Happy December 23rd gang gang. I did it! Down to the wire but I've successfully completed the level of Christmas project I've wanted to do for years but couldn't commit. Things weren't looking good earlier this week. I had to cancel my travel plans due to wild weather predictions (it's literally the calm before the storm here rn and everything feels surreal, especially that I'm posting this a 7:30 AM rather than PM because I was too stressed to sleep in before work) and basically my Christmas spirit fizzled out around Tuesday. But Mika brought it back. Go figure. And here we are. I... I'm just gonna say it. I'm proud of this one.
Enjoy.
･: ･ﾟ: on the 12th day of Christmas :･ﾟ:･
"Good Tidings We Bring (Wherever You Are)"
There was no Christmas Morning gift exchange in Vampire Mountain. Which was good because there wouldn't have been time. They assembled in the kitchen at an ungodly hour to begin preparations for what would be the most magnificent feast since the Festival of the Undead.
Hale was the second to arrive, after Seba. He was bright-eyed and chipper. Unlike his former apprentice turned professional successor who arrived shortly after Hale. Larten looked like he was running on an hour of sleep at the most, which didn't add up because Hale hadn't seen him at last night's party.
Harkat and Vanez were the next to arrive. As per usual both were in good spirits. And finally, Mika and Arrow made their appearance. Both looked like they'd gotten as much sleep as Larten.
"Was there a party in the Hall of Princes we didn't get invited to?" Hale snorted.
"Mika made me read the Die Hard movies." Said Arrow. And as spacey as he looked, he still managed to shoot Hale a sheepish grin.
"I really want to ask." Said Hale, raising an eyebrow in polite confusion. "But if we don't start cooking right now, Seba's going to fire all of us."
"Me first." Mika yawned. Then he glared at Arrow. "And I didn't make you read anything. I seem to recall reading them to you because you're the slowest fucking reader on the planet."
"Well, I didn't ask you to do that!" Said Arrow.
"I didn't have a choice!" Mika's voice was notably hoarse from overuse. "And I didn't see you complaining. You just sat there like the big bald baby you are. We'd still be on the first one if I let you set the pace!"
"I've met… much slower readers." Harkat interjected, gesturing over his shoulder at Larten who glared daggers at him. The others laughed, and were still laughing when Seba reappeared holding what looked like an armful of aprons and looking baffled as to why they were all still standing there.
"Quartermaster Crepsley, I trust you have prepared a list of assignments for everyone?" Said Seba.
Larten shot Seba a funny look, as if he didn't know why he felt the need to ask. "Of course I have. I was just getting to that. Harkat and Seba will bake the biscuits. Mika and Vanez will prepare the stew. Arrow and Hale will cook the meat. I will check on the Hall of Khledon Lurt and ensure everything is ready, and then I will go down to the storage caverns to get the plates. Only our finest will do for tonight."
"Are you sure you would not like me to assist you with the finishing touches on the Hall?" Seba asked earnestly. "I have complete faith in you. But my predecessor worked alongside me the first time I coordinated a feast at the Festival of the Undead."
"I appreciate the offer. But this is not the Festival of the Undead." Larten replied with a forced smile. "I will be fine."
"Perhaps we should wash and prepare the everyday plates? In case you are not able to locate -"
"I will find them, Seba."
Seba nodded respectfully and didn't object. Larten cast his stern gaze back over the group as a whole. "Any questions? Charna's guts. What, Mika?"
"Where's the recipe?"
"What recipe?"
"For the stew I'm allegedly in charge of."
"There is no recipe. You cut up vegetables and you put them in a pot."
"Which vegetables? Which pot?"
Larten held his ground, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow at Mika. "You are notoriously successful in all of your endeavours - as you frequently remind everyone. I have complete faith you will figure it out."
Mika was having absolutely none of it.
"Do you actually feel that way? Or do you just not know where the recipes are because you can't read? I don't even like stew. Can I have a different assignment?"
"There are no other assignments."
"What would you say if I just left?"
"I would say do not let the door hit you on the way out. Sire."
Hale could've stood there all day listening to them argue. It was the best comedy she'd seen in decades. But alas they were on a schedule.
