, I doubt you’re much of a writer, but you’ve got a story to tell. And it might bring you solace. Who knows?”

He rubbed the back of his head. “And I know, it’s a bit weird and all, and it might have been cooler to get you a flaming sun decal for you car—”

He was interrupted by her squeezing hug. “It’s fine, Artifex. I get it. Thank you very much; it’s a very thoughtful gift.” She was smiling. “It’s very much like you, and that’s the best kind of gift; the kind that comes from a person, not from a store.”

“Technically, I got it from a store—”

“Just appreciate the adage, Artifex.”

He smiled, too. “I will, Sunset.”

That was when Treble released the second surprise of the evening: “All right! Now who wants some birthday cake?”

Artifex, Lone, Clue, and Aurora looked up, confused. “Birthday cake?” Lone asked. “Don’t you mean, Christmas cake?”

“Well, I guess it’s the same thing at this point,” said Treble. He was grinning; why did that look different? “I mean, her birthday is on Christmas and all.”

“Whose birthday?”

Artifex noted a deep, deep red coming off the side. Following it, he found Gaige, her face lit up into the color of her hair. He began to connect the dots. “Gaige—”

“It’s Gaige’s! My little sister!” Treble shouted over him. “Oh, don’t look so surprised, dear sister! You knew this was gonna happen!”

Gaige squeaked and tried to cover her face. “Baka! It’s just a birthday, no big deal!”

“No big deal?” Lone asked, turning to her with a serene smile. “I think it’s a pretty big deal.” At that, Gaige’s face immediately flushed crimson.

“Save the flirting for later,” Treble said. “For now, let’s cut the cake!”

It was much later, when the sky was the color of raspberries and the light that came from the house only shined so far into the night and the streetlights were all turned on with a coppery glow that melted the snow that landed on top, when Artifex stepped outside into the backyard. The moon cast a long shadow behind him.

He was full. Not just of delicious food and cake, but of happiness and contentment. His hair had been ruffled by numerous hugs and by Sonata, and he could still feel her sloppy lips plant themselves on his cheek. She was resilient, he gave her that. His cane was in his hand.

He could hear everyone else inside, still enjoying the festivities. And while he wasn’t not enjoying them, he felt he needed a little bit of space to himself, and out here, with the moon as his only company, he felt that was a good space. Inside, they were singing a familiar Christmas carol, with Vinyl’s wubs turned off and the radio playing Chestnuts Roasting On An Open Fire. They’d previously been sharing some holiday stories. He hummed a little, but didn’t really sing along.

It was a bit cold, and for some reason, the air smelled faintly of peppermint. He breathed in and out. The air invigorated him, kept him awake. His breath came out as nebulous piles of gas that quickly evaporated and vanished. He absentmindedly tried to follow them up, into the light of the moon, but they only went up so far before he could no longer see them.

The singing inside stopped. Laughter followed. Several more holiday stories were shared. He was tempted to join them, but he liked it out here. After all, he didn’t have many stories to tell…

No, that was wrong. There were always stories to tell, that he knew, that he’d been taught. But he felt okay out here, and he figured that was okay, too. A break wouldn’t hurt, ironically enough.

He wondered if he should have brought a drink with him. But he wasn’t thirsty, and his throat was clear.

The singing resumed. Francis was probably inside as well. Artifex briefly imagined him trying to sing along. He’d had too much punch to drink, that silly cat.

Would anyone join him out there? It was so nice out, and he couldn’t imagine everyone could stay inside and avoid the view. He liked the snow as it sparkled beneath the moon, and he liked the little wind that blew through his hair, and he liked the loud silence out here.

His question, he knew, would be answered soon; and soon came quickly, in the form of a familiar form creaking open the wooden door and stepping out.

“Not cold?” she asked. It was such a natural question. She didn’t need to greet him or introduce herself or set up a pretense, and he liked that.

He shook his head. “Not at all.”

“Hmm. It isn’t too cold, I suppose.”

Adagio walked up next to him. Together they looked to the great, big world beyond.

“It’s a beautiful night out,” Adagio said.

“Yes. It is.”

“Reminds me of Equestria.”

“How so?”

She swept an arm across the horizon. “The moon… it’s the same as the one back there. And the stars and the clouds. They may not be powered by magic, but they still look the same and act the same.”