Hale and Arrow headed for the main area of the kitchen where the meat was waiting. The main course of the feast would be a magnificent elk that had been hunted near the mountain the previous night. The kitchen staff had already cleaned and carved the carcass before taking their temporary leave. All there was left to do was season and cook the slabs of juicy meat.
It's no secret that the Princes are pretty spoiled in Vampire Mountain. The most they have to work for their meals is walk down to the Hall of Khledon Lurt. Sometimes they don't even have to leave the Hall of Princes - on busy days the staff bring them takeout. There's no reason for them to set foot in the kitchen. So Hale figured Arrow would at least need a moment to look around and get his bearings before diving into the task. But he didn't even hesitate. He strolled right over to the enormous wooden knife block in the corner and began examining them one by one.
"They're not even sharp." Arrow reported in dismay. "I'm going to have to tell Larten to bring that up next time he meets with the head cook. These are good knives. But they won't last if nobody takes care of them."
"I'll get started on the seasoning while you sharpen them. I see the stone over there." Said Hale as she began to dig through the cupboard of various bottled spices and herbs. When she glanced back over her shoulder she was surprised to see Arrow looking back at her with a sheepish little half-grin.
"I was hoping I could make the seasoning. I've got a great recipe. And it's been a while since I got to use it."
"Have at it." Said Hale. "I was just going to throw a bunch of spices into a bowl and hope for the best."
Arrow grimaced, but his hazel eyes were sparkling as he shook his head in mock exasperation. "Charna's guts, you're a menace! Step away from that pantry. Go sharpen the knives instead. And count yourself lucky I'm not giving you a lifetime ban from this kitchen."
The thing about being a female vampire is that you'll inevitably loose count over how many times over the decades your male peers tell you to get back in the kitchen and make them a sandwich. With that said, Hale had reached a point in her career where most people knew better than to spew misogynistic garbage in her direction.
And then there's her boss.
Not only did Arrow know better, he'd practically just told her to get out of the kitchen and let him do his thing.
Hale didn't hesitate to gather up the knives. She set about running them carefully over the sharpening stone on the counter, pausing to glance over at Arrow every so often. He was measuring out each spice with the concentration and intensity of a brain surgeon. What really stood out to her was that he was never usually one to get hung up on finicky details. (That's why he needs Mika. They balance each other out).
"You've done this before." Hale remarked.
Arrow smiled in response but didn't take his eyes off the measuring spoon. "This seasoning recipe was passed down through Sarah's family through generations. The paper copy's long gone but I have it memorized. Thirteen ingredients. Different amounts of each."
"I see. Probably best I handle the knives and leave the real work to you. I'd hate to be the one who ruined Christmas because I used a tablespoon of paprika instead of a teaspoon." Hale offered, punctuating it with an attempt at a comfortable laugh. It wasn't that she was uncomfortable at the mention of Sarah. She just didn't have a lot of experience navigating these particular waters of conversation with Arrow. And she really didn't want to capsize.
"I spent years feeding a family of seven. I don't like to brag, but I got pretty good at it." Said Arrow. He sounded a little distracted, like he was paying more attention to the spices than to the words he was saying.
"It's not bragging if it's true." Said Hale.
"So Sarah used to tell me." Arrow chuckled.
"I didn't know how to cook before I met her. But once we settled down, I figured the least I could do was learn. She had to do a lot on her own. The damn sunlight kept me trapped in our house while she got the children to and from school, picked up supplies in town and whatnot. She never complained, though. I'd make supper for everyone before I left for work, and I'd start on breakfast as soon as I got home. And every Christmas I hunted wild game for us to feast on. And Sarah and I would make this seasoning together while the children played with their presents -"
Then his whole demeanour shifted out of nowhere. As if his mind had abruptly rejoined his body on earth. He looked over at her, eyes wide with concern. Remorse?
"What? Wrong spice?" Hale asked, even though she knew it wasn't that.
"No. I just… I'm sorry, Hale." Arrow groaned, his normally handsome face twisting into a pained grimace. "That was inappropriate. I'm sure the last thing you want to do on Christmas is be trapped in here listening to me wander down memory lane. I just never really talk about her. Well, sometimes to Mika. But not that often. I got carried away. And I'm sorry."
Hale took a moment to consider her response. Arrow's loss wasn't fresh, but his grief was profound. She got the impression it brought him comfort to revisit his old life. And once the initial alarm wore off, she realized didn't feel awkward over the memories he'd shared with her. If anything she felt honoured. She firmly held Arrow's gaze, meeting the doubt in his hazel eyes with calm acceptance.
"I don't mind." She told him steadily. "I promise. Your old life sounds beautiful. If talking about it brings you peace, then you should talk as much as you want." She paused once more, needing the extra moment to decide whether to add the footnote or to bite her tongue and leave it at that. Something told her to go for it. "Not to mention Mika could probably use a break from being your designated listening ear after all those years. If I have to take one for the clan to preserve his sanity, so be it."
Deploying the joke was the correct decision. That was all it took to bring back that big, wide, one-of-a-kind grin that could light up a room. But what really made her heart swell was that his reaction implied an unspoken affirmation that he really did consider her to be even close to the same level as his greatest friend.
It took Arrow another minute to gather his words. They were short and simple, but it was plain as day he meant them with his whole heart.
"Thanks, Hale. You've been good to me. Good for me. You never miss. And I'm happy to be spending this Christmas here with you."
There was something else. Something more. A strange sort of urgency deep in his eyes, like there was more he wanted to say but he just couldn't.
But she already knew. He didn't have to worry.
Take your time, she wanted to tell him. I'm not going anywhere.
"It was a good year. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else." She said instead.
They continued in silence for some time. Hale moved on to carving the meat into portions and handing them to Arrow so he could rub the legendary seasoning into them. Although massage might've been a more accurate description for the way he handled each cut. He didn't just know how to cook. He loved to cook.
"You also did some carpentry while you were living in the human world, right?" Hale spoke up eventually, keeping her tone deliberately casual. "I remember you mentioning it while we were out in the field a few years ago - that night with the blizzard when we had to build a shelter out of branches."
"Sure did. I took a job offer from a man who didn't mind that I was only available to work during the night." Arrow recounted with a soft chuckle. "I knew even less about carpentry than cooking when I started. But obviously I could handle a heavier workload than any human. So the boss was more than willing to accommodate my 'severe allergy to the sun'. It was humble work but I grew to enjoy it."
"You know, there's some irony in the fact that line of humble work undoubtedly paid better than your current job does." Said Hale as she handed him another cut of meat.
"Believe it or not, I think about that several times a week." Said Arrow. He rubbed the seasoning into the juicy meat just as tenderly as all the ones before it. Then he paused his labour for a moment so he could lean both hands on the table and shoot her a wayward smile. "And don't tell anybody… but I think I was better at my last job."
"Yeah, don't worry." Hale snorted. "I'll keep that secret locked in the vault. And so should you."
･ﾟ: ･ﾟ: :･ﾟ:･ﾟ
For the second time in less than a week, Vanez felt a surge of affection as he was reminded how much faith his colleagues still had in him. He heard a muffled thump of someone putting a bag of something on the wooden table he was seated at, and the metallic hiss of a knife accompanied by Mika's voice.
"Alright. Seba went through the archives and found a stew recipe that looks halfway edible. We're going with that. You cut the carrots and I'll look for a pot."
"I can certainly try." Said Vanez. "But if someone finds my severed finger in their stew, I'll tell them I was just following your orders."
Mika let out a sigh of profound exasperation - at himself. "Fuck. I forgot you're blind. Never mind. I'll do it."
Vanez busied himself by peeling potatoes instead, which he was slightly safer and proved to be less dependent on sight than he would've expected. He could feel when each potato was done, then he'd toss it into the bucket and grab the next one.
They were about an hour in when he heard a sharp hiss of pain from a few feet away, followed quickly by a loud cuss and the smell of blood.
"OW! CHARNA'S FUCKING GUTS! SON OF A BITCH!"
"Perhaps I should have chopped the carrots after all." Vanez snorted. "How many fingers did you lop off, Sire?"
For a moment there was no answer.
"I don't know." Mika mumbled back eventually, sounding a little shellshocked. "I'm afraid to look."
"Well, I do not know what you expected using that blade for such delicate work." Seba contributed, devoid of any sympathy for Mika's plight. "It is almost as if you tried to do your job poorly on purpose in hopes you would be reassigned. And it backfired on you mightily. At least, that is the conclusion I would draw if I did not know any better."
"Good thing you know better." Mika growled.
Seba wasn't fazed.