“Do you ever miss home?”

“As a fish might miss the open sea.”

“Sirens are fish?”

“We’re more related to seaponies.”

“I bet your laugh comes out as a neigh.”

She laughed, and it didn’t, and he smiled. “And I bet you’ve got ice in your blood, Artifex.”

“Maybe. But it melts over time.”

Another song came on, but somehow, their friends voices sounded fainter. Adagio hummed a little bit.

“You still sing?” he asked her.

“On the occasion. Like Sonata, I’ve been practicing. It’s strange, not having to rely on my amulet to do that, but I suppose there’s more satisfaction to be found in doing something on your own.” She looked at Artifex, smirking. “Though, there’s nothing quite the rush I get when I completely overpower someone’s will.”

He didn’t shy away from that, retorting, “Oh, wow, that sounds so not bad or anything, Adagio. Really. Why don’t you rob a bank while you’re at it?”

“Banks are no fun. They get easy and predictable after a while.”

“You really are an ex-supervillain.”

“One of my more endearing qualities. Many like it. Do you like it?”

“Of course.”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

She then looked at his chest, at his pocket. “Gallanthus,” she said.

“Snowdrop,” he replied.

“We’re both right. Brought it yourself?”

“Of course.”

“Going to plant it?”

“Maybe later.” It was a nice conversation, he thought; very simple.

They returned to looking outside. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw some lights turn on. The fountains were off and covered, but they were still decorated in yellow orbs that stretched around their bases.

“Four months,” Adagio suddenly said.

“Hmm?”

“Four months since we first met,” she clarified, turning to him. “Can you believe that?”

“I think I can; I was there, all throughout.”

“Funny. Four months, Artifex, since we first met, since I first hurt you. And now, here we are, standing side-by-side, looking up at a full moon.”

“First of all, it’s not a full moon. It’s slightly waning. And secondly,” he added, growing a bit serious, “there was never a first time. There was an only time. Nothing after that.”

She nodded, but appeared a bit grim. “That remains to be seen, doesn’t it?”

He sighed. “I guess so.”

She looked down at her nails. “It’s strange, don’t you think? This… thing we have.”

“This friendship?”

“You could call it that.”

“It is a bit strange. An ex-Siren and an ordinary human, as friends.”

She shook her head. “You are no ordinary human, Artifex. Across all my years, I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone quite like you.”

“I don’t know if I should be glad or worried.”

She laughed a little. “There you go again, so witty when the situation doesn’t demand it. You are a strange man, Artifex Frost.”

He laughed with her. “And you are a strange woman, Adagio Dazzle.”

They laughed and stood there and looked at the moon and the stars and the heavens, all the while listening to their friends sing and talk in the background, their voices becoming indistinguishable from one another, and eventually fading into someplace far beyond consciousness.

Now it played a tune unfamiliar to Artifex. It didn’t sound Christmas-related, but it was soft and melodic.

His foot lightly tapped against the wide, concrete sidewalk. He followed the tune with his head and his eyes, bobbing ever so slightly, listening for the changes. He looked at Adagio, and saw that she had her eyes closed, and she was also bobbing to the gentle beat.

Something deep within him called out, something strong, something overpowering. And he knew he should listen to it. It was his heart, telling him another truth.

As her eyes opened and turned to him, he held out his hand, palm facing upward. A smile crossed his lips.

“Your leg,” she said.

The cane fell away, and it hit the ground with a soft thud. It was then that she took his hand, a smile of her own forming on her face.

Together, they moved and breathed and stepped. They did so, slowly, but with all the passion and fire of a salsa. Adagio was right; Artifex was a good dance partner. He knew all the moves, how to swing, how to rotate. And Adagio knew how not only how to follow along, but also how to take the lead and push him in a new direction he’d never gone for. They had little practice; they moved on the first take, like seasoned veterans, bending and spinning and twirling seamlessly like two snowflakes in the wind.

Artifex stared into Adagio’s eyes; and she into his; and their hearts, their very beings, were intertwined. Their faces were inches apart. The flower in his chest seemed to blossom.

And if one squinted hard enough, at the shadows that they cast, they’d have seen the two merge into one for the first, and far from the last, time.