"Unwrap your hand - and throw away that bloody towel you have ruined. Let me see the wound. Pfft! Barely a scratch. Rub some spit on it and get back to work."
"You'll have to try harder than that to get off stew duty." Vanez teased Mika out of the corner of his mouth once he heard Seba's footsteps retreat. He swore he could hear Mika's eyes roll in a complete circle, and he definitely heard him mutter under his breath,
"I don't even fucking like stew."
But a moment later Vanez heard him spit into his hand, then rub it gingerly into the wound. There was another muttered cuss, a low growl of discomfort, and finally the crisp sound of carrots splitting under the blade as he got back to work.
"How you doing over there, Master Mulds? Better than Mika, I hope." Said Vanez, casting his voice towards the left corner of the kitchen where he could hear Harkat cutting shapes into the flattened sheet of biscuit dough.
"So far… so good. The biscuits will be… shaped like… snowmen. I thought that… would be… fun."
"They're supposed to be snowmen?" Mika cut in. "I thought you were making a plate of biscuit dicks."
"…Dicks?"
"That's what they're shaped like."
It was a truly momentous moment in Vampire Mountain history. It was the first time Harkat let out a protracted groan of impatience that made him sound like he was heavily considering beating Mika over the head with the pan.
"Why… on earth… would I be making… biscuit dicks?"
"So you could tell Larten to eat one and we could all have a good laugh about it?" Was Mika's theory.
"Speaking of Larten, where is he?" Vanez interjected. Things were a little too quiet. He hadn't heard the Quartermaster's voice or frenzied footsteps in at least an hour.
"He went… down to the storage caverns… looking for… the good plates." Said Harkat. "That was… an hour ago."
"We don't have good plates." Said Mika. "Trust me. I work here."
"I don't know if they're good, necessarily." Said Vanez. "But they have some sort of historical significance he felt was relevant to tonight's celebration. Or something like that. I don't know. He was telling me about it yesterday but I stopped paying attention."
"Should I tell him they were probably thrown away when we did that massive renovation down in cavern D-7 fifty years ago while he was off working for the circus?"
"I wouldn't worry about it. If he hasn't already figured it out, I'm sure he'll get there on his own."
･ﾟ: ･ﾟ: :･ﾟ:･ﾟ
Seba would never have admitted it in a million years. Even the most gruesome of torture couldn't have pried the truth from his lips. But there was a moment - just one moment - where was convinced the entire event was doomed to go off the rails and the last remaining hope was for Seba himself to step forward. To dust off the mantle of Quartermaster and take charge of the situation before it spiralled any further out of Larten's control.
First of all, they were running late. The feast was supposed to start half an hour ago. But Larten insisted they use the nice plates for this. And nobody could find them. Anywhere. But Larten was bound and determined they still existed, and was convinced they were stored deep in one of the lower storage caverns. And now nobody could find Larten.
"Shouldn't we just start setting the food out?" Hale asked. A valid question, but Seba sighed in resignation. Then Mika went on to say exactly what Seba was going to say - just with less tact.
"On what plates? We didn't bother setting the tables because Larten swore to the fucking gods he knew where to find a box of antiques I absolutely guarantee no longer exists."
"What about… the everyday… plates?" Harkat suggested.
Mika shot that one down too. His ammunition was straight facts:
"They're all over there in that bucket, covered in last night's food because the people who normally wash them have the day off."
"Have some faith." Arrow protested. "When has Larten ever not come through?"
Mika didn't even hesitate.
"His investiture."
Arrow laughed so hard he had to sit down. Seba thanked the vampire gods Arrow's laugh was louder than a thunderclap, because nobody heard Seba exhale a brief but decisive snort. Because that was pretty funny.
"The guests are… getting restless." Harkat reported, peeking around the corner of the kitchen door.
As if on cue, a loud, harsh voice carried over to the kitchen from one of the tables near the back. A disgruntled guard making a passing remark to his friend: "The feasts always started on time when Nile was Quartermaster. What the hell is Crepsley playing at?"
He couldn't have known that everyone lurking in the kitchen could hear him. But they did. Seba's amusement fizzled out like a candle in a blizzard. It broke his heart but it wasn't fair to keep everyone waiting.
"I will go out and address the crowd." Seba declared. "I will apologize for the delay and assure them the feast will begin soon. The rest of you, start cleaning the dirty dishes."
"That'll take another hour." Hale groaned.
"It is our only choice."
"You realize this'll look terrible on Larten, right? His first big event and it starts an hour and a half late. The food will have gone cold." Said Vanez.
Seba's heart sank further yet.
"I am aware. But the show must go on."
He turned to face the door, taking a moment to straighten his back and adjust his collar. But before he could slip out the door and start the walk of shame to the front of the room, something unprecedented occurred.
･ﾟ: ･ﾟ: :･ﾟ:･ﾟ
"The feasts always started on time when Nile was Quartermaster. What the hell is Crepsley playing at?"
The words landed in Mika's ear like a mosquito. If he was more prone to following his baser impulses, he would've marched right over to the guy and said, Hey asshole, fuck you, only we're allowed to make fun of him.
But the fact of the matter is that Mika Ver Leth is a consummate professional. When it's time to get down to business he's as serious as a heart attack. But when the time for business has come and gone… let's just say he's highly trained in working the room. No matter what the mood is.
He watched Seba steel himself to walk out and cover for Larten. Seba would've gone out and killed it, that much was sure. He never missed. It wasn't fair that he had to shoulder the responsibility of Larten's failure.
No.
Seba made Larten. So Larten never missed either. He just needed more time. If there was one thing Larten could do with perfect consistency, it was fuck off to do something inexplicably stupid… and come back in a way nobody could've anticipated.
Mika grabbed Arrow's arm, dragging him along as he darted past Seba and out the door.
"Mika, what the fuck are you doing?!" Arrow hissed out of the corner of his mouth.
"My apologies, everyone." Mika addressed the crowd at large as he strolled up the aisle - still with a shocked and unprepared Arrow in tow. "Please don't blame Quartermaster Crepsley for the delay. The fault lies with Sire Arrow and myself. We told him the meal was not to be served until we had a chance to deliver our speech. And that took a bit longer to prepare than we expected."
The crowd seemed appeased by that, there was a smattering of applause as the two Princes got to the front of the room. All eyes on them. Arrow, however, was not appeased. Not in the slightest. Mika watched his jaw clench with panic.
"I can't do this." Arrow croaked. "You know I can't just get up and improvise like you."
"Hey. It's not a real speech. It's just you and me and a few of our friends. Just follow my lead. I got you."
"And I hate you."
See, Arrow likes talking to people. He adores his clan. And he's not a bad speaker by any means. He can effortlessly take charge in a meeting, or a battle, or a sporting competition. There's just something about standing up at the front of a full room delivering any semblance of a formal address that completely unhinges the poor man. Mika, on the other hand, absolutely thrives on that shit. The spotlight is his safe space. No, he didn't get nearly enough attention as a child. (But he doesn't see how that's relevant to any of this).
There's a little podium type of thing at the front of the Hall of Khledon Lurt. It's got a steel funnel-shaped apparatus that amplifies the voice of the person speaking into it. It only really gets used at the Festival - and now. Mika rummaged in his pocket for the stew recipe he'd found earlier and made a big production of setting it on the ledge to give the impression he had a speech pre-written.
"Good evening, everyone." Said Mika, leaning comfortably on the podium as he cast his gaze around the assembled vampires. He liked to take his time when addressing a large group.
"Thanks for being here." Arrow added. Let the record reflect his voice didn't shake. You'd never know how nervous he was unless you were Mika who was standing right there and could practically hear his heart pounding.
"Again, I'd like to reiterate my sincere regret that our tardiness has caused a delay here tonight." Mika continued. "I have no doubt the feast will be worth the wait. We just wanted to take advantage of a rare opportunity to address you all at once."
"We'd like to thank you for all your hard work. We know it's been a strange year." Said Arrow.
Hidden behind the podium, Mika gently nudged Arrow's elbow with his own to silently reassure him he was doing great.
"And we want to remind you how integral your tireless dedication is to making Vampire Mountain what it is." Said Mika. "We know the war was a time of great devastation. We all lost people we loved. And I know you'll all recall the terror and turmoil that arrived here in our very own sanctuary, just when we thought we were safe. And it's because you put your faith and trust in us that now, almost a year later, I can confidently say we are safe. Evidence suggests we'll continue to stay safe for the foreseeable future. That's something to be proud of. And we wanted to make sure you knew that."
Again, Mika knows how to work a room. So he was quick to recognize he was losing them. Of course they were paying attention to him; he was an exceptional speaker after all. But they came here expecting a feast. And instead they were listening to their boss talk. Because that's what everyone wants to do on their night off. On Christmas. Right?
Mika knew what he had to do. He'd kind of known all along, while hoping it wouldn't come to that. But there was no way around it. It was time for that.
"So that's mostly why we've gathered you all here tonight. But more than anything, we… we wish you a merry Christmas."
He started the sentence speaking, and finished it… singing. And he didn't stop there.
"We wish you a merry Christmas, we wish you a merry Christmas…"
Mika feels it's important you understand he didn't take ten years of opera lessons because he liked it. It got the job done. He won the howling contest that one time. The Princes congratulated him, praised his dedication, and told him he'd do great things. He was in. And he literally never thought about singing again. He sometimes even forgot about that era of his life entirely. All he knew was that if any of his past selves could see what he was doing right now, they'd run through time to gangbeat him. This felt like the definition of masochism.
But gods damn, it worked.
There were a few moments of slackjawed confusion from the crowd, but that was to be expected. And by the time he got to "…and a Happy New Year", he had the entire room singing along. Even Arrow. Especially Arrow. Funnily enough, Arrow didn't seem to have a problem singing to a crowd - he already knew the words so there was no improvisation required. All he had to do was plunk his arm around Mika's shoulders and sway happily back and forth while his other arm pumped the air like he was at a concert, almost in time with the beat.
Mika's only regret was picking a song that repeated the words figgy pudding this many times. Having been born in the seventeenth century, he'd tried figgy pudding. It was atrocious. But the crowd was loving this. They were belting it out at the top of their lungs. Some were even standing up and applauding with delight. Their reaction was probably less about the quality of the performance and more about the fact that their Christmas treat included watching their superiors make absolute morons of themselves.
And then, a miracle that would've given baby Jesus a run for his money. Mika could see a flash of bright crimson and orange through the kitchen door at the back of the Hall. Larten was back. And he had plates. Were they the plates? Who cared?
Mika continued the sing-along, while shooting quizzical looks at Larten and trying not to make it look too obvious. On Larten's cue Seba and the others scurried out of the kitchen and began setting the feast out on the long buffet tables lining the back. Meanwhile Larten darted around the room handing a plate to every guest. Mika thought that was pretty dumb. The efficient solution would've been to simply place the plates at the buffet table and let the guests grab them when they served themselves.
But what does Mika know? He's not the Quartermaster. He's just the court jester here tonight. (Ironically that position pays the exact same as his usual one.)
Larten finished distributing the plates and made a beeline to the front of the room to join Mika and Arrow at the podium. Clearly he was frazzled because he handed one to Mika and Arrow too. But at least he was here. Hale, Vanez, Seba, and Harkat also filed up to the front of the room, signalling they were finally ready to go. And not a moment too soon. Mika was pretty sure he'd already ran through the entire song at least three and a half times. But the crowd carried on to finish off round four even after Mika and Arrow had stopped. Then they cheered and applauded so long Mika became convinced they were just patronizing him. At least it allowed him a moment to chastise Larten,
"That was the first and last time I cover for you. What took you so long?"
Larten offered only a brittle smile in response.
"I knew we still had the plates."
Then he waited patiently until the applause had subsided, and at last he took his turn.
"Good evening, my brothers and sisters. I trust you enjoyed Sires Arrow and Ver Leth's official and… unprecedented Christmas speech. I am sure this will become an annual tradition."
Cue hearty chuckle from the crowd. Mika answered with a stiff wave and spoke into the amplifier with complete seriousness:
"Have a great night, everyone. Glad you enjoyed that. If anyone needs me, I'll be in the stake pit."
"Sire Ver Leth, everyone. He is here all week." Larten remarked in equal deadpan, rolling his eyes at Mika before refocusing on the crowd. "I apologize for the delay. You will notice I have set a wooden plate in front of each of you. I have no doubt some of you -" he cast a knowing glance at Mika "- are wondering why I made a point of giving these plates their moment in the spotlight when I could have just set them on the buffet table."
Everyone looked to the back of the room and erupted in cheers and applause again as they saw the feast for the first time. They'd been too distracted by the singing to notice as the others brought it out. Larten waited for them to settle down again before carrying on.
"Now before we dig in, I would like each of you to take a moment to look down at the plate in front of you and read the words engraved upon it. I may be illiterate, but I will never forget the night my legendary mentor Seba Nile explained each of them to me as we polished them. I have been able to recognize them ever since."
The fact that these plates were engraved was news to Mika. In the center of the wooden plate, one word had been etched with what had surely been a rusty butter knife. But there it was, clear as day:
TRUST
"Wait, they're all different?" Arrow muttered, looking over Mika's shoulder. "Mine says LOYALTY."
Larten shot them both a sly grin, and for a moment they all watched as the crowd read their plates and reacted.
"Mine says WISDOM!"
"I got PATIENCE!"
"Mine says… uhh… I don't know this word."
"That says INTEGRITY. Mine says FELLOWSHIP!"
"I got HUMILITY?! Anyone wanna swap?"
Larten stepped forward and began to speak again.
"I trust by now you will all have realized these plates are all one-of-a-kind, each engraved with a different virtue. What you do not know is that they were engraved by three of the original four Princes of the vampire clan - Khledon Lurt, Stahrvos Glen, and Charna Viridian - while the three of them became trapped in a meeting room after a tunnel collapse. Now, our organization systems were not as sophisticated back then. So this particular meeting room doubled as a storage cavern. While awaiting their rescuers, the three Princes busied themselves by establishing what they believed were the greatest of virtues for which every vampire should aim. These were the virtues they believed would keep our clan prosperous for many centuries to come. Ironically they did not have paper or pencils in that meeting room. What they did have was a crate of wooden plates sitting in the corner, and a knife to carve these words into them."
Mika's jaw dropped and he looked to his side to see Arrow mirror his exact expression in perfect synchrony. Now they really felt like the court jesters of the night. They'd all gone through the same training on the road to Generalship, and Mika kind of remembered hearing the plate anecdote at some point. But he'd never actually seen them. And it would've never occurred to him that these were the good plates Larten was referring to.
"Once upon a time we would serve the Festival feast upon these plates." Larten continued. "However, they were retired long before my time. Too many of them would get lost or broken in the chaos, and the Princes at the time wanted to preserve them for the sake of nostalgia. So they were laid to rest in a safe but very inaccessible corner down in the storage caverns. And that was where I first found them over a hundred years ago when Seba ordered me to clean and reorganize the entire room as punishment for an misstep I do not remember, but -"
"You stole my finest bottle of wine!" Seba barked, grinning from ear to ear.
"Yes. That." Said Larten, still smiling. "When Seba came to check how I was faring, I was halfway through cleaning the dust off these plates. Like I said, I was not able to read them. But I could tell they all said something different. I asked him what the letters meant, and he read each one to me. And I felt connected to the history of the clan in a way I never had before. So as we collectively enter this new era of peace between clans, I want each of you to remember the word on your plate. Think of the original Princes, and do your best to embody the virtue that meant so much to them they carved it into a plate. Merry Christmas to all of you."
Harkat was standing closest to Larten; he stood on his tiptoes to reach the amplifier and added,
"Gods bless us… everyone!"
(Nobody would ever know if that was an intentional nod to Tiny Tim, or if he just got caught up in the moment).
They received a standing ovation so thunderous, nobody could've possibly heard Arrow turn to Mika and say,
"Thank the gods Crepsley turned his investiture down. He would've made us look so stupid by comparison."
"I know." Said Mika grimly. "But if you ever tell him that, I'll kill you in your sleep."
･ﾟ: *･ﾟ* :･ﾟ:･ﾟ
As the party wore on, Mika accepted the reality that his current self had now earned a time-travel gangbeating from not only all of his past selves, but from every Prince who preceded him. The Hall of Princes had been empty for like fifteen hours at that point and even though Mika and Arrow were still in the mountain while Vancha and Darren were alive and well elsewhere, the rule book is pretty clear you have to have at least one guy sitting in there at all times.
Mika didn't bother saying goodnight before slipping away from the party and back up to the Hall. Arrow would feel bad and insist on coming with him. But he was preoccupied drinking and laughing with Hale, so Mika made sure Arrow didn't see him leave.
Besides, he finally had time to catch up with Gracie.
Mika doesn't use the satellite phone (that Paris stole from the government, presumably) much these days. Technology only lasts so long and the thing didn't seem to get as clear a signal as it used to. Eventually Gracie would gain telepathy and he'd probably never use it again after that. So he figured this Christmas was as good a time as any to put it to work.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
Mika heard music and laughter on the other end before he heard Gracie's voice.
"Hey, Dad!"
"Hey, Princess. How are you?"
"I'm great! I'm glad you called. Did you know today's Christmas?!"
"Fuck, is it really?"
"Hang on a sec. Gonna go somewhere quieter."
Muffled footsteps like she was going up some stairs. The background noise faded then disappeared. A door closed.
"Okay, I can hear you better now. Did you seriously not know it's -"
"Of course I know it's Christmas. We did a whole thing back in the mountain."
"Wow. Love that for you. Did you have fun?"
He told her all about it. She laughed.
She recounted the week at the Shan's house in vivid detail. He laughed.
He updated her on how things had been going in the mountain, which wasn't much and not nearly as interesting as what she'd been up to.
She told him all about the mission. How well it had been going. He already knew from Vancha's periodic updates, but her version was better. Until she wrapped her summary with a footnote that made Mika's heart twist in a way it hadn't in months:
"I miss you. The only thing that'd make the past year better was if you'd been with us. I only found out recently that Uncle Vancha gave you first dibs on the mission before Darren. Why'd you pass it up?"
"I miss you just as much, Gracie. But it's better this way. You just have to trust me. I'm not going anywhere. Literally. I'll be sitting in this exact spot when you get back."
"I know. Five years is a long time. That's all."
"Hey, it's down to four now. And you're a vampire. I know your internal clock hasn't adjusted yet, but four years is nothing. You'll be back before you know it."
"Wow, Dad. That sounded pretty convincing. You tell yourself that a lot, don't you?"
"Every night when I wake up, and every morning before I go to sleep."
"I guess it's working. You sound better than you have in years."
"Wasn't aware I sounded bad at any point, but thanks."
"You know what I mean. You sound… I don't know. Happier, I guess."
"I am."
"Me too."
"I can tell. I'm so proud of you."
Suddenly, the creak of a door opening slowly and Kurda's voice somewhere in the background. Soft as cotton and sweet as honey.
"There you are!" He said to Gracie. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah. Just talking to Dad back in the mountain." Gracie's voice was more distant and a little muffled as she turned away from the phone for a moment. But Mika could hear well enough to tell she was smiling.
"Ah. Good." Kurda murmured. Paused. And added, "I'll leave you to it, then. I just came to let you know you have about ten minutes before Darren starts eating the gingerbread house without you."
"Anything you want me to tell Dad?" Gracie asked Kurda. She sounded a little hopeful. Mika's heart ached. She was astute enough to know the love was still there between them. And intuitive enough to know it wasn't that simple - so she'd never say it out loud. But of course she wanted her family to be whole again. Once and for all.
Kurda let out a soft laugh like a spring breeze. "Nothing he doesn't already know."
Something in his voice told Mika that Kurda knew he could hear him. Mika closed his eyes for a moment and he could see them both so clearly; Kurda and Gracie. Their matching eyes like star-filled oceans. Both smiling. Both happy. Both healing.
Gracie spoke into the phone, addressing Mika again: "How about you? Anything to pass along?"
"Nothing he doesn't already know." Said Mika quietly.
Gracie didn't say anything; affirming what Mika assumed. Kurda could hear him. That he knew it. He felt it too.
And that was enough for Mika - alone in the Hall of Princes, thousands of miles away - to count this as one of the merriest Christmases he'd ever had.
And that's a wrap on Christmas 2022. I probably won't be posting again before the new year, so thanks again. Thank you for loving this dysfunctional family - immediate and extended. You guys are the best.
This Is Us 2.0 will probably be the next thing updated. I took a solid two months off writing both that and Bloodline so I could fully focus on this and also give my brain a break by stressing it out over a third different story instead. Worked great.
From all of us here at Vampire Mountain I'd like to wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. Wherever you are, stay safe. Stay healthy. Have fun. See you when I see you.
- roxy
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